by Lizzie Shane
Finally, Ben typed, Can we talk? and sent the text.
Three little dots appeared. Then disappeared again. Then reappeared.
Impatience finally spurred him to add I’m in the driveway.
The dots disappeared.
The front door opened.
Ben climbed quickly out of his car. He jogged up the front porch steps. Ally stood half behind the door, peering through the opening—and making no move to let him in. The house behind her was dark and silent.
“I should’ve brought coffee. That’s our traditional peace offering, right?”
Ally didn’t crack a smile. “Ben…”
“I’m sorry. I don’t want you to go back to New York.” There. He’d said it. That was good enough, right?
Ally sighed—not a dreamy, loving sigh, but one filled with exhaustion. “It’s no use. My grandparents are selling the place and moving out to the Estates. I can’t afford to keep the shelter open, and I’m not needed here.”
Something went still inside him. He hadn’t really thought she might leave. Even when he’d been bracing for it, the idea of her not being here hadn’t been real. “But the town needs you.” I need you.
“No, they don’t. Most of this town doesn’t even know who I am. I don’t belong here. I’m just a tourist with a big camera, like you said the first day we met.”
“Ally…”
“This was just a break from my regular life. A chance to try out how the other half lives, and now the signs are all pointing me back to New York.”
“The signs only give you permission to do what you already want to do,” he reminded her. “Are you sure you want to run?”
Fire flashed in her eyes, reminding him of the first time they’d met. “I want someone who isn’t afraid to kiss me in the town square. And I’m not going to find that here. Am I?”
Her dark eyes were uncompromising, and the words he needed to say froze in his suddenly paralyzed throat. She wanted him to say it. She’d asked him earlier what he wanted, and he’d said it didn’t matter—because it was easier than asking for what he wanted and not getting it. It was easier than taking the risk.
He’d lived the last two years feeling like all his choices had already been decided for him. Doing the best he could with the hand he’d been dealt. He wasn’t sure he knew how to do anything else. How did he change the habits of a lifetime? How did he show her he wanted to?
He hesitated too long, and resignation filled Ally’s face. “Never mind. It wouldn’t matter anyway. Good night, Ben. Merry Christmas.”
The door shut, and Ben stared at it for a solid minute before retreating to his car.
He didn’t remember the drive home, too deeply embedded in his thoughts. He was parked in the tiny driveway before he was even aware of the fact that he was behind the wheel. He turned off the engine, the car clicking softly as it cooled.
He’d screwed up. Again. He needed to show Ally what she meant to him and to the town. He needed to do it in a way that proved he was all in. He needed to leap—and not look for the safety net. He needed to show her all the things he hadn’t been able to say.
Ben pulled out his phone as he climbed out of the car, moving quickly.
He had a lot to do.
And he was going to need a lot of help.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Ally descended the farmhouse stairs on the morning before Christmas, the treads creaking beneath her slippers. She let Colby and Partridge out to pee, watching them sniffing around the yard from the warmth of the kitchen as she brewed the first pot of coffee. Usually Gram and Gramps were up before she was—they’d always been early risers, but lately they’d turned it into a competitive sport, in bed by nine and up again by four thirty.
This morning, however, they must have slept in, because Ally was alone in the kitchen, watching the water dripping off the eaves in steady streams, melting their hopes for a white Christmas by the second. It had warmed up overnight and the forty-degree weather outside was already revealing patches of brown beneath the white on the driveway.
Colby snuffled at the door, and Ally opened it to let him back in, Partridge waddling in his shadow. She hadn’t had the heart to return Partridge to his run last night. He’d looked at her with those big puppy-dog eyes, and she hadn’t been able to resist. Suddenly all the rules about not getting too attached didn’t seem to matter so much anymore. Not when the shelter was about to close, and she was going to be going who-knew-where to do who-knew-what with her life. Maybe she should adopt Partridge. Though finding a place that allowed multiple dogs in the city might be harder.
Colby was used to the routine at Furry Friends. He’d always stayed here with her grandparents when she had to travel for work and couldn’t bring him, but he was too big to stay at the Estates. She wouldn’t be able to afford to travel as much—which meant she really needed that job with the Spectrum Group. But she was still having a hard time getting excited about it. Even knowing it was what she should do.
Ben coming by last night, telling her that he didn’t want her to go to New York, but still not actually saying he wanted to be with her…it had just confirmed that she needed to go. He was the king of mixed messages, and it would be far too easy to let him back into her heart—but she didn’t have a future here.
Ally poured her coffee, adding liberal doses of cream and sugar, and wandered into the living area to turn on the Christmas tree lights. The rest of the first floor was still dark, and she settled onto the couch with her mug in her hands and two warm dogs lying against her ankles.
She didn’t know how long she sat there, staring at the Christmas tree, each ornament a memory. The unicorn her mother got when they took that trip up to the Corning glass factory. The Santa beneath a palm tree from the one time they’d spent Christmas at a resort in the Bahamas and decided that Christmas in a hotel room without a Christmas tree just didn’t feel the same. And older ornaments. Ornaments she’d seen her entire life that her dad would tell stories about as he put them on Gram and Gramps’s tree.
