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She plucks the top from the box and finds a nutcracker ornament that hasLake Mistletoecarved into the base, along with a hardcover copy ofThe Nutcrackerpicture book by E.T.A. Hoffmann.
“Wow,” she gasps.
“The Nutcracker. Your favorite. How did the elves know?” Isaac muses.
“Christmas magic,” Cobie whispers.
“It must be,” he agrees.
Dawn calls our attention, and the three of us pose with the book and ornament. She snaps a picture, and then her eyes focus above us.
“Oh my, look what I spy,” she says as she points to the lamppost above us.
Our eyes follow, and tied to the top with a silk ribbon is a sprig of greenery with tiny white berries.
“It’s mistletoe,” Cobie squeals.
She wraps an arm around each of our necks and kisses our cheeks.
“Now, you two kiss,” she prompts.
“Yeah, you two kiss,” Dawn calls as she raises the camera.
I can feel the blood rush to my cheeks as Cobie looks at us expectantly.
Isaac’s free hand comes to the side of my face, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he bends to place a quick, soft kiss on my lips. Lingering for just a brief moment. My breath catches at the contact as the air around us fills with the click of the camera and the giggles of a thrilled eight-year-old.
“That was hot,” Dawn mutters as she looks at the camera screen.
Isaac takes a step back and plants Cobie on her feet. Then, his eyes turn to me, and he opens his mouth to say something, but before the words leave his lips, Cobie shrieks and points to the other side of the bridge.
“An elf!”
She takes off in a sprint toward the costumed figure that disappears into the tree line.
“Did you see him, Daddy?” she asks as we catch up to her.
“I did.”
“Look, he left another treat,” Dawn points out.
Cobie picks it up and starts to tear into it just as a little girl in a puffy jacket trots up to us, an older woman on her heels.
“Oops, someone beat us to it,” the lady says as she grasps the girl’s hand.
Cobie looks down at the bag and back to the girl, who doesn’t have a bag of boxes yet. Cobie smiles and extends the gift to her.
“I was just getting it for you. I think you saw it first,” she says.
The other child’s expression brightens as she takes the offered bag.
“You don’t have to do that—” the woman begins.
Cobie interrupts, “It’s for her. From Santa Claus.”
The girl opens the bag and finds a stuffed calico kitten inside. “Look, Grammy. It’s Ralphie,” the girl cries.
Her grandmother’s eyes begin to water. “It sure is,” she whispers.
