by Lizzie Shane
“Merry Christmas,” she echoed, reaching up to give him a hug—the kind that was more distant shoulder patting than body contact, so at least he knew they were on the same page about not wanting to rekindle anything this holiday season. “I met that girl you’re dating this morning,” Isabelle commented as she stepped back to a comfortable distance.
“We aren’t dating,” Ben insisted, the words coming out more harshly than he’d intended.
Isabelle studied him and closed her eyes briefly on a soft groaning, “Oh, Ben.”
“What?” he snapped as the carolers onstage began belting out “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” again. “You want to tell me how to live my life? Because you have the moral high ground? You left the second things got hard.”
“Wow. That’s some revisionist history,” Isabelle said, and he took a strange kind of satisfaction from the edge in her voice. “I stayed for months—through the funeral and probate and you being an absolute jerk to me whenever I tried to help. You were so freaking territorial. Anytime I wanted to do something for Astrid, it was like I had to figure out how to do an end run around an NFL lineman to even get to her.”
“That isn’t—”
“You got mad at me for picking her up from school.”
“Without telling me!”
“Your phone died! I texted you!” Isabelle shouted—and heads turned in their direction, but she didn’t notice. Or she didn’t care, on too much of a roll. “It wasn’t my fault you didn’t charge your damn phone—”
“I was worried. I didn’t know where Astrid was—”
“For like two seconds! Until someone told you I’d picked her up—but apparently that was a crime against humanity, and it was my fault. Everything was my fault. Every time I tried to help, you blamed me.” She stopped, sucking in a breath and seeming to notice that the carolers had gone quiet. “Sorry,” she said at a softer volume. “I thought I was over this, but apparently I’m still angrier at you than I thought I was.”
“I didn’t realize you were angry,” he admitted after a moment. He’d been so locked in his own grief then. Just trying to put one foot in front of the other and do the best thing for Astrid.
Isabelle laughed humorlessly. “You thought you were the only injured party, huh? Somehow I’m not surprised. You’re a great guy, Ben. But you don’t always make it easy on people who try to care about you.”
“I never meant…”
“I know.” She sighed, looking out over the theater, where everyone was studiously pretending they weren’t listening. “I loved you, and I loved Astrid. I stuck around longer than I should have because I kept thinking you would see that I was there for you at some point and let me in. But you just kept pushing me away and insisting on doing everything yourself. You’ve always been like that, always trying to be this tower of strength for everyone else and never letting anyone do anything for you. I kept thinking it would get better when we got married, but I think it got worse when Katie…” She trailed off. “I’m really sorry about Katie,” she whispered, the words choked.
“Me too.” He cleared his throat around the sudden thickness there. “And I’m sorry I put you in a box.”
Isabelle’s eyebrows arched with surprise. “That’s actually a good way of putting it.”
“Are you…okay?”
“I’m good,” she assured him. “Great, actually. I have a job in Boston now. I love the city. I thought the traffic would drive me crazy, but the parks are incredible. It’s good to be home, though. For Christmas.” Her smile held a note of memory. “It’s good to see you, Ben.” She made a face. “Sorry I kind of went off on you.”
“I think I’m actually glad you did. Though I don’t want to consider what the gossip is going to be like tomorrow.”
Isabelle grimaced. “Yeah. That’s definitely one thing I don’t miss.” She glanced toward the stage, where the pageant coordinators were back to trying to direct the choir. “Sorry for the volume.”
“You don’t owe me any apologies. I deserved every decibel.”
And it never did him any good to try to hide his personal life from the town anyway. He thought he’d been keeping it together, but Elinor and Astrid had apparently been talking about his Scrooginess and the fact that he was scaring her friends long before this Christmas. He thought he’d kept his feelings for Ally to himself, but everyone in town already thought they were dating. He’d hidden her behind a curtain so Astrid wouldn’t see them together when Astrid had been conspiring to get them together under the mistletoe the whole time. No wonder he felt like he was tilting at windmills—he was trying to stop the flow of gossip in Pine Hollow, and that was a force that should come with a natural disaster label. Batten down the hatches, because you can’t stop it no matter how you try.
