“Of course.”

  “I’ll have fun looking through all your shelves.”

  I laughed. “Unfortunately, they’re mostly bare at the moment but the potion won’t take long.” As to the potion itself, I was excited about it. Something to help holiday wishes come true? Yes, please. If it worked, I’d have to think about stocking it for next year.

  It only took me a few seconds to collect and arrange all the ingredients from the storage room in the back. After I placed them into a small basket and carried them to the front counter, I couldn’t help my smile as Noelle hummed ‘It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas’ and I hummed along with her.

  My fingers glanced over the bottles of my carrier oils, and I decided on almond, figuring the sweet scent would complement the warm notes of the cinnamon and clove. And then I started.

  I lost myself in the brewing, my hands moving almost on instinct as I checked the directions and rechecked the measurements, being careful with each ingredient to make sure I got the ratios perfect, all the while keeping in mind the feeling and the magic of the holiday season. When creating potions, intention was the foremost ingredient. It was the thought that empowered the magic.

  Once everything was combined, I grabbed a couple of pretty green bottles and funneled the potion inside them. Why was I making two? I figured I’d give the recipe a try as well, just in case I wanted to start offering Holiday Cheer as part of my Christmas line next year. And if I got bitten by the holiday bug? All the better—if anyone could have used a little de-Grinching—it was me.

  It actually took less time to brew the potion than I thought it would, and when I glanced up to let Noelle know as much, I felt my smile falter because she was gone. I blinked in confusion, the potion bottles still in my hands as I wondered where in the world she could have disappeared to. I’d never heard the bell over the door chime so it wasn’t as though she’d walked out of the store and yet… the store was empty, save myself. There wasn’t a single shred of red wool or a silver curl to be seen or a lilting, little laugh to be heard.

  Maybe she’d gotten a phone call and had to leave and I was just so deep into my potion making, that I hadn’t heard the bell over the door as she walked out? That had to be the case because it was the only thing that made any sense. Of course, when it came to Haven Hollow and incidences of the weird, things that didn’t make sense seemed to be a regular occurrence. For all I knew, I might have just been visited by a ghost.

  But she hadn’t looked like a ghost and I would know—I’d seen and dealt with plenty of them.

  Disappointed, I moved over to the counter to set the bottles down, when something caught my eye. There was a candy cane lying on the dark wood of the counter. Still wrapped in cellophane, with the paper tag from Sweeter Haunts, the Halloween themed candy store just up the street. The candy cane was pretty, with perfect red and white stripes, and a delicate ribbon of green swirling through it. I could practically taste that fresh burst of peppermint just looking at it.

  Noelle must have left it before she’d walked out. Hmm…

  I shrugged, feeling a little sad that I hadn’t been able to give her the potion she’d come for, but I figured she’d return just as soon as her phone call, or whatever had called her away, ended. I slipped one of the bottles beneath the counter with the candy cane, hoping she’d be back soon because I was closing up in another twenty minutes or so.

  Putting my own bottle of Holiday Cheer into my coat pocket, I walked to the front of the store, flipped the sign on the door to ‘closed’, before glancing up and down the street to see if there was any sign of her. But nope, nothing but an empty and snowy street greeted me. As I watched, the lamps along Main Street lit up, making the snow reflect the light like millions of prisms.

  After waiting another twenty minutes, there was still no sign of Noelle so I breathed out a sigh, locked the front door, and then turned off all the lights in the shop as I headed to the back parking lot and my Jeep.

  I was excited to get home to Finn and the full night of baking and holiday movies ahead of us.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  The pie came out of the oven with a wash of apple and cinnamon scented air, and I couldn’t keep the smile off my face.

  Maybe the lattice crust on top was a little darker than I would have liked, but it was still a beautiful pie made with Granny Smith apples from my own backyard. And who didn’t like homemade apple pie? In short: no one.

  I carried it over to the cooling rack with careful hands and slid it next to the pecan pie that was already sitting there. When I was sure the apple pie was steady, and not about to slip off the kitchen counter, I stripped off my oven mitts and turned to check on Finn.

