When I set the mug back down on the table, I realized I wasn’t alone.

  In exactly the same way as she’d disappeared in my store, she’d suddenly reappeared in my kitchen. In exactly the span of a blink.

  Noelle.

  She was sitting across from me. But the boots and coat she’d worn in the shop were gone. Now she was wearing a long, green velvet gown that pooled around her on the kitchen floor. Half of her curls were drawn up artfully, while the rest spilled down over her shoulders, as pale as the snow outside. There were leaves in her hair, a crown made of holly, their bright red berries gleaming in the soft light, looking like little jewels.

  She smiled at me like an old friend. “Hello again, Poppy.”

  “Hello.” I glanced around again, noting the small changes in my kitchen—things in places I hadn’t left them, other things that I didn’t recognize at all. And that foreign radio now belting out Silent Night. I glanced out the window to the snowy scene outside before returning my attention to Noelle.

  “This is a dream, isn’t it? It’s not real.”

  “Well, you’re half right.” Noelle folded her hands on the table. Each of her nails was polished a deep red with a sheen of silvery glitter on top, her thumbs decorated with little painted holly clusters. “This is a dream. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t real.”

  I frowned. “Lucid dreaming—right,” I started with a quick nod. I’d had lucid dreams in the past, but usually that was because I wanted to have them—I’d prepared to have them. This time, they’d been sprung on me. “Okay. Can I ask why you’re in my dream?”

  I mean, the Marty ones made a lot of sense. I was more than sure my subconscious was picking up on my stress over this whole engagement. But my dreams after that? Yeah, those had gotten a little abstract, with red ribbons, and a man’s voice that I’m pretty sure had been Andre’s. I mean, I didn’t really know anyone else with a British accent…

  Noelle smiled, and in the way of dreams, it started to snow gently, right there inside my kitchen.

  “I think it might be time for a proper introduction,” she said.

  “A proper introduction?” I shook my head.

  She nodded. “Poppy, I’m Noelle, the spirit of Christmas.”

  I blinked, not sure how to respond to that. “Oh. Well, it’s nice to meet you… again.”

  She huffed her silver bell laugh. “Likewise.”

  “Um, is there a reason why you’re in my kitchen?”

  The smile faded from her face, and she reached out slowly to take my hands. Hers were warm. “I’m here to offer you a gift.”

  “A gift?”

  She nodded. “Yes, I heard your Christmas wish, and I came to help.”

  “My Christmas wish?”

  And then I remembered—I remembered how I’d anointed myself with the Holiday Cheer potion and then I’d wished I knew what to do about Marty.

  I gave Noelle a little, shy smile as I thought to myself how embarrassing it was that she’d somehow overheard my internal debate over whether or not I should marry Marty. But then I had to catch myself because this was a dream, after all, so I was basically getting embarrassed by my own subconscious which was kind of silly.

  “There’s a lot of magic in the air at this time of year,” Noelle continued as she stood up and turned around to face me in a big sashay of her beautiful gown. “You should consider yourself lucky that I heard your plea, Poppy.”

  I didn’t exactly feel very lucky though. “Is that why you wanted me to make the Holiday Cheer potion—so I’d anoint myself with it?”

  She nodded and her curls bobbed up and down with her obvious excitement. “It was the only way to prepare you for your journey.”

  “My journey?”

  Then she held out a hand to me. “Are you ready?”

  “For what?”

  She laughed. “We are going to take a little trip.”

  My breath caught in my throat, and I was pretty sure if it wasn’t a dream, my heart would have been pounding a mile a minute. “A trip where?”

  She nodded and seemed excited about the prospect. “Into your life.”

  Wait. “I’m not about to get Ebenezer Scrooge’d, am I?” I squinted, suspicious. The last thing I wanted to do was take a spooky trip through my life with a scary ghost. Not that Noelle was scary, but I was worried about the Ghost of Christmas Future, or was it the Ghost of Christmas Past? And I also wasn’t exactly thrilled about Marley and his chains. In general, I didn’t do well with jump scares.

