Chapter 16
CHAPTER 16
NICK’S FIRST HOLIDAY SEASON WITHOUT PENELOPE
The day after Thanksgiving
I stand on the corner of Main Street in Moose Hollow, dressed in my Santa Claus suit, ringing a bell to collect donations. The ache of missing Penelope is a constant companion. Despite my heartache, I’m determined to spread as much Christmas cheer as possible, fulfilling my duty as a Kringle. Robyn and Gabe linger nearby, keeping a watchful eye on me, ready to assist if needed because, let’s just say, my magic isn’t exactly predictable.
Lost in thoughts of Penelope, I barely notice a young man walking toward me until we collide.
“Ho Ho Ouch!” I rub my shoulder, feeling the impact. This guy is solidly built.
“Sorry!” Jacob steadies me. I note his concerned expression and give him a reassuring smile .
“I’m fine. But you look like you could use a Merry Christmas,” I reply, trying to infuse my voice with warmth. This is why I’m here—to grant Christmas wishes.
“I was distracted,” Jacob admits, glancing down Main Street.
“Ah! That usually means there’s a woman involved,” I say, touching the side of my nose in a playful gesture. I don’t feel playful. I can see in him what I once had, and it’s killing me.
Jacob laughs a bit sheepishly. “I was thinking about a wedding on the church steps.” He points down the street.
“Well—that’s a Christmas wish if I’ve ever heard one,” I say, my eyes twinkling behind the fake beard.
Jacob waves his hands frantically. “No. No. No. I’m not dating anyone. I knew this girl once—she wanted to be married there.”
I cock my head, waiting for Jacob to elaborate.
“I, uh, we.” Jacob trails off and then huffs. “It’s a long story.”
I stroke my beard thoughtfully. It’s a habit I picked up from Harvey. Of course, his beard is real, and mine was a wish from a magical purse. “If you had a Christmas wish, what would it be?”
Jacob pauses; his expression is contemplative. It’s clear he has been carrying his wish with him for a long time. “I wish we had a second chance,” he says quietly, almost as if he doesn’t expect me to hear him.
I pat Jacob’s back, feeling the magic stirring within me. “Christmas is magical.”
Jacob shivers. I watch as his eyes widen in surprise, the air around us growing warmer despite the winter cold. It’s my magic doing its thing. If I can’t have love, then I’m happy to give it to someone else.
“What did you say?” Jacob asks, his voice tinged with awe.
I drop my hand, and a burst of icy wind whips around us, howling through the streets. “Believe in Christmas, my friend,” I say, tapping the side of my nose again. I then turn to smile at a woman who drops a twenty in the collection tin, grateful for the small act of kindness that adds to the season’s magic.
As Jacob walks away, I feel a pang of longing for Penelope. My role as a Kringle is to bring joy and magic to others, even when my own heart is heavy. I glance over at Robyn and Gabe, who give me encouraging nods, and take a deep breath, ready to continue spreading Christmas cheer.
Christmas Day
D ear Nick,
I hope this letter finds you well. I wanted to take a moment to express my deepest gratitude to you for the role you played in bringing Lauren back into my life. I still can’t quite believe the magic of that Christmas encounter on Main Street in Moose Hollow.
After our collision that day, something shifted within me. I found myself thinking about Lauren more than ever before, remembering the happiness we shared and the love we lost. It stirred something inside me—a hope that maybe, just maybe, we could have a second chance.
I guess Christmas is a magical time of year.
Wishing you all the joy and magic this holiday season and always.
Warmest regards,
Jacob
Two full holiday seasons without Penelope
The day after Thanksgiving
T he next year, I’m back in Moose Hollow.
It’s a small town with a decent amount of Christmas cheer, but it’s also tucked up into the mountains and home to a lot of people who don’t want media coverage. In short, it’s the perfect place to practice my wish-granting skills without drawing a lot of attention. Last year was . . . okay. I mean, it could have gone better. There was the whole time-loop thing that kind of made a mess of the season, but we got through it .
I adjust my red coat and beard, hoping to keep the children enthralled. “Ho Ho Ho,” I wink, motioning for the kids to gather closer. Instead of collecting donations, I’m right in the heart of the festivities, taking pictures with kids and granting wishes right and left.
They’re easy when they’re for children.
I wish for a puppy.
I wish for a new video game.
I wish for a story projector.
Easy. Peasy. Elfin’ squeazy. Or something like that.
