Chapter 14
CHAPTER 14
PENELOPE
T he warm, savory aroma of roasting turkey mingles with the sweet scent of cinnamon and nutmeg as I put the finishing touches on our Christmas Eve dinner. The small kitchen in our apartment above the bakery is a whirlwind of activity, pots bubbling on the stove and the oven radiating heat as it bakes the last batch of Grandpa’s famous dinner rolls.
I pause for a moment, wiping my flour-dusted hands on my apron, and take in the scene around me. The dining table, usually so modest, has been transformed for the occasion. Grandma’s heirloom china, delicate white with hand-painted holly leaves, gleams in the soft light of the candles I’ve arranged in the center of the table. The silverware, polished to a high shine, catches the light and sends little sparkles dancing across the crisp white tablecloth.
This year, it’s my turn to create the magic for my little family. A family that includes Nick Kringle. I can’t wait to see what ugly sweater he wears to dinner. I run my fingers through his thick hair as he kisses me hello. I’ve planned for some quiet time together when Grandpa and Noelle go to bed. I plan to tell him that I love him if he doesn’t say it first.
I think he’ll say it first. He’s not shy about those things. Besides, he’s already asked if he can be a part of my future.
Grandpa Henry’s voice calls out from the living room. “Penelope? Have you seen my good tie? The green one with the holly leaves?”
“Check the second drawer of your dresser, Grandpa,” I call back, shaking my head with a smile. Some things never change.
Just as I’m sliding the turkey out of the oven, a firm knock at the door sends my heart racing. Nick .
“Come in!” I call.
I quickly set down the roasting pan and smooth my hair, suddenly very aware of the flour that’s probably dusting my cheeks and the fact that I’m still wearing my apron over my festive red sweater. I contemplated buying an ugly Christmas sweater like Nick’s, but thought it would be more fun to go shopping with him.
By the time I make it to the entryway, Nick is already inside, Noelle perched on his hip as he greets Grandpa with a hearty handshake. My breath catches in my throat at the sight of him. He’s wearing a deep green sweater that brings out the warm tones in his wavy brown hair, and yes, another of his infamous Christmas sweater vests over it. This one features a 3D Christmas tree complete with tiny ornaments. I love it .
“Merry Christmas, Penelope,” he says, his green eyes twinkling as they meet mine. He leans in to place a soft kiss on my cheek, and I catch the scent of pine and winter air clinging to his coat.
“Merry Christmas, Nick,” I reply, feeling a rush through my whole body at being close to him. “I’m so glad you could make it.”
As we all gather around the table, the apartment fills with the warm glow of candlelight. Grandpa regales us with stories of growing up back before there were cell phones and computer games, his bright blue eyes twinkling behind his wire-rimmed glasses. Nick listens attentively, his hand resting comfortably on mine beneath the table.
The meal is a success, if I do say so myself. The turkey is golden and juicy, the stuffing perfectly seasoned, and Grandpa’s rolls are, as always, little pieces of heaven.
But more than the food, it’s the company that makes the evening special. Watching Nick help Noelle by cutting her turkey into bite-sized pieces, seeing the way Grandpa’s face lights up as he shares his stories, feeling the warmth of Nick’s hand in mine—it all fills me with a sense of contentment I’ve never known.
It also scares me because it feels like a beautiful bauble that will break the first time I tap it.
As the evening wears on, Noelle’s eyelids begin to droop, her head nodding as she fights against sleep. “I think it’s bedtime for someone,” I say softly, moving to scoop her up .
“I’ve got her,” Nick offers, already standing and scooping her up.
I watch as Nick carries Noelle to her room, his strong arms cradling her gently. My heart swells at the sight. My eyes cloud over with tears. I don’t deserve his goodness. I blink rapidly as I move plates to the kitchen.
Grandpa helps, and we do quick work of loading the dishwasher and putting away leftovers. He yawns widely, stretching his arms above his head. “I think I’ll turn in, too,” he says, his voice gruff with fatigue. “Don’t you two stay up too late now. Santa’s coming, after all.”
I roll my eyes good-naturedly at his wink but lean in to kiss his cheek. “Goodnight, Grandpa. Merry Christmas.”