Her parents were here, in this space. Maybe that was part of why the idea of her grandparents selling and moving out to the Estates had hit her so hard. These creaking old walls had memories. Her father had grown up here. Her parents had driven her up here every Thanksgiving weekend to put up the tree and again on Christmas morning. When this place wasn’t home anymore, would anywhere be?
The stairs groaned, and Ally watched her grandmother emerge onto the first floor, moving slowly pre-coffee. “Morning, sweetheart.”
“Morning, Gram.”
Her grandmother padded softly across the hardwood, touching the table as she passed it. Her mug was exactly where she left it every night after cleaning it, and she pulled it forward, resting the lip of the coffee pot against it as she poured.
Ally watched her, her chest squeezing tight. She got so mad at her grandmother for not being careful. She just hated to see her getting older, creeping closer to that time when Gram and Gramps would be gone, too. When she would be the last one who remembered anything about their Christmas traditions.
Gram joined her in the living area, setting down her coffee and collapsing onto her chair with a soft sigh. Ally let the silence settle around them, let her grandmother sip her coffee and stare at the tree until she couldn’t wait any longer.
“I’m sorry I overreacted yesterday.”
Her grandmother looked in her direction. “I’m not sure you did. Your grandfather and I have been talking. We should have told you about the Estates from the start. We just didn’t want you to feel pressured to leave because you knew we were heading out there.”
“I should have been more up front with you, too,” Ally admitted. “I was so lonely in New York, and I think part of me hoped I’d just fit here like a missing puzzle piece. I’d get to see more of you guys, and I wouldn’t have to worry about you up here on your own trying to take care of the dogs and do everything yourselves.”
“We could both do bet
ter on the communication.” Gram glanced at her over her coffee. “You were lonely?”
“Not all the time, but yeah. There was this one day—I’d had the worst day. Just…everything had gone wrong. I don’t even remember what all happened, but my train wasn’t running and I had to walk in the rain and my umbrella broke and all I was thinking about was getting home and walking Colby and then taking a hot shower. I was in such a hurry when I got there—I grabbed Colby, rushed him out to pee, and it wasn’t until I was bringing him back that I realized I’d locked my keys inside the apartment. I didn’t have a roommate, and the super took forever to respond to anything, and I didn’t know my neighbors because I was never there. I didn’t have anyone I could call. No one I’d given a spare key. No one who would let me crash at their place until I could get back into mine. I was stuck, and I realized as I’m sitting there, cold and wet, with poor Colby just as cold and wet, that I didn’t have anyone. Pine Hollow was so different from New York. I thought…I wanted this to be where I fit, but you shouldn’t be stuck in this house just because your granddaughter is lonely.” Emotion choked her and she stared at the tree until she could speak again.
“I know you worry about us,” Gram said softly in the silence. “But we worry about you, too. When your parents…when we lost them, I watched you pull away, hiding behind your camera. At first I was glad you had something that gave you comfort, but then it seemed like a barrier you put between yourself and anything that felt too raw. Look, but don’t touch. We were so glad you came home this Christmas. So glad you put your camera down and laughed while you were here.” Her grandmother cleared her throat. “I didn’t realize you and Ben were…romantic.”
“You didn’t?” Ally asked, a surprised laugh washing away some of the emotion clogging her throat. “You must be the only one in town.”
“He’s a good boy,” Gram commented.
“He hid me behind a curtain. Literally. You can’t go into a relationship trying to pretend it isn’t happening.”
“No,” Gram agreed. “But I can understand wanting to keep things private, especially when you’re still figuring them out. The last time one of his relationships blew up, the whole town speculated about it. Maybe cut him a little slack?”
She had a point—and Ben did have a very good reason to want to keep things private—but it still stung. “He was always trying to keep me at a distance.”
“Maybe,” Gram admitted. “Or maybe you were so scared he didn’t want you that you saw him pushing you away whether he meant it or not.” Copper came charging down the stairs, a harbinger of the arrival of her grandfather, who they both heard thumping around on the floor above. Ally started to stand to let Copper out, but her grandmother waved her back to her chair. She rose, padding to the kitchen and opening the side door. “You could fit here, Ally. If that’s what you want. And that has nothing to do with Ben West. Home isn’t some magical place. It’s a choice.”
It was a nice sentiment, but if her grandparents sold the shelter and moved out to the Estates, she would have no job, no place to live, and no prospects beyond a spot in a booth at a farmer’s market that wasn’t even going to be operational until the town managed to fix that roof. She couldn’t very well run the pet mecca she’d envisioned without the shelter.
But Gram was right about one thing, whether or not she belonged in Pine Hollow had nothing to do with Ben West.
“I should get the dogs ready for the pageant tonight.” She stood as her grandfather clumped down the stairs and Partridge scrambled to his feet at her side, gazing up at her adoringly. “We gotta see if we can find Partridge a home, don’t we, buddy? Though maybe I should adopt him. What do you think, Partridge? You wanna be mine?”
