But those weren’t the thoughts going through my brain at the moment. The only thought that blew through my head was the fact that Andre was leaving—that Andre hadn’t chosen Haven Hollow—that he hadn’t chosen Finn and me.

  But Marty had.

  Marty always had.

  I swallowed hard and before I knew what I was doing, I felt my mouth open and my voice bark out, “yes.”

  And then the silence was broken by the sounds of clapping, laughter and congratulations and as I felt Marty slide that engagement ring onto my finger, all I could focus on was the fact that something inside me was withering.

  Chapter Twenty

  Christmas Eve

  The ring on my finger stared back at me like an accusation.

  I turned it around, and around again until it wore a red mark on my skin.

  It really was pretty, with a white gold band that looked nice against my pale skin. Yellow gold always looked a bit funny on me, just too much contrast, and not in a good way. But this ring… well, it was lovely, really. The diamond was done in a princess cut that sparkled with rainbows in the smallest amount of light. And the little flecks of sapphire that surrounded the center stone were the exact same shade as my eyes.

  The ring was elegant, tasteful, and more importantly, obviously picked out with a lot of care for the person who would be wearing it.

  Looking at it made me want to cry. And I couldn’t quite put my finger on the reason why.

  Eager for a distraction, I came around the counter of my store to straighten the shelves for the twentieth time that afternoon. The earlier crowds had decimated my stock, and on any other day, I would have been thrilled with the success. It seemed like potions were the hot ticket Christmas present or stocking stuffer this year which was… well, it was great. And, yet, I didn’t feel great. Staring at the cheerfully decorated and nearly barren shelves, I found myself hoping that a mess would appear for me to fix.

  Because then at least I could fix something.

  It was Christmas Eve, and my shop, ‘Poppy’s Potions’, was set to close early. I wanted a little extra time to get home to my son so we could get in some last-minute holiday festivities before the big day tomorrow.

  Finn was growing up so fast, already in his last year of middle school, and I wanted to squeeze in as much time as I could before he got too old to want to hang out with his mom. He was already less excited about the holidays than he used to be (ever since learning Santa wasn’t real).

  I couldn’t help but remember when he was younger how we’d have long debates over what kind of cookies to leave out for Santa, and the plate would end up piled high with chocolate chip, peanut butter, and sugar cookies. Then, in the middle of the night, I’d have to chew on a raw carrot to convince Finn that the reindeer had liked the snack he’d left out for them. One year I’d even gone so far as to leave boot tracks in flour leading from the fireplace to the Christmas tree, in the hopes Finn would believe Santa had tracked in snow (never mind the fact that it didn’t snow in Los Angeles).

  Lately, he was still excited about the holidays but not like he had been when he was a little boy. Thinking on it now made me nostalgic about his younger years. There was nothing quite like seeing your kid’s face light up with the magic of the season.

  I shook off the mood. Where Finn was concerned, I had a few more years of holiday movie marathons ahead of us still. No need to worry about things that hadn’t even happened yet.

  I had plenty of other things to worry about.

  At least sales had been way better than I’d thought they would be. Looking around at the almost empty shelves was pretty satisfying, even if it meant I was going to have a lot of work ahead of me to restock after the New Year, if not before. I’d even started to brew some of the more popular potions in the shop. I usually worked on them at home, but at least this way, when I had a lull, I could whip up a few things in the interim.

  Soon enough, daylight started to fade, the shadows stretching longer, and it was almost time to lock the doors and head home for the evening. I didn’t think there would be many more last-minute customers so close to closing time, especially on Christmas Eve, but I’d give it a few more minutes, just in case.

  Some of the fake snow I’d laid on the antique wooden shelves had fallen off and was now dusting the floor, so I carefully swept it up and dumped it back onto the shelves. Not only was the snow festive, but it, and the twinkling little fairy lights I’d strung up, had made the rainbow glass of my various potion bottles sparkle like something truly magical.