Once Noelle and Grandpa are tucked in, Nick and I retreat to the living room. The fire crackles merrily in the hearth, casting a warm, flickering light across the room. We settle onto the overstuffed sofa, the old springs creaking slightly under our weight. Nick’s arm drapes comfortably around my shoulders, and I lean into him, inhaling the comforting scent of his cologne mixed with the lingering aroma of our Christmas dinner.
Nick’s fingers play idly with a strand of my hair, turning me into butter. “Thank you for including me in your family’s Christmas.”
I tilt my head to look up at him, my heart full to bursting. I want to say those three little words so much that I can barely hang back. But I don’t want to run right over his chance to say them first. Balance is a difficult thing to manage when I want this, want him, so badly. “It wouldn’t have been the same without you. ”
We watch the flames dance in the fireplace. The Christmas tree in the corner twinkles with soft white lights, and outside the window, I can see fat snowflakes beginning to fall. It’s a perfect Christmas Eve scene, like something out of a Hallmark movie.
I’m about to start on the speech I worked on all afternoon while cooking, when I notice Nick reaching into his pocket. My heart stops and then starts pounding. Is he going to propose? Surely not. It’s only been a month—maybe. There’s no way he’s ready to get married. We haven’t even said that we love each other. This doesn’t make any sense.
I hold my breath.
Am I ready?
No. I’m not ready to marry him. I need more time. Time to work out my issues. Time to get over my hurts. Time to find a way to love him forever and not let the darkness in my past overshadow the light he brings into my life. I’m still struggling with these things.
He doesn’t know all that, though.
I think I’m going to pass out. I draw in two quick breaths. It’s enough oxygen to keep me from going under.
He pulls out a small, golden coin, turning it over in his fingers.
A coin. A coin. It’s not a ring. It’s a coin.
I swallow and allow myself to relax again. I’m not even sure when my hands fisted, but I look like I’m ready to punch him.
“What’s that?” I ask, curiosity piqued. I reach out to take the coin from him, examining it closely. It’s heavier than I expected, and there’s an intricate design etched into its surface—a Christmas tree on one side and what looks like a sleigh on the other. Both sides have tiny holy rings around the edges. I’ve never seen anything like it before. “It’s beautiful. Where did you get it?”
Nick takes a deep breath, his expression suddenly serious. “Penelope, there’s something I need to tell you. That coin... it’s not just a coin. It’s a wishing coin.”
I smirk. “Oh really? A wishing coin?” I flip it, watching the light catch it as it spins through the air.
Nick’s green eyes are earnest, and he is almost pleading as he says, “It was given to me by Santa Claus.”
My smile falters. He’s so serious, so intent. It’s almost like he’s trying to tell me he believes in Santa. “Nick, what are you talking about?”
He takes my hands in his, his thumbs tracing gentle circles on my skin. “I know this is going to sound crazy, but I need you to listen. I’m not who you think I am.”
I pull my hands away and sit up, a cold feeling settling in the pit of my stomach. “Who are you?”
He gulps. “Gail and Harvey Kringle, the couple who adopted me, are Santa.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Santa?”
“I’ve been adopted into Santa Clause’s family. My adopted sister, Ginger, and her husband are flying around the world right now in a sleigh pulled by eight reindeer.”
I stand up and rub my sweating palms on my pants. “Nick, this isn’t funny. If you’re trying to make some kind of joke-“
“It’s not a joke,” he interrupts, his voice urgent. “I know it sounds impossible, but it’s true. The Kringle family, we’re Santas. We have magic, real Christmas Magic. And this coin, it’s part of that magic.”
I pace, putting some distance between us. My mind is reeling, trying to make sense of what he’s saying. But it doesn’t make sense. It can’t make sense. “Stop it, Nick. Just stop. I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but I don’t like it.” I clench my fist around the coin. Maybe this is a childhood trauma rising to the surface, triggered by Christmas. Is that possible?
Nick rises, too, his hands outstretched in a placating gesture. “Penelope, please. I’m not playing games. I came to Founder's Grove on a mission to spread Christmas cheer and prove myself worthy of my own Santa magic. But then I met you and Noelle, and everything changed. I love you, Penelope. I want you to have this wish, even if it means I can’t go back to the North Pole.”