  “How’s it going over there?”

  “Um.” Finn frowned, trying to peel a strip of tape off his fingers without balling it up. The wrapping paper was pinned under his elbow—clearly, he was trying to keep it from rolling back up as he got himself sorted. “I mean, nothing’s on fire, so I guess: pretty good.”

  I laughed and moved to hold the paper in place until Finn was ready to fold the edges up around the box he was wrapping.

  He flashed me a smile. “Thanks, Mom.”

  The big day was tomorrow, and we still had plenty to do.

  “Okay,” I said when Finn had the paper successfully sealed and the ribbon tied off. “What’s next?”

  Finn thought about it for a second, glancing through the bags on the chair next to him. “I still need to wrap Astrid’s present.”

  “Okay.” I nodded, pretending I didn’t notice the way Finn’s ears flushed at the mention of Wanda’s very pretty red-haired cousin. “Do you think you can handle wrapping her present? I’m going to put the sweet potato casserole together, so I don’t have to do it tomorrow.”

  Finn seemed relieved that I hadn’t said anything about his obvious crush on Astrid and nodded. Then he tried to tug something out of the bag next to him, angling his body so I couldn’t see what it was.

  I left him to it, turning back to the fridge so he couldn’t see me smile. Astrid had been helping Finn out with his magic studies, even though she was a witch and he was a Magician, and their powers weren’t really that similar. Still, she was giving him a crash course in supernatural history and theory, trying to get as much information into Finn as she could before she went away to university at Blood Rose Academy. I was grateful for her help, because my magic had to do with brewing potions, and as a human with some magical talent, I just didn’t have the knowledge that Astrid had been steeped in her entire life.

  With any luck, some time in the new year, we could find Finn a mentor who could help him come to terms with what it was to be a Magician. Someone with years of experience and someone who was decidedly not Andre, the only actual Magician either of us knew. But if there was one Magician, there had to be others, or so I’d firmly told myself. Repeatedly.

  I was just searching for a potato peeler in the jumble of stuff that had taken over the utensil drawer when my phone chimed with an incoming text. I fished it out of my pocket, and my heart sank a little when I saw it was from Marty.

  Merry Christmas Eve, the text read, followed by a half a dozen exclamation points and a series of holiday emoji faces.

  Merry Christmas Eve, I typed back. Then there was the sign of three asterisks as Marty typed his response.

  I’ll be by first thing in the morning, since I think Santa might be leaving a few things here for you and Finn. I’ll be headed to Taliyah’s place in the afternoon to celebrate with the boys and Aunt Joan and Uncle James. Do you want to come along?

  Are we invited? I texted back.

  Of course! Wherever I’m invited, you guys are invited.

  I smiled as I read the message. I could practically hear Marty’s voice in my head.

  Okay, let me check with Finn? But don’t forget Christmas dinner with my crazy uncles at 6.

  How could I forget? I love those guys! Can’t wait to see you! Love you!

  I couldn’t bring myself to actually write the words so I responded with three hearts and a smiley face.

  Don’t get me wrong, I was really looking forward to Christmas morning with Marty and Finn, my two favorite men in the whole world. But part of me was a little worried about seeing Marty again. We hadn’t really gotten to spend a lot of time together since he’d proposed, between my recovery from fighting off a bunch of winter faeries that had attacked the town, and then all the holiday excitement. Not to mention Marty’s side business as a ghost buster. I wasn’t sure why, but his business got really busy around this time of year. Halloween made sense, but Christmas? I guessed it was kind of a traditional ghost time of year.

  And, of course, that thought led to thoughts about Noelle and how she’d just disappeared from the store earlier. I couldn’t help but wonder if she’d returned to find the place all locked up. Oh, well, hopefully she’d come back on the twenty-sixth and I could give her the Holiday Cheer potion then.

