I stepped off the ladder and walked over to the bag, carefully removing the snow globe again. I wound it and listened to the delicate notes of “I’ll Be Home for Christmas”. The irony of the song wasn’t lost on me. For Carla to be home for Christmas, she would first need to recognize where home truly was.
Was it here with me, or was it in California, building the career she’d always wanted?
I placed the snow globe back in its bag and tucked it safely in my coat pocket. Whatever she decided, I’d make sure she had one perfect Christmas morning.
Even if it was the only Christmas we’d ever share.
Chapter 23
Carla
Glitter coated the function hall tables, the floor, and most definitely my hands. Children crowded around craft stations, their faces scrunched in concentration as they assembled ornaments from popsicle sticks, pine cones, and enough sparkly material to decorate ten Christmas trees.
“Carla, is this right?” A little girl with tightly braided hair and a bright red dress held up her creation, a lopsided star dripping with glue and silver glitter.
“It’s perfect, Latisha.” I knelt beside her, admiring the ornament. “Where will you hang it at home?”
“Right in the middle of our tree where everyone can see it.” She beamed, adding another generous sprinkle of glitter. “Mommy says homemade ornaments are the best kind.”
“Your mommy is very wise.”
The Christmas craft workshop had been Rosey’s idea, something to keep the children occupied while parents finished their holiday shopping. I’d been recruited to help, despite having zero experience with children’s activities. Yet here I was, surrounded by tiny humans wielding glue sticks and scissors, teaching them to make decorations I’d never made myself.
“Having fun?” Rosey appeared beside me, her apron covered in multi-colored splatters.
“I am.” I helped Latisha secure a ribbon to her star. “Though I’m fairly certain I’ll be finding glitter in my hair until Valentine’s Day.”
“It’s the worst part of craft supplies,” she said with a laugh. “Gets everywhere and never goes away.”
“Worth it though. I never did anything like this growing up.”
Rosey’s expression softened. “No Christmas crafts with your aunt and uncle?”
“They weren’t the type.” The understatement made me smile despite the memory. “Their idea of Christmas preparation was hiring a decorator to handle everything while they attended holiday parties.”
“That’s sad.” She handed me a stack of red construction paper. “Every child should have memories of making something special for Christmas.”
“I’m making them now. Better late than never, right?”
“Exactly right.”
Across the room, Max supervised a group of boys creating miniature sorhoxes from pine cones and pipe cleaners. His instructional style mirrored Rosey’s, patient but firm, encouraging creativity while maintaining order. He’d make an excellent teacher someday.
“These turned out adorable.” Allie came over to stand beside me, her hands stained with paint rather than glitter. “The pottery ornaments are drying nicely too.”
“Your husband’s quite the artist.” I nodded toward where Hail helped a young girl paint delicate patterns on a clay disk.
“I’m not sure who’s having more fun, the children or him.”
Allie had a quiet confidence I’d admired since meeting her. She’d created a new life here after time on the run from dangerous people, finding safety and love with Hail. Her artsold in Aunt Inla’s store, and they were talking about opening a gallery to feature not only her paintings but other items from orc crafters who’d recently come to the surface.
“How did you know that this was where you belonged, that Hail was your future?” I asked.
“Ah. You’re trying to decide.”
“The job offer is everything I’ve worked for. It’s a prestigious ranch, a wonderful position, and the salary’s excellent.”
“But?”
