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She laughed. “I know it’s wrong to hurt someone, but he made me so mad. Who does that? If you ask me—” She stopped talking midsentence and looked at him.

“Sorry. I’ve been going on and on, and you’ve been very polite to listen to me. I’m going to leave you now to enjoy your morning while I get back to my dusting.”

“And Dolly,” he teased.

“Yes. And Dolly.”

Dena rose and collected their empty plates, along with her mug, and took them to the kitchen. Micah stayed where he was for a few more minutes, smiling when the music resumed. When the song ended, he went out a side door and walked over to the carriage house and his one-bedroom suite. Once inside, he got out his guitar and a pad of paper, then sat on the sofa and waited for inspiration.

Two hours later, he’d crossed out as many lines as he’d written and couldn’t come up with even the beginning of a melody. He’d hoped Wishing Tree would help with his creativity, but so far there wasn’t any magic to be found. If it wasn’t here, he wondered if it was anywhere. And if it wasn’t, the problem wasn’t the magic—it was him.

Reggie shivered in the cold night air. This time of year sunset was barely after four, so by seven, the temperature had seriously dropped. She wore a scarf, gloves and a hat, but she was still freezing by the time she and her sister arrived at The Wreath.

“How can it be this cold and not snow?” Dena asked with a laugh as she tugged open the door of Holiday Spirits. “It’s just plain wrong.”

“Maybe, but the stars kind of make up for it. The sky is amazing.”

The building was long and narrow, with a jukebox at one end. Booths lined one wall, and the twenty-foot bar lined the other. The décor was wood-centric and the drink menu eclectic. They’d serve beer or a glass of wine, but not graciously. Holiday Spirits was all about the hard liquor.

The specials were listed on blackboards. Every imaginable kind of liquor was represented on the mirrored shelves. Most of the time the snacks were minimal at best, but every few months there was a cocktail tasting menu with five courses and a different drink for each course. Reservations and a designated driver were both required.

Reggie smiled. She’d always loved this place—with its attitude and fancy drinks. As a teenager, she’d dreamed about being old enough to come here. She’d had her first, um, well, legal drink here, the day she’d turned twenty-one. She’d been on plenty of dates that had ended here, but mostly Holiday Spirits was where she hung out with her friends.

She spotted Paisley by one of the booths, waving frantically.

“There,” Reggie said.

Paisley met them halfway and hugged Dena, then Reggie.

“You’re back! How’s Belle?”

“Pouting. She was upset I was leaving, so Mom’s letting her have the recliner while I’m gone.”

With a blanket covering her, Reggie thought, grinning at the memory of her dog getting comfy for the evening.

“I’m so happy to see you. Stop leaving. It makes me sad.”

Reggie laughed. “I live in Seattle.”

“Yes, well, I’ve never approved of that, have I?” Paisley, a beautiful, leggy blonde with plenty of smarts and enough sarcasm to be interesting, turned to Dena. “How are you feeling? I think we should seat you on the outside, in case you have to run off and, you know.”

“Barf?” Reggie asked cheerfully.

Paisley winced. “Please don’t say that word. I have a very sensitive gag reflex.”

Reggie hung her and her sister’s coats on the hooks outside the booth, then realized another woman was already seated there, a petite redhead with a tentative smile.

“Hi,” Reggie said, holding out her hand. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Reggie.”

“Shaye.”

Paisley, Reggie and Dena slid into the booth.

“I’ve told you about Shaye,” Paisley said. “She moved here over the summer and got engaged to Lawson Easley.”

Shaye held up her left hand. “It appears to be legal.”

“Congratulations,” Reggie said. “Both Paisley and my sister have said nice things about you.”