“Oh, sweetheart, I forgot to tell you,” Gram called from the kitchen as she poured another cup of coffee for Gramps. “We got an application for Partridge.”
“We did?” Ally had left her phone upstairs on her charger, but she’d checked it when she woke up. No new emails to the shelter account. And no texts from Ben.
“It came in last night. To my email.”
“You have an email?”
“My texty-thing. On the phone.”
Ally frowned, even more confused. “Someone texted you an application?”
“I’m taking care of it,” her grandmother insisted. “We did do this for twenty years before you got here.”
“Okay,” Ally conceded, suddenly back on the verge of tears.
She’d been so stupidly fixated on the idea that Ben would come around and adopt Partridge. She’d seen him sneaking the bulldog treats. She’d known he had a soft spot for him. But a lot of things she’d wanted to happen this Christmas looked like they were nothing more than holiday wishes.
The presents she’d wrapped for Ben and Astrid still sat on the sideboard as she passed. She still wanted them to have those pictures, those memories, but would it be weird to give them to them now?
Still wearing her pajamas, Ally shoved her feet into her boots and grabbed her coat, holding the door open for Colby and Partridge as she headed toward the shelter to say good morning to the other dogs, even if it was starting to feel like goodbye.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Organizing an impromptu fundraiser on less than twenty-four hours’ notice was, unsurprisingly, incredibly challenging. Ben stood backstage, going over his checklist one last time as the audience for the Christmas pageant filled the seats, and the noise on the other side of the curtain grew. His plan to rally the town and surprise Ally with a fundraiser to save the shelter was actually coming together. But there was still one last piece to the puzzle, and it was the piece he was the most worried about—how Ally would react.
Ben didn’t usually do things he couldn’t control, but he was about to now.
Astrid sat nearby with Partridge, who looked completely ridiculous in his top hat and bow tie, but seemed very proud of his ensemble. Ben had put in an application last night to adopt the bulldog—through Mrs. Gilmore, since he’d wanted to surprise Ally—though now, as the moment for the big reveal grew closer, he was seriously starting to wonder if surprise had been the best way to go. He’d thought a big public spectacle would prove to her that he was invested, that he wasn’t going to try to put her in a box or hide her. But now it seemed like a really good way to set himself up for public rejection. A rejection he might deserve.
Astrid still didn’t know he’d put in the application for Partridge. He’d wanted the dog to be a Christmas surprise…and he hadn’t been entirely sure he’d be approved. The application was much more in depth than he’d expected, forcing him to think about all the responsibilities pet ownership entailed, but instead of overwhelming him, having it all laid out like that had made it seem more manageable.
If only everything in life came with a checklist.
“Ben? It’s time.”
Ben swallowed down a sudden rush of nerves. Now or never. He nodded to Gayle Danvers, the chief pageant organizer, who was all smiles now that she was helping him with his big romantic gesture—as if she hadn’t called him a Grinch in the middle of the bakery only a few weeks ago.
“Thank you, Mrs. Danvers. I know you didn’t have to do this.”
Her snow-white brows arched high. “Are you kidding? I don’t know what this town would do without you. This is the least we can do.”
He blinked, too startled by her comment to reply before she had disappeared around the curtain.
Astrid handed him Partridge’s leash and gave him a double thumbs-up. “Good luck,” she whispered as a hush began to fall on the other side of the curtain. They must be dimming the house lights. Ben took his position center stage. Partridge waddled at his side and sat on his foot when he stopped, snorting softly.
He heard Gayle’s heels click out to the center of the stage on the other side of the curtain and held his breath as she began her intro.
“Welcome, Pine Holloweens, to the twenty-second annual Pine Hollow Christmas Pageant! Merry Chr
istmas!” Scattered applause and responses of Merry Christmas greeted her. “We’re so delighted to have a pageant for you this year that is bigger and better than ever, but before we get started, we have a special announcement from our very own town councilman, Ben West! Let’s hear it for Ben!”
Applause erupted as the curtain whisked back and a spotlight landed on him. Ben flinched at the unexpected sound, squinting against the bright light. He’d known, in theory, that he would be doing this in front of the whole town, but he hadn’t really thought about the fact that they would be clapping and listening and watching.
“Say something,” Astrid hissed from the wings, and he realized he’d been standing silent for too long. Partridge tipped over, his bulk landing against Ben’s shins and grounding him in the present.
Ben lifted the microphone.
“Merry Christmas,” he began. “As many of you know, in order to repair the roof on the community center, the town recently had to cut funding for the Furry Friends Animal Rescue, which led to the Pine Hollow community coming together to find homes for all of the dogs at the shelter.” He cleared his throat. “But I’ve recently come to realize how vital the Furry Friends rescue is to our community and how great a loss it would be to Pine Hollow…and to me…if it were to close for good.”
He squinted past the spotlight shining in his eyes. Expectant faces stared up at him from the front row—and Ally stared back at him from the third row with questions all over her face.
Ben extended a hand. “Um, Ally, do you think you could come up here?”
Ally glanced back and forth to her grandparents, who were seated on either side of her. At their urging, she climbed to her feet, edging along the row until she reached the aisle.