 
Small Town Christmas

Serendipity, Indiana Series

Book One

By

_USA Today_ Bestselling Author

Magdalena Scott
Small Town Christmas

Copyright 2014 Magdalena Scott

Cover Art Design by calliope-designs.com

Edited by Karen Block

Trade Paperback Release: November 2014

ISBN 978-0-9862118-1-2

Digital Release: November 2014

ISBN 978-0-9862118-0-5

WARNING: All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work, in whole or in part, in any form, is illegal and forbidden without the written permission of the author, Magdalena Scott.

This is a work of fiction. Characters, settings, names, and occurrences are a product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any actual person, living or dead, places, settings or occurrences are purely coincidental.

Published by Jewel Box Books

5.20
Dedicated to

Melissa Burton

~~*~~

Special Thanks and Gratitude

to

Beverly Blankenbaker

Karen Block

Shannon Burton

Callie Mulrooney

Robin Smedley
Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Serendipity, Indiana Series

McClains of Legend, Tennessee Series

Dear Reader

Preview of EMILY'S DREAMS

Invitation to the Newsletter

About the Author
Chapter One

THERE WAS ONLY one thing that could have brought me back to Serendipity, Indiana, and that was the Osborne house. As a youngster riding all over town on my bike, I'd thought it was surely the most beautiful house in the world. My senior year in high school I attended an event there—an event that changed the direction of my life. The day I drove out of town in my first car, intending never to return, I shed a tear or two at the thought of never seeing that house again. I told myself those tears had nothing at all to do with Jim Standish, or his part in my last experience at the Osborne house.

Years later I made the huge mistake of telling my best girlfriends that the house was the only thing that could get me back to Serendipity. We all laughed about it. But when the Osbornes decided to move to Florida for good, and not just snowbird as a lot of Serendipity folks did, my friend Alice called me.

"Melissa, guess what? There's a 'for sale' sign in the front yard of the Osborne house."

A shock ran through me like static electricity on a cold wintry day.

"Remember what you said?"

"Sure, I remember." Why do I tell girlfriends stuff that might come back to bite me? "You know, if things were different for me here, I'd be tempted. But the housing market's picked up. Business is great. I can't imagine I could have much of a career in real estate down there. So, you know..."

"Okay. Wanted to tell you, just in case." The conversation went someplace entirely different after that, thank goodness. It had been less than a blip on the big radar screen of my life.

"So, how's Matthew?" she asked when I'd probably been talking too much about my job.

"Great. Absolutely wonderful. What did I ever do without him?"

"Work. Even more hours than you do now."

"Well, true."

"Mel, we need a girls' day, soon. Can you manage it?"

We discussed schedules. Alice took the job of contacting the other girls. It made sense because they're in the same town, and—well, she doesn't really seem to have much else going on. She organizes us for things like this—finds a fun place for lunch and some shopping, somewhere between Fort Wayne, where I was living, and Serendipity, which is way the other end of Indiana. Plus it's way the other end of the spectrum, quality of life-wise. Poor old Serendipity, where nothing ever happens, but everybody's always talking about it.

Matthew scooted into the room in his favorite footed jammies, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. "Mommy, who was on the phone?"

"Sorry my call woke you up, Sweetie. That was my friend, Alice."

He raised his arms and I picked him up and started walking around talking softly. I almost made the mistake of asking if he remembered Alice. That would have been stupid because he'd have started thinking about it and become more awake instead of drowsy. I have to think about parenting stuff more than some people do. Maybe because I came to motherhood a little late and all alone. Plus my own parents sure hadn't set a good example of how to raise children.

Matthew had brought his blanket with him and tucked it under his cheek, relaxing on my shoulder. I started singing the silly song I made up as a lullaby—a repetitive tune with boring words—that always works at night. Sometimes I almost put myself to sleep.

But this was morning, and I needed to get moving. I laid my son back in his little bed shaped like a semi-truck, made sure he was sound asleep, and retrieved the nursery monitor before I hit the shower. I usually have coffee before I shower, but today I was running a little late because of Alice's phone call. And I didn't need caffeine. My mind was whirling with pictures and memories—of the Osborne house, of my girlfriends in Serendipity, and the sweetness of small town life.

We'd had an idyllic childhood for the most part, back in the day when the world was more simple than scary. Sure I'd love to raise Matthew in a similar environment, but if you need to make a living, Serendipity isn't a place to move. Young people with initiative leave town as soon as they can, as I had done a couple of decades ago. The town had lost more industry than it had gained in the last several years and was basically headed down the tubes. Most likely the Osborne house would sit empty, unsold, and the owners would end up renting it out.

Too bad, but not my problem. My life was coming along very nicely, thank you very much.

****

A few days later I watched Matthew play at the park near our apartment. He and I had a standing play date with some kids from his preschool every Saturday morning. It was good for him to be able to run wild for a little while, since our apartment didn't have loads of room for that type of activity. I always brought my laptop and used the time to catch up on work. The other moms were lots younger, and busy talking about husbands or boyfriends or the latest fashion. I didn't have anything to add to that conversation, nor anything to gain from it either.

