by Olivia Miles
His real life, he had to remind himself.
Now he’d much prefer to be back in the comfort of his high-rise apartment, with fifty different take-out menus at the ready. But business was business and he was never one to be irresponsible when it came to that.
Parenting, on the other hand…He sucked in a breath. That was one thing he’d always tried to get right, but unlike every other relationship he had, he had the sinking feeling that he was coming up short.
Now was the chance to change that. He had to do better.
“Tell you what,” he said, grinning at his daughter even though she didn’t match his effort. “To make up for letting you down today, you can choose anything you want that will make up for it.”
As he slid to a stop at the intersection, he saw her eyes widen with interest. “Anything?”
He smiled. “Well, it can’t be too crazy. I can’t buy you a llama or something. I can’t fly you to the moon.”
Couldn’t turn back time either, he thought with a heavy heart he pushed away by tightening his grip on the steering wheel.
She giggled now, a sound that made him nearly sigh in relief. “So we’re good? Even with pizza for Thanksgiving?”
“As long as it’s plain cheese,” she said, narrowing her eyes, but she couldn’t fight the smile this time, and just for a moment, Phil dared to think that this trip might not be so bad after all.
*
So much for tradition. Cora stood inside the lakefront Victorian home where she and her sisters had spent many magical holidays, and stared in dismay at the dining room table, where a giant cardboard cut-out of a turkey was taking center stage where the real bird should be placed after being carved. Candy was trussed up in an apron with a giant turkey face on it, and in lieu of ruffles, there were fabric turkey feathers for the trim.
Cora caught her sister Amelia’s eye across the room, but quickly looked away. They had a way of sharing their deepest, innermost thoughts with the slightest widening of the eye, and all it took was one glance before the giggles caught on, and trying as Candy could be, the last thing Cora wanted to do was hurt the woman’s feelings. She had clearly put a lot of thought into the day, even if she did seem to think she was hosting a group of school age children, rather than four young women in their twenties and thirties. And besides, Cora was feeling generous.
“I bet Keira will love this,” Cora offered. “What time are Britt and Robbie coming?”
Amelia answered, “The Bradfords eat earlier in the day, so they should be here soon. Britt said they were stopping by the orchard for another bottle of wine.”
“Don’t we have plenty here?” Their eldest sister now managed the family orchard and winery, and it wasn’t like her to be anything less than punctual. But then, reuniting with her high school sweetheart and his adorable little girl had done wonders for her mood these days. As had coming back to town.
It was their first Thanksgiving all together in over a decade.
Well, almost all together, Cora thought, letting her eyes drift to the chair nearest the kitchen where their mother always sat.
She swallowed back that thought before her heart grew too heavy to enjoy the day, and said to Amelia, “Did Matt join them? You didn’t want to go?”
Like Britt, Amelia had recently found love again, with Robbie’s cousin. One by one, things were changing, and the table was growing. Cora couldn’t help but wonder if this time next year she might have a reason to have an extra chair pulled up to the table.
Amelia shook her head. “I promised Candy I’d help cook for today.” She gave Cora a knowing look. “Well, more like I promised Aunt Miriam.”
Cora laughed. “I’m sure she’s grateful.”
Amelia was the best cook in town if anyone were to ask Cora, and she was certain that the devoted patrons of the Firefly Café would agree.
Candy on the other hand…Well, finger foods were more her specialty.
“Thanks for bringing the casserole. It was one less thing for me to do,” Amelia added.
“I assume Maddie is bringing the pies?” She didn’t need to ask, but with Candy, anything was possible.
“Apple and pumpkin!” Maddie cried out as she burst into the room, her cheeks rosy from the cold, her scarf wrapped tightly around her neck. Her boyfriend, Cole McCarthy, closed the door and locked it, before remembering where he was and unlocking it. The Conway residence was always open to any newcomer.
Even Candy, Cora reminded herself.
