Книга - 1225 Christmas Tree Lane

1225 Christmas Tree Lane
Debbie Macomber


Perfect for fans of Maeve Binchy' - CandisThe people of Cedar Cove know how to celebrate Christmas.Like Grace and Olivia and everyone else, Beth Morehouse expects this Christmas to be one of her best. Her small Christmas-tree farm is prospering, her daughters and her dogs are happy and well, and her new relationship with local vet Ted Reynolds is showing plenty of romantic promise.But…someone recently left a basket filled with puppies on her doorstep, puppies she's determined to place in good homes. That's complication number one. And number two is that her daughters Bailey and Sophie have invited their dad, Beth's ex-husband, Kent, to Cedar Cove for Christmas.The girls have visions of a mom-and-dad reunion dancing in their heads. As always in life—and in Cedar Cove—there are surprises, too. More than one family's going to have a puppy under the tree. More than one scheme will go awry. And more than one romance will have a happy ending!The Cedar Cove series is now a hit Channel 5 TV series, appearing on UK screens on CHANNEL 5USA












About the Author


DEBBIE MACOMBER, the author of 1105 Yakima Street, 1022 Evergreen Place, 92 Pacific Boulevard, A Turn in the Road and Hannah’s List, has become a leading voice in women’s fiction worldwide. Her work has appeared on every major bestseller list, including those of the New York Times, USA TODAY and Publishers Weekly. She is a multiple award winner and won the 2005 Quill Award for Best Romance. More than a hundred million copies of her books have been sold worldwide. For more information on Debbie and her books, visit her website, www.DebbieMacomber.com.

www.MIRABooks.com


1225 Christmas Tree Lane



Debbie

Macomber
















www.mirabooks.co.uk (http://www.mirabooks.co.uk)


To Paula Eykelhof,

my wonderful editor for more than twenty-five years.


Dear Friends,

Well, this is it. The very last instalment of the Cedar Cove series. It’s been quite a run, hasn’t it? You, my readers, were the ones who inspired the idea in the first place, and I’m most appreciative of that. You taught me how important it is to listen to what you have to say. It’s a lesson I won’t forget.

Not once did I dream this series would be the success it has become. The Cedar Cove books are responsible for making me No.1 on the New York Times list for the first time and several times since. You said you loved the stories and the characters, and you told your friends and neighbours, too.

Over the years, I’ve often been asked how many books there’d be in the series and my answer was always the same. I would stop when all the stories were told. That time has come.

It’s fitting that the Cedar Cove series should end with a Christmas story. The holidays have always been my favourite time of the year. Just like my family and yours, the families of Cedar Cove will be gathering, remembering Christmases past and looking toward the future. You’ll get one last glimpse of all your friends here in town …

It’s never easy to say goodbye. I know Grace and Olivia will always be friends; eventually they’ll both retire and enjoy travelling with their husbands. Maybe the four of them will even take a road trip together! Charlotte and Ben will live out the rest of their lives in the assisted living complex. Peggy and Bob’s B&B, Thyme &Tide, will thrive, and Roy and Corrie McAfee will settle comfortably into life as doting grandparents (with Roy still taking on a few cases—but only those that interest him). The Flemmings and the Coxes and everyone else will do well … And in the meantime, join them all for a last Christmas in Cedar Cove.

And speaking of Christmas, watch for Debbie Macomber’s Christmas Cookbook. It’s full of wonderful recipes, decorating hints and more, all inspired by Christmases at my home and in my stories. If you liked the Cedar Cove cookbook, you’ll love this one, too.

Again thank you for the support you’ve given these books. I hope the stories will continue to live in your mind as they will in mine.






PS You can reach me at www.debbiemacomber.com or at PO Box 145, Port Orchard, WA 98366, USA.




Chapter 1


“Mom!”

The front door slammed and Beth Morehouse hurried out of the kitchen. Three days before Christmas, and her daughters were home from college—at last! Her foreman, Jeff, had been kind enough to pick them up at the airport while Beth dealt with last-minute chores. She’d been looking forward to seeing them for weeks. Throwing her arms wide, she ran toward Bailey and Sophie. “Merry Christmas, girls.”

Squealing with delight, they dropped their bags and rushed into her embrace.

“I can’t believe it’s snowing. It’s so beautiful,” Bailey said, holding Beth in a tight hug. At twenty-one, she was the oldest by fourteen months. She resembled her father in so many ways. She was tall like Kent and had his dark brown hair, which she’d tucked under a knitted cap. Her eyes shone with a quiet joy. She was the thoughtful one and that, too, reminded Beth of her ex-husband. Three years after the divorce, she still missed him, although pride would never allow her to admit that. Even her budding relationship with Ted Reynolds, the local veterinarian, paled when she thought about her life with Kent and their history together.

“My turn.” Displacing Bailey, Sophie snuggled into Beth’s embrace. “The house looks fabulous, Mom. Really Christmassy.” This child was more like Beth. A few inches shorter than her sister, Sophie had curly auburn hair and eyes so blue they seemed to reflect a summer sky. Releasing Beth, Sophie added, “And it smells wonderful.”

Beth had done her best to make the house as festive and bright as possible for her daughters. She’d spent long hours draping fresh evergreen boughs on the staircase leading to the second-floor bedrooms. Two of the three Christmas trees were loaded with ornaments. The main tree in the family room was still bare, awaiting their arrival so they could decorate it together, which was a family tradition.

A trio of four-foot-tall snowmen stood guard in the hallway near the family room where the Nativity scene was displayed on the fireplace mantel. Decorating had helped take Beth’s mind off the fact that her ex-husband would be joining them for Christmas. This would be the first time she’d seen him in three years. Oh, they’d spoken often enough, but every conversation had revolved around their daughters. Nothing else. No questions asked. No comments of a personal nature. Just the girls and only the girls. It’d been strictly business. Until now.

Until Christmas.

They both loved the holidays. It was Kent who’d first suggested they have several Christmas trees. Always fresh ones, which was one reason Beth had been attracted to the Christmas tree farm when she started her new life.

“I’ve got lunch ready,” Beth said, trying to turn her attention away from her ex-husband. He still lived in California, as did the girls. He’d stayed in their hometown of Sacramento, while Bailey and Sophie both attended university in San Diego. According to their daughters, Kent had asked to come for Christmas. She’d known for almost two weeks that he’d made reservations at the Thyme and Tide B and B in Cedar Cove. The news that he’d be in town had initially come as a shock to Beth. He hadn’t discussed it with her at all. Instead, he’d had their daughters do his talking for him. That made everything more awkward, because it wasn’t as if she could refuse, not with Bailey and Sophie so excited about spending Christmas together as a family. But Kent’s plans had left her with a host of unanswered questions. Was this his way of telling Beth he missed her? Was he looking for a reconciliation? Was she? The questions swarmed in her head, but the answers wouldn’t be clear until he arrived. At least she’d be better able to judge his reasons. His intentions. And her own …

“Just like it used to be,” Bailey finished. Beth had missed whatever she’d said before that, although it wasn’t hard to guess.

Just like it used to be. These were magic words, but Beth had recognized long ago that the clock only moved forward. Yet the girls’ eagerness, Kent’s apparent insistence and her nostalgia for what they’d once shared swept aside her customary reserve.

“Mom?” Bailey said when she didn’t respond. “We’re talking…. Where are you?”

Beth gave a quick shake of her head. “Woolgathering. Sorry. I haven’t had much sleep lately.” Exhausted as she was, managing the tree farm and getting ready for Christmas with her daughters—and Kent—she’d hardly slept. She couldn’t. Every time she closed her eyes, Kent was there. Kent with his boyish smile and his eyes twinkling with mischief and fun. They’d been happy once and somehow they’d lost that and so much more. Beth had never been able to put her finger on what exactly had gone wrong; she only knew that it had. In the end they’d lived separate lives, going their own ways. Their daughters had kept them together—and then they were off at college, and suddenly it was just Kent and Beth. That was when they discovered they no longer had anything in common.

