The first few snowflakes of winter drifted down. Cassie worried the car radio, trying to find a forecast, but there was only static and white noise. Piece of junk radio in a piece of junk car. The River Point mall was still twenty miles away, on the other side of Buffalo Woods, but Christmas would be here before you know it, and Cassie had presents to buy and wrap and put in the mail. The handwritten list was sitting on the passenger seat beside her. Wishful thinking, Cassie thought: no way could she afford what she had in mind: the new Sheryl Holmes mystery and some imported dark chocolate for her mom, an antique ceramic bowl and a John Wayne movie on DVD for her dad, flannel shirts for her baby brother, and a black cashmere sweater for his new wife. Heck, she could barely afford the postage. If only the holidays could be postponed. Cassie smiled, flipped off the useless radio, and noticed the gas gauge. Nearly empty. Figures, Cassie said aloud.

Luckily, there was a service station ahead, the last one before Buffalo Woods. Cassie pulled up to the pump. The dollars and cents raced. Cassie made sure to stop well before twenty dollars. The dial showed $19.01. Cassie didn’t trust herself to squeeze in a few more ounces. She hung up the gas pump and went inside the station to pay.

The girl behind the counter looked a little like Cassie, maybe a couple of years younger, but with the same soft blonde hair and sweet smile. Cassie carefully fished a twenty dollar bill from her wallet and set it on the counter. “Wait, I’m sure I’ve got the penny,” Cassie said, and she fished in the coin compartment and came out with the one cent coin, which she set on top of the twenty.

“Just the gas today?” the girl said, ringing up the sale. The cash register dinged and the drawer slid open. “Here you go.” The girl handed a ten dollar bill to Cassie, who took it without thinking.

“Wait,” Cassie said, having noticed the denomination, “this is a ten.”

The girl nodded.

“But I gave you a twenty. The change should be a dollar.”

The girl wrinkled her nose, shrugged, and said, “I guess this is your lucky day.” Her blue eyes twinkled.

Cassie was reluctant to put the ten into her purse. “It doesn’t seem right,” Cassie said.

The girl just smiled and shrugged.

Outside the station entrance, a guy in a threadbare flannel Santa suit was ringing a bell for Salvation Army donations. Jink-jink. Jink-jink. He smiled at Cassie, a warm smile. The man was at most of middle-age, and much too scrawny for Santa, but his dirty white beard and the fluffy tufts of white hair peeking out over his ears from underneath his cap looked genuine. Cassie still had the ten dollar bill in her hand. She dropped it into the guy’s red bucket. “Bless you ma’am,” the Santa said in a voice half whisper half cough. His blue eyes twinkled. “And be careful out there.” As if to punctuate the warning, a pair of gunshots barked from the wooded hills. The Salvation Army Santa frowned. “Deer season,” he said, shaking his head.