She couldn’t help herself. She had to ask at least one more because it felt important. “What happens if a kid wishes for school to be closed forever? How does your magic handle that?”
“No negative wishes.” He wagged his finger at her. “I’m a positive-wish-only kind of guy.”
“That’s a relief,” she replied. Charlotte whistled, and her wish bounded out of the house. “Okay, well, be good, and if I don’t see you again, have a Merry Christmas.” She turned and headed to work.
The sound of jingle bells rang through the air, and a chill raced over her skin as the back draft from Nick’s sleigh blew her hair into her face. Great. She’d spent twenty minutes on those waves–hoping Micah and Lizzie would stop by sometime today. Now she’d look like a frizz-bomb.
Good thing for Nick she couldn’t make a revenge wish; his Christmas sweater collection would be in grave danger if she could.
Glaring at the sky, she hustled to open the door to her shop. No matter how many pine candles she burned, the vanilla and cinnamon scents she couldn’t seem to get rid of greeted her like a dear friend. She blamed the cinnamon pine cones. Whenever she opened a new box, the cinnamon oil was so strong it made her eyes water.
The vanilla was still a mystery.
She flipped on the lights, and the trees lit up, the trains started to choo-choo, and the animated Santas hammered at their workbenches or popped out of chimneys over and over again.
She hugged herself with joy. This shop was everything she’d ever dreamed it could be, and she had to pinch herself every day to believe that her dream had come true.
She stowed her purse, turned on the computer and register, and took stock of what she needed to order. They were twelve days away from Christmas, and sales were as strong as ever. Today officially marked the start of the traditional giving of twelve gifts for Christmas. Not everyone followed this tradition–but there were many who did.
She’d designed an online gifting program for that purpose. There were three options. One was a pampering advent that included fuzzy slippers, lotions, foot scrubs, and more. Another featured traditional goodies from around the world. The last one was for men, and it had shaving supplies, hair gel, cologne, mini barbeque sauces, a sausage and cheese day, beef jerky, and more. That one was the most expensive but the best seller because knowing what to buy the man in your life who had everything was a question on many minds during the holidays. The Advent program sent out one gift per day so that the receiver had something new to open each of the twelve days leading up to Christmas. Shipping started the same day they were all snowed in. She’d stopped by to ensure her suppliers were on it–they were–and she checked in with them again today. Everything hummed along like clockwork.
Next, she clicked over to her website and checked sales.
Last-minute gift-givers cleaned out her supply of Christmas socks and aprons. She made a note to order more next year. Aubrey would be in within the hour to fulfill orders for things she kept in the store, like Valerie’s homemade dog treats. By next Christmas, Valerie needed a distributor lined up and ready to go. Growth was a good thing, but it was also expensive and scary in a way.
There was a knock at the locked door, and she hurried over to see who was there. Kobe Tuffin from the flower shop down the street grinned as he cupped his hand around his face and peered in. Seeing her coming, he stepped back and waited.
“Merry Christmas, Kobe!” she chirped. “What brings you down to my end of Main Street?” Her eyes landed on a large flower bouquet box, and she held her breath, not daring to believe it was for her.
“Delivery,” Kobe replied, pushing the flower box toward her. “Needed to get these out of the way. Takin’ up too much room.”
He was never one for small talk. Unless your definition of small talk was half-sentences. His wife did all the designing and meeting people, and he took care of the books. He said he liked it that way because he didn’t like people.
Charlotte accepted the box. “Thank you.”
He tipped his hat, stuffed his hands in his pockets, drew his shoulders up to his ears, and marched back the way he came.
She hurried to the counter with the heavy box, her heart tripping excitedly. She couldn’t remember the last time someone sent her flowers. She carefully untied the white and silver ribbon and lifted the lid. Before seeing what was inside, the smell of fresh red roses hit her nose, and she drew in a deep breath. She took a moment to stare at the beautiful arrangement. It was just right. Red roses with green stems and white accents. It practically screamed Christmas romance. She bounced on her toes several times–too happy to hold still.
There was a card.
Goodness–she was a sucker for cards!
She pulled it off the stick that held it in the blooms and read it out loud to herself. “For the woman who loves traditions–this is one I can’t wait to share with you.”
She squealed and threw her arms over her head. Punching the air over and over in excitement, she danced around the room like no one was watching. Thankfully, no one was because she was too happy to care that she shook her head like Jon Bon Jovi and made her frizz top all the poofier.
After exhausting herself, she flopped onto the stool behind the register and just stared at the roses. Most guys she’d dated had ignored her infatuation with Christmas or tried to talk her out of it. It embarrassed them to introduce her to their friends because it would inevitably come up that she owned The Christmas Shop. That knowledge was followed by lectures on commercializing the holiday or dismissive language.
Christmas Magic… Santa… it was all real. And she could no sooner turn her back on that than she could on her family.
Her phone rang, and she pulled it out of her purse to see Micah’s number on the caller ID. She hopped in her seat and then blew out a breath to calm herself before answering. “The Christmas Shop where every day is Christmas; this is Charlotte. How may I help you?” She dropped her forehead to the counter. She’d reverted to her business greeting in her fit of nerves at seeing his name. That was just great.
“Charlotte? It’s Micah.” He sounded gruff. But she realized that that didn’t mean he was grumpy. He just had a deep, straightforward voice.
Cradling the phone between her shoulder and ear, she cooed, “Merry Christmas, Micah.”
He cleared his throat. “Merry Christmas to you, too.”
