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.

  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.