One Bright Christmas

by Katherine Spencer

  Her mother had nominated her for the mission, since the car she’d been driving was the last in the driveaway. Emily had given her Lillian’s cell phone number “just in case.”

  Lauren didn’t mind taking a break from the party. She loved her family’s annual celebration, but it did seem overwhelming this year, with everyone asking what she’d been up to and her having to explain how she didn’t live in New York right now but planned to go back soon, or just being so vague that she was sure it seemed she was trying to hide something.

  Her singleton status made her self-conscious, too. Her sister Jillian had invited her steady boyfriend for the first time, and Amanda was with her husband, Gabriel. All on her own this year, Lauren felt as if she stuck out like a skunk at a garden party. She knew it was silly but couldn’t help the feeling, especially when relatives she didn’t see often asked curiously after her long-gone boyfriend, Greg. She knew they meant well, but it felt like salt rubbed into the wound each time she had to admit the relationship was over.

  Emily had told her to pull the car up to the side door; it was closest to the kitchen. Molly had sent a ton of food, enough to fill two cardboard boxes.

  Lauren carried the first box to the door. To her surprise, a light within flashed on and Lillian appeared before Lauren had even knocked.

  “My daughter told me to keep a lookout. You’re Lauren, the oldest one, right?”

  The oldest of her sisters, she meant, Lauren assumed. “That’s right.”

  “You favor your mother,” Lillian said.

  Lauren wasn’t sure if she meant that in a good way, considering the animosity between her mother and Lillian, but pretended to take the comment as a compliment.

  “So I’ve been told. Here you are, special delivery. Merry Christmas,” Lauren added.

  The old woman eyed her suspiciously, as if she wondered why Lauren was being so nice. “Yes, Merry Christmas. Just bring that in the kitchen. Leave it on the counter. I’ll sort it out.”

  Lauren did as she’d been asked. “How’s Ezra? I heard he’s sick.”

  “He needs some rest. He was not up to socializing in a huge crowd tonight.”

  Lauren sensed Lillian’s disapproval of her mother’s style of entertaining. If it was up to Lillian, families in the village would only host intimate dinner parties, with string quartets for entertainment.

  “Give him our best. There’s another box in the car. I’ll bring it in.”

  “Another box of food? That’s impossible. This offering will last at least a week.” Lillian peered into the carton that was already on the countertop. “Even if I send some home with our housekeeper.”

  Lauren wasn’t sure what to do. “You don’t want the rest?”

  Lillian shook her head. “At the risk of insulting anyone, certainly not. Waste not, want not. That’s my motto.”

  Lauren suspected she had a few more, too, all equally rigid-sounding. “No one will be insulted. I’ll bring it back.”

  “Please do. And please express our thanks to your mother for the gracious gesture. You really didn’t need to interrupt your party for us.”

  Lauren headed for the door and pulled out her car keys. “It wasn’t any trouble. It is Christmas.”

  “So I’ve heard,” Lillian murmured as she followed. The old woman offered a crisp little wave and shut the door.

  Lauren climbed into her car, suppressing a smile. Lillian Warwick was truly a one-of-a-kind personality. It was amazing to her how her aunt Jess and Jess’s sister, Emily, had turned out so warm and easygoing.

  She wasn’t in any hurry to get back to the party and realized she shared that sentiment with Lillian tonight.

  The gifts she’d bought and wrapped for Phoebe, Wilbur, and Cole were in a shopping bag in the back seat of the car, alongside the extra box of food, which was emitting a tempting aroma.

  She’d spotted Cole and Phoebe in church and had wanted to wish them a merry Christmas. But at the end of the service, they’d been swept out of sight by the crowd and she’d been hurried outside by her family, who were all eager to get home and start their party.

  Without giving the question too much thought—Don’t overthink things, Lauren, a little voice reminded her—she headed toward Sawyer’s Tree Farm instead of going back home. Maybe Cole and Phoebe would welcome her mother’s special dishes and desserts. She was sure Wilbur, at least, would not refuse the offering.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Lauren felt a sudden attack of nerves as she stood at the front door of Cole’s cottage. Lights glowed behind the sitting room curtains, and she heard Christmas music—Burl Ives singing “Have a Holly Jolly Christmas.” She felt as if she were intruding on their evening.

