by Teri Wilson
I don’t want to look. I desperately don’t. I want to stay right where I am, a breath away from the aching tenderness of Aidan’s lips landing gently on mine. I want to fall into this moment, to sink into it like a soft feather bed. But for some odd reason, I can’t. A chill runs up and down my spine, and I freeze, shell-shocked, as the flash of red comes into sharp focus…the familiar twirl of a cape, the snowy white bun.
My eyes go wide.
Betty!
“Wait,” I say, and Aidan’s eyes pop open, searching my face.
“I’m so sorry. I thought…” He shakes his head and pulls away, no doubt under the mistaken impression that I didn’t want to kiss him, when in reality I want nothing more.
But I can’t let Betty get away. I don’t know what she’s doing here or how she ended up in the Palace Theatre in Owl Lake, but I need to talk to her. She’s the only one who can tell me more about the bracelet, and I still have so many questions—especially about the tiny engagement ring charm.
“Don’t apologize. Please.” I rest my hand on Aidan’s broad chest. His cable-knit sweater is impossibly soft against my palm, and his heart pounds wildly in the dark. “I just…”
I shake my head, at a complete and total loss for words.
I just think I spotted Mrs. Claus headed toward the lobby for a refill on her bucket of popcorn.
Could this situation get any more absurd?
“I just need to slip away for a quick second. I’ll be right back.” I scramble out of my seat and tell myself I’m only imagining the glimmer of hurt in Aidan’s blue eyes, but it’s no use. It’s there, because I’m quite literally running away at the very moment we were about to kiss.
I’ll make things right with Aidan, I tell myself. I’m not sure how, since we’ve barely begun to move beyond our sensitive past, but I will. I can’t bear the thought of hurting him again, but I also can’t pass up my best opportunity to get to the bottom of the magic bracelet.
The theatre is pitch black, and I dart down the aisle until I push my way out the door and stumble into the lobby, blinking against the sudden brightness. Two teenaged boys are working the concession stand, and other than a life-size cardboard cutout of Emily Blunt as Mary Poppins, they’re the only people in sight. No Mrs. Claus. No Mr. Claus. Not even a lowly elf.
I make a mad dash for the ladies’ room but find it empty, even after banging on each of the stall doors and calling Betty’s name. There’s a hollow feeling burrowing behind my breastbone. This can’t be happening. She couldn’t have just disappeared into thin air, like…like…
Like magic?
I stare at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. My cheeks are flushed, and my eyes are wild. I can’t remember the last time I’ve looked or felt so alive, and for a dizzying moment, I’m not sure if it’s the Betty sighting or the almost-kiss with Aidan that has my heart fluttering like angel’s wings. Possibly both, even though kissing my high school sweetheart is not part of the plan. And I can’t even blame the latest near-miss on mistletoe.
I take a deep breath and head back toward to the lobby to interrogate the teen boys. They don’t remember seeing an older woman in a red cape and can’t stop smirking as I describe Betty’s appearance. It’s hopeless. Either I’ve imagined the entire incident or she’s vanished, like Santa up a chimney.
Shoulders slumped, I turn back toward the theater and nearly plow straight into Aidan in the process.
“Oh.” I swallow and take a backward step. “Hi.”
“Hi.” He tilts his head, regarding me with cautious curiosity. “You left in such a hurry, I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Fine,” I nod with far too much enthusiasm. “I’m great. I, um, thought I saw someone I knew, but it seems I was mistaken.”
“Ah.” His gaze darts around the empty lobby. I can tell he doesn’t believe me simply by the way he tucks his hands into his pockets and can’t seem to look me in the eye. “Who?”
“Just a lady I met on the train,” I can’t lie to him, but at the same time, I know my answer isn’t helping him understand why I pulled away so abruptly. Why would I chase down a random stranger from the train when we were about to kiss?