“Nick!” Jacob’s hearty greeting catches me off guard as he grabs me into a hug and pounds my back. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”
“Merry Christmas,” I tell him. Just seeing Jacob reminds me of Penelope. Everything reminds me of her though, so I’m not sure it’s fair to put that on his shoulders. Stella thinks I should move on, kiss a few ladies under the mistletoe. Her husband, Kris, thinks that’s a horrible idea. He says I should follow my heart back to Founder's Grove and kiss Penelope.
I’m kind of torn between their advice. If I could find a woman I wanted to kiss, then I might do as Stella tells me to. I just can’t seem to find one that even taps on my heart.
The kids around us, Jacob’s nieces and nephew, stare up at me and Jacob in wide-eyed wonder.
“You know Santa?” asks Jenny as she tugs on Jacob’s coat.
I answer for him because, let’s face it, my answer will carry more authority. “I’ve known your uncle Jacob for quite some time,” I reassure them, enjoying their gaping. Jacob and I had a great Christmas last year.
Lauren’s gasp of recognition as she joins the group cuts through the festive chatter. “Nick?!” she exclaims incredulously. Okay, so Lauren’s Santa/wish experience wasn’t as great as Jacob’s.
My heart sinks. “It’s a long story,” I mutter to Jacob, hoping to explain later .
“You know him too?” Jenny folds her arms, pouting at being kept out of the cool-kids group.
“He was the best man at our wedding,” Lauren explains to the curious kids.
Megan and Jenny exchange whispers behind their mittens, clearly fascinated.
Collin, Lauren’s nephew, approaches hesitantly and tugs at my coat. “Santa?”
I kneel down to Collin’s eye level, my mind racing. “Yes, Collin? Do you have a Christmas wish?”
Collin doesn’t hesitate. “I wish my mom would come back for Christmas.”
Jingle bells chime ominously, and my heart skips a beat. Time seems to slow down as Lauren lunges forward, her hand reaching for Collin but moving as if in a dream.
Jacob’s attempt to intervene mirrors her urgency, both trying to prevent the inevitable.
Me? I’m putting all this together and asking myself, What have I done?
As Collin’s wish echoes in the winter air, I feel a surge of unease. Last year’s mishap with wishes trapped in a loop still haunts me. This year was supposed to be different, but my magic is acting strangely, manifesting in ways I can’t control. Even Lux and Quik, who are experts in Christmas Magic, are puzzled.
“It was just one wish—I swear,” I plead, holding up my hands defensively as time speeds up and Lauren marches toward me.
Lauren’s face is red. “A disastrous wish—do you know Pearl?” she laments .
Pearl must be Collin’s mom. I glance down at him as he watches this all unfold. He knew what he wanted.
Jacob’s voice adds to the tension. “Not cool, man.”
I lean in, trying to reassure Lauren. “It can’t be as bad as last year, can it?”
She blows her bangs off her face. “You have no idea.”
Christmas Day
T his Christmas was way worse than last year’s!
Wishing is out of control.
I’m out of control.
I don’t know how to stop the wishes from tearing into one another. This year, two wishes twisted together. That’s unheard of in all of Christmas history.
I’m officially the world’s worst Kringle.
And I’m afraid it’s getting worse.
It took the whole Kringle family to pull this one out of the crumpled wrapping pile. I never could have done this without them, and I owe my family for swooping in, pulling together a wedding for a country music superstar, and for untangling my mess.
Which is why I’m sneaking out of here like Santa up a chimney—or, in this case, the front door—before anyone else in Moose Hollow can make a wish.
“Excuse me,” Charlotte’s voice cuts through my sneaking walk, pulling my attention away from the freedom that’s on the other side of the door. I slip out, trying to shut it behind me .
She flings the front door open with such force that I stumble backward into the house. I land unceremoniously on my back in the massive entryway, staring up at her.
I can’t help but notice her elegant floor-length dress from Stella. My sister knows how to dress people for a wedding; I’ll give her that. If there was ever a woman I might consider dating, it would be Charlotte. She owns a successful Christmas shop in town, selling ornaments and baubles all year round. She is full of Christmas cheer and spreads it as fast as any Kringle. I tried to flirt with her, and all it brought on was a case of the I-miss-Penelope-with-everything-in-me blues.
“Hey,” she says, offering a hand to help me up. “I have a Christmas wish.”