“Bella! My scarf!” a young voice called impatiently.
Isabelle grinned. “That’s my cue. Minnie’s in the tableau this year and that makes me her wardrobe slave.” She nodded toward one side of the stage where her youngest sister stood impatiently.
“She’s gotten so tall.”
“Right? Every time I go away for a month she grows another three inches. See ya round, Ben. Happy holidays.”
He watched her go, everything she’d said sifting around in his brain, shining new light into the shadows of the past and making him see them in different ways. Maybe he had tried to control things too much, control the only things he’d felt like he had any control over in his life at that moment. Maybe—
“Ben! There you are! Do you think you could take a look at the sound system? I think there must be a faulty wire…”
Ben pushed the past out of his mind and focused on the present—and another minor pageant disaster to distract him from thinking about the moment backstage with Ally. She’d accused him of putting her in a box, but it was the only way he knew how to deal with all the things in his life that felt too big to manage—so he tucked all thoughts of her back into that box and went to work.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Ally texted Deenie as she was walking back to collect the car she’d left at the theater. Deenie had all the dogs outside and ready to go when Ally arrived, and helped her load them into the car without a single word about Ben. Ally pointedly avoided looking at Ben’s car in the parking lot, focusing instead on the fact that her own was no longer blocked in and she could make a clean escape.
Though she should have known better than to think she would get away without a single word.
She’d just finished putting Maximus back in his run at Furry Friends and headed back out to get Partridge and Peanut when Deenie’s powder-blue Bug pulled into the driveway. Colby stirred himself from his sprawl on the porch and padded over to greet the new arrivals as Deenie, Elinor, and the newly renamed Dora piled out.
“I come with reinforcements,” Deenie announced.
Elinor held up a thermos. “She means eggnog.”
“You guys don’t have to be here,” Ally protested, taking Peanut’s tiny soft-sided carrier out of the front seat.
“Of course we do,” Deenie declared, taking Peanut from her.
Dora/Harry dragged Elinor toward the shelter—apparently eager to get back to her old stomping grounds and see which smells had changed. Elinor stumbled along behind her, but made her sit before opening the door, clicking a tiny clicker attached to her wrist when she obeyed.
“I’ve been watching online training videos,” she explained. “The next set of classes in Burlington doesn’t start for weeks.”
Ally wilted at the reminder of her plan to save the shelter with local classes. “Maybe you guys can get a group together and bring a trainer out to Pine Hollow.”
Deenie’s eyes lit. “You know, that’s not a bad idea. We could host classes here—”
“No, we can’t. Come on.” Ally opened the door to the office, leading the others inside.
The office was tiny, not suited to three women and even more dogs, but it was the only place with seating besides
the house, and she didn’t want to be where her grandparents would hear her. Gram had moved Dolce and the puppies up to the house yesterday anyway, declaring they must be too lonely at the kennels now that so many of the other dogs were gone.
Elinor pulled a set of collapsible camping mugs from her bag. Deenie set Peanut’s carrier on the floor and let the little guy out, while Dora leapt onto the loveseat beside Elinor. Ally took the seat behind the desk, accepting a mug of eggnog as Partridge sat on her foot and Colby came over to rest his giant head on her lap. She stroked Colby’s silky ears, sighing as she stared around the room. She was going to miss this place.
She took a sip of eggnog—and nearly choked. She coughed, gripping her cup with both hands.
“Sorry, I should have warned you,” Elinor said. “Magda’s nog is like rocket fuel. Figured we could use it today.”