His words, spoken with such sincerity, only serve to fuel my growing anger. He says the words I’ve longed to hear, and they mock me. How dare he? How dare he play with my emotions like this? “Do you think I’m stupid, Nick?”
“No!” he almost shouts.
I barely hear him. “I thought... I thought you were different. I thought what we had was real.” My heart crumples up inside of me like wrapping paper in the fire. My chest hurts, and I cross my fisted hand over it in an effort to lessen the pain. It doesn’t help.
“It is real!” Nick insists, his voice rising to match mine. “Everything I feel for you is real. I’m trying to share my whole self with you, Penelope. To let you in on the biggest secret of my life.”
“Your life?” I scoff, feeling tears of frustration pricking at my eyes. “Your life at the North Pole with Santa and the elves, right?”
His face is stricken at my caustic tone. “I can’t believe you’re doing this. Is this your way of breaking up with me? Making up some ridiculous story so I’ll be the one to end things?”
Nick’s face falls, his eyes filled with a pain that looks all too real. “No, Penelope, that’s not it at all. I want to be with you, with you and Noelle. I’m willing to give up everything—my magic, my home, my family—to stay here with you.”
“Stop it!” I shout, my voice trembling with anger and hurt. “Stop lying to me!” I gasp as the memory of the last time I yelled those words at a man fills my mind and then my body, sending it trembling. This isn’t the same, but the feeling of being lied to is exactly the same. It didn’t change because the lies came from a different man. “If you want to leave, then leave. But don’t make up this... this fantasy to try to spare my feelings or whatever it is you’re doing.”
“I’m not lying,” Nick pleads, reaching for me. I step back, avoiding his touch. His eyes fall to my fist. “I’ll prove it to you. Penelope, please. Just make a wish. Anything. Just wish.”
Something inside me snaps. The pain, the anger, the utter disbelief at the situation—it all comes rushing out in a flood of horrible emotions that I can’t control. “Fine!” I yell, holding up my hand. “You want me to make a wish? I wish you’d get whatever it is you came here for and just leave!”
The moment the words are out of my mouth, light pushes through the cracks between my fingers. I scream and drop the coin on the rug.
“No!” Nick pounces on it, gripping it between his thumb and finger. “Stop!” he tells it.
A burst of golden light erupts from the coin, filling the room with a swirling, sparkling energy.
I stumble back. “What in the world?” I whisper.
Nick’s eyes fall to the floor. He’s resigned to what comes next. “I love—.” he starts to say, but his words are cut off as the magical energy engulfs him.
Shimmering tinsel and twinkling lights swirl around Nick’s body. He’s lifted off his feet, suspended in the air by the force of the magic. As the light intensifies, I see something forming on Nick’s wrist—a glowing tattoo in the shape of a Christmas gift.
“Penelope!” he calls out, reaching for me. I wrap my arms around my body. The Magic pulls him away, spinning him in a whirlwind of festive colors and sparkling light.
And then, in the blink of an eye, he’s gone. The room falls eerily silent; the only sound is the soft clink of the coin as it settles on the coffee table. It looks different now—aged.
I stand there, frozen, staring at the spot where Nick had been just moments ago. I can’t process what I’ve just seen. It’s impossible. It has to be some kind of trick, an illusion .
But as the seconds tick by and Nick doesn’t reappear, the reality of what’s happened begins to sink in. I just wished him away, and he’s gone.
I collapse onto the sofa, my anger dissolving into heart-wrenching sobs. I’ve lost him. Nick is gone. Magicked away to . . . the North Pole for all I know. Oh gosh! I hope he’s okay.
He has to be. I wished that he’d get what he came for and leave. I guess that means that he didn’t come for me. The thought wrenches at my heart. He didn’t come for me, but he chose me.
And I wished him away.
Nick’s not coming back. I don’t know how I know this, but the truth of it sits like a weight on my stomach. I’m alone. Again.
I love Nick. I may always love him.
Why did I send him away?
I’m not sure how I let my fear take over like that, but I know it’s stronger than I am, and I don’t want that—not for me, but certainly not for Noelle. I have to figure this out. I don’t want to be alone. I want love.
One day.
Because now I know what it looks like.
I wipe my eyes and settle on the couch, pulling a blanket over me. I don’t want to even think about Christmas. Not this year. Not next. Not until the hole in my heart heals.