  She would just hand him the box of food and the bag of the gifts and wish them a merry Christmas. She wouldn’t even go in. Talk about departing from his family tradition; Cole might even be angry to see her there, interrupting this time with Phoebe.

  But when he swung open the door and found her there, his expression immediately dispelled her panic. “Lauren, come in, come in,” he said. “Phoebe was just talking about you.”

  Phoebe was kneeling on a kitchen chair; a big apron covered her fancy dress. She was up to her elbows in paste and glitter while Wilbur trotted about, a red satin bow fastened to his collar.

  “We’re making Christmas decorations. Our tree looks too bare,” Phoebe explained.

  “But it’s a very pretty tree,” Lauren said as she stepped into the small sitting room. The tree was in a stand near the sofa, opposite the small stone fireplace. A strand of colored lights had been wrapped around the branches, none too artfully, she noticed, and a few ornaments hung down here and there.

  “We’re just getting started. It will be perfect by the time Santa comes,” Cole promised. He took the box of food from Lauren. “Let me help you with this. And please, take off your coat.”

  She did slip off her coat and scarf and tossed them on a chair. So much for dropping everything off and not even going inside. But I don’t need to stay long, she reminded herself.

  “That’s some food from our family party. I had to make a delivery to Lillian and Ezra Elliot and thought you might like some, too. And these are just a few gifts,” she added, offering him the shopping bag.

  She followed him into the kitchen, where he started unpacking the box. “Wow, this looks great. Please thank your mom for us.”

  “I will. Her mission is to feed the world. She’ll be thrilled to hear I reached this outpost.”

  He turned back to the box. “Smells great, too. I’m feeling hungry already.”

  “We need to finish the tree, Dad,” Phoebe reminded him. She was trying to glue a nose on a cardboard reindeer’s face, but the little pink pom-pom was stuck to her finger.

  “Here, let me help you.” Lauren removed the fuzzy ball from Phoebe’s finger, then found it was stuck on her own. “How much glue did you put on this?”

  “Too much,” Phoebe admitted. Lauren laughed and stuck the pom-pom on her own nose. “How’s that? Do I qualify to pull Santa’s sleigh?”

  Phoebe laughed. “You need antlers.” She just happened to have a pair, made with pipe cleaners and decorated with gold glitter. She handed them over, and Lauren held them up on each side of her head. “How about now?”

  “Perfect!” Phoebe declared. “Look, Dad.”

  Cole met her gaze and smiled. “She is perfect, now that you mention it.”

  Lauren glowed with the compliment but focused on helping Phoebe finish the many ornaments she had started. Working together, they completed enough to cover at least the front of the tree. There were others, the store-bought kind, wrapped in tissue paper inside many boxes scattered around the sitting room. Lauren let Phoebe and Cole hang them. Most seemed laden with sentimental value, and she didn’t want to intrude.

  Phoebe saw a dish of can
dy canes on the mantle and asked Cole if she could add them to the tree as a special touch.

  “Just make sure you hang them high enough so they don’t tempt Wilbur. Lauren will help you. And that dish of cookies for Santa better be in a safe place, too,” he warned

  “Wilbur has a sweet tooth,” Phoebe whispered.

  “I’m not surprised,” Lauren whispered back. “Is it hard to live with a pig?”

  “There are a few things we have to remember,” Phoebe replied with a serious expression. “But we love him. Dad does, too.” Lauren didn’t doubt that.

  Cole had been slipping in and out of the kitchen during the tree trimming and announced dinner was ready.

  “Can you stay for a bite to eat?” he asked. “I bet your family is missing you already.”

  She suspected they might be but had texted her mother to say she’d made another stop. She checked her phone and saw just a question mark in answer.

  Did she really want to return to the family party, or did she want to stay here? The answer was clear. If her parents and sisters didn’t understand and got mad at her, so be it.

  When she looked to the future, another chance to spend a special night like this with Cole and Phoebe seemed highly unlikely. Lauren knew for sure she couldn’t pass up this one.