“You’re not sleeping?” Bailey’s eyes widened with concern.

Sophie elbowed her sister. “Bailey, think about it. This is the busiest time of year for a Christmas tree farm. Then there’s all this decorating. And, if we’re really lucky—”

“Mom made date candy?” Bailey cut in.

“And caramel corn?” Sophie asked hopefully, hands folded in prayer.

“Yes to you both. It wouldn’t be Christmas without our special treats.”

“You’re the best mom in the world.”

Beth smiled. She’d had less than three hours’ sleep, thanks to all the Christmas preparations, her dogs and … her incessant memories of Kent. Traffic at the tree farm had thinned out now that Christmas was only three days away. But families were still stopping by and there was quite a bit to do, including cleanup. Her ten-man crew was down to four and they’d coped just fine without either her or Jeff this morning. While he drove out to the airport, she’d been getting ready for her daughters’ arrival. However, as soon as lunch was over, she needed to head back outside.

Beth and the girls had booked a skiing trip between Christmas and New Year’s, and after the hectic schedule of the past two months, she was counting on a few relaxing days with her daughters. Their reservations were made and she was eager to go. Ted Reynolds, good friend that he was, had offered to take care of her animals, which reminded her of the one hitch in her perfectly planned holiday escape.

“Before we sit down to eat, I need to tell you we have special guests this Christmas.”

“You mean Dad, right?” Bailey led the way into the other room, where there was more greenery and a beautifully arranged table with three place settings.

“Well, yes, your father. But he’s not the only one….”

“Mom.” Bailey tensed as she spoke. “Don’t tell me you have a boyfriend. It’s that vet, isn’t it?”

“Ten guests, actually,” she said, ignoring the comment about Ted, “and they aren’t all boys.”

“Puppies?” Sophie guessed.

“Puppies,” Beth confirmed, not surprised that her daughter had figured it out. “Ten of them.” “Ten?” Sophie cried, aghast.

Without asking, Bailey went straight to the laundry room off the kitchen. “Where did you get ten puppies?” The instant she opened the door, all ten black puppies scampered into the kitchen, scrambling about, skidding across the polished hardwood floor.

“They’re adorable.” Sharing Beth’s love for animals, both girls were immediately down on the floor, scooping the puppies into their arms. Before long, each held at least two of the Lab-mix puppies, the little creatures intent on licking their faces.

Unable to resist, Beth joined her daughters and gathered the remaining puppies onto her lap. One curled into a tight ball. Another climbed onto her shoulder and began licking her ear. The others squirmed until one wriggled free and chased his tail with determined vigor, completely preoccupied. They really were adorable, which was good because in every other way they were a nuisance.

Sophie held a puppy to her cheek. “Where’d you get them, Mom?”

“They were … a gift,” she explained, turning her face away to avoid more wet, slurpy kisses.

“A gift?”

“But why’d you take all ten?” Bailey asked, astonished.

“I didn’t have any choice. They showed up on my porch in a basket a week ago.” Beth didn’t say that discovering these puppies had been the proverbial last straw. They’d literally appeared on her doorstep the same day she’d learned Kent was coming here for Christmas. For an insane moment she’d considered running away, grabbing a plane to Fiji or Bora-Bora. Instead, she’d run over to the Hardings’ and ended up spilling her heart out to Grace. Under normal conditions, Beth wasn’t one to share her burdens with others. However, this was simply too much—an ex-husband’s unexpected visit and the arrival of ten abandoned puppies, all during the busiest season of the year. The Hardings had given her tea and sympathy; Ted had been wonderful, too. Beth was grateful for his willingness to watch her animals but she refused to leave him with these ten additional dogs. So she’d made it her goal to find homes for all of them before Christmas. Which didn’t give her a lot of time …

“How could someone just drop off ten puppies?” Bailey asked as she lifted one intrepid little guy off her shoulder and settled him in her lap.

“Who could do that and not be seen?” Sophie added. “I mean, you have people working all over this place.”

Beth had certainly asked around. “Jeff saw a woman with a huge basket at my door. He thought he recognized her from his church, but when he asked her, she denied it. Then later, Pete, one of the drivers, claimed he saw a man on my porch with a basket. I talked to five different people and got five different stories. All I know is that I’ve got to find homes for these puppies before we leave for Whistler.” And preferably before Kent arrived, although that was highly unlikely.

“Have you found any yet?” Bailey asked.

“No … but I’ve put out the word.”

“You’ll do it, Mom,” Sophie said confidently. “I know you will.”

“How old are they?” Bailey stroked a soft, floppy ear.

“Ted thinks about two months. Between six and eight weeks, anyway.”

“They’re irresistible. You won’t have trouble finding homes,” Sophie said.

Beth wished she had even a fraction of her daughter’s faith. In October, she’d found homes for four part-golden-retriever puppies. Coming up with those homes had been hard enough—and now ten more. She hoped the season would help.

She’d offer assistance with training if the new owners wanted it—and she’d push the all-important spay-and-neuter message. Ted had promised to give the owners a break on the price, too.

Working together, Beth and the girls corralled the puppies and got them back inside the laundry room. Then they washed up for lunch. Thankfully the girls’ favorites didn’t require much effort; the tomato basil soup and toasted cheese sandwiches were on the table within minutes.

“Now I truly feel like we’re home,” Bailey said, spooning up the thick soup.

Sophie sighed contentedly. “This place is starting to feel more like home all the time.”

Beth had moved to Washington State following her divorce. For fifteen years she’d taught business and management classes at an agricultural college outside Sacramento. After she and Kent had split up, Beth felt she needed a change. A big one. An escape. She’d read about this Christmas tree farm for sale while browsing on the internet and had become intrigued. As soon as she’d visited the property and toured the house, she was sold.

Her general knowledge of farm life and crop cultivation had come in handy. She knew just enough about trees not to be intimidated. Besides, Wes Klein, the previous owners’ son, had helped the first couple of years. She’d soon picked up everything else she needed to know. She hired the same crew each season and was pleasantly surprised by how smoothly things had gone this year, the first year she was on her own.

In addition to Christmas trees, she sold wreaths and garlands, which were created by three members of her staff who devoted all their time to this endeavor. The Kleins used to have only a handful of orders for holiday wreaths. Beth had turned that into a thriving aspect of the business. Plus, overseas sales of Christmas trees had doubled in the past three years. Beth had always enjoyed the season, but never more than now. She felt she was actively contributing to a lot of families’ happiness this Christmas.

The girls cleared the table and put their plates and bowls in the dishwasher.

“I’ve got to get back outside, but before I go, I need you to tell me what’s going on with your father.” From the girls’ startled expressions Beth realized she should have led into the conversation with a bit more finesse. But subtlety wasn’t exactly her strong suit and she was short on time.

“Dad wanted to come for Christmas,” Bailey answered, as if that was all the explanation required.

“Did he give you any particular reason?” she asked suspiciously.

Sophie shook her head. “None that he mentioned.” That wasn’t too helpful; still, Beth persisted. “But why this year?”

Bailey shrugged. “Don’t know. All I can tell you is that he said he missed us and asked if he could join us for Christmas. We couldn’t say no. You wouldn’t want us to, would you, Mom?”

“Of course not.” Beth looked from one daughter to the other. “He didn’t say anything more than that? You’re sure?”

“Positive.” Both girls widened their eyes, expressions innocent as could be.

Convinced there was more to this sudden desire to be with them—and remembering Grace’s suggestion that the girls might be more involved than they were letting on—Beth hesitated. She wanted to probe deeper but really needed to get to work. As it was, she’d lingered with her daughters well into Jeff’s lunch hour.