“The snow is really coming down out there,” Cole observed, wiping his shoes on the mat.
Cora smiled at him. She knew that this holiday must be even more difficult for him than it was for her or her sisters. Sure, it was their first holiday with their father’s girlfriend, but this was Cole’s first holiday without his mother, who had passed away at the start of the month. She was happy to be able to welcome him into their home, to give him some distraction and companionship, however untraditional the night was shaping up to be. It was one of the things that she loved most about holidays, though Christmas in particular. It was the opportunity to welcome new faces, or reunite with old ones, on a single night where bygones could be bygones, and everything was merry and happy and full of hope.
And hope she had, she thought with a little smile. Tomorrow morning that handsome stranger just might come into her store, and this time, she’d be ready.
As with all holidays in the Conway home, there was a flourish of activity as everyone arrived and they prepared the table, careful not to upset any of Candy’s homemade decorations. Even cousin Gabby, who owned the flower shop in town, set her stunning red and orange arrangement on the buffet so it wouldn’t upstage Candy’s efforts. Chairs were pulled back, and room was made for others to slide in, and among all the happy chaos that reminded Cora why she loved being part of a big family, her father caught her eye across the room.
“I wanted to give you something,” he said, motioning for her to follow him.
Cora glanced at the table, where Britt was helping Keira to a glass of sparkling cider, and Robbie and Matt were politely warning everyone that their stomachs were already full. Aunt Miriam was already scolding Uncle Steve to go easy on the butter and mind his cholesterol, and Britt was asking cousin Jenna what time Miriam’s sister and her family would arrive for dessert.
Seeing as Natalie Clark worked during the winter season for Cora when the ferries stopped running out to Evening Island where she usually worked at a big summer resort, Cora had it on good authority that the Clarks would be arriving at seven. It was their tradition to all come together, including Aunt Miriam’s family along with the Conways, and Cora was already looking forward to the second part of the evening.
“Don’t you need to carve the turkey?” Cora asked worriedly. It was tradition, after all, and she wasn’t exactly sure what would happen to the poor bird if Candy took the task upon herself.
“This won’t take a minute, and I didn’t want to forget. You know how these nights can go.”
She smiled at him as they stopped in his study. These nights were long. There would be food, and laughter, and wine, and then there would be dishes and dessert and more dishes, and then games and music, and more wine. Their family was in the business of wine, after all. And it was a holiday.
Dennis reached over and pulled a box from his desk. “I found this when I was up in the attic, rummaging through our old Christmas decorations. I don’t think we’ve had this out for years, but once I saw it, I knew it was something you should have.”
Of course. Everyone always wanted to give Cora their old Christmas decorations, even if some of it wasn’t exactly worth keeping. But this, this was something from the attic of her childhood home. Meaning that maybe…
“It was your mother’s,” he said, reading her thoughts.
Cora looked up at him, seeing the mist in his eyes, even though the room was dim, only lit by a single lamp in the corner.
Carefully, she pulled back the tissue, revealing a snow globe wi
th a charming village scene inside.
“I’m afraid it doesn’t play music anymore,” he warned.
“It doesn’t have to,” Cora said, feeling her own tears threaten to fall. “It’s perfect just as it is.”
“Your mother loved nothing more than a small-town Christmas,” Dennis said. “This was one of her most prized possessions. I thought it was lost. Or broken. Your mother bought this the first Christmas we were married. She said that every time she looked at it, she remembered that wishes can come true.”
“A Christmas wish always finds a way of coming true,” Cora murmured. She looked at her father sharply. “She used to say that, too.”
Dennis straightened his back. “She’d want you to have it. She’d be so proud of all the traditions you’ve kept going for our family. I am, too, even if I haven’t said it enough.”
“I know,” Cora said as she carefully set the snow globe back in the box. Sensing that her father’s mood was shifting, as she did with every holiday, she did her best to turn things onto more cheerful territory. “And that’s why I think it’s really important that we get back out there so you can carve that turkey.”
