Merry Christmas! From my family to yours, I wish you all the best tidings of the season. This story is my gift to you, written just for my readers. I hope you enjoy it!

Lacy

“Hullo, Michael.”

“Miss Holly.” The tall, slender man in front of the general store counter tipped his hat with one hand. The other had several items in it, that were quickly deposited on the counter between them.

“More Christmas shopping?” Holly touched each of the items in turn, keeping a running tally of the total in her mind.

“Yes, I’d forgotten my cousin and his wife had another baby.”

“It must be lovely to have such a big family.”

It wasn’t the first time she’d said the words to him. Family. It had been a longing deep in her heart since she’d been small and first understood what the word orphan meant.

Michael smiled gently. She liked his smile. She thought he must be a good teacher for the one-room schoolhouse. He was always kind to her, no matter how busy the store was when he came in to do his shopping.

Some people were impatient, especially at this time of year.

But not Michael.

Her own schooling had been irregular. The orphanage where she’d lived until she’d been ten hadn’t had a consistent teacher employed. One month after her tenth birthday, she’d been sent west on a wagon train, along with ten other children. The orphanage director had hoped to place the children with families in the Willamette Valley. It had worked—some of the children had found forever families.

But not Holly.

Sometimes she imagined she’d grown up as part of a family. Gone to school with a teacher like Michael. If she’d had a teacher as patient as him, she’d have been a better student. As it was, she had to concentrate very hard with each customer to sum their purchases.

“On your account?” she asked. 

“Please.” 

Tonight, the store was empty save for Michael. It meant she could take extra time wrapping his purchases in thick brown paper. 

“I’m, ah… grateful for your conscientious care in wrapping parcels,” he said.

The paper crinkled under her fingers as her attention slipped and she tilted her head. “What’s con-she-inches mean?”

He seemed to be blushing, the skin beneath his collar turning a rosy hue.

She shifted her attention back to what she was doing. What’d he have to be embarrassed about? If she knew as many big, fancy words as he did, she would use them all the time.

“It means that you’re careful and purposeful.”

Ah.

“Well, I guess I have to be,” she said as she wrapped the twine around the brown paper. “It’s snowing out. Again.”

That wasn’t the only reason, of course. Mr. Graham, the proprietor of the general store, had taken her in when she’d come west with the other orphans. She’d been a mess then. Wild and moody and untrained. When she’d first begun working in the shop—shortly after he’d taken her in—she’d dropped a glass salt cellar on the floor, shattering it. She’d been sure she would be getting the switch, but he’d only shaken his head in silent admonishment.

It’d taken a broken jar of jelly and a ripped bolt of fabric for her to learn to slow down.

Michael didn’t seem impatient at her pace. He never did. “You don’t like the snow?”

“Oh, I do. It’s magical.” She bent to retrieve a special touch from underneath the counter, where she’d put her small basket… there.

She straightened, holding the sprig of a tiny clipping from a pine bough and a small pinecone. She slipped them into her twine bow at the top of his parcel. There. It looked festive now.

He seemed to be watching her hands, his brown crinkled in confusion. He blinked, then shook his head the tiniest bit, and his gaze came back up to meet hers. “What do you mean by magical?”

“Have you made a snowman before? Or gone sledding? Oh, or skating on the pond?”

“Of course.”

“Those things all have just a bit of winter magic in them, don’t they?”

He was watching her closely and being the recipient of his clear focus made her cheeks grow hot. 

“I never thought of it that way before, but I suppose they do. Which is your favorite?”

“Hmm?”

“Snowmen or sledding or skating?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I’ve never done any of them.” She pushed his finished package across the desk between them and he took it automatically.

She was just about to tell him to have a good evening, but he spoke first.

“Why haven’t you done any of those things?”

“Oh,” she said with a little laugh. “Because I’m always here!”

She looked around the interior of the general store. The jars of penny candies sitting on the long counter. The bolts of fabric and neat rows of ribbons. The barrels of flour and sugar, and shelves of other kitchen goods.

During the past nine years, she’d learned every nook and cranny of the store. She’d been taught how to charge a customer account, how to order more supplies when stock ran low.

For a while, she’d thought she’d found a true home here…

But that had only been a dream. One she’d been awakened from.

But Michael didn’t need to know about all that, so she shored up her smile and prepared to say goodbye to him.

There was something tender in his eyes that she’d never seen before. It made her stomach feel loose and trembly. 

“You should go skating. Or sledding. I could—I could take you, if you’d like.”