“Why can’t we host classes here?” Deenie asked, perching on the arm of the loveseat. “I love that idea. We could set up an agility course, bring in groomers—”
“I thought the same thing this morning,” Ally admitted. Had that only been this morning? “I had this whole plan to save Furry Friends with a pet photography business and doggie day care, but it turns out I’m the only one who wanted it saved. My grandparents are going to sell the place and move out to the Estates. I can’t afford to buy the house and all the land from them, and if the dogs are all gone and they don’t need me, what’s the point of staying? I even got an invitation to interview for my dream job in New York. It’s obvious. The universe is telling me I should go back.”
“Stress brain,” Elinor declared, shaking her head. “That’s your fear talking.”
“That’s my practicality talking,” Ally corrected. “I don’t belong here. Maybe I never did.”
Deenie shifted on the arm of the couch. “Is this about Ben?”
“No.” And it wasn’t. Not entirely. “It’s my grandparents. And the shelter. And…my parents.” She looked down into the creamy depths of the eggnog, as if it could solve all her problems. She’d been looking for that connection, that sense of family ever since she lost them. She was so scared of being alone, of losing her connection to the last family she had, but staying up here wasn’t really an option. “The thing with Ben…it’s just another thing. Another reason to leave. What is there for me here?”
“You’ve got me,” Deenie said.
“And me,” Elinor added.
Colby woofed.
“Colby clearly likes it here, too.” Deenie grinned. “Those sound like some very compelling reasons to stay.”
“But you aren’t staying, are you?”
Deenie hesitated, drawing in a breath. “Probably not,” she admitted. “Not forever anyway. You wanna run away to Rome? That’s what I do whenever things aren’t going my way.”
Elinor looked at her. “Sometimes I think you’re crazy, and then you say something like that, and I start to wonder if I’m the crazy one. We should all run away to Rome.”
Ally smiled, not entirely sure they weren’t serious. “I don’t know what to do. I came here to figure out my life, and now I’m more confused than ever.”
“Ben’s an idiot,” Elinor declared. “But I really do think he cares about you. I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you.”
“Does it matter how he feels if he won’t let me into his life?”
They all fell silent at that one—a puzzle too complex for any of them.
“I wanted him to want this,” Ally admitted, “but he was never really in.”
“I hope you stay,” Elinor said finally. “You have a place here, Ally Gilmore.”
She wanted to believe it. But her place here was only temporary.
* * *
Ben had the mother of all headaches by the time he and Astrid finally escaped from the pageant rehearsal and were on their way home. He’d bitten the head off more than one volunteer and undoubtedly earned his Scrooge-ish reputation a dozen times over, but echoes of his conversation with Ally kept whispering in the back of his mind.
He felt like he was screwing up again. That all-too-familiar feeling that he was letting someone down plagued him all afternoon. Why did Ally have to ask for more than he could give her? Didn’t she see that he wanted to be with her, but he couldn’t just rush into things? They’d only known each other a few weeks. He needed to get his life in order before there was room in it for anyone else. He had a plan, and if she’d just listen to him—but she hadn’t. And he was glowering at picturesque Pine Hollow as he drove home.
“Can we watch Muppet Christmas Carol?” Astrid asked as she clambered out of the car, oblivious to the jabs of pain digging into his cranium.
“After dinner.” They stripped off their winter gear, calling hellos to his parents in the kitchen. Ben headed back to the mudroom to put away the toolbox he’d brought—and drew up short at the foreign object sitting where his broken washing machine was supposed to be.
It gleamed bright white, shiny and new, with a big red bow stuck to the top.
Ben stared at the washing machine, irrational anger bubbling up inside him. “What did you do?” he barked.
He heard his family behind him in the hall and turned. His parents beamed. “Merry Christmas!” they shouted in unison.
“Where’s our washing machine?” he demanded. “I was going to get it fixed.”
“We wanted to do this for you.” His father stepped forward, still smiling.
“Your father even fixed that stair today,” his mother added helpfully.
Ben bristled.
