Christmas Eve Love Story

Twenty-Three

On the eighth Christmas Eve

Fa-la-la-la—!

Annie sat up in bed like she’d been struck by lightning.

She grabbed her phone and stared at the date.

Dec 24

Winter Storm Warning

This is where the magic happens. Yes! On Christmas Eve.

She shoved the covers aside, and Leo plopped onto the floor, lazily blinking his eyes. “Oh sorry, kitty!” She reached down to pet him, and he nudged his thick head up against her palm, purring. “Merry almost-Christmas.” She plucked his cat toy off the floor and set it aside.

Magic, magic, magic.

Maybe it had come to her in a dream?

No, this was a dream. No, wait. Alternate reality. Was Braden in it with her? She pulled up the contact list on her phone scrolling down to the Ts.

Annie’s heart leapt in her throat.

Braden Tate

OMG—squee! He’s in there. Her breath came in fits and starts.

Calm down, Annie. Okay. Let’s check this.

She strode into her living room with Leo bounding ahead of her. Her sweet Christmas tree was all decorated, but it was missing only one candy cane. The one she’d dropped in her hot cocoa that very first night. Leo’s Christmas stocking was empty too. Hang on.

She returned to her bedroom, remembering something. The painting her dad had done of her snow globe rested on her desk. She went and picked it up, carrying it into the living room, holding it up beside her actual snow globe nestled beneath her little tree.

Believe.

Yes, right. But seeing was believing, wasn’t it? Belief was about faith, sure. But sometimes when there were signs an event had really happened, you believed it even more. Santa biting into that cookie had planted a seed in her mind, and somehow overnight it had grown into a bigger—but not yet completely crystalized—idea. Certainty coursed through her. She’d figure this out, yeah, she would.

Annie arranged her dad’s painting behind the Christmas tree, propping it against the wall and steadying it against the Christmas tree’s base. It looked great there, so cheerful—it brought a smile to her face and tugged at her heartstrings. She lifted the snow globe and shook it heartily. Tiny snowflakes flitted around inside the globe, cascading down on Santa and his reindeer team. Believe.

She’d once thought her belief had been shattered to bits, but had it been—really? Maybe there’d always been a miniscule part of her that had never totally given up, a hopeful part that yearned for the goodness that exists in this world, like narrow slivers of light—apparent even in the blackest darkness.

She glanced at Leo, who sat perched on his haunches near the kitchen. He was hungry, of course he was. She was a bit hungry too. She’d make herself some toast with her coffee and do that quickly before the intercom buzzer rang.

There were new things to gain, even—paradoxically—in a repetitiously rewinding day. And she had faith that new friends would be here with her. Her spirit danced. So would Braden. Then maybe, somehow , they’d make it out of this mess together.

Leo meowed, and she chuckled at his desperate face. “I’m starving you, poor kitty.” She popped a piece of bread in the toaster and fixed her coffee, serving Leo his food. She didn’t spill an ounce. Her thoughts churned over her window display and how to fix it. She knew it had to do with Christmas Eve having come—and gone. Excitement rose up inside her. She was onto something. Maybe Braden would have some ideas? Assuming he still remembered yesterday—and her, they could meet up and develop a plan.

The buzzer rang, and she crammed the rest of her toast in her mouth. She’d slathered it with jam and— oh, this tastes so fantastic. Raspberry goodness on crunchy whole grain. Annie pressed the intercom button, her mouth packed full. She covered it with her hand, although the guy couldn’t see. “Um-hmm?”

“Package for you!” he announced.

Annie took a quick swig of coffee. “Be right down!”

“Door’s stuck.”

“Just leave it on the stoop!”

Annie shrugged on her coat and squirmed into her snow boots, spying her cell phone on the kitchen table. What if Braden didn’t remember yesterday, or her —at all? Her heart clenched. That would be awful. She had to find out. Annie picked up her phone with trembling fingers. Part of her wanted to know for sure that Braden would answer. Another part was terrified he wouldn’t. Maybe her contact number hadn’t even saved in his phone?

One way to find out.

She texted him.

Annie

You up?

Three dots appeared on her screen, soon several more. Annie’s pulse pounded.

Braden

Annie? That you?

She held her breath, hoping.

Annie

Do you remember yesterday?

Braden

Not everything.

More dots.

I thought I’d had a weird dream, then I found the napkin in my jacket.

Ye-es. Annie fist-pumped the air.

It wasn’t total recall, but it was something. She’d take it.

Annie

I think I’ve had a breakthrough. Can you meet up at Lawson’s?

