Page 43 of Christmas Charms
“I’m not getting engaged.” I take a deep inhale of winter air, not quite certain who I’m trying to convince—Susan, or myself.
Because earth to Ashley! I’m out here building a snowman for the sole purpose of making the charms come true so I can usher in my fairy-tale ending, whatever it might be.
I unwind the scarf from around my neck and wrap it around our creation, just below the misshapen ball of snow that serves as his head. The jewelry shop probably opens soon, and I’m sure Susan has actual work to do. But when I glance at the shop door to check the list of operating hours, my gaze snags on a sign situated in the corner window, just beside a gorgeous collection of antique pocket watches. I’ve always had visions of repurposing old pocket watches into a line of hand-crafted pendants strung on a strand of delicate seed pearls instead of chains. But like most of my other ideas for vintage jewelry design, I’ve been too busy selling charms at Windsor Fine Jewelry to make it happen.
“Is Enchanting Jewels going out of business?” I frown. That’s what the sign says, but it seems like such a shame. The shop is wonderful, and it fits right in on Main Street.
“I’m afraid so,” Susan says. “Right after Christmas. The owner is relocating. The family is moving up north, which is why I’m pretty much the only one holding down the fort during the holidays. As it is, we’re only open three days a week while Josh is off-duty to watch the girls.”
“I had no idea. I’d offer to help out while I’m here, but I already texted Uncle Hugh this morning and volunteered for the Toy Parade committee. He seemed really excited. Apparently, they’re short-handed this year.”
Susan presses two rocks in place for our snowman’s eyes. “Thanks anyway, but the shop’s days are numbered and you’re only in town for a little while. Something tells me you’ll have a great time on the parade committee.”
I think back to the video—to the smile on my little-girl face and the hustle and bustle of the parade happening all around me—and warmth fills my chest. “I do, too.”
Susan takes a step back and tilts her head, regarding the snowman. “I think we’re done here.”
“Nope.” I shake my head. “Not yet.”
I pull a fat carrot from my pocket. Since the silver snowman charm has a shiny orange enamel carrot for a nose, this final detail seems crucial.
“Since you’ve obviously been carrying that thing around all morning, I’ll let you do the honors.” With a dramatic flourish, Susan waves her mittened hands at the snowman.
I’m nervous of all a sudden, and I’m not sure why. Three charm wishes have come true so far, so I know precisely what’s about to happen. I’ll push the carrot into place and the bracelet will make the same jingle noise that it did when all the other charms came to life. I’ll be one step closer to the fairy-tale ending of the Christmas of my dreams.
So I take a deep breath and press the carrot into the snow. Our snowman is complete, all the way down to his bright orange nose. Susan and I exchange a glance, and then…
Nothing.
The bracelet doesn’t make a sound.
I’ve obviously done something wrong with the snowman, but I don’t have time to figure out what it could possibly be. Susan needs to open up the shop, and Uncle Hugh is expecting me at the firehouse this morning. So I give Susan a quick hug and make my way to the fire station, a tiny bit relieved to know that Aidan is off duty today.
First of all, I’m a total mess. My ill-fated snowman adventure has left my face numb and my nose is almost certainly pink from the cold. As for my hair, there’s no telling what’s going on beneath my pompom hat.
Plus, something changed between Aidan and me last night. I feel like he fully let down his guard in front of me for the very first time since I’ve been home, and I’m afraid that in the cold light of day, it will go right back up again. Bickering beneath the mistletoe was so ridiculous that it was kind of fun, but I’d much rather see Aidan’s vulnerable side again. I have no idea where we stand though, and I definitely don’t want to try and figure things out in front of an audience of firefighters. Frankly, I can’t imagine anything more awkward.
Tonight is classic movie night at the Palace Theatre, so maybe things will be more clear after our non-date—emphasis onnon.The mistletoe incident was a huge wake-up call. Ever since my return to Owl Lake, I feel like I’ve been living inside a snow-covered dream. I’m trapped in a beautiful winter wonderland full of Christmas magic, but it won’t last forever. After the holidays, I’ll be gone. It wouldn’t be fair to start a romance with Aidan when I have every intention of telling him goodbye.
Again.
Not that he’s given me any sort of indication that he has any lingering romantic feelings for me. I’m sure he doesn’t, and that’s perfectly fine. Better than fine, really. It’s great.
So, so great.
Still, I get misty-eyed every time I think about the way he held my hand last night…the gentleness in his fingertips as he’d wiped away my tears. Maybe there’s a tiny part of me that wishes he did have feelings for me.
My confusion is one hundred percent the bracelet’s fault. I wish Betty were here. She’d have a lot of explaining to do.Loads.In the meantime, I should probably stop running around Owl Lake with carrots in my pocket, building snowmen in an attempt to get to the engagement ring charm as quickly as possible. It didn’t even work, anyway.
No more mistletoe.
No more snowmen.
No more swooning over Aidan.
I repeat these rules to myself while I walk down Main Street’s long hill toward the firehouse, in the hopes they might sink in. When I arrive at the station, the ladder truck and the small SUV are all lined up in the apparatus bay, as shiny as if they’ve just been washed—which they probably have.
As a retired fire chief’s daughter, I know perfectly well that the first thing firefighters do in the morning is clean the rigs. A clean, soapy smell hangs in the air, and the feeling of nostalgia that washes over me gives a major tug on my heartstrings. My fingertips reach for a touch of smooth red metal, but I stop short of making contact with the ladder truck’s gleaming exterior. I don’t want to leave fingerprints. Delivering cookies the other day and seeing the video last night have made me realize just how much the OLFD has impacted my life. This place and these people have left a mark on me—it may be invisible to the naked eye, but I feel it. It’s there, and I don’t think it will ever go away.