  As I deposited the fake snow back on the shelf, the fairy lights glinted off the engagement ring on my left hand, and my stomach clenched tight again. So much for the distraction.

  I cradled my hand to my chest, looking down at the ring as I breathed out a long and dramatic sigh. The guilt was almost suffocating. Why wasn’t I happy? Most women would have been ecstatic that their wonderful, caring, handsome boyfriend had proposed. So why was I filled with so much anxiety and this feeling of… being unsettled?

  It was true that I hadn’t had the best luck with relationships in the past, but I didn’t think that was what was causing my disquiet. Because even though all my other relationships had been disasters, Marty was different. There was nothing about him that in any way mirrored the jerkoffs I’d dated in the past. He was sweet, and caring, and a little goofy, true, but an overall good guy. No, he was a great guy.

  And yet… why did I feel like there was an anvil in my stomach when I thought about marrying him? Was this just fear speaking? Nerves?

  It was the exact same feeling I’d had when he’d proposed the night of Thanksgiving dinner when we’d been surrounded by friends and family. He’d asked, and I’d blurted ‘yes’ without much more thought. Well, those thoughts were making themselves known with a vengeance now, and they had my stomach turning into knots like I’d had too much caffeine.

  I just kept picturing the look on Andre’s face… Andre, the man who had stormed into my life and turned it upside down before storming back out again. Except, he’d returned most recently, and his return had plopped my life right back into ‘topsy-turvy’ territory again. But the expression on Andre’s face that night, the moment Marty had popped the question—it had been… blank. Shocked, yes, but something more still, yet I couldn’t put my finger on what that something more had been.

  Not that it really mattered because Andre and I were nothing to each other—really little more than acquaintances. He’d been throwing around the idea of training Finn in Magician magic but that idea had crumbled the moment Andre had to return to Portland. And ever since Thanksgiving dinner, when I’d agreed to become Marty’s wife, I hadn’t seen nor heard from Andre. I wasn’t even sure if he was still in Haven Hollow or if he’d already returned to Portland. Furthermore, I doubted I’d ever see him again—he appeared to be the quintessential bachelor—a man who’d never been married and didn’t settle down in any one spot for more than a blink. Yes, there had been something electric between us, but whatever that thing was, it didn’t matter now.

  Okay, enough about Andre.

  I took a deep breath, and tried to stop my stomach from jittering as I focused on the main issue littering my tormented thoughts at the moment—why was I feeling so unsettled about this engagement? When I was working up a new potion recipe, it really helped me to take notes, to list everything out inside my head—things like what I wanted the potion to do, what ingredients I’d need, what I intended to focus on in order to imbue it with Gypsy magic. Things like that.

  So, being the methodical person I was, I thought I should make a list in this case, as well. At least a list in my head. Maybe that would help me sort out these troubling feelings so I could get to the root of what was bothering me.

  Here went nothing…

  Pro: Marty was kind and thoughtful.

  Con: he could be a little scatterbrained.

  Pro: he got along great with Finn and the two really cared about each other.

  Con: he could be a little childish at times. In fact, sometimes it felt like I had two kids, not one.

  Pro: we got along great, and I couldn’t remember a time we’d actually argued, anything more than a minor tiff or disagreement, anyway. We were best friends.

  Con: he felt like my best friend, and our relationship didn’t really feel… romantic or sensual. And the sex? Hmm, I didn’t really want to think about the sex.

  Con: sometimes he did things without thinking.

  Con…

  I just wasn’t in love with him.

  The last one stood out in my mind like someone had written it across my thoughts in glowing neon ink. I buried my head in my hands with a groan.

  I did love Marty; I did. He was my best friend, next to Wanda. But love him romantically, passionately, intensely with the sort of sexual desire that was supposed to exist in a romantic relationship? That was a different thing entirely.

  But physical passion fades, I reminded myself. And when it does, wouldn’t you rather be left with a great friend? Someone you could build a life with? Someone who has similar goals?

