“Everything she thought she wanted before meeting you. Things change, Becken. People do too. What she wanted a few months ago might not be what she wants now.”
“She should take the job. She’s worked too hard to give up the opportunity.”
“Maybe there are opportunities here too. Have you asked her to stay?”
Before I could answer, the double doors swung open. Dungar strode in, his sheriff’s badge glinting on his chest, a small gift bag clutched in one hand.
“Found you.” He looked pleased with himself. “Got your present.”
My heart rate picked up. “What’s it look like?”
“Exactly as you described.” He held out the bag.
I took it with careful hands, afraid to look inside. “I’ll pay you back.”
“Consider it my contribution to the mating cause. Fates know my social life can’t compete.”
Ostor peered over my shoulder as I reached into the bag.
My fingers closed around something cold and round. I lifted it from its tissue paper nest, and there it was, the snow globe Carla had described. A base of polished wood held a perfect glass sphere. Inside, a miniature evergreen forest surrounded a single decorated tree, and a tiny rabbit sat beneath, its ears perked as if listening for something magical. When I turned it over, a small bar protruded from the bottom.
“Wind it up,” Dungar said.
I twisted, feeling resistance, then set the globe upright on my palm. The first notes of “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” tinkled out. Snowflakes swirled inside the globe, drifting around the little rabbit and the Christmas tree.
“It’s beautiful.” My voice came out rough with emotion.
“According to the person I bought it from, it’s a rare piece,” Dungar said. “Only a few hundred were made by a craftsman in Vermont about fifty years ago.”
I turned the globe, watching the snow settle again.
“When are you giving it to her?” Ostor asked.
“Tomorrow morning. But I need somewhere special.” I placed the snow globe carefully back in the bag. “The hotel room doesn’t feel right for a Christmas breakfast and giving her this.”
“What about the cabin where you were stranded?” Ostor said.
“Too far if the weather gets bad.”
“Use my office,” Dungar said. “It’s private, it’s in town, and I can easily clear out for the morning.”
I considered it. The sheriff’s office wasn’t exactly romantic, but it was practical. “Are you sure?”
“Positive. I’ll even help you decorate.” He gestured around the function hall. “Not as elaborately as this, but enough to make it special. We have leftover decorations.”
“We could all help,” Ostor said. “Rosey would love to be involved.”
“It’s only a small gift.”
“Cousin,” Dungar said slowly. “You asked me to help you track down a rare collectible that holds deep meaning for a woman you’re in love with, to give her on Christmas morning while playing a song about coming home. If that’s not a grand romantic gesture, I don’t know what is.”
Put that way, it did sound significant. “I want her to have one perfect Christmas morning.”
“Because you love her.” Ostor’s statement wasn’t a question.
“Yes. I do.”
“Then tell her that, along with the gift,” Dungar said. “Make sure she knows exactly what she’d be leaving behind if she takes that California job.”