My cell phone rang. This time it was my friend Francie, just re-stating the fact that the house was for sale. I steeled myself not to care.

"And hey," she added. "Did you know the Parkers are retiring and closing their office?"

The name was familiar but I couldn't picture them. "Parkers?"

"Parker Realty. You know. The biggest real estate office in the county."

"Um, no. When did this happen?" _And why does it feel like a sign to me?_

"It's been in the works for a while, I guess. There's been talk, but I got the official word from Maude Parker yesterday in the grocery line. She's excited to retire. They have kids all over the country, and can travel—"

"So who's going to buy the business?"

"Maude said they're working on it. They don't really want to sell to somebody from out of town, you know. Most of the real estate places around are just satellites, not locally owned. She said letting it go to that kind of buyer just feels wrong." Francie paused. "Alice called me about a get-together. I think we're shooting for some time next month. Everybody's busy right now."

"Do you have the number?"

"Number?"

"The Parkers' number, Francie." Why did she keep changing the subject? "Home phone, not the business." I started pawing through Matthew's backpack for something to write the number on. It was ludicrous to even make the contact, but if I did, I wanted to go right to the owners, via a more personal channel than their office phone. I mean, if they had the inclination to sell to someone they knew, who was I to question it?

"I can get it for you, Mel. Mom may have Maude's number. I'll text it to you."

She sent it to me that day or the next, but having come to my senses in the interim, I didn't call. Buying the business had been a silly idea. I was established and successful, and Matthew and I were happy.

Then the final shoe dropped. This particular size twelve, Italian-leather loafer belonged to the owner of the real estate agency where I worked. In order to focus best on the agency's core mission, there was to be a redistribution of human resources. Translation: The dude's new girlfriend was coming onboard and I was on my way out.

I may be a little slow on the uptake, but I can tell when fate is kicking me in the rear. At this point I could try to keep my job by whatever means available—could be ugly. Or I could look for something similar in the area. Or I could just take door number three—Serendipity, Indiana, the old hometown I had tried so hard to put in the past. With only myself to consider, I might have chosen another option. But Matthew made everything in my life different.
Chapter Two

"MOMMY, I NEED to potty."

I smiled into the rearview mirror. "Matthew, we just stopped ten minutes ago and did that, remember? We're almost there, Sweetie."

"Okay." He huffed out a big sigh and pulled another storybook out of his backpack. He propped the book onto the arm rest of his car seat and smoothed his blanket a few times with one hand. Dear little Matthew. It was a sudden upheaval, and this trip was wearing on him.

"Sweetie, you're going to love our new house. It's big and pretty with lots of windows."

Matthew met my eyes in the rearview mirror. "Tell me about my room, Mommy. Tell me it's gonna have trucks and soft carpet."

"Yes, it will. Right now, it's a nice room, but when we get the trucks painted on the walls, it will be even better. All your friends will wish they had a terrific room like that."

He frowned. "Only I don't have friends, Mommy. We drived away from my friends."

I stared at the road, unwilling to see my son's expression.

"You'll make lots of new friends in Serendipity, Matthew."

"I don't like Sarahdippty. It's a girl name."

"Not Sarah, Sweetie. Serendipity. It's one really long word that isn't about a girl or a boy. Serendipity is a word that means happy surprise. Isn't that a fun name for a town?"

"They should call it Surprise Town."

I could tell by his tone that Matthew was getting sleepy. I slid a CD of soft jazz into the player, and he was out in a few minutes. By the time he woke up we should be at our destination.

I knew the big house on Main Street would be perfect for us. I had verified that zoning would allow me to use a portion of the house for my real estate office. Even if I eventually needed an assistant, which I anticipated, there was lots of square footage for a grand home—the home I'd wanted all my life. It had taken a long while, but the house—and pretty much everything about the move—had dropped into my lap without much effort from me. Maybe the biggest perk was that I'd be able to walk down the streets of Serendipity, Indiana, as someone who mattered...even though for years I had tried not to care about that.

It would have been obvious to me even without road signs that we were nearing my hometown, because of the change in terrain. I'd lived in the Chicago area and northern Indiana ever since leaving Serendipity. Especially early on, I'd missed the rolling hills of southern Indiana. Up north, the roads are flat and straight and actually meet at right angles—a great help if you're driving around a lot in areas you're not familiar with. Not so in the southern part of the state. You could start driving east on a road and a mile later, there's a horseshoe curve and you're staring into the sunset, due west. Going for a Sunday drive, you could easily end up someplace you didn't expect at all. That was the roads, but also when you paid attention, it was just the way life tended to work in Serendipity.

I took the exit off I-65, and said a silent _thank you_ that Matthew hadn't stirred. Suddenly, on this familiar two-lane state highway I had traveled hundreds of times in my youth, I was anxious about my decision to move back, and what kind of welcome we might receive. However, I had already burned my bridges behind me, making it a little late for second thoughts.