I scramble to my feet, brushing off my tuxedo. “No more wishes from this bunch,” I reply with a nervous chuckle. “Thanks for the offer, but no thanks.”
“Nick?” Stella’s voice calls from the sleigh, reins in hand as Prancer prances impatiently.
“Just a minute!” Charlotte tightens her grip on my arm, anchoring me in place. “I’ve wished for the same thing every year since I was a kid. Every. Single. Year. And I’m not letting you leave without hearing it.”
My eyes widen. “ That’s what you want?” I mean, we’ve all read her letters. She’s a legend in the Mail Room and beyond. When you have that much Faith, it can move mountains.
Charlotte sighs, a mixture of exasperation and amusement. “What did you think I was after?”
“I... uh…” I glance down at her hand gripping my la pels, feeling slightly trapped. Okay, I may have thought she wanted me. She did flirt back.
Charlotte releases her hold, suddenly aware of the closeness. She completely ignores the awkwardness and asks, “Do I have to say it out loud or something?”
I nod, straightening out my crumpled jacket. I wait patiently as she closes her eyes, focusing on her heart’s desire. I know she can see it in her mind’s eye. I know she’s creating the magic within herself. “I wish for the house on the corner of Derby Road and 34th Street,” she finally says, her vision clear with details of a picturesque southern-style home adorned with Christmas decorations.
Her wish is so strong, I can see it.
A bells sweep through the air as she opens her eyes.
I can’t help but grin at her excitement. “Is it mine now?” she asks.
“Well,” I check my watch, “it’s a big wish. Give it a year. By next Christmas, for sure.”
I feel a surge of relief. Mixing wish magic with love had almost destroyed Christmas once before. I can’t afford to let that happen again. I blame my own broken heart.
Mixing Christmas Magic with a home? No problem.
Stella’s whistle breaks through Charlotte’s thoughts, making her cover her ears. “Sheesh.”
I nod apologetically. “That’s my cue. Keep believing, Charlotte. Good Listers like you are rare.”
Charlotte beams at the compliment, dropping a half- curtsy. “Farewell, Sir Kringle. May the skies be clear and your handsome reindeer in good spirits.”
Prancer snorts a laugh.
“Also,” Charlotte hesitates, unsure of crossing boundaries, “I need a Santa for my store. Any recommendations?”
I chuckle, handing her a business card. “Call me if you can’t find anyone else.” Truly, she’s done so much good for Christmas over the years; she’s earned a favor or two.
She clutches the card tightly as if she’s afraid the wind might snatch it away. “Great. I’ll see what I can find.”
I wave as I climb back into the sleigh. Stella wastes no time, calling out, “On Prancer!”
Prancer, who is in the highest of spirits, jets off like his tail’s on fire. We’re off, leaving a trail of lights and sparkle dust behind. I made it. One more year without Penelope and one more Christmas disaster averted.
I only have 50-60 more to go and then I can retire to Mexico and fish or something. Right?
Three full holiday seasons without Penelope
The day after Thanksgiving
I walk down the Hall of Santas Past, feeling as though every portrait whispers: imposter.
I shiver. Not because I’m cold. Those who wear the tinsel tattoo never shiver because Christmas Magic protects us from the extreme temperatures found at the North Pole and on sleigh rides at high altitudes.
I shiver because their judgment brushes across my skin like snowflakes.
My fingers twinge with the need to hold leather reins as I work with one of the faster reindeer. Though I would never tell Rudy, Prancer has become my favorite to fly because he tears through the stars with wild abandon. A sense of power surges through me as we train for the once-a-year Christmas Eve ride. It’s one of the few times I feel anything anymore.
I’m blanking inside.
Losing all feeling.
Becoming a roll of wrapping paper before the design is printed.
My Christmas Magic is destructive, and I think that is because it’s destroying me.
The floor bounces under my feet.
Christmas Magic is doing that, too. Our home has become a bouncy house. It’s not as fun as it sounds.
Not only did my unique Christmas ability cost me the only woman I’ve ever loved, but it also wreaked havoc on the good people of Moose Hollow who entrusted me with their Christmas wishes.
It seems like everyone I meet wishes for something that brings them true love, which is incredibly hard to watch. Seeing two couples find their soulmates rubs salt into my openly shredded heart.
I force out a breath in a huff that would have created a cloud around my head if the ice castle wasn’t kept at the perfect temperature. Christmas Magic not only has a mind of its own—it loves irony. Ice castles that aren’t cold. Wishes that grant love are given by a man who can’t have the woman he loves.
