Page 30 of Christmas Charms
“That’s tonight?” I had indeed forgotten all about the annual Owl Lake tree lighting ceremony, plus I’d had no idea it was this evening.
“It sure is. We should probably leave around six so we can get a good spot.”
“We’ll be back in plenty of time. I promise.” Maybe getting stuck in that snowbank wasn’t so terrible. I wouldn’t want to miss my first Owl Lake Christmas tree lighting in years. “Come on, Fruitcake.”
The dog scrambles to his feet and romps toward me, while my dad shoots me an amused glance.
I narrow my eyes at him. “Don’t say it, Dad.”
I swear, if he tells me to say hi to Aidan again, he’s going straight on the naughty list. Surely I can manage to walk my dog without managing to be escorted home in a fire truck again.
He mimes zipping his lips closed and locking them with a key, just like Maya always does. It never works.
“Cute.” I roll my eyes.
Fruitcake trots politely at the end of his leash as we head toward Main Street. Snow crunches beneath our feet and Fruitcake’s breath comes out in tiny puffs of vapor, pink tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth. Clearly, he’s enjoying himself, and I’m glad, even though the purpose of this walk is actually twofold.
Yes, my mystery dog probably needs some exercise. But this morning, I’m pretty sure I spied a new—or at least, new to me—jewelry store tucked into one of the quaint shopping centers along the lake. If they’re open, they might be my best shot at getting the bracelet off my arm. Surely they can help.
“Hi, Ashley!” Our neighbor, Jerry, is out front, shoveling snow when we walk past. He stops to lean against his shovel and grin at Fruitcake. “My, that’s a handsome dog.”
“Thanks.” Fruitcake wiggles his entire back end with excitement, so we pause and let Jerry scratch him behind the ears. “He doesn’t, um, look familiar or anything, does he?”
“No, the first I saw of him was when you came back from the big city,” Jerry says. Why am I not surprised? “Are you back to stay?”
“I’m not.” I shake my head. “Just visiting for the holidays.”
“It’s good to see you, all the same. I’m sure your parents are happy you’ve come home. We’re having our annual New Year’s Eve Scrabble tournament. Your parents are already invited, of course, and we’d love to have you join them if you’re still in town.”
“Oh. Wow.” The invitation catches me by surprise. I’m oddly touched to be invited to Jerry and Arminda’s big Scrabble party. “I’ll probably be back in Manhattan by then, but thank you.”
“You’re always welcome if you change your mind.” Jerry bends down to give Fruitcake a parting pat. “You can bring this guy, too.”
“Look at you,” I say to Fruitcake as we resume our walk. “Mr. Popularity.”
As if to prove my point, we’re stopped almost every block by old hometown friends and acquaintances who want to pet the pretty dog. Usually they don’t even realize I’m the one on the other end of the leash until Fruitcake has already flopped down on the sidewalk for belly rubs. We run into my third-grade teacher, who wants to hear all about my life in Manhattan while Fruitcake offers his snow-covered paw for a shake. When we pass the shop on the corner that sells hand-carved rustic furniture and other Adirondack-inspired designs, the owner, Mr. Garcia, comes outside to offer Fruitcake a biscuit. While he chomps it down, Mr. Garcia reminds me of the time a black bear wandered out of the nearby forest and took a stroll down Main Street when I was just a little girl. He still has a picture of the bear pausing in front of his shop on the wall by the entryway.
The greetings repeat themselves three or four more times, and before I realize it, I’ve reconnected with people who’d been part of my daily life when I was growing up—people I haven’t thought about in a long, long time. It’s nice. Fruitcake is a total friend-magnet, and I’m starting to actually feel like I belong in Owl Lake again, even though I’ve spent half of my time here trying to get back to the city.
“Merry Christmas, Ashley,” the mailman calls from across the street.
“Merry Christmas!” I wave a mittened hand and Fruitcake lets out a friendly woof.
The jewelry store stands just a few feet away, next to Mountain Candy. As usual, the candy store somehow envelopes the entire block in its rich cocoa aroma. I pause on the cobblestone walkway to take a deep, chocolate-scented breath and study the jewelry shop’s exterior.
A swinging sign hangs from the rafters with a swirl of hand-painted letters that spell out the nameEnchanting Jewels. I’ve never seen the store before, so it must have opened sometime in the past eight years or so. The windows are filled a mixture of new and vintage pieces—modern classic solitaires surrounded by halos of pavé diamonds and other Art Deco settings that look like something out ofThe Great Gatsby. I feel myself smile. There’s no doubt that I’m going to love this place. I can already tell.
A bell chimes as I push the door open, and just as I’m about to ask if it’s okay to bring Fruitcake inside, my gaze fixes on the woman standing behind the display case.
I gasp. “Susan?”
She looks up, and her eyes go wide. “Ashley! Aidan told me you were back, and I almost didn’t believe it.”
Susan Flynn is Aidan’s sister and one of my best friends from high school. Relief floods through me at the sight of her, because even though my time in Owl Lake thus far has been nice—kind of great, actually—I miss Maya like crazy. Strange things have been happening left and right, and…well, I could really use a girlfriend right about now.
Susan runs around the display case to hug me, and she wraps her arms around me so tightly that before I know it, I’m blinking back tears.
“It’ssogood to see you,” she whispers, and there’s an unmistakable catch in her voice.