Warmth spread from her belly up into her face. Was he saying…?

“It would have to be—I have the pageant coming up, you see. Rehearsals and I have to finish painting the backdrop…”

All of the warmth and the tentative hope that had been building inside her dissipated as if a gust of north wind had blown them away.

“Of course you’re busy,” she said, letting him off the hook. “Don’t give it another thought.”

She nudged his package and he picked it up from the counter. “But—”

She started around the counter. “I’ll see you out,” she said cheerfully. “Time to lock up.”

“Oh, well…” He trailed her to the door. He was so tall. “Will you come to the pageant?”

“Of course. Everyone in town goes, don’t they?”

His boots hit the boardwalk outside the door and he turned back, the package clutched in his hands. 

“Goodnight,” she said quickly.

“Ah. Goodnight.”

She closed the door gently, his visage going distorted through the glass.

She bustled to the counter, hurrying to notate his purchases in Mr. Graham’s register book. Then she moved to straighten a bolt of fabric that had slipped out of line.

It was only later, in the tiny attic bedroom above the shop, lying on her cot, that an echo of hope and warmth played through her belly as she remembered the encounter.

Michael hadn’t meant it like that, she told herself. He had only been making conversation, not a special invitation.

Why would the respected schoolteacher, a man who was part of the community and older than her by at least five years, want to spend time with an orphan like her? He’d only been acting out of politeness.

Kindness wasn’t the same as love. Hadn’t she learned that from Mr. Graham?

And when that thought brought on tears, she turned her face into the pillow so she wouldn’t be heard.

 

####

 

“Did someone purchase the broach from the front window display?” Holly kept her voice down as she asked the question of Mrs. Graham. 

Mrs. Graham preferred not to be addressed in public at all and the store was packed with customers.

Tomorrow was Christmas Eve.

Sure enough, Mrs. Graham’s lips pursed like she’d bit into a sour lemon penny candy.

But this was important.

“Not yet,” Mrs. Graham whispered fiercely. “I put it back for Mr. Severs when he came in earlier.” She tipped her head toward the small shelf on the wall behind the counter.

A beat of relief passed through Holly.

The broach hadn’t sold.

But that didn’t mean it wouldn’t.

She meant to ask Mr. Graham for an advance on her week’s pay, but he’d been in bed with a cold this morning when she’d come down from her attic room and Mrs. Graham had shooed her from the apartment before she’d had a chance. 

She’d wanted the broach since the first moment she’d seen it in the window. It reminded her of one her mother had worn. One of the only faint memories from Holly’s childhood was being held lovingly in her mother’s arms, and fiddling with Mama’s broach.

She could only hope that Mr. Severs wouldn’t return. Or if he did, that she could sell him something else. Anything else. 

She was the best salesman around. Mr. Graham had said so, once a long time ago.

Mrs. Graham moved a few steps away, still behind the counter, to help another customer.

“Everything all right?”

Holly was already turning to greet the next customer in line, her mind still whirling with plans for the broach, before the familiar voice registered.

Michael again.

“Hello.”

“Hello.” He was watching her with what might be concern in his deep brown gaze. “Is everything all right?” he repeated.

“Oh. Umm, yes.” Sort of.

His concerned expression didn’t clear. “You don’t seem too certain. Is it anything I can help with?”

How kind of him. That almost sounded like something a… friend would ask. She was more used to a rushed, forced kind of friendliness from the store’s customers. 

And then he added, “I’m sure I owe you a favor after all the help you’ve given me picking out Christmas gifts for my family.”

I owe you a favor. 

The warm feeling that had been growing inside her fizzled and died. Of course, he was only offering out of obligation. No doubt that was why he sat by her and made conversation at the rare church social or the one time he’d walked home with her after she’d had to drop off an order to Mrs. Baker at the blacksmith’s.

“It’s nothing,” she said. The smile she put on now felt fragile and she worked to shore it up. She would figure out a way to buy her broach. By herself. As usual.

Michael glanced down the counter to where Mrs. Graham was helping a customer. His brows were creased as if he was trying to solve a puzzling mathematics problem.

All the other customers seemed content to browse for now. No one else approached the counter, even though Holly wished for a distraction.

“Did you need to make another purchase today?” she asked brightly. Maybe a little too much so, because when he glanced back to her, his eyes were warm and questioning.

“I wanted to… that is, I…” He sighed. “I’d like to pay toward my credit account.”

She didn’t know what his hesitation was all about. A payment wasn’t so hard. “All right.” She reached beneath the counter for the accounts ledger.

