Page 111 of Jingle Spells

“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.”