My dream memory brought me to Christmas Eve. It took me a moment to figure out which one.
I watched from across the street as my Scrooge ran into the church, only a minute after Christmas Eve mass had started. I smiled proudly. Franklin, a plump Ghost of Christmas Past, and Moira, a bespectacled Ghost of Christmas Future, stood with me.
“I love a dramatic finale,” Moira gushed, wringing her braid like a dishtowel. “Elliot really put up a fight at the beginning. He’s come so far.”
“A proper pain in the keister he was,” Franklin agreed in his Alabama accent. “Fella was this close to blowing it.”
“And yet, we’re all wrapped up at five o’clock,” I said, checking my watch. “And with half a dozen charms on my bracelet to spare. I know this is only my fifth season running a Scrooging mission,