He put several bills onto the counter. Leaned in closer. “Is she unkind to you?” he asked in a near whisper.

She didn’t understand his question at first. Then realized he was talking about Mrs. Graham.

Who was finishing with her customer and watching Holly with eagle eyes that missed nothing.

“Of course not.” Had her employer overheard the conversation? Holly went on, “Mrs. Graham is a very kind person.”

But it had only taken Holly a few days in the same house with Mrs. Graham to understand the difference between kindness and family. One could speak in a very kind voice when asking a body to excuse themselves from family time.

Holly had been taken in by Mr. Graham when she and the other orphans had arrived in Oregon. It’d been the two of them and he’d taught her everything about running the store. They’d eaten breakfast together and supper together and while he wasn’t the most affectionate father-figure, after several years, she’d begun to think of the both of them as a little family.

And then he’d married Mrs. Graham, a young widow from a nearby town. She’d wasted no time in making sure Holly understood she was an employee and lucky to be allowed the tiny attic bedroom to stay in.

All in a very kind way.

It’d taken Holly months of wondering and crying into her pillow at night before she’d realized that Mr. Graham had to know how his wife treated her. Maybe Mrs. Graham was a little more pleasant when he was present, but he couldn’t have missed the many veiled reminders that Holly was not his daughter.

He’d never said otherwise.

Holly realized she’d been ruminating for too long when Mrs. Graham bumped her elbow as she moved to help another customer.

“Sorry about that,” she said quickly to Michael. “Woolgathering.”

He didn’t smile. “That’s all right. I’m sure you’re tired after working all day in this melee.”

Why did she have the feeling he saw more than she wanted him to.

But it didn’t matter, did it? Her problems were her own.

And Michael was a kind person who had made a friendly offer. But she couldn’t forget that he had a family of his own. A big one that he’d spend Christmas with.

And she wasn’t a part of it.

 

####

 

It was gone.

The store was finally empty. It was dark outside the glass display windows. Closing time. 

Holly moved through the empty sales floor by rote. She needed to lock the door. Cold was seeping through the glass panes. Or maybe the cold was inside her.

The broach was gone.

When she’d gone upstairs to the apartment for a quick dinner break, the broach had been on the shelf behind the counter.

She’d come down after fifteen minutes to find a line of customers stretching to the door.

And the broach had been missing. 

Mrs. Graham had been miffed that Holly had interrupted her transaction to ask about it. Her voice had been sharp and impatient when she’d said she sold it.

She’d sold it.

Lock the door. 

Her thoughts were a muddle. She must focus. Finish up the night’s tasks.

Holly hadn’t had time for the devastation to hit. Not until now that the last customer had gone and Mrs. Graham had gone upstairs.

The broach had been her one connection to her childhood, to the mother she barely remembered. The only family she’d ever had.

Tears blinded her and she had to press her thumb and forefinger into her eye sockets to try and prevent them from escaping.

The bell above the door jingled merrily, signaling that someone had come inside.

“We’re closed.” Was that her voice? That tearful, choked sound?

“I didn’t come to purchase anything.”

She recognized that voice. Michael.

A wave of hot humiliation rolled over her. She didn’t want him—or anyone—to see her like this.

Resolve followed the humiliation. She wiped her eyes and straightened. Tried to smile, though it felt wobbly at best. “I’m sorry, we’re closed.”

It must’ve started snowing because the shoulders of his coat were dusted with fine white flakes. He’d swept his hat off his head at some point, and his hair was mussed. But it was the compassion in his eyes that undid her.

She flared her nostrils and took a deep breath to keep her tears from starting up again.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

So much. 

She shook her head slightly. “Nothing.” Nothing that he could fix.

She didn’t know how to fix things, either. She’d been growing more and more unhappy living above the shop, her life dictated by the comings and goings of customers. 

It would’ve been different if Mr. and Mrs. Graham were family. Maybe she wouldn’t feel so restless.

So hurt.

All her muddled feelings were still there, and so was Michael.

What could he possibly need this late on Christmas Eve?

The door was behind him, and she held out her arm to escort him in that direction.

He didn’t budge. He stood there, tall and slightly disheveled and handsome.“If you’d just let me have a moment to say…” 

She waited, but his words had trailed off.

His stare dropped from her face and he rubbed one hand down his face, making a sound of frustration.

When he glanced back up, his smile was self-deprecating. “Why is this so difficult?” he muttered.

“Why is what so difficult?”

