Tilly Cassidy stared at the tear-stained wedding invitation she’d received three days ago from the kindest and most generous employer she’d ever had. Willa Murray, star of the Western stage, was finally getting married. Any decent maid would have been happy for her mistress, but she was having difficulty feeling anything but despair.

The Tombstone Times had splashed the joyous announcement across their front page that morning. Everyone she knew was talking about it. There was quite honestly no place to run and hide from the horrible news.

Whoever this Angel Castellano was — with his dreamy name and even dreamier sounding dinner theater — she seriously wanted to hunt down and shake until his teeth rattled.

Because he was taking Willa away from her.

Not merely for the holidays like her employer had originally stated she would be gone.

But forever.

With a sob of anguish, she crumpled the precious card and threw it across her small, dimly lit bedchamber. It landed against the windowless wall and fluttered to the hard-packed earth floor with a soft papery thud.

Oh, what have I done? She leaped up from the edge of her straw mattress, finger-combed her flyaway red hair from her eyes, and bent to pick it up. Then she carefully smoothed it out, plopped back down on her bed with it clutched in her hands, and cried some more.

A knock sounded on the thin wooden door that separated her from the other female occupants of Dove’s Boarding House.

She stared at the door, but the knock wasn’t repeated. Probably just an inebriated woman stumbling her way down the hallway after a long work shift. Most of her neighbors were saloon girls and serving wenches who worked in the city’s endless number of gambling dens and chorus halls. Without the extra pay she’d been earning from her part-time work for Willa Murray during off hours, she might have to pick up an extra serving job herself soon. Otherwise, she’d be unable to afford even such humble accommodations as this much longer.

She glanced around her tiny room and swallowed hard. “What am I going to do?” she rasped to the empty room.

Another knock sounded at the door. This time Tilly rose with a sigh of resignation. It was Sunday morning. What she wouldn’t give for ten solid minutes of uninterrupted solitude on her only half-day off! But it wasn’t meant to be.

She cracked the door open hesitantly. Two women standing at the next door over shrieked with laughter over something one of them said. They were sharing a bottle of wine, passing it back and forth between them.

Shuddering, Tilly glanced around the hallway but saw no one else, certainly no one who appeared to be looking for her. She was about to close the door when she noticed a small square box wrapped in brown parchment paper sitting against the wall beside her threshold.

For me? Her interest piqued and she bent to snatch it up. It is! She stared at the spidery writing on the card that was indeed addressed to her, hardly believing someone had sent her a gift. She was acquainted with very few people in town, and those she knew best either couldn’t afford such luxuries or weren’t inclined to be so generous.

But there was her name staring up at her as plain as day — Tilda Charlene Cassidy. That was odd! Whoever had addressed the package to her knew her full name. She opened the card which was tied by a piece of twine to the box and read the message.

Your next wish upon a star will lead to what your heart desires the most. — Mrs. Claus, North Pole

Right. Tilly grimaced. Clearly someone was playing a prank on her, but who would do such a thing and why? Shaking her head, she closed and bolted her door and carried the package to her tiny trestle table against the wall. It served as both her dining table and writing desk. She dragged out the low stool that normally rested beneath it and sat. Then she quickly tore open the paper.

To her surprise, a white gift box appeared. She’d never received anything so festive before. The box smelled like apples and spice, and a delicate white eyelet snowflake was carved into each side of it.

Opening the lid, she gasped at the contents. It was a sugar cookie ornament in the shape of a star tied with a cheery red ribbon.

“Oh-h-h!” she breathed, lifting the ornament and letting it swing in the air. It was lovely.

Your next wish upon a star will lead to what your heart desires the most.

Well, the gift was a star, wasn’t it? In a room without windows, it was the only star handy to place a wish on. It was way too bad that all the things she wanted were in the impossible category. She wanted to leave her miserable job at the Rileys whose four spoiled daughters weren’t the least bit interested in her needlepoint lessons. She wanted to get on a train and ride away from Tombstone — far from the suffocating heat, sandy desert, and endless crush of people bustling down crowded streets.

Somewhere quieter and greener.

And cooler, if possible.

But more than anything in the world, she wanted to attend Willa Murray’s wedding. Unfortunately, it would take nearly every dime in her meager savings to purchase the train ticket, and that was only because Willa had so kindly paid her in advance for the weeks she was out of town. Visiting her parents in Pinetop, Arizona.

Never to return thanks to Angel Castellano’s wedding proposal…

Even if Tilly was foolish enough to spend all her money on a train ticket, then what? Short of a miracle, she certainly wouldn’t be able to afford another train ticket back to Tombstone. Where would she work then, and where would she stay?

With a sad smile, she laid the gorgeous star cookie ornament atop Willa’s wedding invitation and changed into her nightgown. Snuffing out the lone lantern on her nightstand, she laid on the thin mattress and stared wide-eyed into the darkness.

Night time was the hardest time of the day for her. It was the time when she could remember what her life was like before she’d become impoverished and alone. What it was like to have two parents and three square meals per day. Most unfortunately, her mother’s sudden death followed by an arranged marriage to a wealthy but cruel older man had brought all that to an end. Unable to face a lifetime of heartache in his cold, lecher arms, she’d run away from home four years earlier. She hoped with all her might her father had found some other way to pay his gambling debts.

Now here she was. About to turn twenty-two with no one in her life who even cared how old she was. She was unsure when her money would run out and where her next meal would come from when it did. She had nothing but the next drudging work shift to look forward to in an endless line of work shifts.

Her friendship with Willa had been the one bright spot in her dismal existence, and now Willa was gone.

The memory of their final conversation played itself over in her mind.

Maybe you can visit Pinetop with me someday, Willa had said.

It was a someday that was never going to come.

Unless…

With a sound of frustration, Tilly sat up in bed. She swung her legs over the side and leaned towards her nightstand to light the lantern. It was possibly the most foolish thing she’d ever done, but she padded barefoot to the table and picked up the lovely star cookie ornament.

Your next wish upon a star will lead to what your heart desires most.

She held it against her chest and squeezed her eyes shut.

Well, here goes nothing. “I want to visit Pinetop,” she whispered. “I want to watch Willa get married and maybe find a little joy and happiness of my own along the way.”

She opened her eyes and gazed at the winsome little gift. Perhaps it was her imagination, but the glossy white icing atop the cookie seemed to pick up the glow of the lantern. It shimmered like a promise at her, warming her insides with a hope she hadn’t felt in four long years.

And suddenly she knew.

I’m going to Pinetop. I’m truly going to Pinetop!