Raising my eyebrows, I stared at Archer’s broad back. “You created all of this?”
He turned back, scowl marring his bearded face. “It’s business.”
“It’s tradition.” Connie corrected, reaching into her basket to hand bundles to Brett, Paul, and me. I glanced down at the cinnamon sticks tied together with twine. In between the sticks were dried orange peel and a sprig of dried pine. A small white tag was attached to the twine that saidmistletoe kisses and fireside wishes.”
After reading it, I looked up, seeing Archer already staring. I pointed to the tag. “Youcame up with this?”
I beg your finest pardon for repeating myself, but I was in a state of shock.
“Well, of course, dear,” Connie said as if it were obvious.
It was, in fact,not.
You’re telling me that the man who thought the mistletoe legend was a hoax and refused to kiss under it came up with a cutesy little sashay of spices and labeled it for kisses and wishes?
Yeah right.
“This is for a wish?” I wondered, still trying to wrap my head around it.
Brett nodded. “Yeah. Every year at the bonfire, they hand out these little bundles, and you are supposed to close your eyes and make a wish, then throw them into the fire.”
“The scent of Christmas fills the air along with everyone’s wishes,” Connie added.
Wow. That was…sweet.
“Are you sure this wasn’t your idea?” I asked Connie.
She smacked me with a cinnamon bundle. “You know Archer is the romantic one.”
“Mom,” he warned.
“Archer?” I scoffed. “He’s about as romantic as a cavity.”
Brett laughed.
I went on. “Hallmark is going to file a restraining order.”
“I’d rather have a root canal than stand here with you another second,” Archer groused.
“That’s enough, boys.” Connie stepped between us. “Surely, you can set aside whatever it is between you two for the holiday season.”
We glared at each other.
“Come on, then, to the fire.” She herded her son, me, Brett, and Paul to the edge of the bonfire where people were already standing close and making wishes of their own before tossing the bundles in.
Inhaling, I noted there was already a hint of spice in the air, the cinnamon warm and slightly sharp mingling with the sweet citrus of the orange. It mixed perfectly with the strong scent of pine. It was nostalgic and exactly the way Christmas always smelled.
“Hold it like this,” Connie instructed, wrapping her hand around her own bundle and pulling it into her chest.
I followed her instructions.
“Close your eyes.”
When I did, the world around me came even more alive. The crackle and pop of the bonfire filled my ears along with the hum of people’s voices. At my back, the winter air was cold, but on my face, the fire was warm. Somewhere on the other side of the fire, bells jingled and the band started to play a classic Christmas song.
“Think about something you want. Not just any old thing, though. Something meaningful. Something you’ve alwayswanted but has been out of reach,” Connie said, refocusing my attention on the bundle gripped in my fingers.
Something flashed into my mind immediately, the answer so definitive it was disconcerting, especially because it wasn’t even what I wanted. Not at all.
