The next time Roxanne could think clearly, she was standing alone on the cabin’s front porch, clutching the blue Tiffany box in her hand like some kind of weird flotation device. She knew she’d embarrassed Hunter when she’d fled the room, but then again he’d basically ambushed her. First, he’d shown up in Vermont. Then the dress. Then the news about Dahlia, and her designs, and Paris. It was more than she could handle at once. Normally, Roxanne wasn’t claustrophobic. But as soon as Hunter had asked her to marry him it felt like each of the cabin’s four walls had immediately closed in about three inches, continuing to squeeze in tighter at a steady and certain rate. If she’d stayed in the room any longer, she would have eventually been crushed to death under the weight of his question and her family’s penetrating gaze.

It didn’t help that she couldn’t answer him.

She couldn’t even believe that he’d asked.

Outside in the cold night air, at least she could breathe again. Once her pulse returned to a more normal rhythm, she decided she needed to talk to someone—anyone—who she could trust. At the moment, it was far preferable to being left with her own thoughts, which were basically just a mishmash of doubts and insecurity—her two worst enemies. She pulled out her phone and turned it on, letting loose a sigh of relief when she saw five full bars raise on the upper corner of her iPhone screen. Seconds later her phone started to chime and ding as a list of notifications flooded the screen. At the top, the most recent alert from Instagram told her that Hunter had tagged her in a post. She swiped the post to open Instagram, and saw a selfie of Hunter’s smiling face holding the ring box open so that every casual scroller would see the beautiful engagement ring in high resolution. Beneath the snap, the caption read, “By the time she sees this, she’ll have already said yes.”

Roxanne snorted. She hadn’t said yes, but then again she hadn’t exactly said no either. In fact, what she’d said before she’d made a hasty exit out of the room had been something along the lines of, “I need some air.”

Roxanne closed Instagram. She debated opening up her inbox, but the count of unread emails waiting for her made her change her mind. One thing at a time. Not feeling like she had enough privacy to speak out loud, she opened up a new text and quickly thumbed a message to Spencer.

Merry Christmas Eve, she typed, then breathed a sigh of relief when three flashing dots appeared on the screen, signaling that Spencer had begun his response.

You too, honey. How’s Martha and Snoop’s?

Crowded. Hunter is here. And, he proposed.

I’m sorry, he did what?

Yeah.

When?

Maybe five minutes ago.

He also broke the news about Paris, she said. Did you know?

About the job or the proposal?

Either. Both.

Spencer’s response was delivered at lightning speed, and with his usual degree of cattiness. Do you honestly think I wouldn’t have said something if I knew?

Roxanne shrugged, and replied with the corresponding emoticon. That was an understatement. Spencer did not hold back.

Are you thinking of saying yes? he asked.

It was Roxanne’s turn to shoot back. To Paris or the proposal? She sent the first text through, then realized she had the same answer for both and quickly typed a second message. I don't know. Right now, nothing feels right.

The job is fantastic, girl. Don’t be crazy, you’re just overwhelmed—it’s literally your dream come true (and we’re celebrating when you get home, by the way). But I swear, that boy never misses an opportunity.

Roxanne scrunched her nose at the screen. What do you mean?

Spencer's reply came in paragraph form, and it was classic Spencer—snarky and unflattering. Girl, come on. You’re smarter than that. You guys have been on the rocks, but he proposes right after your career gets the green light and you’re set to become the next big name in fashion? Right, and I’m Beyonce’s long lost brother. Look, I’m not saying he’s riding your coat tails or anything, but it sure would have been nice if the boy let you enjoy you for a second. You earned it. #boybye

I guess you’re right. She hadn’t wanted to admit it, even to herself, but the thought had crossed Roxanne’s mind. Hunter was ambitious, and obsessed with appearances, and she wouldn’t put it past him to be opportunistic. Maybe he’d been planning on proposing, but just had bad timing. Or, maybe he’d just thought it would add extra excitement to the news she’d been waiting her whole life for. She wasn’t sure, but the fact that she had to question it filled her with dread.

Spencer’s dots flashed on and off the screen for longer than Roxanne knew it took for him to compose a text message. Usually, Spencer spoke and then clarified later. Right now, he was taking his time. At long last, a short question appeared on the screen. So, what did you say?

Roxanne considered her response. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know what to say. Still don’t.

At least tell me he bought a spectacular ring.

She looked at the blue Tiffany box. Tiffany. Gorgeous. Expensive.

Boring.

Roxanne had to laugh. Classic.

