32. Christmas Time Is Here
Christmas Time Is Here
Christmas came upon a morning clear in Oak Haven, sunshine glinting off snow that had fallen overnight.
The town looked like something from a holiday card: picturesque buildings with smoke curling from chimneys, evergreen wreaths on doors.
And the magician had been as good as her word: not a tacky tourist trap in sight.
The Melrose family gathered for their traditional Christmas breakfast. Kelly presided over the dining room, which had been returned to its normal dimensions but was no less impressive for it.
An enchanted string quartet played proper Christmas music for once, and the ornaments on the massive tree bickered away good-naturedly.
“More pancakes, darling?” Kelly offered the plate to Luna, who was already on her third stack. “Assuming you have room in there?”
“I’m still replenishing my reserves,” Luna explained around a mouthful of syrup. “Portal magic takes it out of you.”
“I’m just glad to have you girls home.” Kelly’s expression was uncharacteristically soft this morning. “All of you.”
“Even me?” Scarlett asked with a cheeky grin.
“Especially you, though I’m still not entirely convinced you didn’t start this whole mess.”
“Hey!” Scarlett protested, flicking a blueberry at her sister. “I take minor offense to that.”
“Only minor?” Luna teased.
“Well, she’s not wrong.”
The kitchen door swung open, and Zahir entered carrying a tray laden with fresh scones.
“The Injaberes send their thanks,” he announced, “along with some good news. Apparently the forgetting spell is healing nicely. They tested it by sending Uncle Joseph to the grocery store in the next town over. Then they picked him up an hour later. He had no memory of Oak Haven beyond a strange craving for gingerbread.”
“Excellent.” Kelly nodded approvingly. “And the tourists?”
“Gone, as far as we can tell. The gift shops have transformed back into proper Oak Haven businesses overnight.” Zahir set down the tray and pulled up a chair. “Although Jerusha is put out that her ‘Hex Marks the Spot’ T-shirts are now just blank fabric.”
“She’ll get over it.” Kelly waved dismissively. “More importantly, has anyone seen my Christmas star? The old one, with half the lights burned out?”
“Attic,” Delilah said quietly. “Eps found it and thought I might want to keep it. For... reasons.”
Kelly’s eyes softened. “Your father would be pleased. He always insisted that star was lucky.”
“I know.” Delilah smiled, the memory of Papa no longer quite so painful. “I thought maybe we could put it on the tree this year. For old times’ sake.”
“I think that’s a wonderful idea.” Kelly reached over to squeeze her daughter’s hand. “Edward always said that old star would guide you all home, no matter how far you strayed.”
Delilah fetched the star from the attic, where the surviving cats were making a holiday meal of the remaining attic mice.
As she carried the star down to the lobby, Delilah studied its beautiful imperfection.
As a kid, she’d demanded to know why Papa didn’t just buy a new star, or have Mama conjure something fancier.
Now, so many years later, she was finally beginning to understand.
“Would you like to do the honors?” Kelly asked when Delilah brought her the star. “I assume you can manage this much without a wand, yes?”
Delilah bristled. “Mama, I saved forty-seven lives with that wand.”
Scarlett and Luna both groaned mockingly. “Oh ancient gods, hear my cry,” hollered Scarlett at the ceiling, “please make Delilah stop bragging about the forty-seven lives!”
Kelly grinned. “Teasing, Del, I’m just teasing. Go on, put the star up for us. I hear a rumor that you mastered telekinesis on your travels. So...” She nodded toward the top of the tree. “Let’s see what you’ve got, kiddo.”
Delilah exhaled deeply, concentrating her powers on the star. The family heirloom rose slowly toward the treetop and settled gently atop the highest branch. The working bulbs flickered to life, casting a warm, uneven glow across the lobby.
“Perfect,” Kelly declared. “Now, who’s ready for presents?”
As they settled around the tree, Delilah felt a sense of peace she hadn’t experienced in years.
Oak Haven was safe. Her family was together.
And if there was still an ache in her heart where Jasper should be, well, maybe that was the price of victory.
Outside, soft flakes of snow began to fall again, drifting past the windows.
Oak Haven was healing, returning to itself. And so, perhaps, was she.
The star shone above them, its wonky light a testament to the enduring magic of the season. Not the false perfection of some corny Christmas movie, but the real one: a little complicated, a little busted, but always there for you when you needed it most.