  But back to Marty and seeing him in the morning, I just wasn’t sure what to expect, or how to act. I didn’t want to make him feel bad, but I was still wrestling with this neverending doubt that had been eating me alive ever since he’d put that ring on my finger. Glancing down at it now, the ring felt very heavy on my hand. I couldn’t seem to stop twisting it around and forced myself to stop, before I wore a permanent groove into my finger.

  “Okay, done,” Finn said, setting aside a small box that was wrapped in deep purple paper, with a silver ribbon tied into a very careful bow. It was clear just how much effort he’d put into wrapping Astrid’s gift, since his usual wrapping job looked more like the tape and paper had just survived a war.

  I stuffed my phone back into my pocket. “Wow, that’s really pretty. I bet Astrid will love it.”

  Finn’s ears flushed dark red again, and he gave a painfully neutral shrug as he struggled to play it cool. “Yeah.”

  I had to bite my lip to keep from smiling.

  “How about you help me with this casserole before you head to bed?”

  “Sure.” Finn sprung up from his chair and walked to the cupboard to grab the dish I’d need. “How long is it going to take?” he asked with a frown as he glanced at the clock over the breakfast table. “It’s not even nine, Mom.”

  I grabbed the peeler and the first sweet potato. “The earlier you go to bed, the earlier Santa will come.”

  Finn rolled his eyes. “Come on, Mom. I’m too old for that stuff.”

  My heart gave a little twinge, but I made sure to keep a smile on my face. “Hey, you never know. Why can’t Santa be real? Everything else in this town is.”

  Finn thought about that for a minute, cocking his head to one side, before eventually shaking it. “Nah.”

  I shrugged. “Maybe he’s supernatural. We have a Sasquatch, why not Father Christmas?”

  Finn shook his head again, but didn’t push the issue. “We should watch a movie when your casserole is done.”

  My smile pulled a little wider. “Okay. How about we finish up here, and you pick out a Christmas movie? And Die Hard is not a Christmas movie,” I added hastily.

  “Debatable,” Finn hummed. “But fine.” Then he smiled a huge grin. “How about Clark Griswold?”

  “Music to my ears,” I answered.

  “‘And why is the carpet all wet, Todd!’” Finn quoted with a laugh.

  ***

  Once Christmas Vacation was over, and Finn had headed off to bed, I stayed up for a bit to clean up the last of the cookie crumbs and wrapping paper scraps. I still needed to put the presents from Santa out underneath the tree and fill Finn and Marty’s stockings which were hanging above the fireplace.

  Normally, I loved the holidays. All the pretty colors and lights, all the food, and seeing people’s faces when they unwrapped a carefully selected present. Not to mention the Christmas carols, and the joy that just kind of drifted through the air. It brought me so much joy to see family and loved ones, all in one place. But this year… well, something just felt off.

  And guilt was sitting in my stomach like a lead weight. I just couldn’t seem to push all these troubled thoughts to the side. No matter how many times I told myself this was the right decision—that Marty was the right decision, the weight in the pit of my stomach remained.

  All I wanted was a nice Christmas. To be able to feel that joy, like I normally would any other year. I definitely didn’t want my sour mood to drag anyone else down, or worse, make Marty take notice. I didn’t want him to worry about me having doubts about marrying him, and certainly not before I had a chance to sort all my thoughts out on my own and yet I wondered how I could act normal when everything inside me felt anything but.

  With a sigh, I walked to the coat rack in the hall. With my uncles coming, I figured I’d better put some things away, so everyone would actually have a spot to hang their things up. As I moved my coat to the closet, something in the pocket tinkled, and I remembered the potion I’d stuffed in there earlier. I hung up my coat and fished the little green bottle out.

  The bottle of Holiday Cheer seemed to smile and wink up at me as I realized I was in definite need of some. No time like the present to test the potion out and see if it was something I wanted to carry at the store.

  I took the bottle back to the kitchen and sank down into a chair. The stopper came out of the narrow neck with a little bit of a wiggle, and the warm scent of cinnamon and spice trickled out, laced with the freshness of peppermint and pine. I took a deep breath, letting it fill my lungs and clear my head. The smell alone was almost enough to put me into a festive mood.