  Noelle burst out laughing as she wiped her eyes, grinning at me. “No. Nothing so sinister. I meant it when I said it was supposed to be a gift.”

  “Thank you,” I breathed. “But, why are you giving this gift to me?”

  Even though this was all just the work of my subconscious mind, I decided to go with it. At the very least, maybe it would shed some light on the troubled state of my thoughts lately.

  Noelle smiled and patted my hand. “You’re a good person, Poppy. And on this most magical of nights, I have the power to help you work your way through the doubt that’s been plaguing you.” She paused and gave me another kind smile. “Let me? Please.”

  “So… you’re what—going to drop me off to see my life and then you’ll be back around to pick me up again?” I didn’t mean to make it sound like we were carpooling but there it was.

  “Yes,” she answered with that pretty laugh. “There’s nothing to worry about, Poppy.”

  “Alright,” I answered with a sigh. “Whoever you are—the spirit of Christmas, my subconscious, that last glass of eggnog—I guess I can use the help.”

  Noelle squeezed my hands. “I’m not your subconscious, Poppy.” The fluffy white flakes of snow that had been swirling through my kitchen now began to tunnel around us like we were in the middle of a snow globe.

  “Okay,” I responded, figuring it was best not to argue.

  “Remember, Poppy, everything can be changed,” Noelle continued. “Nothing is set in stone so whatever you see… you have the power to change it.”

  “Got it,” I answered, as the snow encircling us became thicker, moving faster. I turned to ask Noelle what was happening, but I couldn’t see her any longer, yet I could still feel her embrace on my hand as she squeezed one last time before she pulled away. As soon as she did, the kitchen disappeared around me, and I was surrounded by white. The snow was soft as the wind picked me up and carried me back to my bed and I drifted off into sleep.

  Somewhere far off, I heard a clock chiming midnight.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  When I finally woke up for real, my head was pounding and I was so tired, my eyes felt gritty.

  I lay there for a long moment, hoping the aching in my head would ease off on its own, but no such luck. Advil it was going to need to be.

  I had to get up anyway because Finn would be awake soon, and I wanted to get the last few bits of Christmas preparations pulled together before then. If I was quick, I could get coffee and hot chocolate started. Besides, I wanted to see Finn’s face when he first came down the stairs and saw the tree all lit up with new presents underneath it.

  I just had to find the willpower to get out from under the covers.

  Something behind me gave a weird growling roar, and the entire bed trembled. I jumped, my heart in my throat, as I twisted around, and almost catapulted myself onto the floor. My heart was pounding so hard, it felt like it was kicking against the inside of my ribs as I stared down at the other side of the bed.

  Marty was lying there, under the covers. One of his feet stuck out the side to dangle down towards the floor. As I watched, his chest rose with a tremendous snore that made the headboard rattle against the wall.

  What in the heck was going on? Why was Marty here, in my bed? He hadn’t even been over the night before!

  Still stunned, I blinked and looked again as I pulled up to stand, all the while trying to calm my frantic heart. It wasn’t like it was a monster, it was just Marty but still… it was a little jarring when you went to sleep alone and woke up with… your fiancé.

  I swallowed hard at that thought.

  As I stood there, studying him, all the while trying to understand how in the world he was even here, I noticed something. Slight… differences in his face. Yes, this was Marty, but he looked… well, older. For one thing, there were more little lines around his eyes, and at the edges of his mouth. While he’d always been a little salt and pepper around his temples, now the majority of his hair was edging firmly into ‘salt’ territory. And there was an overall slackness to his skin I didn’t recognize. Somehow, Marty had managed to age years in a single night.

  I shoved a hand back through my hair, thinking fast.

  What was it about the last dream I’d had the night before? I racked my brain, trying to remember what Noelle had said to me. A Christmas wish—it was something like that, I was pretty sure. Something about a glimpse into my own life and I’d been worried she was going to pull a Scrooge move on me?

