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Theo shook his head. “No, that was just for my wish tag for the Wish Tree. This wish was different.”

“What was your greatest wish, Theo?”

The boy looked unsure for a moment before chewing on the inside of his cheek and giving in. “I…um. I asked Santa to fix my grandpa’s heart and to help him not be sad anymore.”

Ben’s breath caught, his chin pulling back in shock. He opened his mouth to speak, but Theo wasn’t done.

“I hoped Santa would send someone to us that could make you laugh again, like you used to when grandma was here,” he said earnestly. “I wanted us to do the things we did all those other Christmases, like going on walks, and seeing the people in the square, and decorating the house for Christmas.”

A thick, tight knot formed in Ben’s throat as he listened to what his grandson wanted most in the world, and his heart broke in two. “Theo,” he started.

Theo shrugged, on the verge of real tears. “I’m sorry, Grandpa. I didn’t know how to make you happy, so when Maggie started coming over and making you laugh, and baking with us, I knew Santa was granting my wish. But then…” He trailed off.

Ben closed his eyes for a brief, heavy second, the sheer weight of his grandson’s observations and feelings of responsibility washing over him like a cold harbor tide.

“Theo, I need you to listen to me now,” Ben said, his voice filled with as much warmth as he could possibly express, leaving no room for doubt.

Theo lifted his head all the way, his eyes searching Ben’s face with a heartbreaking vulnerability.

Ben continued, his thumb gently brushing the back of the boy’s hand. “You wrote a very kind and thoughtful letter. It came from a loving heart, and you were right about me. I shouldn’t have held my sadness on my own for so long. But, I need you to hear something very clearly, and I need you to remember it every single day when you wake up in this house.”

Theo nodded slowly, remaining completely still in his wooden chair, his eyes locked onto his grandfather’s face.

“It is not your job to make this house happy,” Ben stated with absolute, unyielding conviction. “It isn’t your job to fix my heart, or watch my face when I walk through the door, or try to guess why the woodshop is extra quiet one day. You’re seven years old, my boy. Your only jobs when you’re in this town with me are to build snow forts, sand dory hulls, eat pancakes at the diner, and play with your friends. Don’t let my grief keep you from joy, okay?”

Theo’s lower lip trembled, a single tear escaping his lashes and trailing down his cheek. “I just wanted you to laugh again. We used to laugh all the time.”

Ben swallowed hard as he lifted his hand to gently wipe the tear from Theo’s cheek. “I know. And I promise you that we will keep laughing together from now on. We can be sad about missing Grandma, but as long as we have each other, nothing can keep us down.”

Theo’s shoulders rose with a deep breath as if an invisible ten-pound weight had been unstrapped from his small body. “Are you glad Maggie brought the cinnamon rolls to the shop?”

Ben offered a genuine smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked at his grandson. “I’m very glad. Maggie brought life back into our shop, and she helped both of us remember how to enjoy this town. Whatever happens with grown-up schedules or pageant events, that life isn’t going away again. I’m staying right here, and we’re going to enjoy every day of this holiday season.”

Theo let out a relieved sigh, his entire posture relaxing into the wooden chair. He reached for his silver spoon, dipping it into the warm oatmeal with sudden, renewed appetite. “Can we put the red bird that you carved for Grandma on our Christmas tree before we go down to the bus stop?”

Ben picked up his own spoon, his heart significantly lighter. He looked at the bright sunlight spilling across the kitchen floorboards, feeling an abiding peace settle over the house. “We’ll put it right on the top branch beside the wooden stars, but we definitely aren’t making it to the bus on time.” He chuckled and shook his head.

They finished their breakfast and walked into the living room. In the corner, near the potbelly wood-burner stood the six-foot Fraser fir tree, its dark needle boughs giving off a rich, resinous aroma of fresh evergreen and damp woods. Dozens of carved pine stars hung from the branches, their pale surfaces catching the warm glow of the tree lights that wound neatly around it.

Ben crossed the floorboards after quickly retrieving the finished red cedar cardinal. The bright red wood stain had dried completely, leaving the bird’s crimson body shining with a subtle, protective coat of hand-rubbed linseed oil. Beside him, Theo bounded over to the small sideboard table, his green flannel shirt sleeves pushed up past his wrists, his eyes bright with excitement as he pointed toward the carving.

“Is it ready for the loop?” Theo asked, his small fingers tapping eagerly against the edge of the wooden table.

“It’s completely ready,” Ben replied, reaching into his wool sweater pocket to pull out a spool of thin brass wire and a pair of small needle-nose pliers. “We’ll make a three-inch loop so the tail hangs level between the evergreen needles without catching on the pinecones.”

Ben sat down in the low cushioned armchair beside the fir tree, keeping his large hands steady as he threaded the brass wire through the small eyelet screwed into the bird’s crest. Theo leaned against his knee, watching with focus as Ben used the pliers to twist the wire ends into a tight, neat coil. Theo reached out, his pointer finger gently smoothing the cardinal’s dark black eye ring.

“It looks like it’s getting ready to sing,” Theo noted, a happy smile lighting up his young face.

Ben returned his smile with his own as he held the cardinal gingerly. This carved bird was a physical reminder that love was meant to be shared, brought into the open air, and passed forward to the people who depended on him.

Ben stood up from the wooden armchair, holding the cardinal by its wire loop. “Where should we put it?”

Theo looked up at the green branches of the Fraser fir, pointing his finger toward the highest section near the wooden star. “Right on the top branch facing the front window. So the morning sun hits the red wings when people look up from the road on their way to the docks.”

Ben smiled warmly, bending down to slide his large hands under the boy’s arms. He lifted Theo up easily, raising him until the boy’s head was level with the top of the tree. “Hold the wire tight and slip it over the branch.”

Theo reached out with both hands, his small fingers carefully guiding the brass wire loop over the strong pine tip. He settled the red cardinal, adjusting the tail until the bird rested securely between two clusters of dark needles.