I reached to pick it up.

The conker.

Small and silly, with Arthur’s shoestring dangling.

I remembered then how embarrassed he’d been at the accidental double entendre. How he’d blushed. And how the energy between us had changed, and I knew he felt it, too.

I was seized by the impulse to take a picture and text it to him—look what I found! But I had given him a promise not to. Because he’d been down that road before. With Astrid. Whom he liked very much. His crush. The one he liked enough to get him into his big mess.

A tingle went up my spine then. Not of concern, like this morning at breakfast, but of growing awareness.

Did that mean Arthur thought of me like he thought of Astrid? Like his crush?

Oh.

Oh, wow.

That one sure had taken its sweet time to seep in and I felt a surge of pure happiness.

But I promptly came right back down again. He was still gone and still about to depart Oklahoma.

All I wanted to do right then was let him know that I wasn’t Astrid. I wouldn’t play with his heart. I wanted him to believe me. But at the same time, he’d set up a boundary. Which deserved respect. It would be easy to text him a photo, or call him under the flimsy work-around of You said text, you didn’t say anything about calling.

Or maybe leaving a comment? Under his Instagram post?

But no. I couldn’t do either of those. I knew what he’d meant.

So, I didn’t text him and I didn’t leave a comment. Instead, I put the conker under my pillow, wanting to laugh at myself.

Then I snuggled beneath the comforter, pulled up to my nose, and watched the snow pour past my window, to create the bright white tableau that would be awaiting me in the morning.

Twenty-Seven

DECEMBER 24

That little conker came with me everywhere the whole next day, tucked in my jeans pocket, ready for when I’d reach in to grasp it in my palm, feeling somehow closer to Arthur each time.

Not that I had time.

My part of the Christmas Eve party prep began at eight a.m. sharp, which meant today was a minimum twelve-hour day. Thankfully Grandma Jo paid overtime to her employees, including me, which wound up being a generous chunk of change.