Braden

Just say when.

Annie checked her watch.

Annie

Can you be there before nine?

Braden

Break room?

No. Too many early birds getting coffee.

Annie

Conference room.

Braden

Okay.

Annie shucked her coat, ditching it on a kitchen chair. “Change of plans,” she told Leo. She hurried into her bedroom to dress for work. She needed to get to Lawson’s and talk this through with somebody levelheaded and kind, and who actually believed her. That somebody was Braden. But first, she snatched the toilet paper roll off its holder and stashed in the bathroom linen closet, securely shutting the door.

A short time later, Annie jumped out of the way of the falling snow dump on her stoop and scooped up the package for Jane. She had her work bag slung over one shoulder as she carted the package upstairs. Jane opened her door.

“Oh hey!” Jane scanned Annie’s face, noting the package. “Is that for me?”

“It is,” Annie said, passing it to her. “Deliveryman buzzed me by mistake.”

“Thanks!” Jane studied Annie’s outfit. “Sorry to take you out of your way.”

“No problem.” Annie smiled. “It only took a second to bring it upstairs.”

Jane nodded and narrowed her eyes. “You live in the building, yeah?”

“Apartment 3-A.” Annie nodded. “My name’s Annie.”

Jane scratched her head. “Have we spoken before?”

“Um, maybe once or twice?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Must have.” Jane stared at her again. “That’s so funny. I somehow feel I know you.”

“Yeah?” Annie answered. “I weirdly sense that too.”

“Maybe we’re friend mates?” Jane joked.

Annie laughed. “What’s that?”

“Don’t know.” Jane shrugged. “Destined to have coffee?”

Annie grinned from ear to ear. “I’d like that, Jane.”

“Great.”

Annie turned, and Jane shouted. “Hey, wait!”

Annie paused on a lower step.

Jane viewed her curiously. “How did you know my name?”

Annie didn’t miss a beat. “It’s on the package.”

Annie hurried down the stairs and stepped into the blustery cold, scuttling toward the subway as chilly snowflakes doused her hat and hair. She made it through the turnstile and onto the subway platform and squeezed into the loaded subway car, just in time. When she peered through the glass portion of the door, she saw Quinn racing for the train. He stopped and—for a split second—he stared at her, while Annie stared back. He shook his head, as if he’d mistaken her for someone else, and traipsed over to a vacant bench and sat.

Annie grabbed on to a handrail, and the subway car whooshed away.

***

Braden got to Lawson’s first, stationing himself in the conference room. Annie burst through the door like a big gust of wind, wrapped in her red scarf and snow-speckled peacoat. “Sorry I’m late,” she said catching her breath. “My train got stuck in a tunnel!” She clasped her hat and mittens in one hand and held on to the shoulder strap of her bag with the other. “I swear I’ve not been able to get here earlier than 9:08 on any of these days, no matter how I try.” Her eyes seemed bigger and browner than ever. His heart thumped at her anxious look. She didn’t appear so much nervous as excited, and her up mood was contagious.

“No worries,” he said. “We still have a little time.” He checked the clock on the wall above the door, seeing it was almost 9:15. He did need to stop by the security office, but that could wait five minutes, maybe ten.

Annie undid her brass buttons. “Wish we had more of it though.” She grimaced. “Just not on Christmas Eve.”

“Ha, yeah.” He tucked the “Believe Annie” napkin in his jacket pocket. He’d been staring at it while waiting for Annie to arrive, trying to decipher this very strange puzzle. Even though he didn’t know her well, he did trust Annie. She had no reason to invent the story she had, and some of the things he recalled happening couldn’t possibly have transpired if today was Christmas Eve for the first time.

She deposited her bag in one of the chairs at the conference table, peeking back at the door and keeping her voice down. “Maybe we should shut it—at least partway.” Braden nodded and closed it gently, leaving it open a smidge.

“What’s this about an idea?” he asked, joining her at the table.

“Braden,” she said. “I think Santa was giving us a clue.”

“The store Santa, you mean.” Braden’s emotions went all jumbled. This entire notion of Santa being Santa was absurd. He was an actor employed by the store. Both of them knew that. They could joke that he wasn’t but couldn’t seriously pretend otherwise. “Annie,” he whispered hoarsely. “There is no Santa, really.”

“Of course, I know that. Only… What if there is?” Her eyelashes fanned wide, and he thought of how they’d looked dotted with snowflakes. She really was an incredibly attractive woman. He was surprised she didn’t have a boyfriend. And yet—when they’d caught that falling box… Wait. When had that happened? Not yesterday. Maybe the day before? Scattered images collided and blurred. He raked a hand through his hair.

