Page 51 of The Christmas Box

As we sit eating, we talk about all we’ve accomplished the past few days. “I know we still have a few loose ends to tie up,” she says, “but it’s been pretty great making so many people happy.”

I can’t argue the point, and it reminds me… “Hey, have you heard anything about the ramp? Did they like it?”

Her eyes brighten across the table from me. “Yes! I got a text from Carol Ann this morning. She suspected I might have something to do with it, but I didn’t confirm or deny. She said her mom and dad are so grateful to their secret Santa. Kathyrn’s looking forward to spring so she can spend time birdwatching in her yard again. And it’s going to be so much easier for Hank to get her over to Carol Ann’s for Christmas dinner.”

The truth is, hearing that something I did is making such an impact on someone’s life kind of fills me up inside. But I keep it simple with, “That’s great news,” as I dip a fry in ketchup. Then I look past Lexi, my gaze drawn to the big windows. “Wow, snow’s really coming down out there.”

“Ugh,” she says.

I stop eating long enough to pull out my phone and check the forecast—then I blow out a sigh. “Looks like it’s gonna be another snowy evening. Half a foot by midnight.”

Lexi’s eyes widen yet again, but not in a happy way this time. “What’s going on here? We never get this much snow in December. If I weren’t such a glass-half-full kind of person, I might believe the universe didn’t want my shop to succeed.”

She once confided in me that she was worried about the future of the Christmas Box, but she hasn’t brought it up again other than to complain when it snows. “So howisbusiness?”

“Fine,” she answers, sounding conflicted, “but it needs to be better. If we were as busy on the snow days as on the non-snow days, I think we’d be okay. But all this snow has thrown a cold, white, frosty wrench into my plans.”

I already know it takes a lot to bring Lexi Hargrove down, so the despair I hear in her voice makes me ask, “Are the prospects really that bad? How dire is the situation?”

Pressing her lips together as she weighs the question, she finally replies, “Only time will tell, but…I think it’s pretty dire. And if I lose the place this fast…” She stops, shakes her head. “It’s more than a business to me, Trav—it’s a legacy. My family has had a business on Main Street for a hundred years until the last ten. I wanted this for me, but also for them.” The expression on her face is grim. “We’ve been open less than a month, but at this point I’m not sure we’ll make it through a second one.”

Okay, that’s worse than I expected. I suffer the intense urge to give her a long, warm hug—but the table between us keeps me from it.

Which is good, since taking things further between us still seems like a bad idea.

But I feel terrible for her. “That’s tough, Lex. But…maybe it’s not too late for things to turn around?” It’s all I can think of to say.

Her long sigh relays her discouragement, though. “It’s a week until Christmas. And it’s snowing like crazy, which means opening tomorrow will barely be worth the electricity to keep the lights on. But…who knows, right? Maybe some miracle will occur when I least expect it.”

Despite how dejected she appears, that light of hers is still trying to shine—she’s attempting to keep the faith even though logic is challenging her.

And that’s when her phone trills the notes to “We Wish You a Merry Christmas”—apparently her ringtone. She glances down at it on the table and says, “It’s Helen. Do you mind?”

I shake my head, encouraging her to answer.

A few seconds later, I hear Helen’s booming voice ask, “Are you still with Travis?”

“Yeah,” Lexi tells her.

“Oh, good. I need your help, both of you.”

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s this blasted snowstorm,” her voice echoes. “I don’t know if you’ve looked outside in the last few minutes, but it’s pretty much blizzard conditions out there, right when we were finally set to get our tree up here at the manor and have our tree-trimming party. Glen was ready to head to the tree lot in Holly Ridge, but old tires are making his truck worthless in the snow. I wonder if you and Travis would be willing to take his pickup and get the tree. The residents have been waiting for this and it keeps getting postponed time after time. They have so little to look forward to—I hate to keep disappointing them.”

“Of course we will,” I answer loud enough for Helen to hear.

“But Helen,” Lexi says while peering across the table at me. “Won’t the tree lot be closed?”

“One step ahead of you,” I hear Helen reply. “Chuck, the tree guy, lives right next door to the lot. Just honk when you get there. He’s already picked us out a nine-foot Scotch pine and has it waiting. It’s already paid for and everything.”

“Tell her we’re on our way,” I say.

I had set my dumb Santa hat beside me in the booth as soon as we stepped into the burger place, but now I accept my fate, pick it up, and plop it back on my head. “A Santa’s work is never done around here.”

The roads to Holly Ridge are terrible, but my tough old Ford gets us there. Helen was right—it’s turned into a blizzard—so I insist Lexi stay inside as Chuck and I maneuver the big tree into the truck bed.

When we turn into the lot at the manor a little while later, Helen and Brent are both waiting inside the sliding glass doors in their coats, Helen clapping her hands at the sight of us. I pull right up to the entrance.

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