Aidan shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and I have the terrible feeling he’s about to make an excuse to leave before the double feature is over. I don’t want the night to be over already. I want to go back inside the theater and pick up where we left off, but if history has taught me anything, it’s that the most precious opportunities only come around once.
Still, I’m not ready to go home yet. Not even close.
I grin up at him, determined to salvage what’s left of our date. “Let’s build a snowman.”
The suggestion is a flagrant violation of the rules I’ve set for myself, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Besides, the charm on my bracelet clearly represents a special snowman. It has to be this. I’m suddenly sure of it. And, shameful confession: there’s indeed a carrot in my pocket.
The corner of Aidan’s mouth lifts. It’s not a full-on smile, but I’ll take what I can get. “You want to build a snowman? Now?”
“Yes.” I grin up at him. “Right now.”
I hook my arm through his and drag him outside. The sky is as dark as velvet and snow is falling in delicate flurries, soft like feathers. Aidan looks up at the stars blazing bright, and I’m struck by how many times I’ve seen him standing in this very place, backlit by the theater’s marquee. More times than I can count, probably. But this time feels different. It feels like both the first time and the last time it will ever happen, all at once.
“Ready?” he asks, hunching his shoulders against the cold.
I want to freeze this moment in time. I’ve been so distracted by the charm bracelet that the days since I’ve been home are passing in a blur.
I nod anyway. “Ready.”
“I know just the place.” He playfully waggles his eyebrows then heads up Main Street, but his hands remain in his pockets. Earlier, he might have held my hand, but the moment has passed.
Aidan’s idea of “just the place” turns out to be the yard in front of the OLFD firehouse. I have to admit, with its pristine expanse of untouched snow, the spot is indeed perfect. The light from the station’s windows bathe the yard in a golden glow as we pack snow into the form of three large snowballs, just like the charm on my bracelet. I keep waiting for Aidan to wonder why I suddenly want to build a snowman. I’m not sure how I’ll even try to explain it, but luckily, he never asks.
“You’re really good at this,” I say as he presses a line of pebbles into place along the snowman’s body. Five perfect buttons.
He shrugs. “Lots of practice. The twins love playing in the snow, and my sister loves watching us from the warmth and comfort of her living room window. Uncles are in charge of snowmen, apparently.”
“They’re sweet girls.”
“They are.” He grins, and then he does a double take when I pull a carrot from my coat pocket.
“I come prepared,” I say by way of explanation.
“I see that.” He’s studying me in that probing way of his again, and my cheeks warm as I remember what he said to me in the theater.
Being with you here again makes me wish I’d done things differently.
I wonder if those words still apply after my quick getaway to go after Betty, just like I wonder if she was really there at all. Was my imagination working overtime to give me an excuse to flee because I was afraid of what kissing Aidan might mean?
Surely not. I know what I saw. She was right there, and I wanted to kiss him. I still do—I want it so much that when the tips of my mittens brush against Aidan’s gloved fingertips, I go all fluttery inside. I wait, hoping against hope that Aidan will look at me again like he did when Bing Crosby crooned about counting his blessings. But in the end, I can’t bear the
wait, because the truth is that I know I’m not afraid of what might happen if he kisses me—I’m afraid of how disappointed I’ll be if he doesn’t.
So this time, I end the tender moment before it begins. I form a frosty snowball with mittened hands and throw it straight at Aidan’s heart, where it lands with a muffled thud. Within seconds, we’re engaged in an all-out snowball fight, chasing one another around our snowman, who stands quietly in the center of the chaos with his bright orange nose and wobbly grin.
He looks just like the charm on my bracelet, and even though the kiss was a near miss that might never come around again, something about tonight was special all the same. Aidan and I have moved on from the past. I’m certain I’m going to hear the distinctive jingle the bracelet makes every time one of the charms comes to life. I just know I will.
But I never do.
The frost-covered yard glitters in the moonlight, and the snowfall is as soft and quiet as a whisper. Aidan is my friend again, which is more than I’ve ever dared hope for before. The snowman charm remains a mystery. That’s okay, though.