“You’ll be okay without me?” Beth asked, abandoning all inquiries for the moment.

“Mom, it isn’t like we’re six years old!”

“I know, I know, it’s just that I hate leaving you so soon after you got here.”

“Go,” Bailey said, ushering her toward the door. “We’ll be fine. We’ll unpack our suitcases and put It’s a Wonderful Life in the DVD player.”

“I want to watch it, too,” Beth protested. It was their favorite Christmas movie.

“Okay, we’ll hold off until tonight. Now go.”

Walking out the door, Beth blew them a kiss, the same way she had every time she left for work when they were youngsters.

The second the door closed, Bailey turned to her sister. “Do you think Mom suspects anything?” “I’m not sure….”

“I told you we needed to get our story straight before we saw her!”

“I didn’t think she’d drill us with questions the instant we walked in the door. Just remember, this whole idea was yours,” Sophie reminded her.

“But you agreed! Dad’s miserable without Mom, and Mom needs Dad whether she’s willing to admit it or not.”

“Well, she’s not willing to admit it, not yet,” Sophie said. She rinsed out the soup pan and placed it in the dishwasher. “I never really understood why they got divorced,” she mused.

“Yeah.” Bailey was wiping off the kitchen counter. “It didn’t make any sense.”

“When they told us I thought they were joking. Some joke, huh?”

“Could there be anyone else involved?” Bailey asked, growing introspective. “Mom mentioned that vet again. Ted something.”

“Ted Reynolds. She hasn’t dated in ages, but she seems to like him. He could be trouble.”

Bailey frowned. “The problem with Mom is that she’s living inside an … an emotional cocoon.” She nodded, pleased with that description. “She’s consumed by this tree farm so she doesn’t have to think about Dad or the divorce or anything else.”

“Who made you the expert?” Sophie muttered.

Bailey ignored the sarcasm. “I took this really great psychology class, and I recognized what Mom’s been doing for the past few years. We’ve got to shake her up, make her realize the divorce was a terrible mistake.”

“It’s not just the tree farm, it’s those darn puppies,” Sophie lamented. “With puppies constantly showing up on Mom’s porch, she can focus all her attention on them. She spends a lot of time training her dogs for those canine therapy programs—”

“And being the unofficial rescue facility,” Bailey threw in.

Sophie nodded. “And now there’s this Ted guy. Getting Mom and Dad together isn’t going to be as easy as you think.”

“What did you tell Dad?” Bailey asked.

Sophie slouched into a chair and stared at her sister. “Just that it’s important to Mom that we all spend Christmas together.”

“Did he ask why?”

“Not really. He said he didn’t have any fixed plans for Christmas, and if Mom wanted him to come he would.”

“What are we going to tell them when they discover we arranged this?”

“What we should’ve said when they told us they were getting divorced. This is stupid. They should’ve tried harder.”

“They just grew apart, that’s all, but if they’d made an effort they could’ve gotten close again, right?” “Right.”

“Marriage takes work,” Bailey said, feeling wise. The research for her recent psych essay on “Family in the New Millennium” had made that very clear to her.

“I just don’t want them to be upset with us,” Sophie said, worried.

“They can’t. It’s Christmas. We brought them together … okay, under false pretenses, but they can’t be mad because we’re only doing what’s best for them.”

“Amen. Sing it, sister.”

“We’ll sing it in two-part harmony.”

“Dad gets here when?”

“Tomorrow afternoon.”

“Perfect.” Sophie held up two crossed fingers. “I believe. I believe.”

“So do I,” Bailey echoed. This was going to be the most wonderful Christmas of their lives and it didn’t have a single thing to do with the wrapped packages under the tree. It was because of the gift they intended to give their parents.

And each other.

The snow had stopped falling, and the grounds were so pristine and lovely, they could’ve been on a book cover. Or a Christmas card. The evergreens were daubed with snow, giving them a flocked look that was more beautiful than anything Beth could reproduce with the sticky artificial stuff her crew applied to the more elaborately decorated trees in the shop.

“We’re back,” Bruce Peyton said as he approached Beth. “And this time, we’re definitely going home with a tree.”

His pregnant wife, Rachel, looked so much better than she had two weeks ago. Beth had learned later that Rachel was hospitalized with food poisoning that same evening. Bruce’s teenage daughter, Jolene, was with them today, as she’d been before.

“Are all the best trees taken?” the girl asked, her eyes wide with concern.

She had a point. The trees closer to the house had been thinned out, but there were still a number of excellent spruces and firs in the far lot. “Not to worry,” she assured Jolene. “I always save the best for last.” She handed the girl a cup of warm cocoa. “If you’d like, I’ll have my foreman take you to the back twenty in the ATV and you can see for yourself.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Beth confirmed. She led them over to Jeff, made introductions and gave him Jolene’s request.

The ATVs were built for two, so Jeff took one and Jolene climbed on behind him. Bruce took the second vehicle. Rachel looked at the hard seat, then eyed the dirt road speculatively.

“I think I’ll stay here and visit with Beth while you two choose the tree.”

“You can’t,” Jolene said loudly. “You have to help pick out the tree. That’s the most fun part.”

“I’m just not sure I’m up to this.”

“Let me take you for a test run,” Bruce suggested.

Rachel remained hesitant, then nodded. “Okay, but don’t be upset if I decide to stay back.”

“I won’t,” Bruce said.

“I really want you to come with us,” Jolene insisted.

“I know, honey. I will next year. I’ll come with you and your little sister. Don’t forget, it’ll be her very first Christmas.”

Jolene hugged her quickly. “Okay.”

Ten minutes later, Rachel was sitting in the office, drinking a bottle of apple juice as Beth finished her paperwork.

“I doubt they’ll be long,” Beth told her. “The trees there are gorgeous, especially with this afternoon’s snow.”

“I hope Bruce and Jolene don’t go overboard and choose the biggest tree on the farm.”

Beth chuckled. “Jeff knows that people look at a tree and have no idea how large it is until they try to get it in the house. He’ll keep them realistic.”

“Oh, good. Jolene loves Christmas.” Rachel leaned back in her chair. “I consider this our first real Christmas as a family. We were married last year but I was so busy cleaning and moving that it didn’t feel very Christmassy.”

“There seem to be a lot of firsts for your family,” Beth said gently.

“I agree. It hasn’t been a smooth transition for us, but everything’s come together in the past couple of weeks.”

“I’m glad,” Beth said. She wasn’t entirely sure what Rachel meant. Busy though she’d been, when the Peytons originally came for their tree, Beth couldn’t help noticing the tension between Rachel and Jolene. The change in attitude, particularly on Jolene’s part, was encouraging.

Twenty minutes later, the two ATVs roared into the yard. As soon as the engine was shut off, Jolene leaped off the back of her father’s vehicle and raced toward Rachel.

“We found the most beautiful tree,” she said excitedly. “It’s just perfect.”

“Where is it?” Rachel asked, laughing at Jolene’s unabashed enthusiasm.

“You should’ve seen her,” Bruce said, joining them. “Jolene was like a rabbit, hopping from one tree to the next.”

“Dad, you’re embarrassing me,” the girl protested, but not too vigorously. In fact, it looked as if a smile was permanently affixed to her face.

“Exactly where is this wonderful, perfect Christmas tree?” Rachel asked again.

“Jeff’s going back in the pickup for it now,” Bruce explained. He reached into his pocket for his wallet. “While he’s doing that, I’ll pay for the tree and get out the rope so we can tie it to the top of the car.”

“When we take it home, we’re all going to decorate it together,” Jolene said happily.

“My girls and I do that,” Beth told her. “I always decorate several trees, but I leave one undecorated so the four … three of us can do it together once they’re home from college.”

