Christmas Confection Perfection: Day #11 – December 1, 2025
Day #11 – Definitely…Probably
The next morning dawned soft and silver, with the city still dusted from the night’s snow. Mary managed to get her supplies and the red wagon back down the stairs (the elevator still being out!) and through the apartment doors. She was bundled up in her coat and scarf, her breath puffing in tiny clouds as she tugged the wagon down the street. The world felt calmer than usual, like someone had turned the volume down overnight. Though it was probably just the bubble of happiness that had formed around Mary, because the car horns, barking dogs, and overly loud cell phone conversations were still happening all around her. But Mary didn’t seem to notice today. Everything felt different. Lighter. Brighter. She found herself smiling more broadly at strangers, humming under her breath. Even the red wagon’s squeaky wheel seemed to keep rhythm with her mood.
Her deliveries were fairly routine that morning. She took warm bread to the café on Third, an order of chocolate strawberries to the florist, and croissants to the coffee shop.
When she reached The Whispering Hearth, she left the wagon parked outside by the door, since Mrs. O’Hara had banned the wagon from being inside the café.
The bell over the door chimed softly as Mary stepped inside with her delivery boxes balanced in her arms. The café was already half-full at the early hour, a warm fog of coffee, cinnamon, and conversation curling through the air.
“Morning, Mrs. O’Hara!” Mary called, setting the boxes on the counter.
The older woman turned, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite internet celebrity. I see your partner in crime is parked outside. Thank you.”
Mary groaned good-naturedly. “Please don’t call me a celebrity.”
Mrs. O’Hara gave an exaggerated sigh. “Well, you’ve been immortalized on the internet. You’ll have to start signing muffins next.”
Mary laughed, brushing a bit of hair off her face. “I’d rather bake them, if that’s all the same.”
The woman peered at her closely, tilting her gray head. “You look different today.”
“Different?” Mary repeated.
“Glowy.” Mrs. O’Hara squinted as though examining a Christmas ornament. “You’ve got that ‘freshly fallen in love or freshly made cinnamon rolls’ glow. Which is it?”
Mary nearly dropped a pastry box. “Neither! I—I just had a late-night delivering trees to the hospital. I’m wearing extra blush to hide the dark circles under my eyes.”
“Ah.” Mrs. O’Hara leaned on the counter, unconvinced. “Who is he?”
Mary froze. “I have a steady boyfriend.”
“That’s not who has given you this glow though.”
Mary wasn’t sure how to properly exit herself from the conversation.
Mrs. O’Hara gave a low chuckle and slapped the counter. “You’ll tell me when you’re ready I guess. Until then, I know you have a secret.”
Mary laughed, though her heart did a funny flutter. “You’re incorrigible.”
“Just observant,” the woman said, winking. “Now go on, before I embarrass you further, or you trip any more patrons on that glow of yours.”
Mary shook her head, tugging her scarf up as she headed for the door. The bell chimed behind her, and the cold air hit her cheeks.
She shook her head as she grabbed the wagon handle. She was certainly not glowing. How could she be? Sure, Ashton was great…handsome, kind, thoughtful, self assured, strong…
Stop it, Mary! She scolded herself, shaking her head. So what if she had a glow? It was probably the extra mug of cocoa she had helped herself to. Or the snow. Or maybe the simple joy of doing something good the night before.
It definitely wasn’t Ashton.
Probably.
***
As Mary walked onto the Christmas tree lot that evening, she found herself hoping her glow was gone. She didn’t need any additional comments made by wizened women…especially Elsie or anyone else who might be within earshot of the tree lot crew.
How embarrassing.
“Made your decision yet?” Ashton’s voice came up from behind.
Mary jumped at the sound and spun around with an awkward laugh. “Decision? What do you mean?”
“A tree for your apartment?” Ashton responded, a little surprised by her spooked reaction to his question.
“Uhm…”
“We can get that delivered tonight,” he said casually, rubbing his gloved hands together. “You still need to pick out a tree, right?”
Mary blinked. “Oh. I…I guess I do.”
“Then let’s find you the perfect tree.”
Mary agreed and headed down a row of trees, hoping Ashton would take to another row. It was getting harder to think straight.
She pulled the red wagon behind her through the rows of Christmas pines. The wheels carved delicate tread marks in the fresh snow, lit warmly by the glow of the lot’s string lights.
After a few moments alone, Mary settled into the task at hand. There was something magical about finding your tree. Mary always felt like the trees spoke to her, each one with its own voice, its own melody. It was like finding a favorite song on a new album: one would always connect, reaching for something inside you that you didn’t realize was waiting to be found.
Her bare fingers brushed over pine needles and cold branches, the scent of sap and needles filling her lungs. Somewhere in a neighboring row, she could hear Ashton’s voice, low and pleasant, teasing his aunt about her “tree-to-house ratio.” She smiled to herself but stayed focused.
Then she saw it.
A medium-sized fir, full but slightly uneven, dusted in a fine coat of snow. Not perfect, but hers.
“Over here!” she called out, tugging the wagon closer.
Footsteps crunched behind her. “You found it?” Ashton’s voice came through the branches.
Mary looked up just as he rounded the corner of the row and motioned her head toward the chosen pine.
He stopped beside her tree and gave it a once-over. “This one, huh?” he asked, tipping his head. “A little crooked on top.”
“You’re one to talk. Don’t judge,” she said. “It has character.”
He laughed, tugging gently at one of the lower branches. “You sure you don’t want one of the fancy, full ones up front?”
“I like it,” she said, smiling softly. “It feels…right.”
Ashton nodded, his expression warming. “Can’t argue with that.” He crouched to check the base, brushing snow from the trunk before standing again. “We’ll make it official.”
Together, they maneuvered the tree onto the wagon. The trunk slipped once, and Mary grabbed the branches to steady it, only for Ashton to reach at the same moment. Their hands brushed, a spark of static passing between them.
They both froze.
“Sorry,” Mary laughed apologetically.
“Precious cargo,” Ashton replied, but his voice had softened. “Let’s set it aside and then we can take it to your place after close.”
Mary tugged the wagon handle as they started toward the cocoa stand. The little red wagon bumped over the snow without any fuss to the weight.
And for some reason, Mary couldn’t stop smiling…darn pesky glow.
Come Back Tomorrow for Day #12!
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