Papa would have approved.
By late afternoon, the dining room of the Stargazer Inn had undergone yet another transformation.
Kelly had outdone herself, reshaping the space into an elementary school auditorium so convincing that Delilah could swear she caught that distinctive blend of construction paper, paste, and nervous child sweat that defined every school performance she’d ever attended.
A makeshift stage had been erected at one end of the room, the curtain fashioned from repurposed tablecloths. Rows of folding chairs filled the floor space, and awkward paper snowflakes dangled precariously from the ceiling.
The people of Oak Haven trickled in, and Delilah positioned herself near the entrance to help direct the flow of traffic. She watched as Aphra and Dayo arrived arm in arm, their heads tilted together in private conversation. The love between them was palpable; it surrounded them like an aura.
Next came the recently reunited Belinda and Sam Chatterjee.
Sam hadn’t let go of his wife’s hand since her return, as if afraid she might vanish again.
They found seats near the front, whispering and giggling like teenagers on a first date rather than a couple who’d been married longer than the performers had been alive.
“They’re gross,” Scarlett commented, appearing at Delilah’s side.
“They’re in love.”
“That’s what I said. Gross.” But a moment later, Scarlett’s glowing smile betrayed her words. She waved crazily across the room to Nate, who was helping some of the smaller children adjust their costumes. He caught her eye and pulled a face that made her laugh out loud.
“You okay, Del?” Luna asked, materializing on her other side. “Your aura just went all muddy.”
“I’m fine,” Delilah lied. “Just . . . you know . . . holiday feelings.”
Luna’s expression was sympathetic but mercifully free of pity. “Want me to turn you into a lamp for a while? Very peaceful. Zero emotional processing required.”
Despite herself, Delilah smiled. “Rain check on that.”
A small commotion from the side of the makeshift stage caught her attention. A little girl in an oversized deer mask was sobbing uncontrollably, her tiny shoulders heaving beneath the weight of stage fright.
“I got this one,” Delilah said, and swiftly made her way through the crowd.
The child, Delilah realized as she got closer, was Ava Chatterjee, one of Belinda and Sam’s precious grandchildren. She’d backed herself into a corner, her deer mask askew. Tears poured down her face as she tried to remove the cumbersome headpiece.
“Hey there,” Delilah said, crouching down to eye level, and helped the little girl free herself from the deer head. “What’s going on, buddy?”
“I c-c-can’t,” Ava hiccupped. “It’s too scary.”
“The mask?” Delilah gently daubed away her tears. “Or the audience?”
“All of it! Everyone’s gonna look at me!”
“Well, yeah. That’s kind of the point of a performance. People look at you while you do cool stuff, and they all secretly wish they could do it too.”
“But what if I mess up?”
Delilah considered this. “You know what my father used to tell me, when I was scared of messing up? He said that everyone’s so busy worrying about their own mistakes, they hardly ever notice anyone else’s.”
“Really?”
“Really. And besides—” Delilah lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper “—with this big ole mask on your head, nobody will know which deer you are. If you mess up? Just blame your younger sister. It’s always worked for me.”
Ava gave this idea the kind of profoundly serious consideration that only an eight-year-old can. “Daisy is sort of a klutz...”
“There you go! Perfect fall guy. So what do you say?” She held out the mask.
With a deep breath, the little girl accepted the deer head back from Delilah. “Okay. I can do it.”
“That’s the spirit.” Delilah gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Go get ’em, Bambi.”
As Ava trotted off to join the other children, Delilah felt a lightness in her chest. It wasn’t happiness, exactly—the Jasper-shaped hole was still there—but it was at least happiness adjacent .
A sense of purpose, maybe. She made her way back to where her sisters had saved her a seat, squeezed between them like the filling in a witch sandwich.
“Crisis averted?” Luna asked.
“Indeed. The show will go on.”
The lights dimmed and a hush fell over the audience. From somewhere behind the curtain, music began to play, a haunting melody that spoke of primeval forests and deeper magics than even witches typically wielded.
The curtains parted to reveal a winter woodland scene, complete with enchanted paper snowflakes that actually fell and paper trees that swayed in a nonexistent breeze. At the center of the stage stood two enormous puppets, each at least eight feet tall: the Holly King and the Oak King.