I wiped my sweaty palms one at a time on the fabric of my designer jeans, and concentrated on breathing calmly. Moving back here would work out. I would make sure of it.

Twenty minutes later, I slowed the SUV to a crawl at the Serendipity city limits. Off to the right was a new-looking medical plaza. That certainly hadn't existed when I left. Just across the road from it stood the big white farm house where one of my high school classmates had grown up. Black Angus cattle, not impressed one way or the other about progress, calmly grazed in the large field near the house, just as their ancestors had done.

I came to the stop light and had to wait. A few blocks away to the left, the stately courthouse was visible. I looked forward to the first time Matthew would see the castle-like building, but that was for another day. Right now, I was too tired from driving and trying to keep Matthew entertained along the way.

The light changed to green and I turned right onto Main Street. A few hundred yards later, I made a left into our driveway.

"Are we there yet?" Matthew asked thickly.

I shut off the engine. "We sure are, Sweetie. We sure are."

I sat for a moment looking at our home. The big square house was perfect as ever, newly painted white and with forest green shutters that matched the roof on the deep-set front porch. So beautiful, just as it had always been.

"Is _this_ our house, Mommy?"

I hurried to unbuckle my son from his car seat. "Yes. Isn't it pretty? We'll be so happy here, Matthew."

"Big. It is so _big_!" He stared in awe. "Can I have a dog?"

I laughed nervously. Where had that question come from? "Let's go in and see the house."

I took his hand and led him to the side door at the driveway, lifted a small concrete figurine of a boy and girl kissing, and plucked the key from its hiding place. All the paperwork had been taken care of by email and snail-mail, and the realtor had told me where to find the key. I immediately worked it onto my ring. No way would I permanently leave a key out for anyone to find. That was one facet of small town life I'd never buy into. That and simply leaving doors unlocked. Ridiculous to do such things these days, for sure.

We entered the side door. I found a light switch and flipped it. Matthew let go of my hand and walked directly under the dining room chandelier, staring up at it, awestruck. "Ooh. Shiny."

A car door slammed, and a voice called from outside. "Melissa. Hey, I know you're in there."

In a few seconds I was caught up in a tight hug.

"Carla. How did you know we were here? I hadn't even had a chance to text or call."

Carla Standish took a half step back but had a death grip on my upper arms.

"You _have_ been gone a long time." She laughed, her dark eyes sparkling. "Out-of-county license plate on a black Acura SUV turning into the drive of the old Osborne house which, according to the sales disclosure listings in the paper a week ago, was sold to the mysterious MM Investments. Information moves fast in Serendipity—faster than ever. I knew you were here before you did, honey."

Small town stuff. It would take a while to get used to it again. I pulled my dear friend into another hug and then releasing Carla, swept Matthew up into my arms.

"Carla, you remember Matthew." He uncertainly looked around for his blanket which he'd left in the car. He started smoothing my long, dark hair instead, a motion that helped calm him.

Carla looked stunned for a second, but then held out her hand. "Matthew, I haven't seen you since you were just a little guy. Wow, you've changed now you're growing up." She tipped her head and smiled, gently tugging his hand into hers to shake it. "Even more handsome. I know your mommy is really proud of you."

I nuzzled my son's soft cheek. "Sweetie, Carla and I were best friends when we were kids."

Matthew's brow wrinkled as he tried to imagine us as children.

"Carla, do you have a dog?" he asked in a serious tone.

She laughed. "Dog? Nope, but my parents—uh, my mom—has a great dog. Her name is Daisy. Would you like to meet her?"

"Yes. Can she come visit us?" He looked from Carla to me. "Mommy, can Daisy come here?"

He had stopped smoothing my hair, so I leaned down and set him on the floor. He seemed heavier today than yesterday even, he was growing so quickly. "Goodness, Sweetie, you're getting to be such a big boy."

He nodded soberly. "So probly I should get a dog. Right, Mommy?"

Carla beamed down at him. "Matthew, you're a busy boy, aren't you?"

He looked uncertain and stepped a little behind me. "Maybe."

"Hey, don't get me wrong. Busy is good. You ask a lot of questions, I bet."

"No bet," I replied.

Carla looked deeply into my eyes for a moment. "Let's look around your house, Matthew. Then we'll make sure you and Mommy have a good dinner. How would that be?"

"Good." He stepped out from behind me. "Chicken nuggets?"

Carla rolled her eyes but smiled. "Hmm. That might have to wait 'til another time."

I just wanted to throw myself onto my sofa, eat a bunch of carbs, and drink a glass of wine. The fact that none of those things were currently in the house just made me want them more.

That's when the reinforcements arrived. Carla's sister Francie and their mom, Lillian Standish, walked in. Right behind them was Alice.

"Housewarming party," Francie announced. She was carrying grocery bags that looked promising.