So I’m guessing no special deliveries by the Big Guy in Red, then? Was kinda hoping you’d come home with a big, strapping mountain man.

Mark’s face bubbled to the top of her thoughts. Actually, I think I met one. It’s not like that though, but I’ve got a story for you when I get home.

It’s not like that but you’re thinking of this mystery guy in the same conversation about your live-in proposing? It’s so like that.

Spencer was still typing when someone knocked very softly from the inside of the cabin door. Holding her breath, Roxanne pulled it open, revealing Grandma Myrtle. She had a mug of cocoa in her hand, and Maggie’s winter coat laid across the lap of her wheelchair.

“Mind if I join you,” she asked.

“Of course, Grandma,” Roxanne said, shrugging into the coat and helping to guide her grandmother out onto the porch landing.

“That boyfriend of yours is all in a tizzy,” Grandma Myrtle said into her cocoa. “Haven’t seen a man that upset since Nixon was impeached.”

Roxanne couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Two days ago I would have said yes. I would have doubted myself, but I would have said yes.”

“A lot can change in two days,” her grandmother said wisely.

“Yeah,” Roxanne agreed. She burrowed her head into the neck of Maggie’s coat and tried hard not to think about Mark. A lot could change in two days. Maybe even Roxanne herself could change. She felt like a totally different person than she had been two days ago. She was still the same old Roxanne, but it was almost as if she was awake in a way that she hadn’t been before.

Myrtle laughed, took a long draw from her cocoa, and set the empty mug on her lap. “Change is sometimes good, sometimes bad, but always constant, and it doesn’t worry itself with timelines neither, honey.” The old woman cast a long, thoughtful look out into the night. “If something doesn’t feel right, it’s usually not. You know, when I first met your grandfather I could have sworn I heard bells I was so smitten. No rhyme or reason for it, one look at that man was enough to change the rest of my life. I would have married him after two days, too.”

“Bells?” echoed Roxanne. She remembered the bells she’d been hearing for the past couple of days. They’d started right at the moment at her accident, and ended the moment Mark had turned and walked away. But two days wasn’t enough time to fall in love with someone, was it? Two days ago’s Roxanne would have said no way, but today’s Roxanne wasn’t so sure. She recalled the way Mark’s lips had felt against hers under the mistletoe in the snow and realized she would be happy if that was the last first kiss she ever had. Maybe there was something to all Mark’s hokum about Christmas magic after all. It had made a believer out of her.

“Bells,” Grandma Myrtle confirmed, her voice dropping to a whisper as she fingered the wedding band still on her finger. “Used to hear them jingling every time he kissed me,” she said with a sad smile, “Jimmy’s been gone over ten years, and sometimes, when I miss him the most, I think I can still hear them. Especially on nights like tonight.”

“Why tonight,” Roxanne asked, pulling up a seat beside her grandmother.

“Because it’s Christmas,” Myrtle set, as if it were obvious. “Christmas is a season of love—love of the deepest kind—” she motioned at the box in Roxanne’s hand –“Not the kind that can be bought in a store, neither. That’s what makes it so magical. It’s in here.” She placed her hand lightly on Roxanne’s heart.

“You’re a smart lady, Grandma Myrtle,” Roxanne said, reaching up to cover her grandmother’s hand with hers.

“Oh, honey,” Myrtle laughed, “when you get to be my age you can’t help but be smart. You’ve had a whole lot of life to put behind you and learn a lot of lessons along the way. Some are easy, some are hard, but either way you’re going to learn them, like it or not.”

Roxanne put her face into her hands and mumbled around her fingers. “What would you do if you were me, Grandma? Would you say yes to a man you weren’t sure you really loved, or if he really loved you, just because it was easy and everybody was expecting you to? Would you move halfway around the world to chase your dream? What if there was something on the inside, something little but noisy, trying to tell you to do something different—would you listen, even if it was crazy?”

Grandma Myrtle leaned forward with a bright glint in her eye that reflected the moonlight, and for a brief moment Roxanne caught a glimpse of the woman Myrtle might have been a long, long time ago. “Sweetheart, if I were your age again, I’d do it all. This is your life, and your choice, but I’ll tell you one thing, dear girl. If there’s music in your heart, listen to it. That’s something you don’t want to miss.”

In that moment, Roxanne knew she couldn’t marry Hunter. And for the first time since she’d arrived at her family’s cabin, sitting on the front porch holding her grandmother’s hand in the dark, the sound of sleigh bells filled her ears.