Chapter Twenty-Six
Ivy
Good morning, my darling friend! Merry Christmas Eve!” Grey says as she enters my apartment, her hands full of gifts and snow stuck to her cat-eye glasses.
Resin rushes over to his second favorite woman. (I’m his favorite, of course.)
“Hello, sweetheart,” she says to him after putting down the gifts over the back of the couch and pulling a treat from her coat pocket. The treats are one of the many reasons she’s secured a top spot in my dog’s affection, though Jace is intent on earning the same distinction.
Crunching on his treat, Resin goes to the living room, waiting for us to join him.
I hand Grey a mug of coffee as we settle in.
I’m still in my Christmas pajamas, and Grey looks like a vintage dream, per usual.
We often shop at the same vintage and thrift stores, but she’s the queen of exceptional finds.
She could easily fit in another era, looking like the unassumingly gorgeous person that she is.
“Merry Christmas Eve.” I hold out my mug in a “cheers” gesture and take a sip of the comforting, creamy coffee.
“Oh! Sparrow sent this over!” Grey rises to grab one of the boxes on top of the pile. “I hope I haven’t ruined it. I got so distracted by Resin’s cuteness when I came in.”
Gingerly, she places the box on the coffee table between us and unties the ribbon wrapped around it.
I can see now that it’s a pastry box, and the smell of chocolate and sugar brings an instant smile to my face.
Sure enough, when Grey opens the box, I see the most gorgeous B?che de Noel, a traditional chocolate cake rolled with whipped cream throughout and topped with chocolate ganache.
It looks like a winter masterpiece, the chocolate shavings perfect—no doubt Lily’s handiwork—and the detail work makes it look like an actual piece of wintery tree bark. The smell is absolutely heavenly.
“I’ll grab some plates!” Grey squeals before taking off for my kitchen.
I laugh, but honestly, this is the best Christmas Eve breakfast I could’ve asked for.
“So, where’s Jace?” With a knife and spoons in one hand and napkins and plates in the other, Grey sets to work hacking into the French Christmas dessert.
“He’s with his family this morning. We’ll be meeting at the Christmas Eve service tonight at church.
” The gathering is a tradition. As a community, we meet at the old stone church, the very one in which Sparrow and Rafe were married.
We light candles and sing Christmas carols.
It’s one of my favorite events of the holiday season.
Last night, when we got home from the high school, it was after midnight, but the roads had finally been plowed, and my heart was full.
I suspect Emmy didn’t let her dad sleep in this morning, so we’ll both need to enhance our energy in the form of sugar and caffeine.
I wonder if I can save him and Emmy a slice of the cake.
“Excellent. And you’re feeling good about how things are going between you two?
” Grey hands me a spoon and sets two alarmingly large slices of cake in front of us both.
She settles into the couch, taking one of the biggest bites I’ve ever seen before she even leans back.
We make eye contact and laugh, her mouth full as her eyes roll back with delight. “This is criminally good!”
I take a bite and echo her sentiment. The cake is incredible. Grabbing my phone, I text Sparrow and Lily a note of thanks and then excitedly return to eating their work of art.
“I’m feeling good. We’re feeling good.” Thoughts of Jace’s hands wrapped around me and the way he kissed me after I told him I wanted only him send a flush creeping up my neck. Already, I can’t wait to hold him again.
“Did you ask if he’s staying past New Year’s?” Grey lifts an eyebrow as she takes another bite.
“We haven’t talked about it. But I have hope.” I glance at her slyly. “Speaking of people being here for the holidays, will Boston be here for Christmas?”
Grey shuffles a bite of cake around on her fork before it settles on the plate with a clunk. “Not for the actual day, but he’ll be in town for the gift exchange.”
The day after Christmas, the four of us girls—Sparrow, Grey, Lily, and me—gather to exchange gifts and celebrate.
It’s our way of extending the family time over the holidays, even if we’re technically chosen family.
While the four of us may not always get together during the year as much as when we were teenagers, especially now that a couple of husbands have been added to the mix, we haven’t stopped this Christmas tradition. Now, we just include the men.