For once, I don’t give the bracelet a second thought, because the echo of Aidan’s laughter commingling with mine in the snow-kissed air is its own kind of magic.
Chapter Fourteen
Two days later, I’m back at the firehouse—this time, for the actual toy parade committee meeting.
I’ve spent the past forty-eight hours or so helping my mom and dad with their jigsaw puzzles, taking Fruitcake for long, rambling walks and running the occasional Christmas errand. I’ve almost gotten used to the slower pace of small-town life. In fact, I’ve actually begun to enjoy it. Other than having too much time on my hands to think about the fact that I haven’t heard from Aidan since our movie date, it’s been really nice.
But he’s here now, of course, sitting across me at the fire station’s big farm table in his OLFD gear with a clipboard in his hands. We’re surrounded by other committee members, mostly other firefighters, plus a few of their family members, most notably Susan. She breezes into the station with Sophie and Olivia in tow, and the girls immediately collapse onto the floor to play with Fruitcake, who soaks up the attention with the long-suffering grace that golden retrievers are so famous for. Basically, the patience of a saint.
“That dog is perfect,” Susan says as she slides into the seat beside me. “He’s like a canine Mary Poppins.”
“He’s pretty amazing.” I give her a quick squeeze. “It’s great to see you. How are things at the jewelry shop?”
“Good. The owner stopped by a few days ago on her way out of town for the holidays, and we started packing some things up. The day after Christmas is going to be our last hurrah. Too bad she couldn’t find a buyer. I thought she might because she lowered the sell price to rock bottom.” She pulls a plastic bag from her oversized purse and offers it to me. “These are all old pieces we’ve had on hand for years. Junk, essentially, but I thought you might be able to use some of them for your recycled jewelry designs?”
The bag is full of old silver pins with broken clasps, bracelets with missing links and rings darkened by tarnish, but beyond the obvious wear and tear, the items are quite lovely. At first glance, I spot a gorgeous vintage Art Deco-style women’s wristwatch. With just a little cleaning and repair work, I could probably convert it into a lapel pin for my mom for Christmas. “Are you kidding? There are treasures in here.”
Susan laughs. “I can promise you that you’re the only one who thinks so. Take it. It’s yours.”
“I don’t know what to say.” I clutch the bag to my heart. “Thank you, and thank your boss, too.”
She gives me a warm smile, then turns her attention to her brother, who’s staring down at his clipboard with a tiny furrow in his brow. He hasn’t met my eye since I arrived.
I try not to read too much into it. Aidan is technically on duty, after all. He’s probably just in action hero mode. I hope that’s the explanation for his contemplative mood, anyway, and that he’s not reacting to anything bad that’s happened. My dad saw some awful things back when he was a firefighter. Aidan isn’t really an action figure. He’s not indestructible, and he definitely has feelings. A heart. Being a real-life hero takes its toll.
He looks up from the clipboard to nod hello to his sister and casts a quick glance in my direction. The crease in his forehead disappears, the look in his eyes is warm. His words from a few nights ago ring in my head like a refrain from a Christmas carol.
There’s more to being brave than willingly walking into a burning building.
Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised at the radio silence since movie night.
“There’s a snowman out front,” Uncle Hugh says as he strolls into the station, coffee cup in hand.
“Yeah, it’s been there for a few days. Where did it come from?” Josh asks, then presses a kiss to the top of Susan’s head before scooping the twins into his lap and dropping into one of the recliners. Sophie and Olivia collapse into giggles as they burrow into his arms.
A paramedic sitting beside Aidan shrugs. “No clue. It just appeared overnight during my last shift.”
Aidan’s gaze flits toward mine again, and we share a secret smile.
Uncle Hugh shrugs. “They’re popping up all over town. It’s like Owl Lake has its own secret snowman bandit.”
