Page 44 of The Christmas Box

Even though maybe I should have accepted his generosity given how quickly Christmas is approaching and that it’s snowing again today and that even though business picked up after word got out about the wishing box, now it’s down again. However, right now I’m on a mission to deliver Christmas cheer and trying to ignore the harsher realities facing me.

The tree and other items bound for Mikayla’s, along with a shopping bag full of cookie containers, sit next to the door. “As soon as Dara gets back, we’ll go,” I tell Travis. She’s picking up a late lunch at Thoroughbred Pizza. “First stop, Darlene McIntosh’s.”

“I just thought of something,” he says, sounding glum.

I blink. “What’s that?”

“We should have made enough cookies to take some to the manor.”

“Ugh, you’re right.” I sigh, now downcast along with him. “Maybe…tomorrow? Even though I suspect we’ll still be busy granting wishes.”

He holds up one finger. “Wait. I just happen to have a hefty gift card for the bakery burning a hole in my pocket.”

“That’s right— great idea! Cookies for everyone!” Then, anticipating our departure, I reach in my shopping bag and pluck out a Santa hat. “Here,” I say, holding it out to my companion. “For merry deliveries.”

He gives me an are-you-serious? look. “No way.”

I just roll my eyes. I mean, I know he’s got his anti-holiday rep and all, but… “Come on, wear the hat. We’re trying to give people happy holidays here, and a Santa hat is always a festive touch.”

“Nope,” he says, sounding resolute. “That’s where I draw the line.”

“That’s your line?” I ask. “At a hat?”

“Yep.”

I hesitate only briefly before saying, “Fine,” abandoning the hat on the counter to reach back in the bag. “Antlers it is.” I pull out a pair of brown velvet antlers attached to a headband. They’re wrapped with red ribbon adorned with small sleighbells. Using both hands, I firmly place them on his head.

“I’m not wearing these,” he says staunchly, even while wearing them.

“Well, just so you know,” I say, picking up the Santa hat and plopping it on my own head, “they look adorable.” But—yipes—did I just tell himhelooked adorable?

Fortunately, he doesn’t seem to notice because he’s got bigger fish to fry—or antlers to reject. Yanking them off with one hand, he plucks the hat from my head with the other. “Trade ya,” he says, then puts the hat on.

I feign astonishment. “I thought a hat was where you drew the line.”

He tosses me an annoyed glance. “Suddenly it doesn’t seem so terrible.”

“That’s what I thought,” I say with a small, winning smile. Mission accomplished.

Travis

I watch as Lexi moves through the halls of Bluegrass Manor like it’s nothing. Like it isn’t heart-wrenchingly tragic to see so many people no longer in control of their lives, their health, and in many cases, their minds.

I see her hold out a tree-shaped sugar cookie to the man who took Dottie’s doll. He’s wearing that same odd little smile as always when she offers up, “Merry Christmas.”

He says nothing, just takes the cookie. And maybe I’m imagining this, but something in his expression makes me think it was nice for him to be noticed, acknowledged, given something. I feel like a jerk all over again for yelling at him.

I watch her repeat the gesture again and again, kind of in awe, and maybe I’m beginning to wonder if…that’s the point? Of Christmas? People with good hearts like Lexi’s making other people feel valued?

“That’s my girl there.”

I turn to find that Helen has snuck up on me in a pair of gingerbread-man-sprinkled scrubs.

But her eyes are trained on the woman in antlers, offering cookies and smiles to every person in sight—some in robes, others fleece; most seated in wheelchairs that have become all too familiar to me. “Despite how bitter she could be, she keeps on shining her bright light out into the world.”

“No wonder you two get along so well,” I remark. “You kinda do that, too.”

She casts me a coy, playful smile. “Sweet talker.”

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