They were trying to help. He knew they were trying to help. But it was back, that voice whispering that he’d failed, that he hadn’t been up to his responsibilities, and he couldn’t seem to temper the sharpness of his voice.
“I would have done it.” He didn’t need people swooping into his life and doing things for him. He would fix up the house. He would prove he could do this. Always so much to prove.
“We know.” His mother’s expression was cautious now.
He was being an ass. He could hear Ally’s voice telling him it wasn’t weakness to accept help. That he was the only one who thought he had anything to prove—but that feeling was back. That feeling that he was failing Katie and Paul and everyone could see it.
“Uncle Ben?”
He looked down into Astrid’s concerned face and forced himself to take a breath. “Thank you.”
The words weren’t smooth, but his mother smiled. “You’re welcome. Come on, Astrid. Some new presents for you under the tree.”
Astrid rushed to investigate and Ben hung back, his father lingering with him.
“You all right?” his father asked, his gaze seeing far too much.
“I saw Isabelle today,” Ben said after a moment—because it was easier than admitting he might have screwed things up with Ally and the regret was eating away at his insides.
His dad lifted his eyebrows. “Did you?”
He met his father’s eyes. “She said I make it hard for people to care about me.”
His father smiled. “It’s not exactly a secret. Katie was the only one you would ever let help you.”
Ben stared at the new washing machine. He’d never meant to push anyone away or make it hard for them to help him. He’d just known that he had responsibilities. That some things were up to him, and he couldn’t foist them off onto anyone else. He had to make sure everything got done. But with Katie…
He didn’t know why it had always been so easy to let her take the reins, but it had. Maybe because for as long as he could remember, she just took them. She was the big sister. It was her job. She never let him push her away or try to do it without her. She was simply there. And God, he missed that. He missed her. He missed the seamless way she slipped herself into his life and made him laugh when he wanted to bristle. There was never going to be a time when he didn’t have a hole in his life where she was supposed to be, but he had to learn to let someone else in. Someon
e besides Astrid. He couldn’t put that on her. He needed…
He needed a partner.
A vision of Ally filled his mind.
“If it helps, you’ve been getting better,” his father said. “Your mother and I’ve talked about it. How you’ve asked us to do things, and then you went and borrowed that snowblower from Connor. Astrid said you even asked Elinor to watch her a few times in the last few weeks.”
For Ally. It had all been for Ally. Astrid wanted him to be happy and thought he had been since he’d met Ally. His parents wanted him to learn to accept help, and he had since he met Ally. The entire town wanted him to lighten up and be less of a Scrooge…enter Ally.
He’d only stopped feeling like he was drowning when Ally crashed into his life. In a matter of weeks she’d become one of his best friends, but she was more than that. She’d changed him, cracked open the calcified parts of his heart and let light in again. For the last two years he’d been burrowing down, building walls around himself, and becoming more and more of a Scrooge. Ally had slammed into him and changed all that.
He’d been playing it safe for so long—trying to control everything, trying to manage his life and his responsibilities, never wanting to take anything else on. But life wasn’t about safe. Real life happened when you stopped trying to control everything and took a leap. Like getting a dog, even knowing Astrid might not always be the one to feed it and it might chew his slippers.
Or falling for Ally.
He’d tried to control everything and compartmentalize it all until he’d nearly lost her—he could have already lost her. He’d told her to take that job and go back to New York.
Ben met his father’s eyes, urgency suddenly spiking through his veins. “I need to go. Can you…?”
Understanding kindled in his father’s eyes. “Of course.”
“Thanks.”
Now he just had to figure out what he was going to say.
* * *
The dog shelter and farmhouse were both dark as Ben pulled to a stop in the driveway, realizing once again that he should have called or texted first. He threw the car into park, pulled out his phone and stared at it, trying to think of the right thing to say. Ally had always magically shown up when he was here—one of her signs from the universe maybe—but this time the door to the farmhouse stayed firmly shut.