Aha! Sarah grinned as she spotted a coil of ribbon sticking out of a box nearby. She had finished cleaning up the mess from the toppled boxes, and now worked her way over to the box of Christmas decorations that she had been searching for all morning. It was just in time too; she was beginning to shiver from the cold and damp condition of the basement. A poorly heated basement in upstate New York was not a great place to be when it was the middle of winter. She yanked the cardboard box from its resting place and hauled it toward her, regaining her balance so that she didn't fall for the second time. Out of breath, she carried the fruits of her labor up the creaking stairs toward her living room.
It's funny how things change over time. When she was younger, Sarah had dreamed of becoming an actress in the big city. After a few visits to New York and Chicago, she had learned that the fresh air and freedom that she thrived upon were only to be found outside the urban centers, and that her wild imagination didn't always help her acting. She had tried her hand at writing, instead, and found that she had a knack for finding the right words to tell stories. When she was 21, she had published her first book, a charming story about a giant maze, an enchanting monarch, and a young girl. The money that she had amassed from the sale of Labyrinth had earned her enough money to put a down payment on a small house in rural New York, far away from the bustling city.
The popularity of her book had certainly caused people to sit up and pay attention; just the other day she'd had a call from her publisher who had astonishing news; a man named Jim had fallen in love with the story and wanted to create a movie. At the rate she was going, she wouldn't have to worry again about paying the bills. No one had ever questioned the reality of her story. Such a far fetched tale couldn't possibly have happened; although Sarah knew that the detail with which she told the story couldn't have come to life if she hadn't lived it. When young children asked her if she had really gone through the labyrinth and met the goblin king, she always answered yes, that she had. Parents would smile, convinced that she was playing a part; she never argued otherwise.
The holidays had always been important to Sarah. She rummaged through the box from the basement, looking at the glass and paper ornaments that she had accumulated through the years. This was the first time in a long while that her family would not be around for Christmas. Karen's parents, who lived in Florida, had invited the family to visit over the holiday. Although Sarah had been invited, she had declined, complaining that she had too much work to do. Sarah's relationship with Karen had improved dramatically since her 16th year, but she still felt awkward and a little bit left out being with Toby's grandparents. She planned instead to have a few friends who were also alone for the holidays, and a small but cheery party.
It's Christmas Eve, she thought, and got an idea. She rummaged around in a cupboard underneath her television and brought out a classic movie: Miracle on 34th street. One of her favorites, and a necessity for holiday viewing. She hung ornaments on an artificial tree as Mr. Gaily tried to convince Susan and Doris Walker that Kris Kringle was real.
"I agree with my mother, fairy tales are silly," little Susan Walker proclaimed to Fred Gaily. Sarah gazed at the black and white faces and became lost in thought. That's right, Susan, Sarah thought, fairy tales only bring you heartache. Listen to Momma.
"The decorations look just wonderful," gushed Sarah's friend, Amy Vaughan. "I can't believe how much you've done with this place, you've only lived here a year, right?" Sarah nodded.
"I guess I've always had a knack for finding what goes with what, that's what I get for having this quirky imagination," she smiled. Sarah continued to clear the dinner table from the meal she and her friends had shared. Amy was helping clear the plates, while Gus and Adam lounged on the couch, flipping through the television stations to find anything that resembled sports.
"So whatever happened with you and David?" Amy had been very patient all evening, biding her time until she could pry for information. Sarah knew it had been killing her friend, who always liked to be on top of what was going on in everyone's lives. She smiled softly.
"Nothing. He got a job in Syracuse working for an advertising firm, and I didn't want to move to follow him. Things weren't really going anywhere."
"But he was so nice," Amy protested, "he really liked you. I thought for sure it was a match."
"I know," Sarah sighed, "but there was just something missing. Maybe I'm crazy to be holding out, I don't really even know what I'm holding out FOR. But I keep having this feeling that there's something better out there, and if I'm only patient for long enough, everything will work out just fine." Amy smiled, and put a hand on Sarah's shoulder.
"I know, sweetie, I just worry about you. It's hard living out here on your own. What if there's a snow storm and you get stuck and we can't get to you? I'd feel better if someone were here looking out for you. And of course I want you to be happy… maybe we need to find that hot little goblin king of yours." She laughed, and Sarah joined her.
"Ah, if only," Sarah sighed.
When the dishes were done, the friends gathered and played Scrabble for a while. They finally gave up, relinquishing the game to the published author among them. Gus threw some Scrabble tiles at Sarah until she promised never to play again without giving them all a "non-professional writer's handicap." After the game they exchanged gifts. Amy handed Sarah a package in bright green wrapping that turned out to be a CD that she had wanted, and received the exact same CD in return from Sarah. After the laughter died down, they watched Gus and Adam open their gifts, and exchanged with each other. There was a great round of laughter and happiness as each exclaimed over the gifts that they received.
All too soon, the evening ended, and Sarah watched her friends drive into the night. She folded her arms against the cold air as taillights dimmed and finally disappeared. Turning around, she closed the door and walked back into the living room, grabbing a handful of wrapping paper shards on her way. She smiled, thinking of the fun they had when she got together with her close friends. After cleaning the kitchen and loading the dishwasher with the new collection of dirty plates and glasses, she ambled into the living room for a night of relaxation. She picked up the remote control for her stereo, and turned on some Christmas music. Closing her eyes, she let the music enter her subconscious.
When she opened her eyes again, a few moments later, she let her eyes come to rest underneath the tree she had decorated the day before. A small box was sitting on the tree skirt, small enough that she might have missed it earlier. Upon further consideration, Sarah realized that one of her friends must have left it for her to find. Smiling at the gesture, she crawled to the tree and sat Indian style, like a small child. There was no card attached to the gift, so nothing remained but to tear the shiny silver paper covering it. Dropping the paper to the carpet, she saw that she held a small wooden box, carved with what looked like Celtic designs. Sarah was amazed that her friends would know her so well and what intrigued her. She found a small latch on the front of the box, and opened the clasp to see what was inside.
A small, silver ring rested in the center of a tiny silk pillow. Her initials, SW, were carved into it. Sarah recognized it immediately; it had been a birthday present from her mother when she was very young. When she was 16 she had worn it constantly; now it barely fit her pinky finger. When had she lost it? She turned the ring over in her fingers, and looked again at the box which had held it. A small piece of paper was lodged between the small pillow and the box itself. Placing the ring again on her pinky finger, she picked up the paper and read the sentence inscribed there. "True love does not fade over time." The words blurred, seemed to become lines, a maze of lines scrawled upon the small scrap of parchment. And then Sarah remembered what had happened to her ring.