Lillian hugged me. "How long was your drive today?"

"Eight hours when you include stops to—you know, potty and have a picnic and watch bugs on the sidewalk."

She smiled, maybe remembering when her own boys were small. Lillian had changed so much since I'd last seen her. She was still lovely, but carried an aura of loss due to her husband's sudden death a few months earlier. Even when she smiled, she looked sad.

Alice propped the side door open and brought in more grocery bags. "We considered taking you out to eat, but thought you might enjoy just unwinding here."

"Sounds like heaven. Not that I have furniture yet—"

"We'll make do," said Carla, handing Matthew a small bag to carry. "But hey, before we eat, let's have the grand tour. I want to see this place. It's been years."

I was glad for the suggestion. "For me, too. A little scary buying it sight unseen." I'd known the Osbornes would leave it in immaculate shape, but also remembered the last time I'd been in the house. That fiasco was emblazoned on my brain.

We trooped through the elegant dining room into the big sunny kitchen.

Carla ran a hand along the red granite countertop. "Wow. This looks brand new, doesn't it? Gorgeous. New cabinets, state-of-the-art appliances—"

"Mommy?" Matthew was trying to unlatch the back door. "Can I go outside?"

"We can walk out for a minute, Sweetie." I was excited for him to see what was out there, but a bit apprehensive for myself.

The grocery bags were unceremoniously plopped onto the beautiful countertop, and pitchers of tea stuck into the fridge.

Francie stopped in her tracks when we went out. "Oh my goodness. I'd forgotten about this," she whispered.

The entire area from the house to the fence along the north, south, and west property lines was filled with a beautiful in-ground pool lined in mosaic tile. An elegant deck surrounded it, and in the northwest corner, a pool house for storage and changing. There were large terra cotta containers that could hold flowers in the summer, but now they were empty, as was the pool.

"Amazing, isn't it?" I'd been imagining pool parties for Matthew and his friends, and lazy weekends soaking up rays, or reading thick novels under an umbrella as I watched Matthew paddling around on a big inflatable raft. It would be perfect! The pain and sadness I had associated with this pool for years could be left behind, replaced with happy memories, love and laughter.

Francie looked around. "My goodness, that's a lot of swimming pool. No backyard at all?"

"That's part of the beauty of it. No maintenance."

"No yard to cut," Alice corrected. "The pool will be a lot of maintenance. I'm surprised the Osbornes kept it up all these years. It's even prettier than I remembered."

I hugged myself in delight, watching Matthew explore the deck levels and try to peer between the boards of the tall white fence that surrounded the lot. "I'll hire somebody to deal with the pool, if I need to. We'll love it."

"Cabana boy?" Carla nudged Alice and laughed. Shaking my head and laughing too, I walked to the pool house.

I tried the door but it was locked. "In theory, the deck furniture is in there. They were supposed to leave things like that. It was part of the agreement." I shrugged and took Matthew's hand. "We can have picnics out here in the summer, Sweetie. The key was to be left in the kitchen on a hook. I'll check in a few, and we can come back outside later. Let's go see the rest of the house."

We filed up the back stairway which was beautiful hardwood and pleasantly squeaky with age. A central hallway ran the length of the house, with four huge bedrooms opening off of it. The master suite had a walk-in closet, glorious bathroom done all in black, white, and chrome, with double sinks, a separate bath tub and shower, bidet, and toilet. Two other bedrooms shared a bath between them, and the fourth bedroom, across the hall from the master suite, had its own bathroom, smaller than the master but with similarly luxurious appointments. The hall and bedrooms were carpeted in white, and the secondary bathrooms were tiled in bright, happy colors.

The ladies said little but took it all in, eyes wide. Matthew repeatedly exclaimed, "Wow. It's so _big._ "

It was indeed. Big and beautiful. Nearly palatial by Serendipity standards. It was even more wonderful than when I had been here years ago and fallen hard—in love with the house, and out of love with the handsome quarterback of the Serendipity High School football team.

We went down the white-carpeted front stairs into the massive living room.

Carla expelled a breath. "Good grief. You could hold church in this living room. It's fabulous."

Matthew ran to the window seat and climbed into it. "Mommy, I can sit here and watch trucks."

"That's fun." I joined him. There were nearly as many pickup trucks as cars driving slowly along. "I never understood where all the traffic was going. Not as if there's anything happening in Serendipity."

"Yet you're moving back."

Startled, I turned to Alice.

She blushed a little. "Sorry. I didn't realize I'd said that out loud."

"Yep." Carla tipped her head and a dangly earring swayed with the movement. "I've said it before, but I'll repeat myself. I'm thrilled to have you back in town, Melissa. I just hope you won't regret it." She looked toward her mom, but Lillian was enthralled with watching Matthew.

I swiveled away again, walked over and opened the door to a wood-paneled den. "Here's my office. Some of the old guard are gone now—people who were in the real estate business when we were kids, and were well-respected in the community. It's the ideal time for an ambitious, knowledgeable realtor to come in and set up shop." I lowered my voice and nodded toward Matthew who was still sitting in the window seat a few yards away, chattering excitedly to Lillian.

