Page 25 of Christmas Charms
Aidan notices, of course, and I long for the floor of the fire house to open up and swallow me whole.
But then Aidan reaches for one of my cookies, pops it into his mouth and swallows it after a few quick chews. Then he eats another and another, holding my gaze the entire time.
My heartbeat seems even louder. Surely everyone can hear it.
I reach to cover the platter of gingerbread men with plastic wrap to prevent him from eating a fourth cookie. He’s already moved his way straight to the top of my nice list. There’s no need to make himself sick. I don’t think eating too many of my cookies could poison anyone…but I wouldn’t want to stake someone’s life on that.
He’s mid-reach though, ready to choke down another one, and his hand collides with mine. A spark of electricity passes between us, and I freeze.
What wasthat?
I search Aidan’s gaze, wondering if he felt it too. But his gaze isn’t fixed on mine anymore. Something else has captured his attention, and that something is the mysterious bracelet as it jingles on my wrist.
“This is pretty,” he says, running his fingertips over the dangling silver charms. “Is it from the jewelry store where you work?”
“No. It’s…um…an antique.”And possibly magical.
No, no, no. It’s not magical. I’m sure loads of little girls wish for big yellow dogs with red shiny bows for Christmas and then years later one prances right into their lives after meeting a stranger on a train. Totally normal. Nothing to see here.
Really, though. I’m being paranoid. Being away from the city is getting to me. The dog and bracelet can’t possibly have anything to do with each other.
Aidan’s expression softens, and it seems as if his eyes glitter with a thousand yesterdays. “You always did love vintage things.”
Warmth fills my chest, until Aidan stops to take a closer look at one of the charms. His eyebrows shoot up. “Wow, look at this one. It’s just like your Christmas cookies.”
Jingle, jingle.
Oh no, not again. “Did you just hear that?”
Aidan’s gaze collides with mine. His nearness makes it hard for me to breathe. “Hear what?”
“Nothing. Never mind.” I gnaw on my bottom lip, afraid to look at the charm. But Aidan is right there, going over it with the pad of his thumb, waiting for me to comment on the tiny silver trinket.
I have no choice. I can’t tuck the bracelet back beneath my sleeve and ignore it like I’ve been trying to do all day, so I look.
And there it is, right beside the dog charm—a tiny silver platter of gingerbread men and cookies shaped like snowflakes, carefully arranged on a rectangular tray with handles shaped like holly leaves. Aidan is right.
It looks like an exact replica of the platter of cookies sitting on the table beside us.
Chapter Eight
I’d like to say thatI handled things with Hepburn-like grace when Aidan pointed out the Christmas cookie charm, but alas, I didn’t. I snatched my hand away and basically fled, telling my mom I wasn’t feeling well and needed to go home.
It’s not a lie.
Idofeel sick. There’s a knot of panic in my chest and I’m shaking all over by the time I get home and shut myself in my bedroom. I’ve got to get rid of the bracelet. It’s seriously starting to freak me out. Two charms that flawlessly match what’s going on in my life could possibly be chalked up to coincidence, but three, right in a row? Doubtful. The cookies on the charm are too tiny to tell if their decoration is as sloppy as my real-life efforts, but the shapes are plain as day. Even so, Imighthave been able to convince myself nothing strange is going on, if not for the charm’s little silver cookie tray. It’s a perfect replica of the platter with my gingerbread men and snowflake cookies on it, all the way down to the decorative holly leaf handles. The tray has been in our family for generations, and now its tiny identical twin is dangling from my wrist.
What is going on?
Deep breaths. Stay calm. There’s no such thing as magic.
Right…except I’m wearing a vintage piece of jewelry that says otherwise. I mean, what next? Is there a charm representing of my current panic attack? Because there probably should be.
I can’t bring myself to look too closely at the other charms. Not yet. First things first—there’s got to be something I can use to unjam the bracelet’s catch. After a quick scan of the room, I finally find a stray bobby pin in one of my dresser drawers. With a pang, I realize that I probably last used it to sweep my hair up into a fancy twist for prom with Aidan. But I refuse to think about that now as I bend the bobby pin and ram the tip of it against the tiny knob on the spring ring.
Spoiler alert: it doesn’t budge. Beads of sweat break out on my forehead, but no amount of poking and prodding will force open the catch. Fruitcake flops into a down position on the floor and gazes up at me wistfully. I feel like whining myself.
I toss the useless bobby pin aside and take another deep breath. It’s time. I can’t get the thing off, I have no idea how to track Betty down, and now three of the charms have seemingly come to life. I’m going to have to seriously examine the remaining silver trinkets and get a good look at what might be coming next.