  “I’d love to stay,” she said finally. “There are so many people in our house right now, they’ll hardly miss me. How can I help? Let me set the table or something.”

  Cole seemed pleased by her reply, and Phoebe was wildly delighted. With her help, the table was laid. Cole brought the many dishes over from the stovetop and oven, a combination of specialties sent by her mother—mixed greens with goat cheese; baked clams; stuffed mushroom; crab cakes; and beef tenderloin—and the entrée he’d prepared for himself and Phoebe, a tomato sauce and pasta bake that smelled wonderful.

  Lauren sat across from Cole at the small table, with Phoebe between them and Wilbur roving around the kitchen, sniffing and snorting up any crumbs he could find.

  At Cole’s suggestion, they joined hands and he said a simple prayer. “Thank you, Lord, for this bountiful table, for all the gifts under the tree, and for our surprise guest. We’re grateful for your many blessings on Christmas and always.”

  “And thank you for Wilbur,” Phoebe shouted at the ceiling. Lauren met Cole’s gaze and struggled not to laugh.

  Dinner was not only delicious but the most fun she’d had in weeks. Phoebe was so excited about Santa coming, she could hardly eat or sit still in her seat.

  “What did you ask Santa to bring you this year?” Lauren waited with interest for her answer.

  “What didn’t she ask for?” Cole cut in.

  Phoebe answered the question. “A new LEGO set, and real boots to ride Buster. But the surprise I asked for most is a bike. A two-wheeler. A blue one with tassels on the handles and a bell. To warn everyone that I’m coming. And a basket in front. For Wilbur.”

  The vision made Lauren smile. “Good idea. But Wilbur will need a helmet, too, I guess.”

  Phoebe frowned. “I didn’t think of that. Santa will remember, right?”

  Cole glanced at Lauren. “If he doesn’t, we’ll figure it out. The thing is, honey, Wilbur is growing every day. You know how we talked about him going into the barn soon?”

  Phoebe looked solemn and nodded. “I remember. But he has to get bigger, right?”

  Wilbur seemed to know he was being discussed—or just knew the best time to beg at the table for scraps? He was sidled up to Phoebe, his head lifted against her leg and his nose just below the edge of the table as she stroked his silky head.

  “I think he’s just about there,” Cole said quietly. “But we don’t have to worry about that tonight. We’ll figure it out after the holidays are over.”

  Lauren thought that was a good compromise. “Wilbur might like the barn. He’ll make a lot of friends there. You’re out at school all day. Maybe he gets lonely and wants someone to play with?”

  Phoebe had been sneaking the pig a piece of pasta from her dish and looked up at Lauren. “I didn’t think of that. I’ll have to ask him.”

  Cole looked grateful for Lauren’s suggestion. “Meanwhile, remember what I said about tonight?”

  Phoebe’s expression brightened. “Wilbur can pick the story?”

  “That’s right. Run up and get ready for bed. Then bring down some books he might like. You need to get to sleep, or Santa won’t stop here tonight.”

  Phoebe didn’t need to hear the instructions twice. She slipped off her chair and dashed out the kitchen door. Moments later, they heard her running up the staircase.

  “It’s so cute that she still believes in Santa,” Lauren whispered to Cole.

  He mocked a confused expression. “What do you mean, still believes? Is there some reason she shouldn’t?”

  She laughed at his reply, and his adorable expression made her heart do a backflip. She quickly rose and picked up dirty dishes to hide her reaction. They cleaned up the kitchen together, then set out cookies and cake on the table for dessert.

  Phoebe came downstairs, wearing her pajamas, robe, and fuzzy slippers. Her little face had that freshly washed look. She dropped the picture books that were in her arms and made a beeline for the sweets. “Yum! Christmas cookies!”

  “Just one to start, honey. And a glass of milk,” Cole said. “You don’t want a tummy ache.”

  Phoebe nodded, stuffing most of a large sugar-coated star into her mouth. “I made these with Christine and Jack Jr.,” she said, talking through a mouthful of cookie. “Want to try one?”

  Lauren knew she meant Christine Sawyer and her little boy. David and Christine lived just down the road from the tree farm.