Jolene looked at her father and Rachel. “Will you wait for me when I’m in college, too?”

“You bet,” Rachel said, raising one thumb.

That seemed to satisfy the teenager. “It won’t be that long, you know.”

“No need to rush it,” Bruce commented.

The phone rang, and since Jeff was busy, Beth grabbed it. “Cedar Cove Tree Farm,” she said. “Beth speaking.”

“Oh, Beth, I’m so glad I caught you.”

It was her friend, Grace Harding, the head librarian who’d adopted a golden-retriever mix from the previous batch of puppies. She sounded harried.

“What can I do for you, Grace?” Beth asked.

“We need a small tree.”

“How small?”

“One that’ll fit in a hotel room. It’s for a family who just arrived in town. Friends of ours.”

“Sure. I can have Jeff cut one for you and deliver it myself.”

“Oh, would you? I know this is last-minute, but these are two special friends who once rented our house on Rosewood Lane. That was years ago—but Ian’s in the navy and it looks like they’re moving back. They have two children. They’re only here for a few days, but I can’t bear the thought of them spending Christmas in Cedar Cove without a tree.”

“I’m on it,” Beth said. “Don’t worry, I’ll see to everything, including lights and decorations. Shall I bring it to your place?”

“Yes, please. I don’t know how to thank you.”

“You already have,” Beth said. Replacing the phone she looked at Bruce. “Now, I don’t suppose I could interest you in adopting a puppy?”

“A puppy?” Jolene perked right up. “Could we, Dad? Rachel? Could we?”

Bruce shrugged uncomfortably. “I don’t think so, sweetheart. With the baby coming and everything …”

“What kind of puppy?” Rachel asked, reaching for Bruce’s hand.

“They’re a Labrador mix. They’re all black and extremely cute. You could have the pick of the litter.”

Jolene clasped her hands and turned pleading eyes to her father.

Bruce held Rachel’s gaze and after a moment nodded. “But remember, Jolene, you’re responsible for training and taking care of the puppy.”

“I will, Dad, I promise. I’ve always wanted a dog! I want a girl and I’m going to name her Poppy.”

“Poppy’s a good name,” Rachel said.

“I can help with the training,” Beth offered, leading all three of them to the laundry room. It didn’t take Jolene long to choose the puppy she wanted.

One down, nine to go.




Chapter 2


Earlier in the month, Grace had been pleasantly surprised to get a phone call from Cecilia and Ian Randall, who were stationed in San Diego. They phoned again once they got into town.

“Would it be possible for Ian and me to stop by and visit?” Cecilia asked.

“Cecilia, of course! How are you? I hoped I’d get a chance to see you and Ian and the kids.” Grace had a hundred questions. The young couple had always been close to her heart, and she was thrilled at the prospect of having them back in the area.

“Remember I told you the navy transferred Ian back to Bremerton?” Cecilia said. “He’s going to be working in the shipyard instead of on the aircraft carrier. Cedar Cove feels like home to us, so we’re really happy about coming back.”

“That’s wonderful!” The Randalls reminded Grace of when she and her first husband, Dan, had purchased their house almost forty years ago. They’d been young, too, with a child and another on the way. Maryellen was a toddler and Grace had been pregnant with Kelly, and 204 Rosewood Lane had been their first real home. In fact, Grace had lived in that house most of her adult life. She’d raised her children there, buried her husband and learned to deal with life as a widow all on Rosewood Lane. The place held a great deal of sentimental value for her and she hadn’t been able to let it go, even after marrying Cliff Harding. So she’d decided to rent it out.

The Randalls had been ideal tenants, but the navy had transferred them all too soon. Over the years, Grace had seen a number of renters come and go. Faith Beckwith had resided there for a while; she’d had a difficult time with break-ins perpetrated by the tenants preceding her. That was long past now and the culprits were behind bars, thanks to Sheriff Davis. The most recent renters had left, and the house was sitting empty.

“I think I mentioned that Ian has leave over Christmas.

We flew out here yesterday. We came to see my dad and look for housing.” She paused. “Dad lives in a small apartment, so we’re staying at the Comfort Inn.”

Grace had assumed as much, based on their previous conversation. And other than the Beldons’ B and B, the Comfort Inn was the only hotel in downtown Cedar Cove.

“Do you have a car?” she asked. “A rental.”

“Come over today if you can and we’ll chat.” “What time?”

“Two,” she suggested. “Olivia is planning to stop by around then, and I know she’d love to see you.” “Judge Lockhart … I mean, Judge Griffin?” “Yes.”

“I’d love to see her, too. Ian and I owe her so much.”

Indeed they did owe a debt of gratitude to Olivia, as did many others in the community. Despite her decades as an attorney and then a family court judge, Olivia had never become jaded or cynical. She looked at each case individually. Over the years she’d made some controversial judgments. In Ian and Cecilia’s case, she’d denied their divorce. That decision had caused quite a stir in the courtroom and around town. She’d used a technicality, urging the couple to try harder and not to give up on each other so soon.

As it happened, Jack Griffin, the new Chronicle editor, had been visiting the court that day and had written an article about her decision, which had greatly embarrassed poor Olivia. Nevertheless, his inflammatory piece had been the start of their relationship. And look where that had led! Grace couldn’t hold back a smile.

“We’ll be there at two,” Cecilia said.

“Be sure to bring the kids,” Grace told her. “Cliff is boarding a pony over the holidays. She’s very gentle, and the owner said we can give rides to anyone we want.”

“Oh! Aaron and Mia will love it. See you at two.”

Grace finished addressing the last of her Christmas cards and walked down to the mailbox to send them off, knowing they’d be late this year. She wondered how she’d gotten so far behind.

Cliff helped her prepare by setting out a plate of cookies, although Grace suspected he ate as many as he put on the plate. The cocoa was warming on the stove when a car rolled into the driveway.

Beau, her puppy and guard dog, barked, warning them of impending visitors. “Is it the Randalls or Olivia?” Grace asked.

Cliff peered out the kitchen window. “Looks like Olivia.” He reached for his coat. “I’ll be outside with Pixie, saddling her up for the Randall kids.”

“Thanks.” Grace dried her hands and hurried to the door. Olivia immediately handed her a fruitcake wrapped in aluminum foil.

“From Mom,” she announced, stooping to pet Beau. “She baked them while she was living with Jack and me, and wanted to be sure you got one.”

Grace wasn’t a fruitcake fan—except for Charlotte’s, which included green tomato mincemeat and pecans. She put it on the counter next to an evergreen spray in a narrow vase.

“That’s so thoughtful. How’s Charlotte doing?” Grace was well aware that Charlotte and Ben’s recent move into the assisted-living complex hadn’t been easy.

“She has good days and bad days.” Olivia removed her gloves, stuffing them in her pocket, then slipped off her coat and draped it across the back of a kitchen chair. “On Tuesday, Mom phoned and told me she’d made a big mistake and wanted to return to the house.”

“But Will’s living there now.”

“I didn’t remind Mom of that. I figured out what was wrong. It’s Christmas and she misses all the things that represent the holidays to her. She associates them with the house.”

“Poor Charlotte.”

“It is hard to make such a huge move at this point in her life.”

As Beau settled on the rug by the kitchen door, Grace poured them each a cup of coffee. She carried the mugs to the table, then pulled out a chair. “So what did you do?”

“I found the crèche she’d tucked away in the basement and brought it over to their apartment, along with a small Christmas tree and a few other decorations. Then we sat and chatted over tea for a while. After about an hour, Mom said she’d had a change of heart and the assisted-living complex would suit her just fine.”

“That’s a relief.” Grace knew this had been as difficult for Will and Olivia as it was for their mother and Ben. On the whole, though, the new arrangement seemed to be working out.

“I had a call earlier today,” Grace said.

“Oh?” Olivia sipped her coffee.

