(advent) Saturday, December 7

“Molly! Schrodinger! Look what St. Nicholas left me!”

 

Zoey burst into the kitchen at CrossWinds Books, waving a long, narrow package in the air. Her mother trailed behind her with an expression that was half amusement at her daughter, and half something else. Molly couldn’t quite put her finger on what that something else was, though. Confusion, maybe?

 

“What did he leave you?” she asked, after giving Donna a welcoming smile.

 

“Paints!” Zoey exalted, showing her. “A whole box of paints!”

 

It was indeed – a lovely set of watercolor paints with two brushes, in a wooden case that protected them all from the outside world. “Wow,” Molly said. “You’ll definitely be able to use those!”

 

Indeed, Schrodinger said, craning his head to look. Will you paint me a picture?

 

“Of course!” Zoey told him. “We already stopped this morning and bought a whole pad of paper to paint on! What did you get in your shoe, Schrodinger?”

 

A book! His eyes lit up. A book on Christmas customs throughout the Realms. Would you like to see it?

 

“Yes!”

 

He led her out into the tea room to where he’d been curled up in his bed next to the wood stove, reading the book St. Nicholas had left underneath the shoe he’d put out. Molly and Donna watched them go, and then Molly turned to her.

 

“Would you like a cup of tea?” she offered. “I’m baking scones this morning, and the second batch should be out of the oven in a few minutes. And there’s fresh butter today.”

 

“How do you not weigh two thousand pounds?” Donna asked, with a shake of her head. “I’m sorry.”

 

Molly grinned. “Don’t be. The secret is to make others eat most of it.” She turned and pulled out another mug, filling it with hot water before putting it in front of the other woman. “Tea?”

 

“I’d love some.” Donna sank onto one of the stools. “Do you have a strong black?”

 

“I certainly do.” Molly brought out her selection of black teas and Donna chose an Assam. “Do you take anything in it?”

 

“Just a bit of sugar.”

 

Molly handed her the sugar bowl and she spooned a half-teaspoon of sugar into her tea. Watching her stir it, Molly wondered what was on her mind.

 

“You look a little distracted this morning,” she said, refreshing her own cup of tea. “Something happen last night?”

 

Donna started to answer, and then stopped, then sighed. “I don’t know. I might have been dreaming.” She told Molly what she’d seen, and ended by saying, “I just don’t know. Peter swears he didn’t take the carrots and leave the gifts, and I know I didn’t. So who else could it have been?”

 

“St. Nicholas?” Molly suggested.

 

“He’s a myth,” Donna said, but her tone lacked conviction.

 

Molly smiled. “I know you didn’t grow up here, but let me assure you that if you stay here long enough, you’ll meet plenty of myths walking down the street,” she said. “And no, I’m not joking.”

 

Donna shook her head. “I just can’t wrap my head around that,” she said. “It’s so not like the rest of the world.”

 

“No, it’s not.” Molly looked out into the tea room, where Zoey and Schrodinger were cuddled up together in his pet bed, Zoey holding the Christmas book as they both read. “That’s part of the reason I came back. This town is special.”

 

“I’m beginning to see that,” Donna said, also looking out at the two. “How did you manage to get a pet like Schrodinger?”

 

“Oh, he’s not a pet,” Molly said. “He’s most definitely not a pet. CrossCats are companions, not pets. He showed up a few years ago and needed a place to stay. We suited one another, so he moved in.”

 

“So he’s not just a big cat that happens to be telepathic?”

 

“No.” Molly explained as much as she knew about the CrossCats – they were a species from one of the neighboring realms, not far from the Cove, and that they commonly served as scouts in various militaries around the realms, as well as being advisers to several heads of state. “Schrodinger says they are organized into dens, which are extended family groups, and that there are several older CrossCats that teach the others. I’ve met his teacher, a CrossCat called the Librarian. But they definitely are a separate species.”

 

“That’s amazing,” Donna said, sipping on her tea. “I never realized what we would be getting into by moving here, but I think I’m glad we did.”