“I’m glad you’ll get to see him.” I’m careful not to push too much when it comes to the man I know she loves but can’t admit to loving for some reason. “I’ll be bringing Jace this year,” I reveal shyly.
“Oh, that’s excellent! I can’t wait for him to meet Boston.” Her smile is genuine, even though I see the tightness in her forehead whenever her friend is brought up.
My phone startles us by ringing with a number I don’t recognize. “Hello?” I say hesitantly when I answer it.
“Miss Jones?” an older man’s voice resonates through the line.
“That’s me.” I shrug to Grey, who’s paused mid-bite to listen to this mystery call.
“It’s Arthur from the Music & Arts Committee,” says the voice.
Immediately, I stiffen, setting my half-finished piece of cake on the table. His tone gives nothing away. It would be weird and decidedly Scrooge-esque to call with bad news on Christmas Eve, but okay. “Hello, Arthur. Merry Christmas Eve.”
“Yes, same to you.” There’s a shuffling of papers on his end and what sounds like a briefcase clicking closed. I didn’t even know people still used briefcases anymore.
“Thank you.” Rising, I start to pace. Resin lifts his head to check on me.
“I won’t keep you,” says Arthur, “but I wanted you to know that we received an anonymous donation this morning, specifically addressed to your studio.”
“What?” I whisper, choosing to sit on the edge of the coffee table before I fall over. Resin is already up and at my side, his face resting near my knee.
“Quite a generous one. I think it should meet your goals for the next year and possibly even exceed them.”
When he gives me the number, my hand flies to my mouth in disbelief. My students will receive another year of dance. I can purchase more portable barres so we can add more students to my classes. There’s also enough for me to take on at least five more scholarship students. I laugh disbelievingly.
“This is so appreciated. Thank you, sir.”
“No need to thank me. I’m just the messenger. But I wanted you to know so you could just enjoy the performance. Anything that comes in that night will just be more lights on the tree—or whatever analogy you want to use for this season.”
“I can hardly believe it.” My breath catches as I think of how hard I’ve fought over the past few years to keep my dream alive and to make dance more accessible in this town. If I hadn’t received this donation, I would have had to take on another job to keep moving forward with my studio.
“Now, now,” Arthur protests. “From everything I’ve heard about you in this town, I think you’ve earned it.”
Something in his tone makes me realize he’s been my guardian angel all along. I’m strengthened by his encouragement. “Arthur, I recognize that this goes against the meaning of the word, but would you happen to be the anonymous donor?”
The movement on his line stops, and I know that I’ve stumbled across the truth. Grey mouths “donor” with wide eyes as I wait for Arthur’s response.
“I can’t confirm anything,” he finally speaks. “As I said, Miss Jones, it’s anonymous. But my wife and I are looking forward to your show. She has a soft spot for dancers, having been one herself once.”
“Thank you. Thank you so much. This means the world to me and to my students and their families.” I wipe my eyes. The relief of not having to worry about funding as we go into our performance is one of the best gifts I could’ve received.
“Great. From what I’ve observed, your methods may be unorthodox, Miss Jones, but I know leaders when I see them. And my granddaughter loves your class.”
My mind races. “Wait, is Nova your granddaughter?” I think of my second-level student who started with me just this year and lives to dance. I’d never put together the pieces that she could be related to Arthur.
“The very one,” he says with a softened voice. “And we love to see her and her friends happy. Again, Merry Christmas, Miss Jones. Enjoy your holiday.”
“I will, sir. Thank you so much.”
He hangs up, and I rise to do a series of turns across my living room floor. Resin barks happily, and I jump about.
Grey follows, joining in the fun even though she still doesn’t have all the details. “You got your Christmas miracle?” Grey opens her arms, and I step into them, hugging her tight.
My thoughts go to my students. My studio. The upcoming performance. My family. My best friend, whom I’m holding close. This town and its belief in me. Emmy. Jace.
“I think I got more than one miracle this year,” I confess, already anxious to tell the man I love the good news.
“Well, I’m off. We’ll open gifts later. I just wanted to drop them off and share this delicious cake with you. I’m so glad I got to be here for the good news.”
“Thanks so much, Grey. For everything.”
“Of course,” Grey says, reaching for her purse that she left on the floor near the door.