“It was,” Gloria agreed. “Especially for William. You see, Harrold was older than William by a couple of hours. He was the one who took over the family shipping business, Moore Shipping Lines. William had gone off to West Palm Beach to make his own way. He became an attorney, quite successful, too. William opened a law firm and landed one of the biggest companies in Florida as his firm’s main client. A big tech company.”
Charlie’s attention sharpened. “A tech company? Do you know which one?”
“I’m afraid I don’t remember the name,” Gloria said apologetically. “But I know it was in West Palm Beach. William worked in West Palm Beach for almost twenty years. He was making quite a name for himself in corporate law.”
“What made him come back to St. Augustine?” Charlie asked, though she suspected she already knew the answer.
Gloria’s expression grew sad. “When Harrold died, someone had to take over the family business. The shipping company, this shop. They both needed leadership. William’s mother was too grief-stricken to manage everything alone. So William came home.”
“That must have been difficult,” Charlie said. “Giving up his career to step into his brother’s shoes.”
“It was,” Gloria confirmed. “But William never complained. He sold his share of the law practice, moved back to St. Augustine, and threw himself into learning the family businesses. He eventually sold the shipping company a few years ago. He said his heart wasn’t in it the way Harrold’s had been. But he kept the shop because it was a piece of his mother and her heritage.”
Charlie made notes, her mind working through the implications. William had been a corporate attorney for a tech company in West Palm Beach. That kind of work would have given him significant financial resources and connections. And coming back to take over family businesses would have given him even more wealth.
“So William’s been running the shop for fifteen years?” Charlie asked.
“That’s right,” Gloria said. “And doing a wonderful job of it. He’s expanded the inventory, maintains the Christmas traditions, and keeps the magic alive for new generations. His motherwould be proud.”
“His mother has passed away?” Charlie asked gently.
“About ten years ago,” Gloria said. “Cancer. It was hard on William, losing both his brother and his mother within five years. But he had the shop and his friendship with the Christmas family to keep him grounded.”
Charlie felt a strange stirring in her mind, as if pieces of a puzzle were trying to fit together, but she couldn’t quite see the full picture yet. William, a corporate attorney for a tech company in West Palm Beach. That felt significant somehow, though she couldn’t put her finger on why.
“Thank you, Gloria,” Charlie said. “This has been very helpful.”
“Of course, dear,” Gloria said. Then she brightened. “Oh, before you go, would you like to make a donation and put a wish on the wishing tree? It’s a Christmas tradition here at the shop. All the donations go to local underprivileged kids, so they get a bit of Christmas magic too.”
Charlie looked up at the enormous tree standing in the corner of the shop. It was at least twelve feet tall, covered in colorful wish cards hanging from red ribbons. Tiny lights twinkled among the branches, and at the very top sat the most beautiful antique angel Charlie had ever seen. It caught the light through the crystal star on its wand, sending rainbows dancing across the ceiling.
“Sure,” Charlie said, smiling. “I’d love to.”
Gloria handed her a small card and a pen. “Just write your wishand hang it on the tree. And don’t forget to make a small donation to the jar.”
Charlie took the card and moved toward the tree, thinking about what to wish for. There were so many things. She could make a wish for the inn to be saved, for Holly and Jack to find happiness, for Jane and Gabe’s future, and for her own upcoming marriage to Logan.
She was about to write when movement outside the shop window caught her attention.
A young woman stood on the sidewalk with a small boy, maybe six or seven years old. The woman was trying to smile, but Charlie could see the sadness in her eyes, the exhaustion in the set of her shoulders. The boy was tugging on her hand, pointing excitedly at the shop.
Charlie moved closer to the window, unable to help overhearing their conversation through the old glass.
“Mommy, can I go make a wish on the wishing tree?” the boy asked, his voice bright with hope.
His mother glanced into the shop window, her smile faltering. “Maybe later, sweetheart,” she said, her voice gentle but strained. “We have to get to the hospital.”
The boy nodded, his excitement dimming. “I know. But I thought if I made a wish, Daddy would wake up from the coma.”
Charlie’s heart lurched in her chest. She felt tears sting her eyes as the woman knelt down toher son’s level.
“Oh, honey,” the woman said, her voice breaking slightly. “That’s so sweet. But maybe on the way home, okay? We don’t want to be late for visiting hours.”
The boy, Mikey, Charlie heard his mother call him, nodded solemnly, and they walked off down the street toward the hospital.
Charlie didn’t even feel the tears slipping down her cheeks until Gloria’s voice made her jump.
“Sad story, that one,” Gloria said softly, having come to stand beside Charlie at the window.
