Page 32 of Christmas Charms
“Yes. I can’t get it off. The catch won’t open, no matter how hard I try.” The charms sparkle beneath the ultra-bright lights of the jewelry shop.
The store is, for lack of a better word, charming. I’ve had a chance to poke around, and I practically swooned over the case containing vintage rings, bracelets and old-fashioned brooches. There are even a few charm bracelets that look like they’re from the 1950s, but I’m not going there. I never thought I’d say this, but I have enough charms in my life as it is.
“Actually, that’s why I came in here in the first place. I was hoping someone could help me get this thing off, once and for all. I just didn’t expect it to be you.” Happiness, mixed with a dash of hope, fills me from within. “But I’m really glad it is.”
Susan beams. “So am I.” But then her gaze drops once again to the bracelet. “Are you sure removing the bracelet is really what you want, though?”
Seriously? Of course it’s what I want.
I nod. “I have an entire collection of ruined bobby pins to prove it.”
She holds up a hand. “Hear me out for a minute.Ifthe bracelet is somehow magical andifthe charms are coming to life, maybe it’s all happening for a reason. What did Betty’s note say, again?”
I know exactly what the note says. I’ve read it so many times that the words are probably permanently engraved in my brain. “It said, ‘Please wear this and have the Christmas of your dreams.’”
Susan picks up her mug to take another sip of hot chocolate and then frowns when she realizes it’s empty. By now, we’ve been talking for over an hour.
More than anything, I’m simply glad she seems to believe me. After years of silence in our once-strong friendship, I’ve just shown up out of the blue and told her that a strange woman on a train gave me a magical bracelet. It’s a wonder she’s even taking me seriously. Not many people would. I’m hyperaware of the fact that I couldn’t even manage to convince my own parents that Fruitcake isn’t my dog. Although, let’s face it, he’s definitely starting to feel like mine.
“I have to say, that doesn’t sound so bad. Who wouldn’t want to have the Christmas of their dreams? Maybe you should stop fighting it and see what happens,” Susan says.
“But…”But this isn’t the way my Christmas was supposed to go. It’sdefinitelynot the Christmas of my dreams.I stop short of saying it, because I’m not altogether sure what the Christmas of my dreams looks like anymore. “…this is just crazy. I can’t keep living in a fantasy world.”
“Think about it, though. All those movies where characters switch places or live a different version of their lives all have some kind of lesson the main character needs to learn. Maybe that’s what’s happening to you.” She bounces a little on her toes, and I can’t help but remember that while I was watchingRoman Holidayon constant repeat back in high school, Susan had developed an obsession withBigstarring Tom Hanks.
I breathe a silent sigh of relief that my current problems are limited to magic charms. It seems like a far easier conundrum than what poor Tom went through in that movie. “But what sort of lesson am I supposed to be learning?”
“I don’t know. Is there anything the charms have taught you so far?”
I bite my lip and consider the charms that have come to life. If there’s a lesson to be learned from the house charm, it’s that I’ve waited far too long to come home for Christmas. I won’t be making that mistake again.
I glance down at Fruitcake as I contemplate the dog charm. He’s sleeping soundly, paws twitching as if he’s dreaming about romping through the forest, chasing snowshoe hares. I’ve wanted a dog my whole life, but I never realized what actually having one would be like. Everywhere we go, people respond to him—my parents, Uncle Hugh, all the people we chatted with on our walk. Aidan. Fruitcake is helping me reconnect with all the people I’ve lost touch with since I moved away. I’m not sure I realized that until this very moment.
As for the Christmas cookies, my mom’s story about baking for the firefighters back when she and my dad were engaged sums things up perfectly. Sometimes the act of doing something is more precious than the final result. And now that I’m really thinking about it, those cookies seemed to have reconnected Aidan and me in the tiniest way.
Or they had until I’d fled.
I shake my head. It’s too much. Can’t I just have a normal holiday? I don’t want to spend the rest of my Christmas vacation terrified of what might happen next. I can’t even think about what the engagement ring charm might mean. The bare idea of it thrills and terrifies me at the same time.
I thrust my wrist towards Susan. “Please take it off.Please.”
“Okay, fine. If you insist.” She reaches into a drawer beside the cash register and pulls out a jewelers’ kit wound in a black velvet roll.
The kit contains all the basic tools—pliers in assorted sizes, needle-nose tweezers, ring clamps, a bench knife, a mallet—the whole shebang. Susan starts with the smallest pair of pliers, and I hold my breath as they clamp down over the bracelet’s catch. My heart pounds in my chest as Susan’s words come back to me.
Are you sure removing the bracelet is really what you want?
I swallow hard. A tiny flicker of doubt passes through me, but I push it down and squeeze my eyes shut tight, waiting for the snapping sound as the weight of the charms fall away and I’m finally free. And then…
Nothing.
The pliers are useless against the silver links, as is the next tool Susan tries and the next one after that. One by one, she tries them all and nothing makes a dent in the bracelet. All that effort, and not even a scratch.
It’s then that I finally accept my fate—nothing short of magic is getting this bracelet off of my wrist.
Chapter Ten
Mom greets me with ashiny gift bag overflowing with glittery tissue paper when Fruitcake and I make it home from Enchanting Jewels. My head is still spinning from my conversation with Susan. For the entire walk back to the lake house, I’ve been trying to figure out the reason I’m stuck with the Christmas charms bracelet.