“Remember I mentioned that Ian and Cecilia Randall were coming to town? In fact, Beth was by just a short while ago to drop off a tree for them.”

“So they’re here?”

“Yes. Since Ian’s been transferred to the Bremerton shipyard, they came to spend Christmas with Cecilia’s father, and look for a place to live. They’re staying at the Comfort Inn.”

“When did they get in?”

“Yesterday. Cecilia phoned and they’ll be stopping by—” She paused to glance at the kitchen clock. “Anytime now,” she finished.

“Why the Christmas tree?” Olivia asked.

“You know as well as I do that Bobby Merrick isn’t going to have a Christmas tree for those kids. I explained the situation to Beth and she brought over the cutest tree you can imagine. It’s in a pot and won’t take up much space. They should be able to set it in a corner of the hotel room without a problem. She even threw in lights and a few ornaments.” Grace appreciated all the effort Beth had put into this spur-of-the-moment idea.

“She owes you big-time after you decided to keep Beau,” Olivia said.

On hearing his name, Beau scampered from his place by the door to Grace’s feet. When she picked him up and held him in her lap, Beau licked her hand, then settled down to snooze, content to be close to his mistress.

“I’m the one who owes Beth,” Grace said, brushing her hand along Beau’s soft fur. She’d resisted her affection for Beau as long as she could, but his sweet temperament had eventually won her over.

“I heard Beth has ten more puppies to find homes for now.”

“Nine,” Grace was pleased to tell her. “Beth is elated. Bruce and Rachel Peyton let Jolene have a puppy for Christmas. She’s named her Poppy.”

“I hope everything’s okay,” Olivia said, frowning slightly. “I don’t want to see them in my courtroom.”

“The situation seems to have resolved itself. When I spoke to Rachel, she said all three of them were in counseling and making great strides.” Then Grace added, “I’ll be grateful when Rachel returns to the salon. My nails are a mess without her.”

“Grace!”

“Well, it’s true.”

They heard a car door slam in the distance. Beau’s head came up and he leaped down from his resting place on Grace’s lap. Barking, he ran to the front door, tail wagging furiously.

She followed him and opened the door to Cecilia Randall.

“Merry Christmas,” Cecilia said, giving her a bright red poinsettia.

Cecilia didn’t seem to have changed since the last time Grace had seen her. True, her dark hair was shorter now, stylishly cut, but she was as slim and elegant as ever.

Cecilia broke into a big grin. “You look exactly the same as I remember.”

“I was just thinking the same thing about you.” Grace set the plant on a small table near the entry. As she closed the door she glanced over at the barn. Ian and the two children were already talking to Cliff, who’d led the pony into the yard. Cliff had Pixie saddled and was introducing her to the children. Grace would serve them cookies and hot chocolate later when they came in. “Olivia’s here.”

“Oh, good! I was hoping for a chance to see her.” As Cecilia moved into the kitchen, Grace hung up her scarf and wool coat.

“Hello, hello,” Olivia said. Standing, the two women exchanged hugs.

“Sit, please,” Grace said. She took out another mug and filled it with coffee.

There was a lot of laughter and smiling as they caught up with one another, but then Cecilia grew serious. She turned toward Olivia. “I was out to see Allison this morning.” She bowed her head slightly. “Do … do you ever visit your son’s grave?” she asked in a small voice.

“Yes,” Olivia admitted softly. “On Jordan’s birthday, Justine and I put flowers by his headstone.”

“Ian and I went this morning and cleaned off her grave. The kids brought her a poinsettia.”

“It’s still difficult, isn’t it?” Olivia said, reaching across the table to squeeze Cecilia’s hand.

Grace leaned over to grab a tissue and passed it to the young woman.

“Do you still cry?” Cecilia asked, unmistakable pain in her voice. The loss of her infant daughter was an anguish that might fade but would never disappear. Grace knew that from her own experience, losing Dan.

“Yes,” Olivia said. “We don’t forget our children. Ever. We can’t. There’s been a gaping hole in my heart—in my life—ever since we lost Jordan. He was only thirteen….” She cleared her throat. “I’ve chosen to fill that hole with love.”

“I have, too,” Cecilia whispered. “Love for Ian and our other children. Both Aaron and Mia know they had an older sister. On Allison’s birthday last year, Aaron wanted to bake her a cake.”

“Did you?”

Cecilia nodded. “It never felt right to leave Allison when Ian was transferred. I’m so glad we’re moving back.”

“We’re glad, too,” Grace told her. Then because she was afraid they’d all end up weeping, she changed the subject. “So, you’re looking for a house….”

“Oh, yes.” Cecilia wiped the tears from her eyes and straightened. “Ian and I want to talk to you about the house on Rosewood Lane.”

Grace smiled happily. “Well, as I said, my last renters left when their lease expired, and the house is empty. Cliff and I would be delighted to rent it to you.”

Olivia checked her watch. “Sorry to rush off, but Justine needs me to baby-sit this afternoon.”

“Of course.” Grace stood, too, and hugged her friend. “If I don’t see Charlotte, make sure you thank her for the fruitcake.”

“Will do.”

“See you Christmas Eve at Noelle’s birthday party, right after church.” She briefly explained, for Cecilia’s benefit, who Noelle was and that she’d been born here at the ranch a year earlier.

“Yes, see you then,” Olivia confirmed. She put on her coat and gloves and wished Cecilia a merry Christmas. Grace walked her out, returning to find Cecilia by the back door, looking at her children, who were taking turns on the pony. “About the house,” Cecilia began, moving back to the kitchen table. “Ian and I—”

A polite knock sounded at the door, but before Grace could reach it, Ian Randall came inside. “Hello, Grace,” he said warmly. “Cliff said I should go on in. He’s taking the kids into the barn to feed the horses.” Giving an obligatory bark, Beau trotted over to him and Ian crouched down to stroke the sleek, soft head.

“They’re going to love that,” Cecilia said. “Aaron is such an animal person.” She might as well have said, And so is Ian.

“Would he like a puppy for Christmas?” Grace rushed to ask, knowing how desperate Beth was to find good homes.

“He’d love one,” Cecilia replied, “but with the move, a puppy—”

“He can pick one out. They’re at a tree farm owned by Beth Morehouse, a friend of ours. If you get a puppy, Cliff and I can keep him here with Beau until you’re back in Cedar Cove.”

Cecilia and Ian exchanged a glance. “That’s too much to ask.”

“Not at all. And it would be a huge help to Beth. Someone abandoned ten puppies on her porch and she needs good homes for them before Christmas.”

“Aaron’s responsible, and he’d love it,” Cecilia prompted. “Besides, we’d be rescuing a puppy. What do you think?” She looked at her husband, obviously attracted to the idea.

Ian shrugged. “A puppy for Aaron would be a great gift … if you’re positive you don’t mind keeping him for a few weeks.”

“We wouldn’t mind in the least,” Grace assured him.

“Okay, that’s settled. We’ll go and see your friend, pick out a puppy.” Ian pulled out a chair and sat down next to his wife. “Did Cecilia mention the house on Rosewood Lane?”

“We’d just started to talk about it,” Grace said. “I told her it’s available and we’d love to rent it to you again.”

Ian shook his head.

“You don’t want it?” This surprised Grace because she remembered how fond Cecilia had been of the place and all the small homey changes she’d made. “My mistake. I’m sorry,” she said with some embarrassment.

“Actually, Cecilia and I were wondering,” Ian said, clasping his wife’s hand, “if you and Cliff would consider selling us the house.”

“Selling,” Grace repeated. “Oh … I hadn’t thought of that.”

“I brought it up to Cliff,” Ian continued, “and he said the decision was yours.”

