Page 5 of Christmas Charms
I give Maya’s hand a tight squeeze, take a steadying breath and start walking toward my customers. My mind whirls and the snow outside falls harder than ever, making me feel as if I’ve been placed inside a snow globe that someone has given a ferocious shake.
The Windsor bag containing the wrapped bracelet shakes in my grasp. Three floors below, Jeremy has an engagement ring tucked into one of his pockets. I try to imagine him slipping it onto my finger at one of the outrageously romantic Parisian sites Maya mentioned. Or maybe someplace different, like the Champs-Élysées, with row upon row of sparkling Christmas lights lining the path to the Arc de Triomphe.
And then it hits me.
Jeremy wants to take me to dinner tonight for a “special pre-Paris celebration.” I assumed he wanted to talk logistics for the trip—what we’ll do for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, which sights we’ll have time to visit, maybe go over the names of his family members again, so I’ll be prepared. But that twinkle in his eye when he mentioned dinner didn’t have anything to do with our itinerary, did it?
My boyfriend isn’t going to propose on the love locks bridge or anywhere else in France. He’s going to ask me to marry him in New York.
Right here.
Tonight.
Chapter Three
My dinner date with Jeremyis scheduled for eight o’clock, two hours after my shift at the charms counter ends.
Once I deliver the Christmas bracelet with the tiny apple charm to the young girl and her father, the rest of the day flies by in a dizzying whirl of engraved heart charms, silver gingerbread men and tiny blue-striped candy canes. The crush of holiday shoppers seems to be growing by the hour, and I barely have time for a bathroom break, much less a chance to figure out how I might be able to squeeze in a manicure before Jeremy slides his ring onto my finger.
Somewhere between my initial panic at the thought of getting engaged and my trek through the crowded city streets to the minuscule apartment I share with Maya, any initial fears about marrying Jeremy melt away like yesterday’s snowfall. Thank goodness.
Obviously I want to marry him. I’m madly in love with him—I’m certain of that. We’ve been dating three of the four years I’ve lived in New York. Jeremy is kind and thoughtful, and most importantly of all, he understands me. We’re like two sides of the same coin.
He gets me, I think as I shrug off my coat, flip on the television and head straight for the card table in the living room that serves as my jewelry-making station.
The apartment seems eerily quiet. Maya is still busy at Windsor, and without her constant stream of chatter to calm my nerves until my big date tonight, I need a happy distraction.
Cue Jimmy Stewart and Donna Reed.
It’s a Wonderful Lifeis playing on the classics channel. Perfect. I still have an hour until Jeremy is supposed to arrive, so I give my make-up a quick once over, adding a classic red lip and a swish of winged eyeliner. Then I change into a new LBD (little black dress) from my favorite retro online shopping site. It’s got a nipped-in waist, a full skirt and a faux pearl-encrusted collar. I’ve been saving the dress for Paris, but there’s a timeless quality about it that makes it perfect for an engagement dress, so I remove it from my luggage and put it on.
I do a little twirl in front of the full-length mirror in our tiny bathroom, and then I lose myself in the black-and-white world of Christmas magic on the television screen while I sort through the haul of costume jewelry from my most recent estate-sale splurge.
As much as I love the sparkly new charms in the department where I work, vintage jewelry is my favorite—charms, especially. I adore the way an antique charm bracelet tells the story of the person who wore it. Trinkets and tiny baubles represent favorite vacations, holidays and long-lost loves. When I’m not busy working the charms counter, I love taking my vintage finds and turning them into new, re-crafted pieces. The Santa and reindeer necklace that Maya’s been wearing to work since the day after Thanksgiving is a gift I gave her last Christmas, made from a box of charms I found in hole-in-the-wall antique shop on Coney Island.
My current project is a brooch with a Victorian-style heart charm dangling from its center. It looks like a frilly, silver Valentine—perfect for a bride-to-be. If I work fast, I can get it finished before Jeremy gets here. While Clarence the angel takes George Bailey on an eerie and magical journey through Christmas on my television, I secure the heart into place with just enough time to pin the brooch onto the lapel of my best winter coat and give my nails a quick once-over with a coat of holly-red polish. When Jeremy knocks on the door, I’m more than ready for a holiday proposal.
“Hi,” he says, smiling down at me from the threshold. His gaze flits briefly to the silver charm dangling from my coat collar, but he doesn’t mention it.
A flicker of disappointment passes through me, which is beyond ridiculous. My jewelry designs are just a hobby. Jeremy has always been supportive of my tinkering—he’s just not particularly interested in vintage jewelry. Also, the man has adiamond in his pocket.“Hi, yourself. You look nice.”
He’s dressed in one of the sleek suits he always wears to work. Actually, now that I think about it, I rarely catch a glimpse of Jeremy without a tie fashioned into a Hanover knot anchored firmly to the collar of his button-down Oxford.
“Thanks. We have a special night ahead of us, so it seemed like a good idea to dress the part.” He offers me his elbow.
See? Total marriage material. My stomach does a little flip as I loop my arm through his, and we’re on our way.
As we walk toward midtown, Jeremy tells me all about the important people he helped at Windsor throughout his shift—the congressman who purchased a string of rare gold pearls for his wife, the Broadway star who needed a pair of flashy earrings for a holiday party at the Rainbow Room. I’ve been looking forward to telling him about the sweet father-daughter duo I met today and the charm bracelet I designed for the little girl, but I change my mind as he keeps going on about his VIPs.
“I saw Maya just before the end of my shift,” he finally says.
My footsteps slow as we approach a street corner where a Salvation Army volunteer in a red apron is ringing a bell beside one of the bright red kettles that pop up all over the city during the holidays. I dig through my red leather crossbody bag for a few dollar bills and drop them into the kettle.
Jeremy doesn’t seem to notice I’ve stopped until he’s about to step off of the curb and realizes I’m no longer beside him. “Ashley?”
“Sorry.” I dash back to his side. “What were you saying?”
He sighs and waits for me to catch up. “Nothing, really. Just that Maya seemed awfully happy about something. She was even more animated than usual.”