"Plus next fall Matthew will start kindergarten. I don't want him in some giant elementary school where nobody knows him. I want him to have the start we did." I shook my head and forced a smile, frustrated that I felt like crying. "Sorry. Nervous exhaustion."

Carla took my hand and Alice and Francie drew close too.

"Matthew is darling. It's been tough raising him alone, I know," said Carla. "Now you're here, some of us can help you. That will be good for everybody. It's the kind of thing Serendipity folks do well."

Francie smiled sadly. "I guess part of wanting the house has to do with Jim."

I straightened. "No...not really. I've always loved this house. It's so big and substantial looking. It always seemed to me, as a kid, that this house could withstand anything—like a lighthouse perched on a rocky cliff. Maybe you remember the house I grew up in and the way our family interacted."

The girls winced at that. Not a happy memory for anyone involved.

"So as a kid I looked at this place and imagined that if I lived here, I'd be happier. Safer." I noticed the skepticism on my friends' faces. "Okay, the last night I was here was a nasty turning point in my life. It'll be cathartic for me to own the place where that happened, you know? Kind of—physically taking control of the past and making it positive instead of painful like it's been up until now." They nodded soberly. "So I wanted it for both those reasons." I winked. "Plus it's gorgeous."

We all laughed.

Francie still looked worried. "You're very brave to take this big step, Mel."

I smiled. "I have a lot riding on this move, in every possible sense of that phrase. I've made some big commissions in the last couple of years, so there's a bit of a financial cushion for now. I know it will work out, but I'm still nervous."

The rest of the house tour—sitting room and powder room—was accomplished without Matthew's presence. He didn't move from the window seat, his eyes intent on each truck as it passed.

"Furniture should arrive in a couple of days, but 'til then, we'll make it work. Sort of like camping."

Francie led the way back to the kitchen. "At least there will be food. One pool-side picnic coming up."

A moment later Alice moaned after setting a pitcher of sweet tea on the counter and breaking up a bag of ice. "Uh-oh. Forgot cups."

Carla, who was big on take-out and spent as little time as possible in a kitchen, perked up. "Matthew and I can walk down to the corner store and buy some plastic cups." She looked to me. "Okay?"

He seemed to have accepted everyone so quickly, but I was surprised at his willingness to leave the window seat. Then again, it meant walking along the sidewalk so he could watch the trucks and hear them better.

As they went down the front steps, Carla called over her shoulder, "While we're doing this, you can dig out the deck furniture. Be a little more comfortable to picnic with chairs."

We located the pool house key, and Francie and I pulled the brightly colored Adirondack-style chairs out of the crowded pool house and wiped them all down. Alice and Lillian set out the food and paper plates in my beautiful new kitchen.

It was late in the year to eat outdoors, but with the sun shining on the pretty furniture set around the gorgeous pool, it was festive and inviting. I wanted the house to always be that for us and for our friends—a place known for its warmth and hospitality. Portions of my former life in Serendipity made that a challenge, but I was certain I was up to it.
Chapter Three

CARLA AND MATTHEW returned in a little while, with plastic cups and a surprise.

"Mommy! Mr. Jim comed to see us. He haves a big _truck_."

My breath caught. _Mr. Jim?_

I met them in the living room. Carla carried the plastic bag with red cups poking out the top, and Matthew, his face beaming, held the hand of the one guy I had dreaded running into.

It felt like a hundred years had passed—or maybe fifteen minutes. He had filled out some since high school, but looked fit and healthy. His handsome face had frown lines now, along with the ones from smiling. I knew a little bit of what had etched some of those lines, and tried not to care. I crossed my arms. "Hi, Jim. Long time."

"Melissa Singer. This is quite a surprise." He looked past me to his other sister, his mother, and our friend Alice. "I see I'm the last one in my family to know you're back in town."

"Mr. Jim haves a big truck," Matthew said it more softly this time, looking up at me then to Jim and back again. Obviously, was aware of the strain between me and this man.

I crouched down and gently took my son's hands in mine. "What color truck is it, Matthew?"

"Blue," he whispered, his eyes wide.

"Wow," I exclaimed. I looked up to Jim from Matthew's side. "Blue is Matthew's favorite color of truck, Jim."

He smiled, looking more like the Jim I had fallen for so long ago. "So he told me. Um, so you're MM Investments? I saw the property transfer listed in the paper."

I stood, still holding one of Matthew's hands. "Yes. This is a business venture for me."

A brow cocked. "Ah. Completely impersonal?"

"Yes. Completely."

"Most people don't come back to Serendipity for business reasons." His smile became strained. "Most people, once they leave, don't ever move back to town."

I wouldn't let Jim's attitude get to me. He had reason to be bitter about those who left and didn't return.