 

“It can be a bit overwhelming when you first get here,” Molly agreed. “Especially if you didn’t grow up in a CrossRoads town. I mean, Carter’s Cove is a bit more weird than many CrossRoads towns, because we have more than one Gate, but I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.” She glanced out at Schrodinger and Zoey again, and smiled. “If nothing else, the magic keeps everyone young.”

 

“Metaphorically speaking,” Aunt Margie said, sailing into the kitchen. “Molly, love, a cup of tea, please. My feet are killing me.”

 

Molly obliged, introducing Donna as she did so. Once Aunt Margie was settled into the other stool, Molly pulled the scones, perfectly browned on top, out of the oven and set them to cool.

 

“How did you know to pull them out?” Donna asked. “You haven’t glanced at a watch or the clock, and there was no timer.”

 

“It’s a gift,” Molly said.

 

“Our Molly’s a kitchen witch,” Aunt Margie said proudly. “She just knows when they’re done.” She inhaled the scent of the scones and sighed happily. “Cinnamon scones – are you going to do a caramel drizzle on them again?”

 

“I don’t know,” Molly said, considering the scones as they sat in front of her. “What do you think, Donna?”

 

“I think that sounds heavenly,” Donna admitted. “But I think they’d be good plain too.” She sighed, and drained her tea. “I might have to get one when I get back. Right now, I think I’ll get a handle on the Christmas shopping I need to do.” She smiled at them. “Thank you for everything. Especially for how you’ve taken Zoey in. It’s made this move so much easier.”

 

“You’re very welcome,” Molly said. “She’s a joy. I don’t mind at all.”

 

Once she had left, Aunt Margie said quietly, “An interesting lady. Just like her daughter. I wonder…”

 

“What?” Molly prompted, when her aunt’s voice trailed off.

 

“Oh, just me musing out loud,” Aunt Margie said, shaking her head. “I was maundering. Just ignore me. So, can I put caramel-drizzled cinnamon scones on the board outside, or just cinnamon scones?”

 

“We’ll see,” Molly said, dismissing the problem for the moment. She looked over at her aunt, wondering if she should push the issue about Donna and deciding not to. “So, everything’s set upstairs?”

 

Aunt Margie nodded. “Please thank Drew and Luke again for their help – I couldn’t have done it without them.”

 

“I will.” Molly started to say something else, but Lily and Jack burst into the tea room and distracted all of them.

 

“Zoey! Schrodinger! Did St. Nicholas leave you something too?” Lily shouted.

 

“So much for a quiet tea room,” Molly said, and Aunt Margie laughed.

 

“This place is never quiet, and that’s why I like it,” she said, watching the four in the tea room. “Looks like St. Nicholas has his eye on a helper for you, Molly.”

 

“I think so,” Molly agreed, as Lily brandished the set of cookie cutters she’d been given. “She certainly seems to have a knack for it. And two kitchen witches isn’t a bad thing.”

 

“You think she might be?” Aunt Margie asked.

 

“She might be.” Molly shrugged. “I was about her age when I realized what I can do. But maybe not. She might just be a really good baker.”

 

“And there is nothing wrong with that,” Aunt Margie agreed. She finished her tea and stood. “I’ve got to go look at the inventory. I’ll put cinnamon scones on the board.”

 

“Aunt Margie, I got cookie cutters! And Jack got a bone! From St. Nicholas!” Lily said, as she came flying in.

 

“Wow, he really knows you!” Aunt Margie said, grinning. “I guess that comes with the job, though.”

 

Lily and Zoey nodded. “Can we open the next door now?” Zoey asked. “Please?”

 

“Sure. Whose turn is it today?” Molly said.

 

“Jack’s!” Lily said, and the big hound came forward. “Let’s find number 7!”

 

Number 7 turned up in one of the windows of the cottage. Jack touched his nose to it, and the painting crumbled away.

 

The snowflake came out, and Lily held out her hand. It spun, and dropped four small squares of paper into her hand, then floated above her head, as if waiting.

