At the front desk, I ring the bell. Darcy pops up in a flutter of papers, pens, and twinkle lights. “Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t see you. Are you ready for your key? I’ll walk you up.”
We make our way up a wide staircase, the wooden treads covered in plaid carpet. My hand glides over an ornate, dark wood banister carved intricately with flora and fauna as we climb, Darcy humming a holiday tune under her breath.
“Darcy, this is . . .” I trail off, gulping. “There’s a fire!” My fingers glide over a sleek black marble mantle with garlands, a warm fire crackling merrily in the hearth. It's everything I could have wished for. The holidays are my absolute favorite. Maybe because that’s the only time my parents ever slowed down when we were kids, maybe because of the presents, or maybe because I like cozy socks and warm fires.
Probably all of the above.
I have a feeling by the time I wake up tomorrow morning, that giant pine tree will have turned into pure magic.
And the show will begin.