Page 29 of Christmas Treasures

Ivy dropped everything onto the worktable and started arranging it all. “Tell me if this feels right.”

Max stepped closer, as did Charlie, who immediately reached for the sunflower pillow. It was round and plush, its velvet petals a buttery yellow, with a warm brown corduroy center.

“This is adorable,” Charlie said, hugging it to her chest.

“That’s one of my favorites,” Ivy said. “I had it custom-made for a window display and couldn’t bear to sell it. But I think it belongs in Bianca’s room. Meant to be, right?”

“No other explanation,” Charlie said, smiling.

Ivy then held up a small ceramic sunflower lamp with gold detailing on each petal and a soft ivory linen shade. “Soft light, no glare. Good for bedtime stories or a late-night worry or two.”

Max ran his fingers along the curved ceramic base. “A late-night worry? I don’t know anything about what to say if she has any of those.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll figure it out,” Ivy said gently. “You were raised by Grace and Walter Hayes. I have a feeling you’ll be a natural.”

Ivy pointed at a bundle of fairy lights strung with tiny gold stars. “We can hang these over the bed or in her reading corner. She’ll feel like she’s sleeping in a storybook.”

Charlie’s fingertips grazed a swatch of white eyelet-trimmed bedding with dainty embroidered bees along the hem. “This is incredible,” she whispered.

“Just a few more ideas,” Ivy said, grinning. First came a mini velvet footstool in soft blush—just the right size for a little girl’s reading nook—followed by a framed watercolor print of a hedgehog curled inside a teacup, steam rising in delicate heart-shaped swirls. She gently unwrapped a pair of ceramic sunflower bookends and placed them on the table, then added a tiny glass bud vase in warm honey gold, already filled with dried daisies and baby’s breath. Finally, she held up a small porcelain trinket dish shaped like a sunflower, its petal edges delicately rimmed in gold.

“And for storage”—Ivy pointed toward the front display—“I’ve got these wicker baskets lined with yellow-and-white checkered fabric. One for dress-up, one for toys, and one forwhatever collections kids start hoarding at this age—rocks, buttons, shiny things.”

Max swallowed the lump in his throat. “Ivy, you’re a genius.”

Ivy touched his sleeve, smiling. “That might be an overstatement, but I do enjoy my work. I’ll bundle everything and send it out for delivery tomorrow. I’ll bring in a team to help set it all up. Like we did at your house, Charlie.”

“You and your elves were nothing short of miraculous,” Charlie said.

Ivy beamed. “The most important thing about a children’s room is that it makes them feel loved and safe. If there’s anything she doesn’t like, we’ll switch it out.”

“Yeah, I really hope she still likes sunflowers,” Max said.

Charlie laughed. “If she’s suddenly into Goth, we’re in trouble.”

Please, God, let it be sunflowers, Max prayed silently.

After sayinggoodbye to Ivy and arranging to have everything delivered, Max and Charlie headed to Treasure Chest Toys. The toy shop looked as though it belonged in a storybook, with its Victorian-style window displays showcasing toys nestled among twinkling lights, evergreen garlands, and drifts of fake snow. Max paused a moment at the storefront, taking in the wooden rocking horse, an elaborate train set with miniature towns and villages, and beautifully dressed dolls.

Inside, every shelf overflowed with whimsy—stuffed animals in all shapes and sizes, puzzles stacked neatly, and dolls so delicately crafted they seemed almost alive. High on a shelf behind the register was a Victorian-style dollhouse, itsintricate wallpaper and tiny furniture visible even from across the room.

Max gestured to the dollhouse. “That one’s perfect. I wonder what it costs?”

“Doesn’t matter. My treat.”

“I don’t know about that,” Max said.

“We’ll see.” Charlie smiled up at him, and his stomach fluttered.

The owner, Travis, emerged from the back room. “Max, Charlie, happy holidays. How can I help?”

“We’re shopping for a little girl,” Max explained. “She’s eight.”

“You’ve come to the right place. What are you thinking?” Travis asked.

Max scanned the shop again, slightly overwhelmed. “Um, I’m not sure.”

Charlie took charge. Thank goodness. “We like the dollhouse there.” She nodded toward the display above them. “And maybe some dolls to go with it.”

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