 

“What is that?” Zoey asked, leaning in to look.

 

“I don’t know,” Lily admitted, flipping one of the squares over. “It looks like a stamp. But there’s no note or card or anything with it. Just stamps.”

 

For mail? Schrodinger asked, putting one paw on Lily’s thigh and pulling himself up to look. Why would the calendar give us stamps?

 

Maybe we should ask the snowflake? Jack suggested, looking at the others. Do you think it might answer?

 

Lily looked at the snowflake. “Why did you give us stamps?” she asked. “Are we going to send cards or something?”

 

In answer, the snowflake pulsed once, then moved slowly out into the tea room. They all exchanged a glance, and then ran after it. Molly smiled and followed them, not wanting to miss this.

 

DC joined her as they followed the kids up the stairs. “This is going to blow their mind,” the young woman said softly. “Aunt Margie did a great job.”

 

Molly nodded. “I can’t wait. I’ll bet she’s upstairs already, waiting for them.”

 

The snowflake hadn’t stopped – it led Lily, Zoey, Schrodinger and Jack up to the second floor of the bookstore, and Molly heard them gasp.

 

“Oh wow!” Lily said. “Oh wow!”

 

Molly had to admit that Aunt Margie had outdone herself this year. Once it had been confirmed that CrossWinds Books was going to be the official North Pole Mail Stop for the Cove, Aunt Margie had thrown herself into planning the decorations. The right to have an official North Pole mail box was an honor that all the Cove’s businesses competed for annually, and this was the first time CrossWinds Books had won it.

 

Usually, the upstairs room was full of book shelves in neat rows, with an open area in front of the large fireplace for gatherings. However, last night, Drew and Luke had come over and helped Molly, DC, Aunt Margie and Uncle Art move the book shelves around so that the open space was large enough to accommodate three large tables, lots of chairs, and the mail box.

 

This stood alone near the fireplace, in a spot of honor. Instead of being painted blue, this mail box was painted bright red and green, with the letters “North Pole Mail” painted in gold across the front and sides. Multi-colored Christmas lights were wrapped around it, and they blinked merrily.

 

The snowflake floated over to one of the tables and burst into a thousand tiny sprinkles of light. As the kids went to the table, Molly saw it was heaped with cards, colored paper, envelopes and buckets of the golden stamps like Lily held in her hand. There were pens, markers, crayons and stickers as well.

 

“We get to write our letters to Santa!” Lily crowed, grabbing Zoey’s hand and dancing around the room with her. “We’ll get to write our letters, and send them!”

 

This was one of the points Molly had been waiting for. She watched Zoey’s face, to see if it really was working. Would the little girl go along with today’s snowflake adventure?

 

She was letting Lily dance her around, but there was doubt in her eyes. Then she looked down at the paints in her other hand, and a grin spread across her face. “Yes!” she said, pulling Lily towards the tables. “We do!”

 

Schrodinger paused to look back at Molly, and she saw the smile on his face. “Go pick out a card, and I’ll come write for you,” she promised. “Go.”

 

Jack too?

 

“Jack too,” she said.

 

He hurried over to the table, and Molly started to follow, but DC grabbed her arm. “Hey, great job,” she said, before going back down the stairs.

 

“Not me,” Molly murmured, shaking her head. “All I did was make a phone call.”

 

Molly? I’ve got a card all picked out!

 

That got her moving over to the table again. Lily and Zoey were each busy with their letters, writing earnestly. Molly settled in with Jack and Schrodinger on either side of her, and picked up a pen. “Okay,” she said. “Who’s first?”

 

You can go first, Schrodinger told Jack. I need to think a bit more first.

 

She finished Jack and Schrodinger’s letters just as Lily and Zoey finished theirs. “Now what?” Zoey asked, after sealing her letter with a silver jingle bell sticker.

 

“Don’t forget to stamp it,” Molly said, pointing to the gold stamp. “And have you addressed it?”