Dennis laughed and pulled her in for a quick hug before planting a kiss on the top of her head.
From the dining room they heard Amelia call out, “No touching those potatoes until the turkey is carved!”
“Some things never change,” Dennis said, shaking his head.
Cora grinned up at him. “Some things aren’t supposed to.”
2
Cora stood behind the counter of her shop the next morning, wearing her “lucky” Black Friday sweater—the very same sweater she wore to kick off the official start to the holiday season each year. Granted, it was red, and the color wasn’t exactly the most suitable for redheads, even if her hair was more auburn, like her father’s. But it was soft against her skin, and cozy enough to keep the chill away every time the door opened and the jingle bells jangled to alert her that a new customer had entered.
The bells had been ringing all morning, and while usually the sound faded into the background of the carols she had playing over the speakers, today Cora was on high alert. She darted her gaze to the paned door again, hoping to see the handsome man from yesterday, but it was just a little girl in a puffer coat.
Still, Cora couldn’t help but smile at the way the child’s eyes lit up and a gasp overtook her before her face broke out into a smile. She had dark curls that fell to her shoulders under her knitted hat, and the oversized pom-pom was comically toppled to the side.
Cora walked over to her, holding a plate of cut-out cookies that she’d commissioned Maddie to make special for today.
“Would you like a cookie?” she asked, and then, thinking the better of it, added, “Or do you need to ask your parents first?”
“I’m nine years old. I know the rules.” The little girl licked her bottom lip in anticipation as she hovered her hand over the plate, clearly torn between the sparkly sugar cookie in the shape of a mitten and the equally sparkly cookie in the shape of a wreath.
She went for the mitten, the larger of the two.
“We have hot cocoa at the back of the store, too,” Cora said. It was a hazard, she knew, to be offering beverages in her store, especially when everyone was crammed together in their bulky winter outerwear, but luckily, despite the amount of products she had on display, most people were very careful. Sure, things did break from time to time, but over the years she’d learned to place the more valuable items at higher reach, both on the shelves and on the trees.
“Oh, goody!” the little girl said through a bite of cookie. “You know, this cookie is way better than the ones I had for dessert last night.”
Cora looked at her with interest. “You didn’t have pie on Thanksgiving?”
The little girl frowned briefly. “No. My dad forgot. But that’s okay,” she said, with a shrug. “He said that I could pick anything I wanted to make up for it.”
“Anything?” Cora bit her lip to keep from laughing. She supposed that failing to give this sweet little girl a proper Thanksgiving dinner was worth a big favor.
“Well, anything he can buy, like a toy or doll. I can’t ask for a dog or anything.” Now the little girl frowned again, deeper this time, and Cora felt so bad that she held out the cookie tray and gave the girl a wink. Immediately, the little girl lit up like Cora’s brightest Christmas tree.
“A dog is a very big responsibility,” Cora said, not that she would know. She herself would love a furry companion, but with her work at the store, she knew that she wouldn’t be home long enough to give it the exercise and attention it deserved, even if she did live just upstairs from the shop. She’d considered the possibility of allowing a dog to stay with her in the store all day (she’d name it something festive like Merry or Dasher), but again…there were just so many products. It wouldn’t have space to roam.
“My mom said that it wouldn’t be fair to take a dog back and forth between two houses, especially all the way to California,” the child said sagely. “And my dad doesn’t even have a house. He has an apartment. No yard or anything.”
“I see,” Cora said, hiding a smile.
“But my mom and Arthur are moving to Indiana soon and that will be closer to my dad, so maybe I’ll ask again.” The little girl looked troubled. “But I think that my stepdad might be allergic.”