Christmas Magic and I aren’t exactly on the best terms as of late.
This is why my adoptive parents, Harvey and Gail Kringle, have summoned me to the family room. I’m in for one of their chin-up, try harder, love more, you’ve got this, lectures.
“This’ll be fun,” I gripe as I push open the door and step inside, finding my adopted sister Lux and her husband Quik there as well. Christmas Magic experts. There’s a title to aspire to. Their son, Oliver, has grown into quite the genius himself. He’s steered clear of the study of Christmas Magic, though. I think it’s his way of rebelling against them without being put on the Naughty List.
“…it’ll be the end of–” Lux cuts off as she sees me come in. I don’t want to hear whatever doomsday prediction she has this time. There have been a couple as of late.
“Have a seat.” Harvey points to the overstuffed armchair opposite his rocker. He likes the old wooden thing that probably came from his four-times-great-grandfather or something. The Kringle Family history goes back hundreds of years, though only the surface of it is general knowledge for those who leave cookies for Santa. For years, I wanted nothing more than to be accepted into this tribe. When Harvey and Gail asked to adopt me, I couldn’t agree fast enough. I’d changed my last name and everything.
However, I soon learned that being adopted didn’t make me like the rest of the Kringles. I’d had to earn my tattoo.
I brush those thoughts aside and sit down on the loveseat. Gail occupies a matching rocker next to Harvey. She’s crocheting something–possibly a blanket for one of my nieces or nephews. Yarn feeds out of a magical bag at her feet, and her hands fly in a practiced rhythm without her watching what she’s doing. “You look good. I like that sweater.”
I glance down at the sky-blue Norwegian sweater with a snowflake pattern. As a teenager, I’d dressed in all black and tried to hide away from the world. As a Kringle, I find my tastes have brightened considerably, and my collection of Christmas sweaters–those that are fashionably appropriate and those considered ugly sweaters–has grown significantly. Frost, my adopted sister, and the resident fashion queen, sends me that season’s greatest hits each fall.
“Thanks. I think it’s authentic.” I’ll have to check the tag to be sure, but since Frost and her husband, Tannon, spent a week in Norway, I would bet my stocking is handmade.
Gail smiles at me. She pulls her project to the side to reveal her red Norwegian sweater. “They are.”
I chuckle. Frost would dress anyone who would let her. In a castle full of people hurriedly preparing for Christmas starting December 26th, there are many people for her to outfit. She never minds, though, because catalog shopping is one of her Christmas talents.
Lux clears her throat as she pushes her glasses up on her nose. She has perfect eyesight but spends so much time staring at a computer screen that she wears them to protect her eyes. A stray red curl falls over her shoulder, and Quik gently tucks it behind her ear as he gives her an encouraging nod. “We think we’ve figured out the problem. It was simple, really, once we started comparing the data we’ve collected over the last two Christmases to what we accumulated years ago.”
Quik leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He wears a shirt with the Army logo across the front and cargo pants with more pockets than real estate. To me, and probably the rest of the world, he looks like a mature Captain America who never lost a muscle. “The last time Christmas Magic interfered with Christmas preparations—it wanted Lux and her sisters to find true love.”
Lux lays a hand on his back. Her green eyes take on a lovey-dovey glow. “It was the best thing that ever happened to us.”
“And to the Magic,” Harvey adds with a wink. “True love is the battery that keeps the Magic alive and humming.”
The hair on the back of my neck stands up.
Lux nods quickly. “Which is why we called you here.”
I push to my feet. “No.”
Lux and Quik stand, folding their arms as if they’d practiced the move.
“It’s the only way,” Quik states matter-of-factly .
I shove my hand through my hair. “I’m not getting married. I’m not going to date. You two are out of your minds. Tell them.” I gesture to Lux and Quik while begging Gail to stand up for me, “Tell them they’re crazy.”
Gail continues to crochet as if I’m not in the middle of a personal freakout. “I don’t know. I think you should at least listen to what they have to say.”
Harvey nods sagely. “No Kringle ever died from listening to someone.” He touches the side of his nose.
I groan. I wondered if my adoptive parents would treat me differently than their children. They do not, which means that they also don’t hold back when it comes to having hard conversations. I grunt and sit back down.
Quik begins pacing. “Technically, you’re part of Lux’s generation.”
