The 14 Days of Christmas

“It killed her to send you to me so often. She’d miss you so much, but she wanted to protect you from their fighting.”

She sent me to Snowsly to protect me? That was news to me. I suppose I hadn’t really thought about why she’d done it—I was too busy being grateful that she’d sent me here.

“She wanted to protect me?”

“Of course. She knew it wasn’t healthy for you to grow up with her and your father always arguing. And while she found her strength to leave him, she wanted you to be in a place you could be a child and have fun.”

So it wasn’t that she hadn’t wanted me, more that she’d wanted more for me.

“The music box was a part of you that she could keep when you were away,” Granny said. “And then when it broke . . .”

She was devastated. I knew that. I’d seen it. I just hadn’t known why. Sadness trickled through my body. Why hadn’t anyone told me before what that music box meant? Why hadn’t I understood that the reason I was sent away from my parents was to protect me, not because they didn’t want me.

“Why didn’t she or you or anyone explain?” I asked, irritation rising in my gut.

Granny laughed. “Sebastian Fox! Me and your mother have both tried to talk to you about those years countless times before. No one can tell you anything you don’t want to hear. I’m glad that seems to have changed.”

Exhaling, I tried to recall either of them saying anything about the divorce. I couldn’t bring anything specific to mind but they were right—I didn’t like to discuss what went before. I didn’t want to talk about the past because I didn’t want to remember what it was like to live it.

If I hadn’t heard that music box, I would have never have known any of this. And if I hadn’t just been discussing it with Celia, I wouldn’t have brought it up with Granny. I might never have found out why my mother had been so upset to lose that music box.

I might never have known how treasured I’d been as a child. How much love might still be waiting for me, if only I’d let go of the past and grab hold of it.

I finished up my tea and set down my cup. “Thanks for the chat, Granny.” I stood and kissed her on her head. “I’m off to greet the journalists. I’ll let you know how it goes.” I had a stop to make before I led a tour around the market. I’d have just enough time.

She patted me on the cheek like she’d been doing my entire life. “Make sure you introduce Celia. They’re bound to feel her infectious joy and translate that into their articles. No one can help but fall in love with her enthusiasm.”

I ignored her comment and headed to the door.

Twenty

Sebastian

As I wandered up to the green, I glanced up at a helicopter overhead that had everyone working the Snowsly Christmas market staring into the sky. In a few seconds, it disappeared. It must have landed.

Celia was in front of me, her phone in the air, video calling someone. “Isn’t it pretty?” she asked.

“Who’s that behind you?” whoever was on the phone asked. Celia snapped her head around, her grin widening when she saw me. There was something about the woman that meant I couldn’t not smile when she was around. What had she done to me?

“That’s Sebastian,” she said.

I dipped my head. “Hi, whoever you are.”

“I’m Lemon,” she replied. “It sounds like you’ve saved Christmas this year.”

“Nice to meet you—I’ve heard only good things. But if you’re really Celia’s best friend, you know that can’t possibly be true. We make a good team—a team led by Celia.”

Celia and I locked eyes and she scrunched up her nose as if I’d given her a false compliment. If only she saw how capable she was.

“Oh, aren’t you just charming.” Celia pulled down her phone, presumably in case her friend said too much. “I hope you’re around next year because I’m coming to the UK to experience my first Snowsly Christmas,” her friend called from where she was facing Celia’s coat.

“Gotta go,” Celia said and cancelled the call. “She wanted to come this year but she’s in New York. I think I told you. Anyway, I’m sure you think that’s no big deal because, you know, Christmas is no big deal to you, but I hate that she’s not here. I want everyone who’s important to me around me at Christmas.”

“That makes sense,” I said. People mattered. Perfection didn’t. “Take lots of photos to send her because the village looks amazing—like something you’d see on a Christmas jigsaw puzzle.”

“It always does. I think we’re all prepared,” she continued. “Howard’s going to collect the journalists from the station. All the stallholders have restocked and all the decorations have been checked. We’re ready for anything.” She winced. “I shouldn’t have said that. With our luck, the green will burn to the ground before it’s dark.”