“Well … yes, I suppose it is,” Grace murmured. Her immediate reaction was not to sell. Her emotional attachment to the house on Rosewood Lane remained strong. “Can I think about it and get back to you sometime in the next couple of days?” “Of course,” Ian said.

The back door opened again and Cliff came in with the two children. Aaron was instantly on the floor, playing with Beau, and Mia ran to tell her mother all about riding Pixie.

The rest of the visit passed in a blur for Grace, preoccupied as she was with Ian’s request. She served cocoa and cookies and presented the Randalls with the small Christmas tree, which thrilled the kids, but she was hardly aware of anything that was said. The young family left soon afterward.

Grace and Cliff waved them off and returned to the house.

“From the look on your face, Ian must have said something about wanting to buy the house.” Cliff walked over to the coffeepot and refilled his mug. He leaned against the counter as he waited for her reply.

“He did.”

“And?”

“I … don’t know if I can give it up.”

“Then tell them it’s only available to rent,” he said matter-of-factly.

“But … this is exactly the type of family I’d want to sell the house to.” Grace found she couldn’t keep still. She walked over to the refrigerator and opened it for no reason. Closing it, she circled the kitchen table.

“I understand.” Cliff came up behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders. “It’s a big decision.”

Grace exhaled slowly. “It is … but I think it’s time,” she said with sudden resolve. “My old life was on Rosewood Lane. My new life is here with you—and Beau.”

Lying on the braided carpet beneath the kitchen table, Beau raised his head and barked once. Apparently, he was in full agreement.




Chapter 3


Two down and eight puppies to go.

Saturday morning, the day before Christmas Eve, Aaron Randall—as well as his parents and little sister—had stopped by and picked out a puppy. Grace, bless her, had agreed to keep tiny Poko until the Randalls returned to Cedar Cove in the second week of January. He was with her now, as it would’ve been too difficult to look after the puppy in the hotel room.

The Randalls’ rental car pulled out of the driveway just as another vehicle turned in.

Kent. Obviously driving a rental, too. It was a bright blue sedan, not his usual style at all.

It couldn’t be anyone else. He’d phoned shortly after he’d arrived at Thyme and Tide, and said he was on his way over.

Despite herself, Beth felt another wave of excitement. She hadn’t slept all night, trying to make sense of his unexpected need to connect as a family again. Granted, he saw their daughters more often than she did, since both attended college in California. But all four of them together at Christmas … It had been a long time. Even if, as she suspected, Bailey and Sophie were involved in this, Kent didn’t have to go along with it. But he had….

Still, she wondered if she was reading more into the situation than it warranted; all the same, she considered scenarios of what this Christmas would be like. Then there was Ted. He was a close friend, and while they’d shared little more than a few chaste kisses, the relationship looked promising. She felt it and thought he did, too.

Beth remembered Christmases when the girls were young. She remembered laughing with Kent, the two of them shushing each other as they stayed up half the night assembling tricycles and later bicycles and then fell into bed exhausted. In an hour or two, Bailey and Sophie would be jumping up and down on the mattress, shrieking that Santa had come.

One Christmas Eve they’d gone for a sleigh ride in freshly fallen snow, snuggling under a blanket, keeping one another warm. Kent had stolen a few hot kisses while the girls giggled and hid their eyes, complaining that it was “yucky” to see their parents kiss.

Beth smiled. They’d had some really good years together. Somewhere along the way, though, their lives had changed. No, their marriage had. They’d grown apart. It wasn’t any big disagreement, no betrayal or unforeseen revelation. Instead, an accumulation of small slights and annoyances had eventually grown from a small distance into a huge crevasse. One that had deepened and widened over the years until they’d been unable to reach across it….

Was it possible? Did Kent regret the divorce? Beth had more than a few regrets herself. They’d both been so stubborn, so unreasonable, so eager to prove they didn’t need each other anymore.

Perhaps if they’d been the kind of people who yelled and stomped around the house, everything might have gone differently. Instead, once the subject of divorce had been broached, they’d been so darned polite. Attorneys said there was no such thing as a “friendly” divorce, but that hadn’t been Beth’s experience. Theirs had been not only friendly but accommodating and fair. But maybe that was just on the surface. Maybe going ahead with the divorce was unfair—to both of them.

She’d gotten busy at the college and Kent had his engineering company. They’d been like those ships in the old cliché, passing in the night, each drifting in a different direction. She had her life and he had his.

Kent claimed he found her friends stuffy and boring, and stopped attending social functions with her. Beth decided his friends were snobs. He didn’t seem to mind that she stayed home when he had an event, and after a while she wondered if he’d met someone else. It wouldn’t have surprised her. Although he’d never admitted it … They were so remote at that point, spending almost no time together. Oh, they slept in the same bed but rarely touched, rarely communicated about anything other than routine or functional things. Like who was picking up milk or paying the electricity bill.

She was the one who’d suggested divorce. At first Kent had seemed shocked. But he’d recovered quickly enough. He’d simply said that if she wanted a divorce, he wouldn’t stop her … and he hadn’t.

They’d divided everything as equitably as possible, sold the house and parted ways. It’d all been so civilized, so straightforward, as if twenty-three years as husband and wife meant nothing.

When the final decree came through, Beth decided to leave the academic world. She’d been seeking a geographical cure, she supposed, considering it now. The Christmas tree farm had been the solution she’d been looking for. She had her dogs and a menagerie of other pets, including two canaries, a guinea pig and now the puppies. Eight puppies. She also fed a number of feral cats. And she’d made new friends and found new purpose….

Kent—and, yes, it was Kent, as she’d expected—parked the car and turned off the engine. Beth pretended she was busy. Too busy to even glance in his direction. But despite herself, she was excited. Happy.

All she’d ever wanted from him was some indication that he still loved her, that he still cared. His insistence on spending Christmas with her and the girls, no matter how it had come about, was the first time either of them had made a move toward the other. Could this be the start of a reconciliation?

Her heart rate accelerated and she brushed her hair behind both ears. She wished now that she’d worn something other than her ever-present jeans. Dressing up a bit would’ve been a subtle way of letting Kent know how pleased she was that he’d extended an olive branch. She had on a long-sleeved shirt beneath her red V-neck sweater, which would have gone nicely with her black wool pants. Oh, how she wished she’d put on her black wool pants.

The car door closed, and Kent stood there, looking at her.

“Hello,” she said, surprised by how shaky her voice sounded. “Welcome to Christmas Tree Lane—and Cedar Cove Tree Farm.”

He zipped up his jacket and grinned. “The house is fabulous. The girls were right.”

“Thank you.” The porch railing was covered with swags of evergreen and twinkling white lights. More lights hung from the roofline, glittering brightly in the dull gray winter morning.

The passenger car door opened and Beth saw that Kent hadn’t come alone. A lovely, young—much younger than Beth—woman climbed out. She was tall, lithe and stylishly dressed in a full-length black coat and long, high-heeled black boots. She towered an inch or two above Kent, who stood at nearly six feet. Her blond, shoulder-length hair was perfect…. Actually, everything about her seemed perfect in an urban, sophisticated way that contrasted painfully with Beth’s farm clothes, disheveled hair and work-roughened hands.

Beth blinked and her heart almost stopped as reality hit her. Kent had brought another woman. They were together. A couple. He was seeing someone else now. This little fantasy she’d built around a reconciliation was only that—wishful thinking.

It took her a moment to recover and realize that every assumption she’d made was completely and totally off-base. Kent hadn’t come to spend Christmas with her and the girls. His sole purpose was to show off this … this model.

Nothing had changed. Nothing ever would.

“Hello.” Beth greeted the other woman with a forced smile and an extended hand. “I’m Beth Morehouse. The ex-wife.”

“I know,” the woman said in a sultry voice that was sweet enough to caramelize sugar. “I’m Danielle.”

Just Danielle? No last name? Like Cher or Madonna or Beyoncé?