Lux snorts. “You make it sound like you’re from a different one, babe.”
He motions to her. “Not intentional. My word choice was simply to point out that you and he are siblings. While our children are in a grace period, it seems the Magic is now holding Nick to the same standard it held you and your sisters.”
“Fair point,” Lux acknowledges his reply. “Continue.”
He winks at her before facing me. “As a full-fledged Kringle, you’ll need to find your one true love or,” he pantomimes an explosion, “Christmas will be destroyed.”
As if accentuating his point, the castle bounces.
I roll my eyes. “Isn’t that a bit dramatic?” I hope Christmas Magic heard me. It needs to take a chill pill .
“No. It’s not.” Gail pins me with her gaze, and my sweater is suddenly too warm.
I gulp.
Gail softens her look. “What about that lovely woman from Moose Hollow? The one with the Christmas Shop?”
“Charlotte Morris,” I reply automatically. How could I forget the beautiful blonde with an inkling of Christmas Magic in her soul? “She’s not my true love.”
“How do you know?” asks Harvey.
I lift one shoulder. “Because I just do. She’s an excellent friend and practically a Kringle herself—but there’s this barrier between us that makes it, so I can’t imagine a life with her. I don’t even think about her on a monthly basis.”
Lux deflates and turns to Quik. “There went that idea.”
So that’s what they’d been talking about when I walked into the family room.
“Look. I appreciate your matchmaking efforts, but—” I stop. But what? But I already know my true love’s name, address, and favorite hot chocolate flavor–but none of that matters because she wished me away. “—just lay off. Okay?”
Lux grinds her teeth. “We can’t. This affects all of us.”
An alarm sounds on her phone, and she grabs it. “Candy brittle!” she curses. She darts from the room.
“What is it?” Harvey calls after her.
Quik is hot on her heels but stops in the doorway. “Power flux.” He points at me. “If you don’t get your heart sorted–Christmas will self-destruct.” He disappears, leaving the room with the feeling of twisted Christmas lights and broken baubles .
I drop my face in my hands and moan. “Has anyone ever told Christmas Magic that it asks too much?”
The floor bounces. This one is harder than the rest, and I suddenly understand what Lux means by power flux.
Gail sets aside her project and settles beside me, rubbing comforting circles on my back. “It never asks more than it gives.”
I nod. Gifts for every girl and boy across the globe, a season full of brotherly love, music that inspires love for God and His Son—Christmas gives and gives and gives.
“I can’t see her again,” I press my hand over my chest, “she broke me.”
Gail pats my arm. “You’re never too broke for love to fix you back up.”
“How long do you think I have? Truly?”
Harvey shifts. “Christmas Eve.”
“Would Christmas really be ruined?”
Gail exchanges a look with Harvey. “We’ve come close before. This feels different, though. We have five powerful batteries.”
My tattoo glows bright, drawing all their attention and a gasp from my chest. When the brightness fades, so does the tattoo. It isn’t gone by any means but shows signs of tarnish. My mouth falls open.
Harvey tisks his tongue. “Looks like Christmas might survive—but I don’t know if you will.”
I bound to my feet, hiding my arm behind me. “I have to go. Prancer needs training. ”
Gail stands and wraps me in a motherly embrace. “We’re here for you. You know that, right?”
I nod, melting into her with all the need of a lost little boy. I have no idea how I will love someone else when my heart belongs to Penelope.
Christmas Day
I lean against the front of the sleigh, watching Charlotte and Micah tie the knot from the neighbor’s roof. Every once in a while, a child looks up to see me there and waves. I wave back. I may have lost my magic, but I have enough Kringle in me to fly the sleigh and spread some cheer. That might be all I have left.
Prancer stomps his hooves.
“Yeah. Yeah. You did pretty well, Old Man.”
Prancer shifts backward, sending me into an arm windmill to keep my balance. Call me an old man, he complains.
I shake my finger at the animal. “I will send you back to the ranch.”
Prancer chortles.
It isn’t much of a threat. A visit to Reindeer Wrangler Ranch is like going to a reindeer spa with round-the-clock vet care and an indoor playground.
Jingle bells ring out, and another sleigh lands next to ours. Quik stands tall at the helm, guiding the sleigh like a pro. He didn’t start as a good flier. But that could have had something to do with the fact that Lux’s favorite reindeer, Dunder, hated Quik’s guts and gave him a hard time when he had to fly the sleigh.