 

Lily put her stamp on the envelope, then wrote “To Santa, The North Pole” in the middle of the page. “There!” she said proudly.

 

“What about your address?” Molly asked. “Don’t you remember? Santa sends letters back if you put a return address on it.”

 

“He does?” Zoey said, her eyes widening. “Really?”

 

“Oh, yes!” Lily nodded, already writing. “We get them every year!”

 

Once they had finished and all the envelopes were ready to go, Zoey looked at Lily, who walked up to the mail box and put her letter in. To everyone’s surprise, the mail box started to glow, and a whirring sound started deep in the bowels of the box. Then, a small white slip of paper popped out.

 

“What is that?” Zoey asked.

 

“It’s a receipt!” Lily said in awe. “Look! It says ‘Your letter has been received by North Pole Post, and will be delivered to Santa post-haste! Expect a reply before Christmas!’”

 

“Wow! My turn!” Zoey put her envelope in the mail box and, just as before, it glowed with a golden light and then popped out a receipt for her as well. Molly put in Jack and Schrodinger’s letters and handed Jack’s receipt to Lily for safe-keeping.

 

“Are you all set?” Aunt Margie said, coming in to the room. “If your letters are done, I have another project for you, if you don’t mind helping.”

 

We love to help! Schrodinger said eagerly. What can we do?

 

“I want to do something different this year with the decorations for the front windows of the store,” Aunt Margie said, and it was Molly’s turn to have her eyes widen in surprise. Aunt Margie was a bit of a traditionalist when it came to the decorations for CrossWinds Books, and it had never changed, at least in Molly’s memory.

 

“What are you going to do, Aunt Margie?” Lily asked.

 

“Snowflakes,” she said. “I want a ton of snowflakes on my front windows.” She held out the bag in her hands to them. “Do you guys mind making snowflakes for me? There’s paper in there, and some designs.”

 

“Oh, how fun!” Lily and Zoey both nodded eagerly, and Lily added, “We’d love to!”

 

They went back to the table and started pulling out the paper. It was all white, but there were textures, glitter and patterns on the paper, and Molly realized Aunt Margie must have raided her scrapbook paper for the snowflakes. There were designs too, as she had promised, and Lily and Zoey got busy cutting.

 

Jack and Schrodinger sat with them, supervising and offering suggestions. Molly left them to the task, knowing Schrodinger would get her if there was a need. She had baking to do too – the Carter’s Cove Holiday Bake Sale was in a few days, and she still needed to get her inventory together.

 

She brought them up a tray after a bit, with cookies, grilled cheese sandwiches and mugs of hot cider, and found them surrounded not just by snowflakes, but other people, all busy writing letters to Santa.

 

“I don’t get it,” Zoey said quietly, watching as Mr. Dorr went up to the mail box to mail his letter.

 

Get what? Schrodinger asked her.

 

“Why the grown-ups are mailing letters to Santa.” She indicated Mr. Dorr with a movement of her chin. “I thought writing to Santa was for kids.”

 

Molly didn’t say anything, letting Schrodinger answer.

 

Maybe in other places, where Santa is more of a myth, only kids write to him, the CrossCat said after a moment’s thought. But here, in the Cove, everyone knows he’s real, and knows that he does bring gifts. More importantly, he brings good will and the renewal of magic, and it’s the belief of all of us that lets him do that. People forget what Santa really does in those places that don’t see the magic. It’s up to us to make up for them.

 

Zoey considered that, watching the traffic at the mail box, which was steady. “So what you’re saying is that Santa, the real Santa, brings magic into the world?”

 

Among other things, yes. Schrodinger sipped at his tea. Which is why believing in him is so important. You’ll see, soon enough. It’s hard not to, in the Cove during Christmas.

 

Originally published at The words of Valerie Griswold-Ford. You can comment here or there.

(advent) Sunday, December 8

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this excited, Zoey!” her father said, chuckling as his daughter pulled them along the snowy sidewalk.