“Welcome to my Christmas tree farm,” she said, placing emphasis on her ownership.

The screen door flew open and Bailey raced onto the porch. “Dad!”

Sophie was directly behind her sister. They darted down the stairs like young fawns in their rush to hug Kent.

Her ex-husband opened his arms, and his daughters launched themselves into his wide embrace.

“How are my girls?” he asked, his voice warm with affection.

“Missing you, Daddy,” Sophie murmured.

“Who’s that?” Bailey asked starkly, frowning at Danielle. Apparently, she was as shocked as Beth.

“This is Danielle Martin,” he said, sliding his arms around each of their waists.

Oh, so there was a last name.

“What’s she doing here?” Sophie demanded.

“Sophie,” Beth snapped, appalled at her daughter’s lack of manners.

“Danielle’s a friend from work who traveled with me,” he said by way of introduction.

“Why don’t we all step inside, out of the cold,” Beth suggested, and marched into the house, assuming everyone else would follow.

The girls had obviously been playing with the puppies when Kent arrived because the second the door opened they swarmed onto the porch, eager as jailbirds to make an escape. Four were already out the door and racing down the porch steps.

“Don’t just stand there,” Beth cried to her daughters. “Help me.”

Laughing, Sophie and Bailey hurried in one direction while Beth went in the other. Even Kent got involved in the chase. The only one who didn’t move was Danielle. With her arms crossed, she remained immobile, as if moving a single inch would have dire consequences.

Once the puppies were all inside the house, Beth brought Kent and Danielle in. Danielle perched on the arm of a recliner with her feet off the carpet. She seemed to fear that all the puppies would rush toward her at one time.

Beth called out instructions. “Get the puppies into the laundry room,” she told the girls. “I’ll give them some treats.” This was not the way she’d planned to greet Kent, with puppies creating havoc.

In the momentary quiet of the laundry room, Beth pressed one hand to her chest, which felt as though it was knotted with pain. She would not, could not, yield to the icy tide of disappointment or to the surprising burst of white-hot anger. Not now. Not here. She’d rather be dipped in Christmas-tree sap and rolled in holly leaves before she made a fool of herself in front of the girls.

With a deep breath, Beth squared her shoulders and opened a bag of canine treats just as the girls herded in the last three pups. Whether it was the rustle of the bag or the distinctive aroma, Beth didn’t care, only that they all came on the run. On another calming breath, she promised to deal with her emotions later as she distributed the miniature bone-shaped biscuits.

She slowly and deliberately wiped her hands on her jeans while arranging her features in her best hostess smile. Returning to the living room, she motioned Sophie and Bailey to the couch and nodded at her guests. “Now, where were we?”

The girls exchanged a puzzled look and obeyed. At Beth’s question, they fixed their gazes on their father.

“Are all those dogs … yours?” Danielle asked incredulously.

“No, no. I’m finding homes for them.”

“Where are your dogs?” Kent asked. “Do you still have Lucy and Bixby?”

“Of course. They’re in the heated kennel in the back.”

“It’s huge. You should see it, Dad,” Sophie said, growing more animated as she spoke. “Mom’s got six dogs of her own, and she helps with the Reading with Rover program at the library and … and she trains dogs and she just got a puppy herself.” She was out of breath by the time she completed her list.

“He’s been sickly so she keeps him upstairs,” Bailey added.

“In your bedroom?” Danielle’s eyes widened with what appeared to be horror.

“You started to tell us about Danielle,” Bailey reminded her father, turning away from the other woman.

“Well, yes.” Kent looked at Danielle. “She’s a … friend.”

“A good friend,” Danielle murmured. “A very good friend.”

“I can’t believe this.” Bailey paced their bedroom with her hands locked behind her back. “This is all wrong! Nothing is working out like we planned.”

“When did Dad meet Danielle?” Sophie, the practical one, asked. “And where?”

“Why are you asking me? I don’t know any more than you do.”

Sitting on the edge of the bed with her hands in her hair—as if trying to pull out an answer—Sophie said, “Well, she wasn’t there when we visited him at Thanksgiving. And he didn’t say a word about her to me, but I thought he might’ve mentioned it to you.”

“I wish.” Bailey threw a scowl at her sister. “If he had, we never would’ve invited him for Christmas. That’s for sure. Besides, I’d have told you. What’s Dad thinking? Or is he thinking? Anyone with half a brain can see she’s all wrong for him.”

“She can’t be much older than we are.”

“Did you see how she reacted to the puppies?” Bailey cried. “Like they were diseased or something. Sitting with her feet in the air, as if they’d mistake her leg for a tree trunk. Too bad they didn’t.”

Sophie groaned. “And did you hear how she talked to me? Like I’m ten years old. For a minute I thought she was going to pinch my cheek and tell me how cute I was.”

“Dad and Danielle? It’s a joke,” Bailey muttered. “A terrible joke.”

“That’s what you said about the divorce—until it happened.”

“I know. I just don’t want to believe this … whatever it is.” But she’d seen the way Danielle had looked at their father. Clearly, he didn’t have a clue. This woman was set on getting a big diamond ring from him. Bailey was bound and determined that wasn’t going to happen. Not on her watch. If ever their father had needed help, it was now. They had to do something before he made the second-biggest mistake of his life. The first had been going through with the divorce.

“Well, you’d better come up with an idea fast, or you’ll be spending next Thanksgiving with Dad and your new stepmother. Just you and Danielle and Dad. ‘Cause I’m not going. I’ll be here with Mom.”

“Don’t say that,” Bailey moaned. “Besides, you’ll have to come.”

“Nope. I don’t like Danielle.”

“Me, neither.”

“There’s got to be something we can do,” Sophie said.

“What?” Bailey asked in frustration, which was immediately followed by discouragement. “We can’t let this happen. We just can’t.”

“I agree. Think, Bailey. You always come up with good plans.”

“I’m trying, I’m trying.”

Sophie kicked off her shoes and sat cross-legged on the bed. “First, we have to figure out what Danielle wants. No woman that young and perfect-looking would ever date our dad.”

Bailey nodded. As harsh as it sounded, Sophie wasn’t saying anything she hadn’t already considered.

“We could introduce her to a younger man.”

“Who?” Bailey asked.

“Jeff is cute.”

“Mom’s foreman? He’s married. I don’t want to be responsible for breaking up a marriage in order to get our parents back together.”

“Yeah, that’s bad,” Sophie agreed. “Okay, who else is there? It’s got to be somebody young. I mean, Dad’s way over forty.”

“So is Mom.”

“Oh, Mom,” Sophie said miserably, flopping back onto the bed. “She knew. She was so stoic when she introduced herself to Danielle, I wanted to scream.”

Bailey had been too shocked to tear her eyes from her father. When she did look at her mother, she couldn’t bear the return of the polite frozen smile. From the moment she and Sophie had mentioned that their father would be coming for Christmas, they’d both noticed a change in her.

In the beginning, when she’d heard the news, Beth had seemed confused and a bit panicky. Over dinner the night before, she’d peppered them with questions about their father. She was interested, all right. Interested and intrigued and, after a while, Bailey had sensed a definite excitement. She’d seemed happy, and for the first time since the divorce, they’d seen a brightness in her eyes.

It was exactly the reaction Bailey and Sophie had been looking for. Over the past three years, Mom had put on a great act. To all outward appearances, she was content;

she certainly claimed to be. Her new life suited her just fine, she said. What had frightened the girls into taking action was the fact that their mother had started to casually drop Ted Reynolds’s name into their conversations.

Beth’s eagerness about seeing their dad convinced both Bailey and Sophie that all this talk about contentment was false. They’d been up half the night whispering in the dark, so sure they were right—and now this.

“Have you got any ideas yet?” Sophie sounded worried.

“Where’s Mom?”

