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“Says who?”

“Says me! Feelings are all well and good in books and movies, but in real life, love is an active choice. I’ve chosen Cal once before. I could choose him again. We could be good together . . . even if I’m not as attracted to him as I am to Gabe. Besides, there are things like lifestyles and goals to consider. Not to mention location, which you know has always been a big thing for me.”

Ivy looks thoughtful. “You don’t think you and Gabe are on the same page about lifestyle and your goals for a family?”

“I don’t know. I guess we haven’t really talked about it.”

“Maybe that’s your problem.”

I frown. “You make it sound so easy.”

“Look, I hear you,” Ivy says. “I would never tell you to throw rationality and practicality out the window and dive in with Gabe just because of the obvious physical attraction you guys have. Passion and a romantic spark fade, or at the very least ebb and flow over time. You’re smart to look at the big picture. But lifestyles and location are only part of the big picture. Have you considered who you can talk to? Who understands you and wants to take care of you? Those are big-picture things, too. From the outside looking in, it sure seems like what you and Gabe share goes deeper than just physical attraction.”

I pick at a fray of the couch cushion remembering how I stumbled out of my bedroom to find Gabe waiting for me with homemade soup, a cup of tea, and my favorite Christmas movie.

“Gabe does get me. He always has,” I tell Ivy. “But he picked his career over me once. Who’s to say he won’t pick music over me again? Not to mention that I don’t want to be part of the music scene again, period, so where does that leave me?”

I peer over at my friend, praying she has a solution, because it feels like I’ve reached an impasse. I want Gabe, but I don’t know how I can have him.

Ivy offers me a wincing smile. “I don’t know, Bethy. I can’t make a decision for you. But none of us know what the future holds—I think you need to remember that. And maybe you owe it to yourself and Gabe to have an honest conversation about all of this.”

“Ugh. Who has the time!” I throw an arm over my eyes like a dramatic Regency woman in a full fit of vapors. “This is why I’m out of sorts. I don’t know how to sift through all of this. And we’ve still got to come up with one more stop on the Christmas Dash. And the Dasher Valley 8 selection is going to be released any minute.”

Ivy reaches over and yanks my arm down, laughing. “Okay, drama queen.”

I smirk.

“Listen”—she sits up straighter—“you can only control what you can control. Let’s think about the Christmas Dash. I’ll help you brainstorm.”

“Okay.” I blow out a breath. “The goal for the Dash is to get people to slow down and savor the day. To enjoy the sites around town and the people they’re with.”

I survey the bookstore. We’ve got our book tree in the front window, and another flocked Christmas tree stands just behind our center register. We’ve decorated it with old-fashioned multicolored bulb lights and homemade bookish ornaments. Every so often, our book distributors will send us a copy of a book that’s misprinted. Sometimes the pages are printed upside down. Once I got a book that had the last three chapters printed at the start of the book (and I could have really used a spoiler alert in that case). Occasionally the covers show up damaged. I could send these copies back and ask for a refund, but I know that eats into an author’s profit, especially my indie authors, so I’ve just kept the misprints and figured out a way to repurpose them. In this case, I used large clear ornaments and cut strips of the book pages, which I then curled and stuffed inside. It’s super easy, and the end result is a delightfully readable Christmas tree.

“What if you send people here?” Ivy suggests.

I turn to her, nodding slowly. “We could have a table set up with old and misprinted books that they could make ornaments from.”

“There ya go. That’s easy to prep, too. We have all those copies in the storage room. I can get it set up today, and we can move it out onto the floor the morning of the Dash.”

“We can do that.” I exhale a sigh of relief. “That means the Christmas Dash is officially full.”

Ivy stands up. She reaches out a hand and hauls me to my feet, pulling me into a hug.

“It’s all going to be alright, see? And we’ll be okay no matter what happens with the Dasher Valley 8.”

“Thanks for saying so.” I lean into my friend’s embrace. I know she’s right. I don’t actually need the bookstore to be successful, financially. My parents had life insurance and that, coupled with my inheritance from my dad’s music career, means I don’t have to worry about money.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t want them to vote in my favor,” I tell Ivy.

I want the DV8 recognition for my own sake—as proof that I’ve made it. I want the bookstore to be successful because sharing books with readers and being an active part of this community is important to me. It’s fulfilling and meaningful. I work because I’m passionate about spreading the written word—and creating a place to gather surrounded by it. I think books and reading and literary discussions make us human.

“I know.” Ivy leans away, and we turn toward the checkout counter. “But we’re innovative smart businesswomen. If we don’t get selected, we’ll figure out a way to draw our own attention and continue our mission. Look at what we pulled together for the Christmas Market last weekend. Jack can’t stop talking about it. The attendance was up by forty percent over last year.”

“That’s the Gabe effect,” I say wryly. For better or worse. “He’s a magnet for people.”

“And what you have to figure out is how much of an effect you’re going to let him have on you.” Ivy wags her brows. “How much of an effect you want him to have on you.”

Christmas Dash Rhyme #6