"I didn't expect to move back. Things just kind of fell into place. Matthew and I are excited to be here."

He seemed pleased at that. "Are you now?"

"Yes."

He stepped closer and briefly touched a finger to the little cleft in my chin, a touch that had been intimate and endearing back in the day. "You don't look all that happy about it, Mel."

With great restraint, I kept myself from swatting his hand away. "I may not look happy _now_ , but I bet I looked lots happier before you got here," I whispered.

"Food, people!" Francie's yell wasn't exactly tactful, but at least it broke the tension of the moment.

Matthew tugged my hand. "Can Mr. Jim be at the picnic?"

"Um..." Jim and I both started to speak.

"Probably Mr. Jim needs to go someplace else _right now_ ," Carla suggested, her eyes on her brother's.

Lillian took Jim by one hand and Matthew by the other.

"Mr. Jim is my little boy, Matthew," she said sweetly, gently steering them in the direction of the kitchen. "His daddy and I taught him very good manners." She sent Jim a warning glance. "He works hard at his job, so I'm sure he's hungry for dinner. But afterward he'll need to leave right away. Isn't that right, Jim?"

"Sure is. Thanks, Mom." He looked around at me. "Thanks for inviting me to stay, Mel. I appreciate it."

He appreciated the fact that I hadn't invited, and wouldn't have invited, and that if it had been just him and me, I'd have gladly kicked him out. But this was my first day back in town, I was tired, and there were witnesses. I could play nice just this one time.

"Mr. Jim let me drive his truck," Matthew told Lillian as they disappeared into the kitchen.

Carla whispered in my ear, "Translation: Sit in it, with the key out, hold the steering wheel, and make engine noises. Matthew asked, and in Jim's defense, I don't know how anybody could have looked into that little face and said, no."

I counted silently to ten. What an interesting introduction to Serendipity it had been so far.

****

Two days later when the moving truck arrived, I was as excited as Matthew. His big deal was having his truck-shaped bed set up in his new room with the freshly painted trucks on the walls. Thanks to my girlfriends, that had taken very little time to accomplish and looked great. But where Matthew's excitement was his sleeping environment, mine was setting up my first-ever, solo real estate office. Sure, I'd had a work space in our apartment, but this was a completely different experience.

This time I was on my own, one hundred percent. I was thrilled beyond imagination and scared to death at the same time. Kind of like having a relationship with Jim Standish. Except that had been thrilling, scary, and doomed to disaster. I could do without the last component on this new phase of my life.

The moving guys were pleasant enough, but clearly unhappy about my choice in office furniture. I had lucked into an estate sale just days after deciding to move. The furniture was antique, of great quality, and heavy as lead. The dark polished wood had "class" and "respectability" written all over it. Figuratively, that is. The guys had to shift the huge desk a couple of times until I was sure the light would hit just right over my shoulder when I was working. I would have preferred to do all this setting up on my own, but there was no way I could budge any of the pieces without help.

Fortunately for the movers, the office was their main hassle. The living room had only the big leather sectional and coffee table, a couple of lamps, and a brass hall tree by the front door. My dining room table and chairs were dwarfed by the size of their new space, and I realized I'd need to upgrade soon. Our previous kitchen had been tiny in comparison, so there weren't a lot of boxes of kitchenware to be carried into the new one. Beds for Matthew and myself, our chests of drawers, and clothes, and the movers were out of there.

Yeah, I'd bought a huge house and only had furniture for about one tenth of it, but it turned out that I liked the open feeling of all that empty space. Our apartment had been cozy, but this looked minimalist with the very same contents. I hadn't anticipated the awkward conversations with Matthew concerning the two empty bedrooms upstairs.

"Mommy, my dog can sleep in this room," Matthew would say, and then walk across the hall. "My new brother can sleep in this room." Then he would smile that heart-melting smile that had yielded him a few minutes 'driving' Jim's truck, among other things.

Well, his puppy-dog eyes weren't going to get him a brother. And the jury was still out on the dog. I wasn't sure I could handle any additional complications right now.
Chapter Four

THE BABYSITTER, EMILY, stood in the doorway to my office, her jacket in one hand and cell phone in the other, texting with one thumb but looking at me. "Ms. Singer, okay if I go now?" Matthew's in the window seat." She smiled and tipped her head toward him.

Of course he was. That's where he preferred to spend most of his waking time. I was super busy networking with the local business people and other realtors in town. If I was going to prosper, I didn't have any time to waste in building my business. The Parkers' retirement was not only a windfall to me but to others as well, as homeowners were faced with the perceived choice of which second-best realtor to choose. I had been lucky to find Emily, a young woman who needed a local job, to stay with Matthew while I worked.

"Same time tomorrow, right Emily?"

"Yep." She blew a big bubble and popped it. "Sure thing."

"Weather's supposed to be nice. It should be a great day for a trip to the park. You two could even walk there. I know Matthew would love playing on the swings. He and I went last Saturday, and he really enjoyed it."