He’d researched scientific theories relating to time travel last night. So, the notion of time bending back on itself was something he could possibly buy into. Nobody’d seriously studied the veracity of there being a Kris Kringle who lived at the North Pole though. Come on. That would mean believing in flying reindeer and elves, and all sorts of other fanciful stuff.

“So, ideas?” Braden asked. “I’m guessing you were talking about a way out of this time loop, for you and, uh”—he exhaled sharply—“me, because it really seems I’m in it?”

She thumped the table with her hand. “I think what San—” She stopped herself, then continued, “The old man meant has to do with that cookie and the fact he’d taken a bite.”

“That part was a little scary.”

“I know,” she said. “But still, I feel like it was a hint.”

“About your window display?”

“And improving it, yes.”

“But we added another Christmas stocking.”

“Braden,” she said dead seriously. “This could go on for days, weeks, months . Can’t you see? We can’t keep waiting for Santa to suggest things, because he always will, piece by piece. What if he suggests a certain kind of ornament?”

Braden leaned forward. “Like the tinsel?”

“Like that, but something else. Shiny baubles! Candy canes!” She shook her head. “His list could never end.”

“So how do we stop it?”

Annie tugged on her vest. “By taking the lead. Coming up with ideas first.”

Braden crossed his arms. “That could take forever too.”

Annie sat up straighter. “Not if we’re strategic.”

Braden turned her suggestions over in his mind. “You’re saying we should be proactive—rather than reactive.”

“Yes.” Annie’s face brightened as she pulled a small, spiral bound notebook out of her bag. The cover had sparkly gold letters on it that said Make Magic Happen .

“What’s that?”

“My notebook.” She took out a pen. “I use it to brainstorm ideas sometimes on the subway.”

“And?” He was intrigued.

“This morning.” She tapped the pen against her pretty mouth and smiled. “I thought a lot about Christmas, and how it was when I was little. The fun parts of my discovery on Christmas morning.”

Braden chuckled, getting her vibe. “Finding a loaded stocking. Yep. That was cool.”

“Presents under the tree!”

Braden grinned. “I once got a note from Santa.”

“There you go!” She high-fived him, and sparks shot into his palm. He had to have imagined it. Annie wasn’t any kind of live wire, but she did look incredibly animated. “Tell me,” she said gleefully, “what else?”

He stroked his chin. “I guess Santa did eat some of the cookies we left out, after all.”

“See,” she said, as if that proved something. “We’re getting somewhere!”

Braden clicked his tongue. “What are we going to do with all this, Annie?”

She smugly crossed her arms. “Show the magic’s happened.”

That resonated with him. “Oh, ho!”

“Oh, ho ho ho.” Her eyes twinkled so merrily, he wanted to what? Kiss her? No. Not here, not now. Not especially if she doesn’t want that.

Except, she licked her lips. “Braden?”

“Hmm?” He suddenly saw that his face had dipped lower, his mouth hovering near hers. He started to pull back, but she latched on to his upper arms, squeezing hard.

Man, she has the strength of a lion.

“I think we can do this.”

He wanted to do this with Annie and so much more. He also wanted to help her save her job. Could fashioning her window into a “Christmas Morning” display do that? He recalled the happy glow on Veronica’s face when she’d discovered the snoozing Christmas mouse. Hmm. Maybe so.

“Can we make all these changes today?”

Annie pursed her lips. “I’m not sure. I still have to get home for Harrington.”

“The older man who slips on the steps?”

“Yes, him.” She nodded. “Bea too, and I’ve got cinnamon rolls to make, and chili.”

Braden grinned. “You’ve carved out quite an evening. Thanks for penciling me in.”

She shoved his arm. “You’re written in in ink.”

“Really?” He was unbelievably pleased.

She opened her notebook. After a list of ideas concerning her window, she’d written down “Blue Dot with Braden.”

Warmth spread through his chest. “I’m honored.”

“Me too.” Her voice trembled when she said it, and her lips slightly quivered. If he pressed his mouth to hers, he could show her he was steady, a stand-up sort of guy. The rock she could lean on—and wrap her arms around.

She latched on his gaze and held on tight, so tightly he felt like he’d tumbled off a cliff and into the canyon of her pretty eyes. It was a place he could get lost in for ages. He’d put down stakes and stay there forever if she’d let him.

“Oops! Sorry!” The door opened wider, and there stood Kira, her arms loaded down with file folders. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”