  “Yes, please. They look delicious.” Lauren chose a Christmas tree with lopsided zigzags of colored icing. “Hmmm, these are good. Better than my mom’s bakery.” It was true, too. Because Phoebe had made them.

  They were soon in the living room, sitting on the floor near the hearth, where orange flames flickered and danced. A real fireplace was more work than the gas kind her parents had in their family room, but Lauren loved the scent of the burning wood.

  “Okay, let’s see which book Wilbur wants to hear tonight.” Phoebe spread out three books in the middle of their circle. All the stories seemed to include pigs, or at least farm animals. Lauren was not surprised. She was familiar with the titles, because of her little sister Betty, and impressed by the selection: Click, Clack, Moo: Cows That Type; The Story of Peppa Pig; and The Three Little Wolves and the Big Bad Pig, a reversal of the traditional big bad wolf story.

  Phoebe put Wilbur in their midst. He sniffed each book, then started to chew the cover of the Peppa edition. “He wants Peppa again.” Phoebe pulled him back, and he cuddled in her lap.

  Cole picked up the winner and put the others aside. To Lauren’s surprise, he held it out to her. “Would you like to read to us, Lauren? I’m beat from all the cooking.”

  She doubted that. Most of his culinary efforts had been heating the tins her mother had sent. But she was honored by the request. “I’d be happy to.”

  “Do you know who Peppa is?” Phoebe asked.

  “Who doesn’t know Peppa? She’s my role model,” Lauren stated. She caught Cole’s grin but focused on starting the story. It was one of Phoebe’s favorites and she asked to hear it a second time. Then she requested Click, Clack, Moo, and Cole took over.

  Finally, it was time for Phoebe to head upstairs and get in bed. Her eyes were closing, and she rubbed them with her hands. “One more, please?”

  “Tomorrow,” Cole promised. “Maybe Santa will bring you some new books.”

  If the big guy fell short, Lauren had two picture books for Phoebe in her shopping bag of gifts.

  “Time for bed. Say good night to Lauren,” Cole reminded her.

  “Good nigh
t, Lauren.” Phoebe gave her a sweet hug. “I hope you had fun. Merry Christmas.”

  Lauren hugged her back. It was hard to let go. “I had the best Christmas Eve ever, Phoebe. I can’t wait to hear if Santa delivers that blue bicycle. Let me know, okay?”

  Phoebe stepped back and nodded, and Cole took her hand and led her to the stairs. Wilbur followed, trotting behind them as if he had a job to do.

  Cole stopped and peered down at the pig, frowning.

  “Can Wilbur sleep in my room tonight? Please? It’s Christmas.”

  Cole looked doubtful, and Phoebe added, “He might scare Santa away if he’s down here. He’s a very good watch pig.”

  “A watch pig?” Cole echoed. He shook his head and laughed. “Okay, sweetie, but just for tonight. Because it’s Christmas. Come on, Wilbur.”

  The pig did not need to be asked twice. He snorted and followed them at a fast clip for his stubby little legs.

  Lauren waited in the living room as the muffled sounds of Phoebe brushing her teeth and being tucked in drifted down the stairs.

  She found her shopping bag and set gifts for Cole and Phoebe under the tree. She felt self-conscious now about having bought gifts for them, though they were small items. It was unlikely Cole had gotten her anything, and he might feel awkward.

  Then she wasn’t sure what to do. She considered finding her coat and bag, so she’d look ready to go when Cole came down. Did he expect her to? She wasn’t sure of that either.

  Before she could decide, he appeared, smiling and shaking his head. “She fought it all the way but went out like a light as soon as her head hit the pillow.”

  He flopped onto one end of the couch, and she sat on the other side. We’ll just chat a minute or two. It would be rude to run off, she told herself.

  “All the excitement and anticipation tired her out, I guess,” Lauren said.

  “It’s been building for weeks. But it’s so nice to see her enjoy Christmas this year. The last two have been sort of grim,” he admitted. “It sure helped to have you here.”

  Lauren felt the color rush to her cheeks. “It helped me, too. My annoying relatives were asking too many questions.”