It’s a struggle not to raise my hand. Snowman bandit, present and accounted for.
“Should we get the meeting started?” I ask brightly. Surely there’s something more important on Aidan’s clipboard that we should be discussing rather than my numerous failed attempts at bringing the snowman charm to life.
I can’t help it. I want to get to the ring charm. I know it’s silly, given my recent near miss with an engagement ring, but I’m only human. I’ve also possibly spent too much time working at a jewelry store where half of Manhattan’s brides-to-be get engaged. When I get back to the city, I’ll have to let the Windsor marketing team know that their ad campaign was a little too effective at getting me used to thinking of “Christmas time” right along with “engagement ring.”
“What’s on the agenda today, fearless leader?” Susan flashes Aidan an exaggerated wink.
“Funny you should ask,” he says, glancing down at his notes again. He picks up a pencil and strikes through the bullet point at the top of the page. “I’m officially stepping down as sole chairperson of the committee.”
Around the table, mouths drop. Hugh practically chokes on his coffee. Susan laughs as if what her brother has just said is a huge joke. I’m the only person in the room who doesn’t seem surprised.
Scratch that—I’m a little surprised, but mostly, I’m happy. And proud. Aidan is trying to change and get more balance in his life. It’s a baby step, but it’s still a step forward.
My heart skitters as our eyes meet for a brief second. I wonder what all of this means beyond the parade committee. Now that he’s moving toward living his life again, is Aidan ready to risk his heart?
Am I?
“So we don’t have a committee chair anymore? I don’t blame you for wanting to take it a little easier, man. You’re always the first to volunteer for anything and everything.” Josh says. “But the timing’s not great—the parade is just two days away.”
Aidan shakes his head. “I’ll still chair the committee, but I’d like to have someone step up as co-chair and share some of the responsibility going forward. Next year, that person could move into the role of head committee chair. The remainder of this year could be a training exercise of sorts.”
“I see.” Uncle Hugh nods. “I have to say, I think this is a wise decision. The bulk of the workload should be shared, and you’ve headed the committee every single year since you joined the department.”
“I agree.” Susan gives the table a gentle pound. “One hundred percent.”
Everyone nods, effective
ly confirming Aidan’s reputation as OLFD’s perpetual action figure. His coworkers are good people, though. The fire department is a family, just like it always has been. And like all good families, they want what’s truly best for their own.
“Perfect. We’re all in agreement.” Uncle Hugh takes a gulp of his coffee.
“Thank you.” Aidan nods, and the furrow in his forehead makes another brief appearance. He’s clearly uncomfortable showing any sort of vulnerability, even here at the firehouse, his safest haven. “Is there anyone eager to take on the co-chair position?”
Susan raises her hand. Good for her, I think, but then she says, “I nominate Ashley.”
I blink at her. Did she really just say what I think she said? “Um…”
I can’t. I mean, I sort of want to. Actually, I really want to. Wrapping gifts a few nights ago with Aidan was nothing like working the wrap desk at Windsor. It felt good to do something with a greater purpose.
But co-chair? It’s meant to be a training opportunity. Aidan wants someone who’s willing to head up the entire parade next year and I won’t even be here next Christmas.
A weight settles on my heart at this realization, even though it shouldn’t come as a surprise. My life—my real life—is in Manhattan now, not Owl Lake. It seems that my hometown’s bottomless hot cocoa, a magic bracelet, countless snowmen, and Aidan’s blue eyes have almost made me forget this important detail.
“I second that nomination,” someone says. I’m too shell-shocked to register who it is.
“I third it,” Josh chimes in.
Aidan’s pencil is tapping out an anxious beat on his clipboard. I can’t tell if he wishes I would accept or decline. Where’s a heaping dose of magic when you really need one? Granted, my magic hasn’t been very good about telling me where to go, but it has a solid track record of telling me where not to go, if my failed attempts to reach Manhattan are any indication.