Quik steps out of the sleigh and offers his hand to Lux, who has curled up on the seat. She hates flying. Always has. As she unfolds herself, she asks me, “How are you feeling?”
“Unmagical,” I reply flatly. I wiggle my fingers as if I could make magic appear in my hands. “Flat.” My tattoo is gone. Taken from me as I used the last of the Magic to fix my mistake.
She nods as she pushes her glasses up on her nose. “This was close—with the whole dream situation and everything.”
“Remind me to thank Hazel.” I stare off into the horizon. “She came through.” My niece worked her magic in a new and somewhat terrifying way. I’m not even sure how she was able to bring on dreams and mix reality with that world. I don’t know if she knows or if she can do it again.
“Debatable,” Quik mumbles. Considering the tornado, the bouncing dreams, and the fact that they almost lost Charlotte in dreamland forever–Hazel’s version of help was … borderline not helpful at all.
As the younger generation of Kringles comes into their magical gifts, there are bound to be bumps in the road. Unlike Ginger, Robyn, Stella, Lux, and Frost, they don’t have the full force of Christmas Magical gifts. It’s as if the Magic splintered to give a little to all of them. I used to grant wishes; Hazel has dream magic; Isabella charms… the list goes on .
“You should be down there, celebrating.” Lux nudges me. “You finally arranged a marriage.”
I lift a shoulder. “I’m happy for them. I just, I don’t feel…”
“Jolly?” she finishes. Her hand drifts to her messenger bag.
I draw in a breath. “No offense, Lux, but if you pull out your laptop and quantify my sadness, I will jump off this roof.”
Lux frowns, and her hand falls away from her bag. “Quantifying is good for you.”
“If you would have listened to us about finding love, none of this would have happened.” Quik admonishes me.
I nod. “I know. I just…” I stare down at the beautiful home on the corner of Derby Road and 34th Street. It is by far the best home in downtown Moose Hollow. Charlotte’s wish for her best chance to love Micah has come through. Not only do they get the house in all its glory, but they also get the wedding, the instant family, and the support of everyone around them.
I can’t help but think that there was one place I’d belonged—but I’d screwed that up.
Quik lays a heavy hand on my back. “You earned your tinsel tattoo once; you can get it back.”
I stare at my bare wrist. Christmas Magic still counts me as part of the family, but it’s taken away my wish-giving magic—also my fault.
“I thought I had more time before I had to face her,” I muse. As if three Christmases aren’t long enough .
Lux touches my arm in a show of support. “She isn’t married. Did you know?”
I nod. I know. I know it as surely as I would have known if my heart had been taken from my chest. “Will it be enough?” I say absently. What I really mean is, will I be enough?
“True love is always enough,” Quik replies.
I jerk my chin to say I’ve heard Quik. But the thing is, I’m not talking about Christmas Magic and whether I can earn back my tattoo. I’d thought being a Kringle was enough for me once, but after three years of wish granting, I’m still empty without her.
This Year
North Pole
T he warm, wooden paneling of the Kringle family room seems to vibrate with unseen energy, a constant reminder of the magical instability plaguing the North Pole. I sink deeper into the overstuffed couch, its plush cushions enveloping me like a hug, as I watch my family members file in for our impromptu meeting. The flickering flames in the fireplace cast dancing shadows across their worried faces, highlighting the gravity of our situation.
Harvey is the last to enter, his jolly demeanor slightly dampened by the circumstances. He’s carrying a stack of lightweight chairs with trampoline-type things on the legs. “Absorption springs,” he explains with a wink. “To manage the bounce. We don’t want anyone catapulted into the ceiling again, do we?”
A few chuckles ripple through the room, but they’re tinged with nervousness. The bounces are getting worse as time goes on. What were slight disturbances have become bouncy-house regularities. They aren’t at regular intervals, either. Frost was thrown into the air and grabbed the ceiling fan. She hung there for several minutes until Tannon was able to get her down.
Hazel perches on the edge of her seat, fidgeting with the hem of her sweater. Oliver sits next to her; his stocky build a stark contrast to Hazel’s willowy frame. His fingers tap an impatient rhythm on the arm of his chair, and he’s not focusing on anything in this room because he’s building something in his head. Ginger and Stella lean against the sideboard, watching.
“Alright, everyone,” Harvey begins, his voice cutting through the tension. “We all know why we’re here. The magical instability is persisting despite our best efforts to contain it.”