Emily's smile faded. "Oh. Okay. See you tomorrow."

She turned toward Matthew. "Hey, I'm leaving, Matthew. See you tomorrow, okay?"

He ran to give her a hug. "'kay. Bye, Em'ly."

I needed to talk to Emily about things. She seemed to give in to every request Matthew made. Emily and Matthew walked to the pizza shop for lunch, even if I had made lunch preparations the night before. Emily and Matthew took a daily stroll to the ice cream place a few blocks in the other direction, and Emily drove him to the park, which was a good idea, and the grocery, which was not. I was appalled to find large quantities of junk food in my kitchen cabinets. It needed to stop, and when Emily arrived tomorrow morning, I would take her aside and explain again what was expected of her.

I didn't like dealing with conflict. Growing up, my family had squabbled non-stop, and I had fled to my friends' homes as much as possible. I spent a lot of nights with the Campbells—Alice's family, or the Standishes—Carla and Francie's. After high school I had taken my scholarship papers and escaped. Forever, I had thought. Funny how forever doesn't always last as long as you expect.

Emily's departure each afternoon signaled the end of my work day until after Matthew went to sleep. There was no way I could concentrate on my business and be sure he was okay. It was a good thing that I had to stop working and spend time with him, because otherwise my Type A personality might have taken over. That person I'd been before—the woman who was wholly consumed by her career—had disappeared when Matthew was born. The first moment I looked into that tiny red face swaddled in the receiving blanket, I was in love. Time with Matthew was never to be endured. It was to be savored.

I slid onto the window seat next to him and watched Emily jump into her little red car parked at the edge of the street. Matthew leaned into me, and wrapped an arm around mine. "I wanna drive Mr. Jim's truck, Mommy. Remember he said I could?"

I took a long breath. It would be easier to savor our time together, if I had had enough sleep. Matthew still insisted on sleeping with me instead of in his own bed in the fun new room. I didn't want him to be frightened in the big house, so hadn't pushed the issue. He flopped around a lot in the night, waking me numerous times in spite of it being a queen-size bed. After a couple of weeks of this, plus plenty of sleepless time worrying about establishing the business, I was exhausted.

"Remember, Mommy," Matthew whined. "My new friend, Mr. Jim."

It was bad enough to live in the same town with the man, but for my son to consider Jim his buddy? _Ugh._ "Yes, Sweetie. I remember Mr. Jim."

It was completely impossible to forget him, and I'd tried for a lot of years.

****

The next morning, still sleep deprived, I managed coffee and a shower. Matthew was awake by the time I finished dressing. I looped my long hair into a knot at the back of my neck because anything else seemed too much effort.

I silently practiced my speech. _'Emily, we need to talk. I'm not sure how I failed to communicate clearly before, but I have certain expectations regarding Matthew. Um...'_

The phone rang.

"Mommy, can I answer it?"

I narrowly beat his quick little hand and scooped up my cell. "MM Investments." As I listened to the voice on the other end, I felt a rushing in my ears. I don't know how much later Matthew was standing next to me, patting my arm.

"Mommy? Mommy?"

"Oh. Oh, my God, Matthew." I swept him into my arms and held him tight, not able to stop the flow of tears. The caller had been Emily's mother. Emily had been in a terrible car wreck late last night and had been flown to a hospital in the Louisville area. Both Emily's parents and her siblings were with her now. They had been told by the doctors there was a fifty-fifty chance for the young woman to leave the hospital alive.

It was the first week of November. The weather had chilled. Christmas songs had been playing on the radio forever already. Young, energetic Emily might or might not live to see another Christmas.

I felt horrible. Here I had been, rehearsing a speech to straighten Emily out, and my main complaint was going to be junk food?

The doorbell rang and Matthew raced to answer it. I pushed myself up from the chair I'd slumped into, and followed him down the stairs.

I was surprised to see Carla this time of day. She looked strangely overexcited. "Hey, guess what today is, Matthew."

"What?" The child began to nearly dance with enthusiasm. "Birthday?"

"Nope. Better than that. Today is your first visit to our Christmas tree farm."

He jumped with glee. "Yay! What is it?"

"Oh, Matthew." She looked at me. " _Melissa!_ He's never been to a Christmas tree farm?"

"Well, you know, big city...."

"So sad. So very sad." She knelt to look in Matthew's eyes. "Just a few miles from Serendipity is the very best Christmas tree farm. And it's the best because it's where I grew up."

His eyes widened. "You grew up in— _Christmas?_ "

Carla winked at him. "Well, yes, kind of. My mom—Miss Lillian—lives there now, in the house where I grew up, and she wants you to come and see her. She likes to bake cookies, but she says cookies are best if she has a good helper. Do you think you could learn to help, Matthew?"

He considered carefully. "I can help. Does she got a truck on her farm?"