  So… was this the future then? I glanced around the room and noticed there were things that were still the same but other things that were different—for instance, there was an extra chest of drawers that hadn’t been there before and Marty’s clothes were strewn across the floor on his side of the bed. I glanced over to the open closet and noticed my clothes were stuffed to one side and on the other side? Men’s clothes—Marty’s clothes.

  I swallowed hard as I wondered if I was about to get a visit from the Ghost of Christmas Future who I was pretty sure was supposed to look like something from a Halloween horror movie.

  At that concerning thought, I ran my hand through my hair again and this time, it snagged on my fingers, and I swore as I carefully pulled them back. There, on my left ring finger, nestled right up against the beautiful engagement ring Marty had given me, was a wedding band.

  I froze, my eyes wide.

  Then I reached down and pinched my arm, hard.

  It hurt a surprising amount, and I only barely managed to stifle my yelp. I didn’t wake up, so this probably wasn’t a dream—just like Noelle had said.

  So… if it wasn’t a dream… just what was it?

  A gift. From the Spirit of Christmas.

  Oh, brother.

  I stared around my bedroom again as I rubbed at the sore spot on my arm. My eyes settled on a picture of Marty and me on the nightstand beside my side of the bed. In it, I was wearing a wedding dress. I couldn’t look at it for much longer and instead, my eyes drifted beyond the framed picture to the window. Different curtains.

  My gaze drifted over to the chest of drawers where it always stood against the wall as you first walked into my bedroom. Taking a few steps towards it, I noticed a framed picture of a teenaged Finn in some kind of sports uniform, grinning at the camera.

  Had Noelle actually done it? Had she transported me into my own future? Was this what she was talking about when she said she had a gift for me? Panic started to cling to me until I remembered how Noelle had said not to worry—that she was simply helping me to understand what decision I should make. I took a deep breath.

  Okay, don’t panic, I thought. Everything is going to be okay.

  There was a mirror hanging beside the chest of drawers, and even though half of me dug my heels in, not wanting to see and confirm my own suspicions, I hurried over and took a long, hard look at myself.

  Like Marty, I still looked mostly the same as when I’d gone to bed. There were a few more delicate lines decorating the corners of my eyes, and a bit more silver in my blond hair. I had to admit, I was holding up pretty well, however many years this was later.

  I shook my head, still reeling with the shock of it all.

  This was definitely my future, as far as I could tell. I turned back to look at the bed, where Marty had changed positions and was now snoring away on his side.

  In this version of the future, I’d apparently gone through with marrying Marty. So, how far into my future life were we talking?

  “I need to find out the date,” I whispered to myself as another round of panic overcame me.

  Luckily, my nearly falling out of bed, then flailing around, and mumbling to myself hadn’t woken Marty up, because I was so not ready for that conversation.

  If future me was anything like present me, my phone would be charging downstairs. I could use it to check the date, and get an idea of what in the world was going on in my life and just how far into the future I now was.

  With one last glance at Marty who looked like he was doing a great job of impersonating a hibernating bear, I tiptoed towards the door. From the way he was snoring, I probably could have walked a marching band through the middle of the room and still been fine, but I wasn’t in the mood to take any chances.

  I hurried down the hall towards the stairs, only to skid to a stop as I passed Finn’s bedroom.

  The door was open, which was strange enough, because Finn never slept with the door open. Was he really up before dawn on Christmas morning? Was it even Christmas morning? Gripping the door frame, I flicked on the light switch and stared.

  It was definitely Finn’s bedroom, though it was decorated differently—a little bit more mature. It also had a slightly hollow feeling, as if things were missing, making the room feel bigger than I knew it was. The bed was neatly made, but more than that, the way the comforter was creased made it seem as though it hadn’t been slept in or disturbed in some time.

