Page 33 of The Christmas Box

What if I can’t make a go of the shop and this was all for nothing? Sure, I’d survive. But if it crashes and burns, along with my mom’s dreams, I’ll feel like I have nothing. Nothing to show for my life but an old building in an old town, and not even anyone to hug but a teddy bear.

I glance over at my favorite photo of Mom and Grandma. They’re standing in the diner, wearing Santa hats and silly Christmas aprons. I took it when I came home from college on Christmas break the winter before the fire. “I really miss you guys,” I whisper to the photo. “And I want to make you proud. I want to keep the things you loved alive.”

But then I set Crinkle aside and start the movie. Because I learned long ago not to get mired in the sadness—I can let myself feel it, but then I have to move through it.

A little while later, Arnold Schwarzenegger has just outrun an angry reindeer and kicked a wooden wiseman’s on-fire head through a picture window when something draws my gaze out myownwindow.

And I gasp at what I see.

The Christmas tree lights in Travis’s apartment have just come on.

December 12

Lexi

The next morning Helen comes into the Christmas Box on her day off to shop. And, of course, to chat. We’ve barely seen each other lately—it being such a busy time of year and me now tied to the shop much of the time—but ever since Mom and Grandma died, Helen’s kept in close touch and tried to fill that void.

After a bit of catching up, I ring out her purchases, and she’s walking out the door when I hear her issue a merry greeting. “Well, good morning, Mr. Hutchins.” Unless Travis’s father has somehow gotten himself sprung from Bluegrass Manor, my neighbor across the street is on his way in.

And then there he is, all six handsome feet of him, making my heart beat a little faster at the mere sight.

“I just heard from Helen that you were at the manor yesterday,” I can’t help saying with a knowing smile.

“That’s not exactly a newsflash, Lexi,” he points out. “I’m theremostdays. And good morning to you, too, by the way.”

I’m still all bubbly about what Helen told me, though. “And I heard the residents had a Christmas canine visitor, and that she was a hit.”

He gives his head a confiding tilt. “Okay, that’s a little more newsworthy, I guess. But it had nothing to do with Christmas, so quit acting like it did. She was a very good girl for them, though. And she’s still using her puppy pads like a pro, by the way.”

“That’s awesome,” I say. But I haven’t quite hit my stride yet. “I also heard you hung Christmas decorations for Helen.”

At this, he shoots me an are-you-done-now? look. “Guilty as charged. Because she asked for help. And I’d have to be a pretty horrible guy to say no.”

But I’mnotdone yet. “AndI saw the lights. On your Christmas tree last night.”

It’s like the star on top of my Christmas tree of accusations, and at this, he finally looks as if he’s been caught at something. Did he think I wouldn’t notice? Or, well, maybe he assumes I have better things to do than spy on him across the street. And maybe I shouldn’t be so quick to fill him in otherwise.

But he breaks through my self-doubt with a playful grin to claim, “They’re for the dog. The dog likes them.”

I tip my head back and reply just as teasingly, “Ah,” aware that my smug success is still showing.

“I came in for coffee, by the way,” he informs me. “Not to get grilled on my every move and how it may or may not relate to an upcoming holiday I still don’t like.”

I simply smile and reach for his mug. “Whatever you say, Mr. Scrooge.”

It would seem that Operation Wish Upon a Star is moving forward as planned.

December 13

Travis

Ipick Dad up early before the festival, to make sure I beat the crowd and get a parking spot on Main like usual. Every time I’ve seen him, he’s been in pajamas or a sweatshirt and drawstring pants, so when I find him sitting in a wheelchair in a half-zip pullover and blue jeans, I’m caught off guard.

“Whoa, check you out. Mr. GQ all the sudden.” He looks healthier in normal clothes. But I can’t deny he’s gotten thinner just since I’ve been in Winterberry, despite all his beloved hamburgers.

He casts me a cocky grin. “I still clean up pretty good, don’t I?”

Gabbi enters the room behind me and says, “Hey there, Travis. After I get your dad’s coat and gloves on, I’ll walk you out and help get him in the truck.”

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