  Yes, yes, and yes.

  Not to mention the fact that when it came to relationships and love, I didn’t exactly have a good track record. In fact, with the exception of Marty and Roy, I’d dated a string of losers. Cheaters, liars, users.

  And Marty wasn’t any of those things. He was sincere and kind and funny.

  Then stop worrying about it, I told myself resolutely. Break your track record and let yourself be happy for once. You know you can be happy with Marty…

  An image of Andre sitting at my dinner table that night dropped into my head like a bomb and I had to chase the memory away. Angrily.

  Will you stop thinking about him! I yelled at myself at the exact moment the bell over the door rang softly, and I jerked my head up. Plastering my most welcoming customer service smile on, I pushed my turbulent thoughts to the back of my head and focused on my customer.

  The woman wasn’t anyone I’d seen before. Haven Hollow certainly wasn’t a large town, but it was big enough that I didn’t know everyone, not to mention the fact that it was also a pretty big tourist destination. Especially this time of year.

  “Hello and welcome to Poppy’s Potions!” I called out and offered my visitor a friendly wave. “I’m Poppy, so just let me know if you need help with anything.”

  She smiled, and I was struck by how pretty she was. Loose curls hung over the shoulders of her scarlet coat, so pale a blond that they were actually platinum. Her eyes were a bright, lively green that you didn’t usually see without the help of colored contact lenses. Above those round and big eyes were narrowly defined eyebrows with a perfect arch. Her face was heart-shaped and with her alabaster skin, button nose, and pink lips, she looked like one of those expensive, porcelain dolls. Snow from outside dusted her coat and hair, glittering in the overhead lights of the shop.

  She looked at me and her smile broadened, making her look like a little girl, almost. If I’d had to guess her age, I would have put her in her early twenties. “Merry Christmas Eve.”

  “Merry Christmas Eve to you too!”

  The woman turned then, almost spinning as she took in the entire store, the skirt of her long coat flaring out around her green dress and matching green tights that ended in high black, leather boots with a clunky heel.

  “What a sweet shop!” She hurried over to the nearest shelf, examining the colored fairy lights and fake snow, tilting her head to see the way the potion bottles reflected the light. She seemed to delight in the display and turned to smile at me, her grin complete with dimples. “It’s like one of those old-fashioned stores you see in the movies.”

  “Thanks.” I couldn’t help but smile in response, the tight knot of distress that was wedged up behind my ribs easing a little bit in the face of her honest excitement. “I’m so glad you like it.”

  “I just love this time of year,” the young woman almost sang as she turned to face me then and walked right up to the counter, glancing at all the baskets of odds and ends as she shuffled through them, seemingly more delighted with each new bobble. “I’m Noelle, by the way.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Noelle. I’m Poppy… like I said.”

  Noelle laughed, and the sound chimed like little silver bells. “Wonderful!” Then she put the miniature snow globe she’d been holding back on the counter and turned to face me with those bright green, curious eyes. “I was hoping you might be able to help me with something, Poppy.”

  “Of course.” I smoothed the front of my festive llama Christmas sweater down and headed towards the counter. “Were you looking for something specific?”

  Noelle skipped forward, the movement looking almost like a dance as she put her gloved hands on the counter, looking eager. “I am…” Then she breathed in deeply and frowned which seemed to be an odd expression on her. “It’s a bit of a long shot, but you wouldn’t happen to have any Holiday Cheer potions in stock, would you?”

  My heart sank a little. I hated to disappoint a customer, especially on Christmas Eve. “I don’t say this often,” I started, a little perplexed, “But I’ve actually never heard of that potion before.”

  I had to admit, I was a little curious. I had a pretty extensive knowledge of potions, having been trained in the art of brewing potions from the time I was a little girl. Not to mention the huge amount of recipes I’d inherited from my family. It wasn’t often I came across one I’d never even heard of but whenever I did, I was eager to find out whatever I could about it.

