He looks confused, hurt even. For a moment, I feel a twinge of regret. There will be more to come later. It will be awful, and I’ll hate myself even more for not being stronger than my fears.
I leave the ballroom, my heart pounding and my mind racing. The town square is alive with activity as people prepare for the tree-lighting ceremony. For a moment, I wish I could stay. I wish I could be carefree. I wish I could be open and not so clamped down all the time.
With a sigh, I turn away from the square and head back to my apartment. I have to let it go. I can’t hold on to that moment with Logan. I can’t replay the look on his face as I leave over and over again, or it will eat me up from the inside out.
The competition is all that matters now. Once I win, I’ll have my confidence, my credibility, and my graciousness back.
The sun is setting as I reach The Pampered Pooch Pantry. Inside my small but cozy space, I spread out my sketches on the desk. I press out wrinkles and unfold the edges. I should feel inspired and ready to dive back into my work. Instead, I find myself staring out the window, watching as the town comes to life with Christmas, and I’m stuck on the outside looking in. I know I’ve put myself here; I just don’t know how to let myself out.
With renewed determination, I turn back to my sketches. The town may be celebrating outside, but here, I have a different kind of magic to create. And nothing—not family expectations, not past hurts, and certainly not Logan Brown—is going to stop me from making my vision a reality.
Three
GLADYS
The Blessing Call Center hums with energy, a symphony of celestial voices and light that never fails to energize me into helping people. You may think that giving out blessings all day long would tire an angel out, but it does the exact opposite; it rejuvenates me. I love being of help to angels and people, and the well we draw from is an infinite source. I sit at my sleek, white desk, my fingers dancing over the keyboard as I finish up my latest call.
“Yes, of course,” I say, my voice infused with warmth and a touch of amusement. “I understand how important this spelling bee is for little Tim. I’ll put in a request for an extra dose of courage and clear-mindedness. Just remember, we can provide the blessing, but Timmy still needs to do the work. We’re not running a divine cheat sheet service here.”
I pause, listening to the guardian angel on the other end of the line. “A puppy?” I scroll through the on-screen information. “Oh, I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I can’t grant that request. Tim’s mother has been praying quite adamantly against it. Something about allergies and carpet cleaning bills.” I chuckle softly. “Perhaps we could arrange for some quality time with a neighbor’s dog instead? Or maybe a nice, low-maintenance pet rock? I hear they’re making a comeback.”
As I wrap up the call, I can’t help but marvel at the intricate dance of human desires and divine intervention. It’s a delicate balance. God wants to give his children every good thing, but it can’t interfere with agency, and not everyone is open to receiving all He has.
With a sigh, I remove my halo-like headset, the soft glow fading as I set it down.
“Gladys? Are you okay?”
I look up to see Celeste approaching my station. Her sapphire blue eyes are framed by long, dark lashes. Her deep brown curls cascade over her right shoulder. The innocence and eagerness radiating from her is almost palpable, reminding me of a puppy seeing snow for the first time.
“Just finished up a call,” I say with a smile. “How are your guardian angel classes going?”
Celeste’s face lights up like the star atop a Christmas tree, her rosy cheeks glowing with excitement. “They’re amazing. But I’m even more excited to hear about your final exam. Who’s your assignment? What are they like?”
I lean back in my chair, patting the top of my head to make sure my hair is in place. “Her name is Bailey,” I begin, feeling the weight of the challenge ahead. After the way she reacted to Logan—who is such a sweet and handsome man—I’m not sure there’s a soft bone in her body. I chatted with him for a minute. Besides being a designer, he’s a firefighter. The man rescues kittens for a living, and Bailey didn’t give him the time of day. “She’s about as prickly as a cactus in the desert. And not one of those cute, Instacloud-worthy succulents, either. We’re talking full-on, ‘touch me and regret it’ prickly.”
Celeste’s brow furrows slightly, but her smile doesn’t dim. “Prickly?”
I sigh, trying to find the right words to describe Bailey without betraying the fondness I already feel for her despite her difficult nature. “She’s built up these walls around herself and is defensive. It’s like she’s decided the whole world is against her, so she might as well be against it right back. Imagine trying to hug a porcupine wearing a suit of armor, and you’re getting close.”
“Butwhy?” Celeste asks, her sapphire eyes wide with curiosity. “Doesn’t she know how loved she is?”
“That’s just it,” I say, shaking my head. “She doesn’t. Or if she does, she’s forgotten. She’s been hurt, Celeste. Misunderstood and undervalued for so long that she’s started to believe it herself. It’s like she’s got her heart sealed in a snow globe.”
I pause, remembering the pain I’d sensed in Bailey’s heart during our brief encounter. “I just don’t understand why humans can be so... inflexible sometimes. They get these ideas in their heads about who they are or how the world works, and it’s like trying to move a mountain to get them to see things differently. Actually, moving a mountain might be easier. At least mountains don’t talk back.”
Celeste listens intently, her expression thoughtful. “But isn’t that what makes it so rewarding?” she asks after a moment, her optimism shining through. “I mean, we learned in class that the most challenging cases are often the ones where we can make the biggest difference.”
I can’t help but smile at her optimism. “In theory, you’re absolutely right. But in practice...” I trail off, remembering some of Bailey’s more stubborn moments. “And don’t even get me started on her interactions with Logan.”
“Logan?” Celeste asks, leaning in with interest.
“A man who’s clearly interested in her,” I explain. “He tried to be friendly, but Bailey shut him down. It’s like watching someone slam a door in their own face.”
Celeste nods sympathetically, her youthful face etched with concern. “It sounds so frustrating.”
Before I can respond, a soft chime sounds from both our stations. “Looks like we’ve got more calls coming in,” I say, reaching for my headset.
Celeste nods, her expression turning serious. “Back to work then. Don’t give up. I have a feeling you’re going to do amazing things for Bailey.”