Color rose high in his cheeks. “I stand up in front of a room full of students every day and impart knowledge. I should be able to do this. I have come into this store nearly every day to ask you—that is, I don’t need half the gifts I’ve purchased. I’ll be gifting wooden tops for years to come and eating oranges for weeks.” He laughed a small, chagrined laugh.

She stared at him, not comprehending. “Ask me what?”

“Holly, you’re… you’re special. I can’t understand how other people walk into this store and speak to you and don’t understand how special you are.”

A blazing blush crawled up her neck and into her cheeks. What?

But he wasn’t finished. “I—I admire your gentle spirit and your patience and every time I see you, I think I’ve never met anyone more beautiful. I guess what I want to ask is… is… have you ever wanted something more?”

Her heart was in her throat and fizzy hope was swirling through her belly. She couldn’t hold his gaze, not with the words he’d just said between them.

He thought she was beautiful.

Her eyes were on the floor, her mind still spinning, but she saw him take one step closer. 

“Have you ever wanted something more than working in this store?”

Of course, she had. But her mind was quick to throw up a memory from six months ago when they’d sat next to each other at a lemonade social. He’d spent much of that evening telling her about his prize student, a young woman who was going away to attend college and become a teacher just like him.

Holly had spent the evening listening and trying to quell the ugly jealousy churning in her stomach.

Even in the wake of his words, his beautiful words, that old jealousy returned to remind her of her place.

She brushed a hand across her cheek, pressed it there because her hands were cold and her cheeks were still hot.

“I’m not smart like your students,” she said. “I don’t have lofty goals or big ambitions. I just want…” A family.

She couldn’t say it, the barrage of emotions too much. The broach was gone, it was Christmas Eve and she would spend tomorrow alone in her room. And now Michael had confused her by the lovely things he’d said.

Everything was too much and her emotions overflowed. Tears filled her eyes but before she could turn away or ask him to leave, he was there.

He took her into his arms and oh! It’d been such a long time since she’d been touched like this. Held, comforted, cared for.

She hadn’t realized she’d ached for touch—for his touch—until now. Until she had it.

He didn’t seem to mind that her tears wet his shirt. He pressed his cheek to the top of her head. 

Her arms had gone around his back, beneath his coat. The intimacy of it, of their embrace and of him seeing her tears, should have shocked her.

But somehow it felt right.

He moved slightly, his head ducking so that his jaw was pressed to her temple and he could speak in her ear. “Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you,” he whispered roughly.

“Family,” she answered in a choked whisper. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

She felt his jaw shift against her hair. Was he smiling?

“Come home with me for Christmas,” he said. “You can have the spare bedroom in my mother and father’s house. I’ll sleep in the barn. My mother will adore you. So will my sisters. And my nephews. We can go sledding. Make a snowman.”

It sounded wonderful. But— “I can’t.”

She couldn’t. Could she?

“Of course, you can.”

He drew away slightly, moving so that both her hands were clasped in his. When had her tears dried up? She couldn’t say, only that she wasn’t drowning in sorrow anymore.

He was looking at her with warm affection and… tenderness? His hands seemed to be shaking.

“Marry me,” he said, and his voice shook a little, too. “I’ll be your family. And you’ll be mine.”

“Marry you?” Now she was shaking, too.

He wanted—

She couldn’t even finish the thought. Couldn’t fathom it.

He dropped one of her hands to reach into his pocket. He drew out a small object, wrapped in a handkerchief.

“It’s not a ring, but it was meant to show my devotion.”

His devotion.

She took it when she pressed the small bundle into her hand. The handkerchief was unfolded to reveal… her broach.

Her eyes misted once again. “What—? How did you—?”

He had the grace to look sheepish, the dear man. “I told you I’ve come to the store almost every day. I’ve seen you look at it, in the front window. And yesterday, I overheard you asking Mrs. Graham about it. You seemed upset that someone else was going to buy it.”

“So you bought it.”

She was stunned. She could barely believe it.

Michael had bought the broach. He’d bought it because he’d known it mattered to her. He’d given it to her.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to say it,” he said. “To say how much I love you. I was afraid. But if you—if you feel the same way—”

“I do,” she said quickly, glancing up from the broach to see a beat of relief cross his expression. He hadn’t guessed? “I love you, too. I was afraid, too. That I wasn’t educated enough for you. That you wouldn’t want to be with an orphan—”

He shook his head. “I want to be your family. If you’ll have me.”

She nodded and then she was in his arm again, receiving his tender kiss. 

Right where she belonged.