“Where she always goes when she’s upset. She’s with her dogs.”

“With her dogs,” Bailey echoed. The kennel was a place of comfort for Beth, a place of solace. The thought of her mom sitting on the ground with her precious animals gathered around her made Bailey want to weep.

“Where did Dad and Danielle go for lunch?”

“I don’t know….”

He’d invited Bailey and Sophie to join them, but of course they’d declined.

“We should’ve gone with him,” Bailey said.

“No way.” Sophie shook her head. “I am not socializing with her.”

Bailey reviewed various options that began occurring to her. Yes, it would work. She hopped onto the bed and tucked her legs underneath her.

Sophie stared at her. “What are you thinking?”

“We need to show Dad that Danielle’s completely wrong for him.”

“Well, duh. Just how are we going to do that?”

“There are ways.” Bailey gave a conspiratorial smile.

Immediately, Sophie straightened. “You think we can do it?”

“I don’t just think, I know. Watch out, Danielle. You’re in for it now.”




Chapter 4


Judge Olivia Griffin pulled into the parking lot at the Pancake Palace. She’d ordered two coconut cream pies for their Christmas Eve dinner at Justine’s. After the meal, they’d attend church services, then head over to Noelle’s birthday party. Picking up the pies was on the list of errands she needed to run before collecting Mom and Ben that evening.

The restaurant was packed, which surprised her. She hadn’t expected it to be this busy on Christmas Eve Day. But she should have, she mused, as she hunted for a parking space at the back of the lot. Based on last year’s experience, her daughter had warned her. With a firm conviction that family came first, Justine had decided to close the Tea Room for Christmas Eve as well as Christmas Day. Her staff was thrilled with the unexpected gift of this extra time off.

Inside the restaurant, Olivia stood in line at the counter waiting her turn. Wave upon wave of happy voices washed through the room. Looking around, she noticed the painted windows, decorated with a variety of holiday scenes. Holly on one window, a snowman on another. She gazed across the room and saw the Randall family in a booth with Cecilia’s father, Bobby Merrick. Holding fistfuls of crayons, the two Randall children were bent over their place mats, solving puzzles, connecting the dots or just coloring.

Remembering her conversation with Cecilia the day before, Olivia couldn’t help releasing a sigh. The young mother had asked about Jordan, Olivia’s son and Justine’s twin brother.

It seemed to Olivia that her entire life was divided by that summer. Life before Jordan died and life afterward. Her world had imploded that summer afternoon. No sooner had they buried their son than Stan, her husband, announced that he wanted a divorce. Within a matter of months, she’d lost her son and her marriage.

Watching Cecilia and Ian Randall now, sitting close together, so attuned to each other, so much in love, she didn’t regret denying their divorce. How could she? She would’ve given anything if someone had done the same for her and Stan. The pain of losing their son had been so horrific that, instead of bringing them together, it had driven a wedge between them.

When Stan remarried only months after their divorce, Olivia’s friends had speculated that he’d been involved with Marge long before Jordan’s death. It’d been easy to believe, especially then. Her mother, who was reluctant to say anything bad about anyone, felt Stan had acted irrationally in leaving his family.

Irrationally? Their son was dead. How could either of them remain rational? The grief had killed them, too.

It was all a moot point. Stan had married Marge, and some years later they’d divorced, as well. For a time it seemed that he wanted to get back together with Olivia and had done his best to thwart her budding romance with Jack Griffin. By then, however, Olivia had fallen for Jack, and her sights were set on the future instead of resurrecting the past. It was far too late for her and Stan. When it became apparent that she wasn’t interested, he’d found someone else. Justine had told her that Susan, the new woman in his life, was living with him now. Olivia assumed he wasn’t willing to try marriage a third time.

Yesterday, Cecilia had asked if she still cried over Jordan. Did a mother ever stop weeping over a lost child? Olivia doubted it. While going through cancer treatments a couple of years ago, Olivia had become desperately ill with an infection. From what others told her later, she knew she’d been close to death. It was while her fever raged that Jordan had come to her. For the briefest of moments she’d seen him as he was that summer, a skinny thirteen-year-old, full of life, eager to prove himself. He’d been a happy boy, smart and witty. Even now when she heard his favorite song by the group Air Supply, tears would prick her eyes. When she thought of her son, she remembered his ready smile, his ease with people, a natural charm that never failed to endear him to others.

Once again, Olivia wondered what would have become of her son had he lived. He had a variety of interests. He’d been good at math and loved to take things apart, then put them back together. He might have been an engineer. Then, too, he was often the go-between when Justine and James argued, helping his siblings settle their differences. Perhaps he would’ve followed in her footsteps and become an attorney.

Olivia felt a thickening in her throat and blinked back tears. This was silly. Christmas was supposed to be joyous, festive. Now wasn’t the time to reminisce about Jordan.

Cecilia glanced up and, seeing Olivia, she smiled. Their eyes connected—mother to mother. Heart to heart. Cecilia knew Olivia was remembering Jordan. And Olivia knew Cecilia was remembering the infant daughter she’d held so briefly in her arms.

Cecilia nodded and rested her head against Ian’s shoulder. For an instant Ian looked surprised, and then Olivia saw him reach for his wife’s hand and give it a gentle squeeze.

Tammy, the hostess, touched Olivia’s arm. “I have your pies, Judge Griffin.”

“Oh … oh, sorry, I got distracted.” Olivia pulled out her wallet, paid for the pies and carried them out to the car without looking back.

Olivia had just opened the driver’s-side door when her cell phone chirped. She dug it out of her purse, saw it was her husband and pushed the talk button.

“Hello, sweetheart,” she said.

“Where are you?” he asked, sounding rushed.

“The Pancake Palace, why?”

“Eric and Shelly arrived with the boys.”

“I didn’t think they were due until five.” Her stepson and his family were hours early. They’d driven from Reno to spend Christmas Eve with Jack and Olivia at Justine’s, and Christmas Day with Shelly’s family. “Can you feed them lunch or do you want me to come home?” she asked.

“Lunch isn’t a problem. I’m calling because I need to know if Beth Morehouse has any of those puppies left.” “I’m sure she does.”

“Great. Eric was saying he wanted to get Tedd and Todd each a dog after the first of the year, and he was hoping to find a couple of Labs. I told him about Beth’s situation and he’s interested.”

“Oh, Jack, Beth would be so grateful!”

“That’s what I thought. I’ll give her a call and take Eric and the boys out to her place later this afternoon. Do you want to meet us there?”

“If I have time …”

“Okay. Love you.”

“Love you, too.” She ended the call and dropped her cell back in her purse. Beth would be thrilled to find homes for two more puppies.

Olivia’s next stop was the Sanford assisted-living complex, where her mother and stepfather had recently moved. The snow had been cleared from the parking lot and the sidewalk swept and salted. Hugging her coat around her, she hunched her shoulders against the wind and hurried inside.

A large, beautifully decorated Christmas tree sparkling with lights and classic ornaments graced the entry. Red bows were attached to a set of twin chandeliers. Six fresh wreaths festooned the second-floor railing and left a lingering scent of pine. The complex had a homey, welcoming appeal.

Olivia saw Ben first. He was in the card room set off to the side of the main room. He was apparently playing either pinochle or bridge, his two favorite games. Olivia knew Charlotte was waiting for her upstairs. Her mother insisted on reviewing their Christmas-dinner menu, although Olivia had already prepared most of the dishes in advance. Tonight and tomorrow were for family. She had no intention of spending Christmas Day in the kitchen, although she planned to put the turkey in the oven sometime Christmas morning.

The menu was the same one they had almost every year, many of the recipes directly from the cookbook Charlotte had compiled for Justine. Last Christmas, Justine had made copies of her grandmother Charlotte’s favorites for the extended family and it was a much-loved treasure.





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