A weight settles in my stomach, knowing that I’m responsible for this mess.
Gavin pipes up from his perch on the arm of his mother’s chair. “Is it ever going to end?”
Ginger leans forward, her eyes softening as she looks at Gavin. “We’ll figure it out, sweetheart. We always do.” Then, her gaze shifts to me, and I feel a chill run down my spine. “Though, I have a theory about how to get it to stop.”
Everyone turns to look at her, and I brace myself for what’s coming.
“We all know this has to do with Nick,” Ginger continues, her voice careful, “Sorry, Nick. We’ve been there and we know what it feels like to have the family discussing your love life.”
I make a face. Instead of laughing, the room falls silent.
So we’ve reached that level of chaos. Good to know.
Ginger clears her throat and continues, “Because Nick’s heart is unsettled and bounces between his desire to be a Kringle and his love for Penelope…”
I cringe at her name. It affects me. Every. Time.
“We’re all bouncing,” she concludes.
I rub my hands over my face. “I’m sorry. I really do want to be a part of this family.”
“You are a part.” Gail motions to include everyone in the room. “If not, this wouldn’t affect all of us. This is what family is. We Christmas together. We celebrate together. We bounce together.”
I’m taken aback by her reasoning and look to Gabe for confirmation. Of course, I don’t need to think that hard about what she says when I think of all my brother and I have gone through. He fought tooth-and-nail to keep us together in foster care. But to think that all these people are as loyal to me as Gabe, is a lot to take in.
They’re doing it, though. Every year, we work to bring Christmas to children all over the world. Every year, we dress up in themed costumes for Halloween and trick-or- treat around the ice castle. We try Robyn’s new recipes and listen to the letters that Frost has to share. And, because my heart is unsettled, they bounce with me.
I meet Gail’s gaze. I want to tell her how grateful I am for them, for all of them. I just can’t find the words. Looking into her eyes, I know I don’t have to. She knows. How do mothers always know?
“Speaking of togetherness,” Hazel says, her voice uncharacteristically firm, “I’m going with Nick to Founder's Grove.”
I blink in surprise. Hazel, voluntarily leaving the North Pole? Before I can process this, Oliver jumps in. “I’ll come with you. I can work on my gadgets without worrying about bouncing interference. Plus, there’s that barn I used as a workshop. I left a set of tools there. It’ll be perfect.”
His enthusiasm is palpable, and for a moment, I’m transported back to Founder's Grove. The cozy apartment above the bakery, the scent of Grandpa Henry’s fresh-baked bread, Penelope’s lips on mine...
I shake my head, trying to dislodge the memories. But it’s too late—the thought of Penelope sends a fresh wave of pain through me. We all bounce. It’s like Christmas Magic is trying to prove a point.
I get it. I’m heartbroken.
“What about you, Layla?” Ginger asks.
Everyone’s eyes turn to Layla, one of the older grandchildren. She shakes her head, her caramel-colored hair swaying gently. “There’s too much for me to do up here to get ready for Christmas. Plus, I’m working on my own line of Christmas party decorations for Grandma’s store.”
Ginger turns to me, her eyebrow raised in silent question.
I haven’t exactly said I’d go to Founder's Grove. I want to be there so badly I ache. I also don’t want to face Penelope again. It’s been three years since she wished me away. I’m not sure she’s ready to see me yet. Maybe another three would be in order.
We bounce.
I grit my teeth. Christmas Magic is getting really bossy lately. My stomach churns.
Rye pipes up. “I want to go. I’ve been reading several books on management styles and want to test some of the theories in a real-world environment.” His eyes brighten. “I could get a job .” He says this as if it’s a wonder to him that he’s employable.
Gail, ever the supportive grandmother, offers, “I could get you a job at one of my companies.”
I suppress a smile. Behind Gail’s warm exterior is a shrewd businesswoman who owns several of the world’s leading companies—though you’d never know it.
Rye grins, shaking his head. “Thanks, but no thanks. I want to do this on my own, even if it means working my way up from the mailroom.”
Gail’s face lights up with pride. “I look forward to seeing you succeed.”
People start checking their phones for the time. We’ve gone on long enough, and time is of the essence. Several of the grandchildren motion towards the door and sneak out.
Harvey notices. “Okay. Ho Ho Ho. Anyone who isn’t involved directly in Nick going to Founder's Grove get back to work.” The room empties.
