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She fell asleep. She hadn’t meant to, but when she jolted awake, it was two in the morning. A close call—she was meant to get up at four to get on the road to the airport, but she hadn’t set her alarm.
She hadn’t packed, or done anything to get herself ready to go, either. First, she needed a shower. She opened her door, and nearly tripped over something at her feet.
It was a basket made of wicker and adorned with a dark-green velvet ribbon.
She gasped into the empty hallway.
With shaking hands, she brought it inside, her shower forgotten.
She thought of Erika Ulmer, the university-bound girl she’d met at the pub, explaining the baskets. She’d said, “It always seems like the people who need them, get them. Everyone always says that the baskets appear for people who need a little Christmas magic.”
People who need a little Christmas magic.
Inside hers, Cara found a bunch of different things. There was a growler of Imogen’s pumpkin stout, which Imogen had said was sold out; a book of sudoku puzzles; a bottle of fancy bubble bath; and... “Oh my god!” It was a copy ofPride and Prejudice. Not a new one, but a well-worn hardcover edition. The cover featured a gold peacock whose tail feathers covered the entire front and spine of the book. She flipped it open to the copyright page, which said 1923. A piece of paper fell out.
Dear Cara,
The problem was that I, like Mr. Darcy, was trying to apply logic to a situation that resists logic. I love you, and if to do so is inconvenient, it is only insofar as I’m painfully aware that an accomplished, confident, independent person such as yourself is unlikely to love me back. And of course I am aware that even if you could be persuaded to, the matter of you living in New York and me living in Eldovia is no small thing.
But then, hope is another state to which logic doesn’t apply, don’t you find?
While you and Mr. Spock are no doubt correct about almost everything, I did some research into your CaptainJaneway, and I thought perhaps you might consider her words alongside Mr. Spock’s. I know I will.
Yours, with all my love,
Matteo
P.S. This was my grandmother’s copy ofPride and Prejudice. It was a gift from her mother. Whatever happens, I would like you to have it.
At the bottom of the letter he’d stuck a Post-it note, identical in color and size to hers. On it he had written:
You can use logic to justify almost anything. That’s its power and its flaw.—Captain Janeway
She burst into tears. Dear, dear Matteo had curated a collection of things he knew she would like, because he had paid attention to her. He had watched her carefully and done what he always did—tried to arrange things so she was pleased and comforted.
And loved.
Cara was certain she had never been loved by anyone other than her parents. She hadn’tletherself be. But somehow Matteo had stormed her fortified castle.
The bravery of this gesture took her breath away.
She thought about all those books and candles she’d stumbled on in his loft. She’d wondered in passing if he was the mysterious Santa behind Eldovia’s Christmas baskets but discarded the notion. When did he have the time?
Maybe he was himself a little magic, like Santa.
She rolled her eyes at herself. The truth was he was a hard worker, and a selfless, compassionate person. To think of him delivering all these baskets in one night—though presumably others’ didn’t come with declarations of love.
They’d better not. The very thought sent a hot jet of... something through her. She was pretty sure, if she was being honest, that it was jealousy.
Because she loved him back. That’s what that odd feeling had been earlier, the one she hadn’t quite been able to get a handle on except to think that it felt as if she owed him something.
Holy shit. She loved Matteo Benz, the equerry to the throne of Eldovia.
She had always said she would slow down, make time to date, when she made partner. She just hadn’t expected to make partner so soon. Or for the man she wanted to slow downforto beright therewhen that happened. That’s why she’d flipped out on that chairlift, because Matteo had been poking at an uncomfortable truth: she loved him.
An idea took root. He had made this astonishing, brave gesture. Now it was her turn.
But first she needed to call her mom. She laughed out loud, through tears, into the silent room.