  Almost.

  I used the stopper to dab the oil onto my wrists and throat, right over my pulse points, and then inhaled deeply. The scent really was festive. Closing my eyes, I imagined the potion spreading the holiday feeling all throughout. But then my worries moved in like a proverbial storm cloud.

  “I just wish I knew what to do about this marriage,” I sighed as I opened my eyes and slid the stopper back into the bottle.

  The lingering aroma of baking and holiday treats followed me up the stairs to my bedroom, and, later, into my dreams.

  ***

  By the time my head hit the pillow, I worried I’d just toss and turn all night.

  That without the distractions of all the holiday preparations, it would just be me and my thoughts, going back and forth like they had been for the last month, until the wee hours of the morning.

  But whether I’d worried myself out, or it was just owing to all the running around, cleaning, baking, and long work hours, I was asleep in minutes.

  Unfortunately, my sleep wasn’t very restful.

  “I think… you don’t love me,” Marty accused, from where he was sitting on my couch in front of the Christmas tree. I watched in agony as his face crumpled and my heart slammed against the inside of my ribs like it was trying to break free and escape.

  I tried to reach for him, to hold him, to do anything, but the ring on my finger felt like it weighed more than a boulder, pinning me in place. It was so heavy, I found I couldn’t move at all.

  “Marty,” I whispered, tears hot enough to scald a path down my cheek. “Marty, I–”

  He shook his head and stood, staring down at me with a heart-breaking look on his face. “It’s not fair to marry me if you’re not in love with me, Poppy.”

  I managed to jerk awake, my heart pounding through my chest, and then I just lay there for a long moment, tears sliding down my temples to soak into my pillow. There was a lump in my throat that I could barely breathe around, a burning, choking weight.

  The comforting smell of cinnamon managed to lull me back to sleep after a while, but my dreams were full of more of the same. Every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was Marty’s devastated face as the truth hit him with full force—I wasn’t in love with him.

  Three more times the nightmares woke me, before I fell into a kind of exhausted half-doze where I dreamed of fraying red ribbons, and a smooth, British accented voice calling my name.

  I blinked myself awake and found I was sitting at my own kitchen table.

  The change in scenery startled me so badly, I almost fell off my chair. I looked around myself wildly as I took in the darkness of the night outside and the fact that everything was as I’d left it. Had I been sleepwalking? Had I passed out at the table and just never actually made it to bed in the first place?

  But as I glanced around the kitchen, I realized everything wasn’t exactly as I’d left it. For one, the lights were dim, and there was a mug of hot chocolate sitting in front of me, still steaming gently. At the sound of music, I turned to face a radio I’d never seen before that was sitting on the counter and playing Christmas carols.

  What in the world?

  I stood up and walked over to the window which immediately frosted as soon as the heat of my breath made contact with the coldness of the pane. In the reflection of the porch light, I could see a gentle snow falling, sparkling under the moonlight. And that was odd because the porch light had burned out and needed to be changed. It was one of the things on my list to address and yet, here it was, burning happily.

  “What is going on,” I said to myself as I glanced down and found I was dressed in my favorite flannel pajamas, the ones with all the kittens in Santa hats. Everything around me felt cozy, warm and safe and yet, on the inside, I felt anything but.

  I ran my hands over the fabric that was covering my thighs. It felt real enough, but these pajamas had been brand new—I’d only purchased them last week—and yet now, as I looked at them, I noticed the fabric was faded and in some areas, the seams were worn.

  And that made zero sense.

  It’s a dream, I realized.

  It had to be. But everything was so vivid and clear—so real, like I’d used Dreamtime Oil to fall asleep. And yet, I hadn’t.

  I turned around and walked back to the table, reaching out for the mug of steaming chocolate. I could feel the heat of it on my fingers and when I brought it to my lips, I noticed that even the hot chocolate tasted real and delicious; not too hot, not too sweet, perfectly creamy on my tongue.