  “Ah, I was afraid of that.” Noelle’s shoulders sagged a little, disappointment tugging the corners of her mouth down even further.

  “Can you tell me about it?”

  She nodded. “It was something my grandmother used to make, and ever since she moved on to the great beyond,” she paused and looked upward, winking at my ceiling as if her grandmother were hovering there (and who knew? Maybe she was), “I’ve been trying to find someone who knows the recipe.”

  “What’s Holiday Cheer potion meant to do?” I started, with a little laugh. “I mean, beyond the obvious.”

  Noelle laughed that bell-like sound again. “Well, it’s meant to help make holiday wishes come true.”

  I hated to disappoint her, and not just because I was losing out on a sale. Memories were important, especially when they were all we had left of a loved one. I would’ve delighted in being able to give Noelle that little bit of nostalgia for her grandmother.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, and meant it. “I wouldn’t even know what to put in it.”

  Noelle tapped one holly red nail against her lips, thinking hard enough for a little wrinkle to form between her eyebrows. “You know,” she started slowly. “I have my grandmother’s recipe.”

  “Oh,” I started as she nodded and the frown dropped right off her face, to be replaced with another hopeful and happy smile. This Noelle had to be the cheeriest person I’d ever met.

  “The problem is—I just don’t have any talent for brewing potions.” Then her smile broadened as she did another tinkling laugh. “Maybe we can make a deal.”

  “A deal?”

  She nodded and her curls bounced with her renewed enthusiasm. “How about I give you the recipe, and in exchange, you make a bottle for me?” She glanced around the store again. “And I don’t mind at all if you decide to bottle it up and sell it. Everyone can do with some holiday cheer!”

  “Truer words have never been spoken,” I answered on a laugh, thinking I should be first in line with the crappy attitude I’d been hosting lately.

  But at the thought of a new potion recipe, excitement fizzled through me like champagne bubbles. Potion makers tended to horde our recipes. They were passed down through the generations like family heirlooms, so the chance of learning a new one was something I couldn’t pass up, not to mention I was beyond happy to be able to help Noelle.

  “Then you’ll help me?” Noelle asked.

  “Sure, I’d love to.”

  Noelle clapped her hands in excitement. “Wonderful!” Then she tugged a notebook and a pen decorated to look like a snowman out of her purse, and started scribbling what I imagined was the recipe which surprised me because I figured she’d have to leave and come back with it, but apparently not so.

  I stepped closer to the counter as I listened to her name off the ingredients as she wrote them down.

  “One half part Bayberry, one eighth part Clove, one eighth part Cinnamon,” she sang out. “One eighth part Pine and one eighth part Peppermint.”

  “As far as the potion making goes, does Holiday Cheer require a certain moon phase or a specific day of the week on which to brew it?” I asked.

  She looked up from her notebook at me. “Nope!”

  As I came closer, a sweet scent reached my nose. I wasn’t sure what perfume Noelle was wearing, but it reminded me of the scent of baking shortbread or maybe sugar cookies.

  “The only thing it requires is that it be decanted in the days leading up to Christmas,” Noelle continued and as she smiled at me, I was struck by how easy the recipe was—and all the ingredients I actually had on hand—in the store! “And what better day to brew it than Christmas Eve, when the magic of Christmas is at its peak!” she finished.

  I nodded, because I could feel the holiday magic all around us.

  Noelle finished writing, then tore the paper from her notebook and handed it to me with a flourish and a huge grin as I glanced over the steps and the ingredients once more, just to make sure it was as simple as it appeared to be.

  “Great!” I said as I glanced up at her again. “It should only take about twenty minutes or so.”

  “Perfect.”

  “Do you want to poke into some of the other stores on Main Street while I work on it?” Then I cocked my head to the side as I thought better of the suggestion. “I’m not sure they’ll all still be open…”

  Noelle loosened her green scarf a little. “Is it alright if I wait here?”