I’m tempted to go too. I mean, I have no intention of being involved in me going to Founder's Grove so I should go, right?
Ginger catches my eye. “Nick?”
“I’m staying,” I grumble.
Robyn and Gabe linger as well. Once the room clears, we gather in the rocking chairs by the ever-crackling fireplace.
Robyn and Ginger exchange a look, some unspoken communication passing between them. Finally, Robyn speaks, her voice gentle but firm. “I know that you may not want to be in Founder's Grove.”
I barely hold back my scoff. May not want to? I’d rather face an army of Christmas Mice the size of nutcrackers than hop a sleigh to the city of my heartbreak.
Robyn continues, “We’d like you to go with Hazel. She’s not been the same since Moose Hollow, and we’re worried about her.”
I furrow my brow, confused. “What do you mean?”
Gabe leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “She went down to Arizona and was putting people to sleep just to see what she could do. She handed out dreams. Good dreams, but it was just to play with the magic. She can’t be doing that to people. ”
I feel my eyes widen in surprise. Hazel, our shy, sweet Hazel, messing with people’s sleep?
Robyn rubs her forehead, worry etched in every line of her face. “We’ve told her time and again she can practice on us. Sometimes, I think she is and I don’t know it. I wake up at the table in the kitchen and I don’t remember how I got there. She needs a purpose and some space as well as family. This trip will do her a lot of good.
I cringe, understanding their concern but feeling a surge of panic at the thought of returning to Founder's Grove. “I can’t go back,” I protest weakly. “Not after Penelope wished me away. I’m not even sure Christmas Magic will let me go back.”
Robyn’s eyes soften. “You don’t know unless you try.”
Ginger leans forward, her voice gentle but insistent. “Even if this doesn’t end with a ring on Penelope’s finger, this could be your chance at closure, Nick. You could finally put the past behind you and move on to someone else.”
The very idea makes my insides roll. It’s painful to even think about letting go of Penelope. A hundred reasons I should keep her close, even if we’re half a world away from one another, race through my head. What’s a half a world to a man with a flying sleigh anyway?
Gabe’s voice cuts through my thoughts, his tone serious. “Nick, we’re counting on you. Not just for Hazel but for all of us. This magical instability... needs to be resolved. And like it or not, you’re at the center of it.”
The frustration bubbles up inside me—frustration at my inability to control the magic, at the mess I’ve made of my personal life, at the fact that it’s affecting everyone I love.
“I... I don’t know if I can do this,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.
Robyn reaches out, placing her hand on my arm. Her touch is warm, comforting. “Nick, we believe in you.”
That’s just about the best thing a Kringle can say to someone. Believing in them is transformational.
I look around at their faces—Ginger’s determination, Robyn’s kindness, Gabe’s unwavering support. I think about Hazel, about the rest of the family dealing with the magical fallout of my unresolved feelings. I think about Penelope and Noelle, and the ache in my chest intensifies.
Finally, I nod, the decision settling over me like a heavy blanket. “Okay,” I say, my voice stronger than I feel. “I’ll go.” A mix of emotions swirls within me—fear, anticipation, a tiny spark of hope that I quickly try to squash.
Gabe pulls me into a hug. “You’ve got this, little brother,” he murmurs. “We’re all rooting for you.”
I take a deep breath, squaring my shoulders. Founder's Grove awaits, with all its memories and heartache. But maybe, just maybe, it also holds the key to resolving the magical bouncing.
What is Penelope going to think when she sees me?
I can’t just pop through her chimney, although it’s tempting. She didn’t believe in the Magic last time and showing her that it’s real would prove that I wasn’t lying to her. Of course, if I pop in, she might do something worse than wish me away.
I’ll have to be careful, timing is everything. As are her feelings. I’ll respect them, and I’ll leave again if she asks me too. I pray she won’t ask me to leave.
The thought is absolutely terrifying. I’ve spent the last three Christmases trying to handle all this on my own, trying to mend my heart, trying to be two people—the one who loves Penelope and the one who pretends that he’s moved on—and it’s ruining everything.
My hands shake slightly. The reality of what I’m about to do is sinking in, and it’s freaking me out. Because whatever happens in Founder's Grove means that I’ll have to give up one-half of me that’s been surviving for the last three Christmases. I can let go of the guy who’s been pretending to be fine, but what if it’s the other one I need to say goodbye to?