Page 7 of Jingle Spells

Delilah blinked hard as she forced the image back down the memory hole. “Scarlett. Will you please just tell me what’s happening with the magicians?”

“Patience, grasshopper. There’s lots of time to talk about those goons. Let’s say hi to everybody first.”

Delilah followed her sister down the staircase into the lobby, which was decked out in enough holiday regalia to make Father Christmas blush. In the far corner, a string quartet had been enchanted to pluck out Christmas carols without the help of human musicians. “God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen” currently filled the air. A massive Fraser fir dominated the corner by the stairs, its branches already laden with antique ornaments. Delilah could hear the ornaments bickering with each other as they moved themselves around, all jockeying for optimal positions on the tree. (“People can see me better from this branch!” “Hey! You’re blocking my light!”)

Perched atop a tall, rickety ladder near the reservation desk was Nate, who was carefully attaching a long rope of evergreen garland along the crown molding. He had little metal clips clenched between his teeth, and he frowned as he concentrated on getting the spacing just right.

“Babe, be careful up there!” Scarlett called up to him. “Why don’t you let me just . . .” She wiggled her fingers, suggesting a spell.

“Don’t you dare,” he replied through the clips. “I’ve got a system.”

Delilah rolled her eyes. “Why are you letting him do that the hard way? One quick spell and the garland would be perfect. Is your magic that bad?”

“Oh, stop picking on me.” Scarlett’s face softened as she watched her true love at work. “It makes him happy. Men need projects. Especially Oak Haven men. They all marry witches who can fix almost anything with a quick spell and then spend the next thirty years not knowing what the hell to do with themselves. You gotta kind of . . . you know. You gotta let them do stuff. Besides, sometimes the hard way is the right way.”

“Said no witch ever,” Delilah replied. But it was true, there was something touching about Nate’s dedication to getting the garland to hang just so.

The magical string quartet brought “God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen” to a dramatic finish, paused, and began to play the song again.

“Don’t they know anything else?” asked Delilah.

“I’ve had some trouble with the spell,” Scarlett admitted. “For some reason they can only play that one and ‘Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer.’”

“Ah. So. ‘God Rest Ye Merry’ it is, then.”

Her sister nodded. “We’ve been resting our merry asses for four days.”

“I can fix the spell for you—it’s very simple.”

“Oh, Del! I’d love you forever if you could.”

“That’s all it takes, eh?”

The sound of raised voices drew the sisters’ attention to the dining room. Through the open doors, they could see their mother, Kelly Melrose, presiding over a gathering of Oak Haven’s most prominent witches. The women were all talking over one another, arms waving and complaints flying.

“We’d never do something so tacky,” declared Jerusha, who was one of the elders. “I won’t have it!”

“Tacky?!” shot back a younger witch called Candace. “How dare you?”

Delilah nudged her sister. “What’s that about?”

“Planning meeting for the holiday pageant.”

“I thought Mama swore she was done with it, that she’d never agree to organize it again.”

Scarlett shrugged. “Doesn’t she say that every year?”

Like many small towns, the annual children’s pageant was a highlight of every Christmas season. But unlike many small towns—indeed, perhaps unlike any other—the pageant did not concern itself with the birth of a chubby-cheeked son of the Almighty. No, the Oak Haven Holiday Pageant was a pagan affair, recreating the battle between the Holly King, representing winter, versus the Oak King, representing summer. And given that this was Oak Haven, this was a very big deal. Indeed, there were few deals any bigger.

“The children absolutely cannot wear last year’s costumes,” Jerusha shouted. “Last year they looked like they’d been wrapped in bathrobes!”

“Well, excuse me for suggesting we be practical,” Candace shot back. “Some of us remember that this pageant is supposed to focus on the eternal battle between light and darkness. It’s not a showcase for a gaggle of six-year-olds dressed like Liberace!”

“Don’t you lecture me about the pageant! I was organizing this pageant before you were even⁠—”

Mama Melrose raised one hand, putting an end to the argument with just two sharp words. “Ladies, please!”

“Sorry, Kelly,” muttered Jerusha.