Page 38 of The Christmas Box

I just shrug, back to my mug-washing. “I never thought about it. But maybe you’re right—maybe it’s better as a thing just between you and the box and God.”

A little while later, she lets out a groan and I glance over to see her peering out the window. So I look, too.

Oh, for crying out loud—it’s snowing!

It’s begun to feel like some sort of never-dissipating snow cloud is hovering over the town of Winterberry, Kentucky at the worst possible time. I used to love Christmastime snow, but now I’m starting to hate it.

“Maybe it’ll stop soon,” she offers up hopefully.

I only sigh. “If it doesn’t, you can knock off early.”

An hour later, we’ve only had one more customer and the streets are covered. It’s not yet two o’clock, but Dara says, “Maybe I’ll head out.”

I nod. “Yeah, you should go before the sidewalks get any slicker.”

After she leaves, the sleighbells tinkling behind her, I let out a sad sigh.

As snow continues falling and John Legend tells me to have myself a merry little Christmas over the speakers, I walk to the wishing box. Glancing down at the forms Dara created, it strikes me as funny that she included a spot for people’s names, like maybe God or fate or whoever else grants wishes won’t know who wrote it down otherwise. I pick up a pen, deciding Iwilladd another one to the box.

Of all the wishes I’ve made this holiday season, two have stayed on my mind the most: for Travis to find Christmas joy and for my shop to succeed in every way.

I don’t want tore-wish either of those things—they’re already out in the “wish ether” and I have to keep believing they’ll come true. The one about Travis is definitely making progress and, in a sense, the other is, too. I added “in every way,” and Idosee the holiday spirit in people’s eyes when they drop a slip of paper into this box, or even when they find the perfect gift for someone. There’s more than one kind of success. Now I just need the profit part of the wish to kick in.

So what should I wish for now?

Just look in your heart and don’t stop to analyze it.The words enter my head like advice from above, so I roll with it and begin to write.

Name: Lexi

My wish: That Travis decides to stay in town, and maybe he even falls in love with me.

My breath catches when I look down at my own words.

Is that really what I want?

Am I in love with Travis Hutchins?

That fast? That easy?

I don’t even know him that well.

But I’m also not sure falling in love is so much about how well you know someone as about what makes your heart take flight.

Glancing out the window, through the snow, I see the shop across the street is empty, but the tree in the window above is lit, even in the middle of the afternoon. And I’m painfully aware that at the very thought of him, my breath goes shallow, my chest begins to tingle, and my heart is indeed fluttering somewhere up above me near the ceiling.

I fold the slip and drop it into the wishing box.

Travis

When I walk into the manor the day after the festival, I find Dad sitting up in bed, but slumped over asleep, and on the table beside him rests the mitten cookie, one bite gone.

That’s when Gabbi exits his bathroom. “Hi, Travis. I was just tidying up a little in there.” Then she glances at Dad. “Somebody’s out like a light. He was awake just a minute ago.”

I point at the cookie. “Did he try this and not like it?”

She shakes her head. “No, he was just tired. And not very hungry.” She scrunches up her nose, hesitating before she says, “He seems to have less appetite the last couple of days.”

Is she trying to warn me about something? If so, she needs to be more direct because I don’t get it. “What does that mean?”

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