Christmas Wishes

“Ghost? What do you mean?”

“You know, the Ghost of Christmas Past, The Ghost of Christmas Present—” she explained.

“Mom...” Molly couldn’t help but chuckle at her mom’s implication. “He’s not a total Scrooge. I think he just doesn’t get Christmas. It’s like he doesn’t know how to enjoy it or something.”

“Well, if he hangs around you long enough, he will. If there’s one thing my baby gets, it’s Christmas,” Ms. Carmichael said. Her tone was tender and warm. “And, if he’s as bad as his parents say he is, getting to know you might do him some good—"

“Emma! Hurry! They’re serving the last round of mint margaritas by the bonfire!” Her father's voice cut through their conversation.

“Jim,” her mother yelled back. “I'm talking with Molly!”

“Hi, Molly! Love you!” her father yelled. “Please don’t burn down the store! Tell Liam I said hi! Emma, come on!”

Molly wasn't going to keep her parents from enjoying their vacation.

“Bye, Mom! Bye, Dad!” she quickly said. “Go have fun.”

“Bye, sweetie! I love you!” Ms. Carmichael ended her phrase with several kissy noises before she hung up the phone.

Molly flopped down onto the bed, the article returning to the screen on her phone.

Nicholas Kerstman was a problem she was going to solve. There was no way she was going to let Christmas Wishes turn into a corporate sell out. She wouldn't allow it. It went against everything she stood for.

“Make it seem fun... make it seem possible... make it seem worthwhile...”

Molly chanted the phrase over and over before she was lulled to sleep by her own endless repetition.

* * *

Molly dreamed.

She was fifteen years old again. She'd been forced by her parents to leave New York with all its hustle and bustle for a tiny town with no hustle and definitely no bustle. She wished she had something to make this place better.

She was in the town square, walking around, pouting and daydreaming about all the New York field trips she was going to miss with her old friends. Not to mention the shops and holiday activities. It was Christmas time and she was homesick for the big city.

She sat down on a bench with a view of the big Christmas Tree. There was supposed to be a big lighting ceremony, but she didn't have anyone to go with. She wished that she had something to do that would make this holiday season a little bit better.

That's when she met the woman dressed from head to toe in Mrs. Claus attire. It was Mrs. Kerstman.

“You’re Molly Carmichael, aren’t you?” Mrs. Kerstman asked. She sat down on the bench next to Molly. Molly wasn't worried about strangers here. The town was too small for anything bad to happen. “Emma and Jim’s daughter?”

“Yes,” Molly said before letting out a small sigh. “Unfortunately.”

“No, no, no! There’s no need for that kind of attitude. Not at Christmas.” Mrs. Kerstman shook her head as she clasped her hands together. “Yes, you’ve been whisked away from all the sights and sounds of New York City, but do you know what’s better than N-Y-C?”

“Nothing,” Molly said, kicking at a small pile of snow by her feet.

“Wrong.” Mrs. Kerstman nodded in Howard Kerstman’s direction. Molly’s gaze followed Mrs. Kerstman’s nod, and her eyes soon landed on a man dressed up like Santa Claus. He was surrounded by several small giggling children, all holding their hands out towards him..

Within a couple of blinks, Mr. Kerstman somehow made glitter and candy canes appear out of thin air. They screamed in unison as some dashed for the candy canes, and some chose to spin around a few times in the abundant glitter. Molly couldn't help but smile at their delight.

“What was that? Did he just do magic?” Molly asked, her mind trying to figure out the secret behind the trick. “How did he—”

“Ah, ah, ah. That’s the kind of thing you’ll learn on the job, Ms. Carmichael,” Ms. Kerstman said. “You know, we just moved here and we’re looking for a Head Elf for our new store. Someone to look after the shop from time to time. Would you be interested in helping us out?”

“How much does it pay?” Molly’s eyes narrowed. She wasn't going to work for free.

“Don’t worry. It pays cash, at least until you turn eighteen,” Mrs. Kerstman said with a laugh. “Although, Ms. Carmichael, the older you get, the more you’ll realize just how little money is worth.”