Page 8 of The Trouble With Christmas

Pressing my lips into a smile, I tease. “I’m going to need a full frontal here.”

“What’s that?” He turns to greet me, and I chew my lip at the sight. “I was trying to let you sleep. Did I wake you?”

Even though he got me pretty good against the wall last night and again early this morning, the bulge in his sweats makes my core clench. A quick glance at the clock tells me I’ve got to go, so instead I step into his hug, giving him a quick kiss before opening the cabinet and moving the spices around.

“Baby Jesus is missing, and I’ve got about twenty texts on my phone. Ms. Alice called an emergency meeting of the Fireside Ladies over at Daisy’s house.”

“The witches?” He returns to the coffee pot and pours me a to-go mug of the hot liquid.

I take it, rising onto my tiptoes to kiss him again. I’m happy to see he’s less pensive this morning. “When all else fails, ask the supernatural.”

“Don’t climb any ladders without your helmet.”

Shaking my head, I laugh. “That was one time!”

“And luckily I was there to catch you.”

“I won’t climb any ladders. I promise.”

Ms.Alice has the book, a stack of candles, and a small pot for burning the oil and necessary ingredients by the time I arrive.

“Here’s the sage and essential oils.” I drag several bottles out of my bag, and Ms. Alice quickly takes them from me.

“Daisy, arrange the candles in the circle.”

Courtney, as usual, is nervous. “Are you sure we should be doing a spell to find Baby Jesus?” She leans closer and whispers, “Isn’t that sacrilegious?”

Daisy pipes up. “We could pray the thief gets struck with a guilty conscience and brings him back.”

“We don’t have time for this thief to have a battle with himself,” Ms. Alice fusses. “There’s a ton of people coming to that service tomorrow, and they expect a full nativity. The Lord will understand.”

Courtney’s not convinced. “What if it’s like ‘How the Grinch Stole Christmas,’ and we learn Christmas isn’t about a full nativity at all?”

Ms. Alice levels her eyes on me, and I’m feeling a bit conflicted as well. “I don’t think it can hurt much. God gave us the herbs to use, and anyway, the spells are just for fun.”

I’m totally lying, since I stole this book for a year and tried every spell in it to get a man to come back, to catch my ex-boyfriend cheating, to protect us from Courtney’s abusive ex...

“I still don’t think it’s right.” Courtney crosses her arms over her stomach.

I pat her arm gently. “You’re not actually from Fireside, so I think it would be okay if you sit it out.”

“I’m about to have a baby!” Daisy cries. “What if we invoke some kind ofRosemary’s Babysituation and it comes out with red eyes?”

“Daisy Kate Sales!” Ms. Alice cries. “Why would you even say such a thing? The Fireside Ladies would not dabble in the dark arts. All of their spells are gentle, helpful rituals. Now stop being morbid and put these candles in a circle.”

My cousin chews her lip, but she does what her grandmother-in-law tells her to do. Of all the people to talk, Daisy was with me when we did our very first spell—and it worked, too. Of course, that night we were drinking tequila and dancing around the kitchen like Sandra Bullock and Nicole Kidman.

Five minutes later, we’re sitting in a circle, Courtney included, holding hands and watching the copper pot surrounded by candles burning herbs in a pool of essential oils.

“The palm is sacred,” Ms. Alice says, and we all repeat it.

The old ladies who started the club were mostly interested in conservationism, but they also dabbled in suffrage and little spells for finding lost things and catching petty thieves.

We listen as Ms. Alice recites the ancient words. Other than the wind picking up and gusting suddenly, which happens a lot this close to the ocean, nothing seems to change.

I lean towards Daisy and whisper, “Every time I do it, we drink tequila.”

“I can’t drink tequila right now,” she whispers back.

---