 

“It’s so cool, Dad! And you won’t believe it until you see it!” Zoey danced in front of them, her braids flying around her head. She’d requested white bows today, and Donna had found ribbon with silver snowflakes on them. The silvery bits sparkled in the weak midday sun.

 

They came upon CrossWinds Books and Zoey cried, “Look! See what we did? Isn’t it pretty?”

 

Donna and Peter Allard stared. The large front windows of the bookstore were covered with a blizzard of snowflakes. Large, small, all intricately cut out.

 

“What do you think?” Zoey asked anxiously, when they didn’t say anything. “Do you like it?”

 

“Oh sweetie, it’s lovely!” Donna knelt down and hugged her daughter. “We’re just surprised – that’s a LOT of snowflakes!”

 

“It took us all day yesterday,” Zoey told her, hugging her back. “We worked really hard on it!”

 

“You guys did a great job,” said a new voice behind them, and they all turned to see Lily and Jack coming down the street with Nathan and Corrine in tow. Nathan shook Peter’s hand and continued, “I couldn’t believe the pictures Molly sent to me on my phone last night, but I can’t argue with what I’m seeing before me. You should be very proud of yourselves.”

 

Jack barked, and Lily and Zoey glowed at the praise.

 

“Now, let’s get inside,” Corrine said. “I know your aunt Molly will have hot chocolate and cider waiting for us, and it’s cold.”

 

“Oh, maybe it will be cold enough for Old Man Winter to come and visit!” Lily said, skipping ahead to get the door. “That would be magnificent!”

 

“Says you.” Nathan chuckled. “You didn’t have to shovel the snow last year.”

 

“Isn’t that why Mom bought you a snowblower?” Lily asked, her eyes twinkling. “So we don’t have to worry about snow?”

 

“Someone still has to run said snowblower, and I don’t see you doing it,” he reminded her, and she giggled.

 

“I wish he would come,” Zoey said wistfully. “He sounds very cool.”

 

“In more ways than one,” Lily said, grinning. “But he was very nice.”

 

“Who was?” Molly asked, just hearing the last bit of their conversation as everyone entered the kitchen. Zoey thought that Molly’s kitchen was just perfect – it was never crowded, even when it was full of people, and it was warm and welcoming. Just like Molly herself. Zoey wondered if that was the magic everyone kept talking about.

 

Maybe someday, I’ll have magic too, she thought wistfully.

 

Schrodinger nudged her gently. You have magic already, he said. Look at your painting.

 

That’s not magic, she said.

 

Isn’t it? He tilted his head at her. Are you sure?

 

And she didn’t have an answer to that.

 

“So this is the magic Advent Calendar,” Peter said, as they gathered around it. He touched it gently. “Did I ever tell you about the Advent Calendar I had as a child, Zoey?”

 

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “Was it magic?”

 

“Well, not like this one,” Peter said. “Instead of a painting like this, mine was a house, and each day was a different room. There was a Santa Claus, and he started at the beginning of the month on the chimney. He went through the entire house, and on Christmas Day, he would be in the living room with the Christmas tree.” He smiled, a distant look on his face, and Zoey knew he was seeing the old Advent Calendar. “I wonder what happened to it.”

 

“It probably got worn out,” Donna said fondly. “It’s been a long time since you were Zoey’s age.”

 

“True.” He smiled at his wife and daughter. “Well, who’s going to show us how this works?”

 

“It’s Schrodinger’s turn today,” Lily said. “Come on, Schrodinger!”

 

They all moved back so the CrossCat could look at the picture. “It’s a bit hard, because the numbers are all hidden,” Zoey whispered to her father. “We have to help Jack, because he’s not good with colors. But Schrodinger can see them himself.”

 

Oh, here it is! Schrodinger said finally. Number 8 was hidden in the open mouth of the angel who hovered in one of the corners. Zoey hadn’t seen her before – she was all in white, and blended into the snowbank she seemed to be floating above. Schrodinger touched his nose to the number, and then stepped back.