  My heart gave a tight throb, clenching hard in my chest. My breath came out a little shaky as I exhaled.

  Where was Finn? Why wasn’t he there? Especially on Christmas? Unless this wasn’t Christmas day?

  Ugh, I needed to find my phone.

  The stairs creaked as I hurried down them. However far into the future I now was, apparently, I still hadn’t managed to get all the repairs to the farmhouse done. But that was hardly the most pressing concern I had.

  The house was decorated to the rafters with Christmas ornaments and the like, but I barely noticed as I raced through the living room. A tree dominated one corner of the room, so laden with decorations and lights that its branches sagged. There was a miniature Christmas town set up on the mantle of the fireplace that I didn’t recognize, but I did note with some relief that there were three stockings hung there. One for me, one for Marty, and one for Finn. Possibly the exact same stockings I’d put up just last night.

  Well, however far back ‘last night’ had really been. Oh, this was going to give me a headache.

  Speaking of… the headache I’d awoken with was now nowhere to be found. Apparently waking up years (I thought) into the future was enough to send a headache packing. At least that was one good thing about the shock that was facing me.

  But, back to the shock…

  Finn’s stocking was hanging up. But where was he?

  I burst into the kitchen, but it wasn’t my phone I saw first, but my laptop set up on the kitchen table. The idle screen was a stock picture of some puppy in a stocking, with a bow around its neck. Immediately my eyes fell on the date that was scrolling across the bottom of the screen, and I had to grab a chair because my knees started to give out on me, wobbling dangerously.

  It was Christmas Eve night.

  Exactly five years into the future.

  I stared at that screen for a long time, until a bit of ice fell off the turkey which was defrosting in the sink. The ice made a wet rattle, and the sound pulled me out of my thoughts.

  Five years.

  That meant Finn would be eighteen, soon to be nineteen. I swallowed hard.

  The little sapphire chips in my engagement ring winked in the faint light of the kitchen. The wedding band was a bit plain, but it was a matching white gold, and it fit my finger perfectly.

  Married.

  I was married to Marty.

  Apparently, I had been for years.

  My stomach clenched.

  I was too tired, and my headache suddenly returned with a vengeance, hurting too much to deal with all of this.

  In the course of pulling a pot of coffee together and digging out some Advil from where I still kept it in the top drawer on the left of the stove, I managed to find my phone. The lock screen was a picture of me, Finn, and Marty, all of us smiling with our arms around each other.

  I brought my phone back to the table, and after a bracing gulp of too-hot coffee, I opened up the contacts, searching for Finn’s name.

  The wave of relief I felt when his name appeared right at the top of the most recent messages was so total, that I almost sagged down onto the table. I didn’t know what I’d been afraid of (it was one of those thoughts I couldn’t even allow myself to think) but now knowing that Finn appeared to be fine, I could breathe again. I hurriedly scrolled up through our latest text messages, guilt nibbling away at the edges of my heart because I felt like I was spying on a private conversation, which I supposed I technically was, but the messages were intended for me. Just not the me that I was or had been, but the me that I would be in five years.

  Yikes. That was enough to bring the headache right back.

  I promised myself I’d think about the ethics of reading your own, but not yet, texts another time. I didn’t have time to feel guilty right now. For now, I had to figure out what in the world was going on.

  From what I could piece together, Finn was currently living away for his first year of university and staying in the dorms. Pride caused a lump to swell up behind my breastbone, and I pressed my hand to my heart as I scrolled further through the conversation.

  Finn’s exams had run late into the year, but he mentioned looking forward to seeing Marty and me for Christmas. Not far beyond that, I found a few texts where we’d arranged for me to pick him up at the Portland bus terminal on Christmas Eve.

  I glanced up at the clock which was still perched over my breakfast table (which was a different table and chairs). I was meant to pick Finn up in a few hours. At the thought that I’d get to see Finn, to assure myself that he was okay, well some of the tension leached out of me, leaving my muscles feeling loose.