Page 18 of Christmas Charms
Not that there’s anything to be afraid of. Because it’s all just a coincidence, anyway. Right?
Of course it is. Bracelets do not have magical powers, and Christmas is Christmas. There will always be some real world overlap between Christmas-themed charms and actual, real-life Christmas.
Still, I’m looking forward to a day in the city. Maybe I’ll even manage to get some sort of hint to Betty’s whereabouts while I’m on the train.
When Fruitcake and I go back inside, my parents are both bustling around the kitchen in their bathrobes. My mom pours coffee into three mugs. It’s clearly some sort of holiday flavor, because the air smells like cinnamon rolls and coffee beans. My dad sneaks Fruitcake a slice of bacon while she’s not looking.
“Good morning,” my mom says brightly.
“Morning.” I smile.
My mom and dad both smile back, and a pang of guilt hits me right behind the breastbone. They’re going to be disappointed that I’m leaving already, even if I turn around and come right back.
It’s just for the day. Worst case scenario: overnight.
I plaster on the widest grin I can manage. “You’ll never believe what Maya just called to tell me. It’s the best news.”
Mom lowers her coffee cup. “What is it, dear?”
“There’s a management position opening up in the charms department. I’ve been there a few years now, so I think I’ve got a shot.”
“That’s great,” my dad says with genuine enthusiasm.
“But they want to fill it before New Year’s,” I add, grin freezing in place. “I need to have a meeting with my boss as soon as possible so I can explain to her in person why I’m the best choice for the job.”
My mom’s brow furrows. “But you just got here.”
“I know. It will only be a quick day trip. I’m coming right back, I promise.” I shrug like it’s no big deal, but I’m already glancing at the time on my phone, growing more antsy by the second. I’m not quite familiar with the train schedule, but I’m pretty sure I need to hurry and get to the train station if I’m going to make it to the city and back by tonight. “I should probably get ready.”
“Wait.” Dad holds up a hand. “Honey, there was an ice storm last night, remember?”
I nod, thinking about the layer of frost covering the majority of the backyard. Only the area beneath the pergola my dad built ages ago had been spared. The grass had made little crunching sounds beneath Fruitcake’s paws when we’d been out there just now.
“But the sky seems clear,” I say.
“The temperature is still below freezing. The train station will be closed until the tracks can get de-iced.” My father shakes his head. “I’m afraid you’re stuck here.”
“Are yousure?A little ice never shuts down the trains in Manhattan for more than a few hours once the storm has stopped.”
“You’re not in Manhattan anymore.” Dad’s tone is careful. Gentle. But the look on his face is all too familiar. I’ve seen that look before.
That Jeremy is no Aidan Flynn.
He’s disappointed in me, which seems really unfair. Does he want me working the charms counter for all eternity when going into Manhattan for just one day could be the key to my career?
Besides, I can’t be trapped in Owl Lake. I’ve got a bracelet stuck to my wrist and two of the charms on it have somehow come to life. I need a break from whatever holiday craziness is going on. Maybe if I leave and come back again, everything will go back to normal.
I try to call the station to check and see if the trains are running, but the phones are down due to the storm.
“I’m going to Owl Lake station, just in case. There’s got to be a train out of here today. IpromiseI’ll be back in time for dinner.” Hopefully, with a shiny, new promotion. It’s time to turn this unlucky Christmas around.
Fruitcake trots at my heels as I dash back to my bedroom to change. For a split second, I wonder if he’ll still be here when I get back. If he’s really a charm come to life, he can’t be an actual, permanent dog, can he?
Then I remind myself that jewelry doesn’t come to life. Fruitcake’s resemblance to the charm is a complete and total coincidence.
Which is a good thing because, weirdly enough, I think I might miss him if he suddenly disappeared.
An hour later, the same cab driver who took me home last night drops me off at the train station. Back home, the front yard is a frozen tundra, the angle of the grade making it far more treacherous than the back yard. I couldn’t possibly ask my dad to brave the sheet of ice covering our driveway to get me here. But that’s okay, because here I am, even though the taxi driver drove at a turtle’s pace the entire way due to the icy roads and the whirl of snow that’s starting up again.