Now Cora frowned. “Tell you what,” she said, determined to cheer up the child and also noticing that a line had begun to form at the counter. She noticed Gladys O’Leary, who seemed to be making a dramatic gesture of sighing and tapping her foot, even though it was plain as day that Cora was standing just a few feet away. “You go help yourself to some hot chocolate and look around the store, and when you’re ready, I’ll show you my Christmas wishing ball.”
“A Christmas wishing ball?” The little girl’s gray eyes were round and bright, in sharp contrast with her dark hair.
“Well, it’s a snow globe, really, but a very special one,” Cora explained. She’d taken great pride in setting the new addition to her shop on the counter this morning, almost daring to feel her mother’s presence was with her. “Sometimes the best things we can ask for can’t be bought.”
Now she glanced back at the counter again, suppressing one of her own sighs as Gladys gave her an obvious glare. A former shop owner herself, Gladys was likely to give Cora some unsolicited advice on customer service. Of course, of all times, Cora’s seasonal assistant was on break.
“Be sure to check out all the rooms,” she told the child. “In fact, I have one room of all pink ornaments.”
“Pink for Christmas?” The little girl giggled.
Cora shrugged. “Did you ever see The Nutcracker?” She received an affirmative nod of the head. “It’s the land of the sweets!”
Now the little girl scampered off without another word, and Cora was left to tend to Gladys, who made sure to pinch her lips long and hard enough for Cora to finally acknowledge her wait.
“Ah, a beautiful choice this year!” she said instead, refusing to have anyone muddle with her holiday spirit, even if she was starting to get in her own way of it.
She eyed the door again as the bell jangled. Nope. It was just one of her old schoolmates and her husband, not that she wasn’t happy to see them.
Gladys cleared her throat again, and Cora snapped back to her duties. Each year, Gladys added to her Christmas village, and this year’s piece was one of Cora’s personal favorites: a skating rink surrounded by snow-frocked trees.
She wrapped it carefully, secured the box with the red bow that was signature to the shop, and handed over the equally red bag. “Have a merry day!” she said, as she did on occasion. Today, it felt a little forced.
She helped a few more people, all of whom she knew, of course. That was life in Blue Harbor for you. The small, lakefront Michigan town was far north, and didn’t see many tourists this time of year. Her mind wandered back to the man from ye
sterday. He was probably passing through, in town for the holiday, probably in need of a last-minute gift for the hostess. No sense in pinning her hopes to anything there. Really, she should know better.
She should. Except when she finally finished ringing up the last person in line and then scooted to the front display table to straighten some of the miniature trees, her breath caught when she saw the door swing open and the very man from yesterday appear.
Her heart was beating faster than the drum in the carol playing over the speaker, and she swallowed hard, hoping she didn’t look quite as pleased as she felt, as she grinned.
“Welcome back!” she said warmly. Play it cool, Cora. But her cheeks were warm, and thanks to her fair complexion, she knew that they were probably bright pink, too. No poker face for her.
“You remember me,” he observed, seeming amused by this.
Yep, city stock. As if that wasn’t obvious by his attire, yet again. Meaning that he would probably be gone by Sunday. She stifled a sigh as the disappointment landed squarely in her chest.
“Small-town life,” she said with a shrug. “Everyone knows everyone.”
“Then you have me at a disadvantage,” he said, removing an expensive-looking leather glove and extending his hand.
“Cora Conway,” she said, slipping her hand in it. Oh, it was warm and smooth and large enough to cover her own. She could have lingered there half the day, but instead she did the professional thing and pulled it away, her gaze still holding his.
A little furrow formed between his brow, and he studied her for a moment. “Do you own this shop?”
“I sure do,” she said proudly. “And now I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage.”
He laughed, a low, deep sound that she liked. A lot.
“I’m—” He hesitated. “Phil.”
“Phil…” She waited for his full name, but at that moment, the little girl from earlier burst to the front of the room, another cookie in her hand, and a cup of hot chocolate, too. One that looked like it could spill at any minute, and hopefully not on one of the white lace tablecloths or velvet Santas.