 

“Oh my god,” Zoey heard her mother whisper as the paint around the number crumbled, and the snowflake came out. “It really is magic.”

 

“It is,” Molly agreed. “Welcome to Carter’s Cove.”

 

The snowflake hovered in front of them, and Zoey stuck her hand out. The snowflake spun and exploded, and four brass ornaments, shaped like musical notes, fell into her outstretched plan.

 

“Ooh,” Lily said, looking at them. “How pretty!”

 

“So what is the adventure today?” Zoey asked, confused. “The snowflake didn’t take us anywhere!”

 

And then, from the floor above, she heard a single voice raised in song. It was clear and pure, just the way Zoey imagined an angel would sound, and the notes in her hand vibrated.

 

“I think we should go upstairs,” she said. “I think the notes want us to.”

 

Then let’s go! Schrodinger said, leading them out of the kitchen and up the same stairs they had climbed yesterday to the second floor of the bookstore.

 

Zoey’s eyes went immediately to the mail box, still sitting beside the massive fireplace. However, today the tables had been moved around, and in the center of the room was the source of the singing.

 

There were people standing around her, but Zoey could only focus on the singer. She was dark-skinned, with long dark hair that was braided away from her face and fell down in a loose fall to the middle of her back. There were intricate tattoos on her face, and when she looked at them, Zoey saw that instead of irises, she had stars in her dark eyes.

 

She was beautiful.

 

Schrodinger nudged her, and Zoey came out of her trance long enough to follow the others into the room. They were the first ones there and as she moved, she saw who else was standing in the middle of the floor, besides the singer.

 

They were a choir, she guessed, because they all wore long open robes of dark green. Father Christopher was there, also in a robe, but he had something that looked like the magic wands she’d seen in books. “What IS this?” she asked.

 

“This is the Carter’s Cove Christmas Choir,” Lily said. “They sing here every year! And they come to the school, too, right before we get out for winter break!” She gave a little wiggle of excitement. “And they have both Starsha and Darien here this year!”

 

“Who’s Darien?” Zoey asked, looking around, her eyes getting wide. There were …well, she wasn’t sure what some of them were. There were people like her and Lily, but there was one centaur (a centaur!), three little men that she was pretty sure were dwarves, and two ladies who had green skin and long, wispy fingers. And the singer with the starry eyes, who Zoey was pretty sure was Starsha.

 

“He’s the elf standing next to Starsha,” Lily told her, nodding at the young woman who had first sung. “He’s really neat, and they sing beautifully together.” She looked around the room. “Come on, let’s go over by the fireplace. We’ll get to see everything from there.”

 

Zoey stopped staring at the older gentleman with long silver braids long enough to follow Lily over to the hearth, where they sat down. Schrodinger curled up beside her, and Jack laid down next to Lily. “He’s an elf? Like who works at the North Pole?”

 

Schrodinger gave a snort. Not quite, he said kindly. You know how there are different races of humans? Well, there are different races of elves too. Darien’s people come from a land that is a lot like the Cove – I think if he had to live in snow all year round, he’d be very unhappy. Besides, he’s too tall.

 

Lily and Zoey started to giggle at that. The mental image of the tall, stately man on his knees painting toys was just too funny to keep in.

 

“And what are you four giggling about?” Molly asked, coming over.

 

Schrodinger snorted again. Darien as Santa’s helper. And that sent Lily and Zoey into gales of laughter.

 

Molly joined in, and it took Father Christopher giving them a look to stop. Which he did, because it was time for the concert to start.

 

Zoey looked around the room – it was nearly full, with shoppers amid the bookshelves, and a lot of people standing around or sitting in the armchairs, all looking at the choir. Father Christopher raised his wand, and pointed it at Starsha.

 

The entire world fell away as the first notes came out of her mouth, liquid and sparkling. Once again, the brass ornaments that Zoey held clutched in her hand, almost forgotten, shivered, and she looked down at them in wonder. Then she handed two to Lily, and one to Molly. Before she forgot.

