Christmas Eve is here.Charlotte and I have been lazily draped on the couch under blankets since after lunch. Ember’s sprawled on my lap, snoozing away, my hand resting on her belly. I’ve come to enjoy our unspoken routine the three of us created.
Charlotte glances toward the window. “When did it start snowing again? And this hard?”
I peer outside. Snow’s falling almost sideways, leveling nearly every surface I’ve shoveled. “Looks like we’re snowed in.Again.”
“Guess you’re stuck with me for Christmas Eve.” She grins at me over her book, the same one she was reading the other day in the library.
She offers me a cookie from the batch we decorated a few days ago. I take a bite. “I can think of worse places to be stuck.”
“Me too,” she laughs, setting the plate back on the side table. “Like airports. A fear I didn’t realize I even had until recently. I couldn’t imagine being stranded in a busy airport on Christmas Eve because of a blizzard. I’m glad Rory made it out on time.”
A few minutes pass. Charlotte switches positions, her head now resting in my lap. She puts her book down. “I alwayswondered why it is called Mistletoe Mountain? I haven’t seen a single mistletoe.”
My lips tug into a smile. “It’s a bit ironic, isn’t it? Believe it or not, mistletoe is actually a parasite and bad for trees. Local folklore. Allegedly, couples who kiss on Mistletoe Mountain end up married.”
That gets her attention. She tilts her head back. “Really?”
I raise my hands in resignation. “That’s what they say.”
“Interesting. Someone should fact check that.” She eyes me like she wants to say something, but doesn’t. Instead, she reaches up and steals the other half of the cookie dangling from my mouth.
I reach for it, but it’s already gone. I should be offended, but I laugh instead.
Ember stirs awake from our commotion and jumps to the floor. We’re giggling again, and I’m reminded that, these last two weeks, I’ve really enjoyed Charlotte’s company and am glad she’s here. Our eyes hold. I dip down and brush our lips together. Spending Christmas Eve just like this seems perfect.
I yawn, stretching my arms over my head. Settling back into position for more prime couch rotting with Charlotte, I adjust my shirt, then place a hand at the base of my neck to realign my necklace out of habit.
I touch bare skin. Nothing’s there.
My stomach drops. I frantically pat my chest, shaking out my shirt, hoping something falls loose. Still nothing.
“What’s wrong?” Charlotte straightens, her face says she’s just as alarmed as I am.
“My necklace.” I whip around to both sides, digging in the couch cushions. When’s the last time I had it? This morning? Yesterday? “I can’t find my necklace. It was my dad’s.”
“Oh, no.” Charlotte lifts from the couch. “I’ll help you search. Let’s retrace your steps.”
Panic sets in. We tear the cabin apart. Couch cushions fly. I check the floor where I used to sleep. I searched the bed. I even checked my keepsake box, knowing it wouldn’t be there. I look around in disbelief.
“We’ll find it,” Charlotte reassures me, but I’m not hopeful.
Ember follows me from room to room, hot on my heels. Her demeanor shifted as if she senses something’s wrong. An hour passes, and we still haven’t found it.
Tears prick at the corners of my eyes. I pause and think. The last place I remember wearing it was?—
No. I peer outside, stomach dropping to an unthinkable depth. We built a snowman yesterday. I wrapped the scarf I had around my neck onto the snowman that looked more like a snowmouse. Maybe my necklace snagged and is still attached? It’s a stretch, but I’m desperate.
As if Charlotte read my mind, she’s already grabbing our coats.
Ember’s pawing at the sliding door. I bend down and pet her. I can’t think of a better time to put our training to use. “Can you help me find my necklace, Ember?” She barks and I nod. Mission accepted.
The harsh wind blasts through our bones the moment we step outside. Snowdrifts pile high against the cabin exterior. Ember takes off toward the tree where I set out food for the animals.
We reach the destination, but the snowman is no longer standing, crumpled into two mounds of snow. The carrot nose and half the sticks are missing. The scarf’s nowhere in sight.
I bundle up tighter. All I see is white. Suddenly Ember barks.
I whip around and dart to the tree she’s sitting in front of. I drop to my hands and knees to dig, mirroring her movement. A carrot and a stick that looks familiar unearths.
