Nick bounded to his feet, hiding his arm behind him. “I have to go. Prancer needs training.”
Gail stood and wrapped him in a motherly embrace. “We’re here for you. You know that, right?”
He nodded, melting into her with all the need of a lost little boy. If he didn’t fall in love–and fast–he’d lose Christmas and the family who took him in when he was all alone in the world. He couldn’t let that happen–but he had no idea how he would love someone else when his heart belonged to Penelope.
ChapterOne
The day after Thanksgiving
Moose Hollow
Charlotte Morris took one look at the snow falling outside of her one-bedroom basement apartment with drafty windows and a flimsy front door and decided to walk to work.
Yes, walk.
In the snow.
On purpose.
She just couldn’t help herself.
With the Christmas season officially beginning today, the snow seemed like a sign that all would be merry and bright this season. The best of omens, fresh snow on Black Friday was like finding a thousand lucky pennies or opening a package of mint Oreos. Seriously good vibes happened in Moose Hollow, which is why she couldn’t imagine living anywhere else on the planet than her hometown tucked into the side of a mountain.
She pulled a soft beanie over her head and tucked her long, dark hair inside her Christmas green wool coat to keep the curls from getting wet. Her Christmas wish, a sphere of glowing light about the size of a basketball, hovered near. Nick Kringle, the Santa stand-in who could actually grant wishes, said her wish ball was extraordinary. He’d never seen one before, though he didn’t seem at all worried about it. She’d grown rather fond of the thing and the constant reminder that Christmas was magical and that this year, that ball of light would turn into the very thing she’d asked for every year since she was five.
The sky was dark this early in the morning, with stars winking hello as she climbed the five concrete steps to the sidewalk.
Old Mr. Pryor, her landlord, had shoveled her walk and hunched over his industrial-strength snow shovel to dig out his pickup truck. His wife would sleep until nine, and then he’d start the process of dressing her up for the day. He insisted on curling her hair and wheeling her to the window where she could watch the neighborhood children play. Theirs was a love story for the ages, and Charlotte often wondered if they made men like Mr. Pryor anymore. If they did, she hadn’t been out with any.
Hearing her footsteps crunch the ice melt he’d layered down, he lifted a hand in greeting.
“Merry Christmas!” she whisper-called to him across the yard. Theirs was the only house on Derby Road with lights on this early in the morning.
He stopped and scratched under his stocking hat. “I guess you can say that now, can’t ya?” he called back, not caring if he woke up the sleepy mountain town.
“First day of the season,” she replied. “Have a wonderful day.”
“We will.” He went back to his task, steady and robust against the heavy flakes Mother Nature sprinkled upon them.
Charlotte hugged herself and continued down the street, her heart lifting with each step. She had just enough time to stop and check on her soon-to-be house. Her shop would overflow with eager locals and tourists alike, online orders, and business today; she wanted a few moments to center herself on the spirit of the season.
With a few quick steps, she was at the corner of Derby Road and 34th Street. She closed her eyes tight, turned her body toward the house, and popped them open.
With a contented sigh, she placed her red mittens on the section of the white picket fence that wasn’t falling. The streetlight cast a soft glow over the two-story white house. With this much snow, it almost looked new. Her wish flashed ahead of her like a puppy that couldn’t contain itself. It raced through a crack in the upstairs window and bounced from room to room. Charlotte laughed at its antics.
Jingle bells rang, and the snow swirled and whooshed around her body before settling again. “Merry Christmas,” she called over her shoulder without looking back.
Large black boots crunched the snow, and a moment later, Nick Kringle, wearing a Santa suit sans beard, stepped into the circle of light.
“Busy day for you,” she acknowledged as she glanced at his handsome profile. There was nothing like a man in a Santa suit. Although there was something about this Kringle that told her he was off limits romantically. Perhaps his heart was tied up somewhere else in the world. She wasn’t sure, and since she was single, she understood the pressure to findthe one. It didn’t help that her family was on a streak of Christmas marriages. Two Christmases and two weddings meant she heard, “You’re next,” more than she cared to admit–and that was just from her mom.
She’d been on twelve dates this year–two with the same guy who turned out to be passing through town. Luthor was nice and all, but she wasn’t looking for a fly-by romance, and he couldn’t commit to a long-term effort. It looked like another year of avoiding the mistletoe.
Her wish exhausted itself and slowly bobbed toward her. It weaved in and out of Nick’s legs in greeting before settling in place and bouncing slowly, as if trying to catch its breath.
Nick stared down at it. “I’m still not sure what to think of that.”
“Maybe you need to believe harder,” Charlotte teased him. “Because I believe it will make that house mine on Christmas Day.”