 

That done, she was free to turn her attention back to the music. Darien had begun to sing as well, his baritone weaving in and around the melody of her soprano. It was magic – another kind of magic, and Zoey began to realize what Schrodinger had been trying to tell her earlier. Perhaps there were more types of magic than she’d realized.

 

During the intermission, Lily dragged Zoey and her parents over to meet Starsha, Darien and the rest of the choir. Zoey hung back a little, but the lovely singer leaned down and smiled. “Welcome to the Cove, Zoey,” she said, and her voice was warm and rich. It was almost as if she sang every word. “How are you enjoying your new home?”

 

“It’s amazing,” she said shyly. “I never knew there were such things in this world!”

 

Starsha nodded. “I understand,” she said. “I too, lived most of my life in a small village with little contact with the other realms. Coming here to study with Master Darien was a bit of a shock.”

 

“One you weathered quite well, once you understood that we weren’t going to hate you for being different,” Darien said, coming over. He shook hands with Zoey and her parents when Lily introduced them. “In truth, that’s why I like living here.” He waved a hand at the room. “After all, where else can you meet such diverse comrades, without it being a bloody war?”

 

“Very true,” Peter said. He smiled. “I grew up in a CrossRoads town, but we only had an industrial Gate, so we didn’t get as many visitors as come through the Cove. But I’m so glad we had the opportunity to move here.” He took his wife’s hand and squeezed it. “This will give us all chances we would never have elsewhere.”

 

“Very true,” Donna said. Her face was a little pale, and Zoey realized that her mother was having to reassess some things. Magic had never been discussed in her family before moving to the Cove, and for the first time, Zoey wondered why. Was it because her mother had never really believed in it?

 

Some people have a hard time believing in things that they can’t see, Schrodinger told her. Some people just need evidence. He looked at Starsha and Darien. The Cove has evidence that’s hard to refute.

 

Zoey stroked his head. I wonder if that’s why she doesn’t believe in Santa, she thought. Because she never saw him.

 

Could be. Or it could be because she saw or heard something that shattered her belief. Molly says in many places, children stop believing because they don’t ever catch him. Schrodinger sighed. I wish everyone could see the magic like we could.

 

Me too. Zoey looked up at her mother. Do you think she could learn to believe again?

 

Anything is possible.

 

Luckily, Darien had the conversation well in hand, and by the time the intermission was over, Donna’s color had returned to normal, and she was even chuckling at some of his stories. Then Father Christopher clapped his hands together, and everyone not in the choir retreated to the edges of the room.

 

After the end of the concert, Zoey and Schrodinger sat and watched as the choir filed out. You should have them write letters to Santa, Schrodinger told her. It’s the only way to make sure they get what they want for Christmas, you know.

 

Zoey looked at her parents, wondering if they would. Her mother had always insisted Santa wasn’t real, but that was before the Cove. “You’re right,” she said, and got up before she could think too much more about it.

 

“We have one more thing we have to do before we leave!” she announced to her parents.

 

“Besides buying some of Molly’s cookies?” Peter said.

 

“Okay, two things.” Zoey wasn’t about to pass up any of Molly’s cookies. “But before we do that, you have to write your letters.”

 

“Letters?” Donna looked puzzled, but let her daughter lead her over to the table.

 

“To Santa. You have to write to Santa.” Zoey looked seriously at her mother. “So you get what you want for Christmas.”

 

For a moment, she thought Donna would argue. After all, there hadn’t ever been a Santa in their house before, and this was the first year Zoey had ever written her own letter. But now that she knew the magic existed, Zoey was more than half-way convinced that Santa was real too. After all, Lily and Schrodinger and Jack had all seen him.

 

“Please?” she said, when she saw Donna wavering. “Please?”

 

“What can it hurt?” Peter said, looking at his wife. He reached for one of the cards.

 

After a moment, Donna did the same, and Zoey smiled.

This was going to be the best Christmas ever.

 

Originally published at The words of Valerie Griswold-Ford. You can comment here or there.