"Does she a have a truck? Heavens yes. A truck and some tractors and four wheelers." She held up a hand. "Those are for the grown-ups, and you always have to ask permission to ride with somebody." She kissed the top of Matthew's head and spun him away from her. "How about you go get your jacket and I'll drive you out there?" He was on the move immediately, racing up the front stairs to his room.

Carla lowered her voice. "Honey, we heard about poor Emily. Mom and Francie came up with the idea for Matthew to go out there, at least for today. Mom's looking forward to it. That's really encouraging for those of us who've seen her struggle to have any enthusiasm for life since Dad died." She cleared her throat. "You don't mind, do you?"

I sagged against her, hugging her close. "Of course I don't mind. Sounds like a wonderful idea, and I'm so grateful to all of you. Matthew and Lillian will have fun together, and I'll work, and maybe by this evening there will be good news about Emily."

Matthew dashed back down the stairs, clutching one of his favorite little trucks, and dragging his jacket and blanket behind him. "Mommy, can Em'ly come with us? I don't want her to be sad."

I helped him put on his jacket, then crouched down in front to zip it. I kissed him and he kissed me back.

"Matthew, I love you so much. Thank you for thinking about Emily." I sniffed back a tear. "She's with her family today, but maybe another time she can go to the farm."

Carla smiled determinedly. "Emily has been getting her Christmas trees from our farm her whole life, Matthew. She'll be glad that you get to see it. Ready now?"

With considerable effort we moved the car seat into the back of Carla's two-door Mustang, and they drove away. I was filled with worry about Emily, and with gratitude for Carla and the Standish family.

Chapter Five

WEEKS LATER, I turned off the state highway onto Tree Farm Road to retrieve my son. Emily was enduring rehab at a facility in the metro area and doing well, but it would be a long time before she could supervise Matthew. At Lillian's insistence, the one-time event of him spending the day with her had become every weekday. I still had to cajole her into taking payment at the end of the week, but that was a small thing.

Lillian had so much patience with him, not worrying if he got dirty or spilled something by accident. She treated him as moms of her time had treated their kids, not as concerned about things as I always was. Lillian even let Matthew use a wooden toy truck that had been her husband Harry's and then later Jim's and his brother David's.

Besides Daisy, the dog, that truck was Matthew's favorite thing to play with at Lillian's. On sunny days I might pull up and find Lillian standing at her kitchen window watching Matthew play outdoors. He'd be bundled up and loading trimmings from the pine trees onto the wooden truck 'to take Christmas to people.' The nearest grove of trees started a few dozen feet from the back of the house, so Lillian, and sometimes Francie too, watched to be sure he was okay. He'd crawl on his hands and knees driving the truck with Harry's black Lab, Daisy, sitting beside him. A couple of times when I arrived, if I closed the car door quietly and slipped around the side of the house, I'd see Matthew playing like that or standing among the young trees, talking to Daisy. You could watch an exchange between those two, but, of course, none of us asked what their private conversations were. I was grateful Matthew was able to have this type of grandmotherly attention. I got really good at washing ground-in dirt out of the knees of his jeans.

As I drove along thinking of how well this was all working out for Matthew, I was also encouraged about my business. Today a developer had come to my office and told me about the place he wanted to build in our county. It seemed extremely ambitious to expect people to buy huge luxurious homes in this small rural community, but he insisted it was a goldmine.

"Ms. Singer, these are people who are tired of the miserably hot summers and the crime and dirty air of the city. These are people who don't mind an hour-plus commute, because when they get home they're in their own kind of nirvana. Picture it." He swung one hand above him. "Big, placid lake, lots of trees everywhere. Large lots, but mowing service provided for them, paid monthly. Low maintenance, see? So much cool shade and loads of _privacy_ which maybe they've never had, if they've always lived in the city. The pricier lots will have their own piers into the lake, and folks can have canoes or those little paddle boat things. Nothing noisy or powerful. It's all about luxury and relaxation." He turned to me, his face near mine as I pictured it too. I blinked a couple of times and stepped back. "Can you see it?" he asked.

"Um. Yes, I think I can, actually. Nice."

"Nice? It's fabulous. Amazing." He spun around and gestured toward Main Street. "Ms. Singer, this development will be the best thing that ever happened to this little backwater. Tax base goes up, schools are improved, more people shop in the grocery, eat at the restaurants, and buy their jewelry at the little shop on the square. Suddenly, there are more jobs in town, and the quality of life goes way up _._ "

Though I might use the term myself, I didn't like him referring to Serendipity as a backwater. Other than that, what he said sounded good. Potentially good, that is. At this point, his vision was just an idea, but Jared Barnett was quite a salesman. I wasn't easily sold, yet I'd been completely dazzled. _Wow._ Was I losing it, or was it really possible?

He turned to me again. "I want a couple hundred acres ideally. Needs to be close to a state highway, and have lots of beautiful trees, and those rolling hills. And a lake, if you can manage it. We can build a lake if we need to, but it'd be nice if it was already there. You have any properties like that, Ms. Singer?"

I shook my head. "I'm sorry, I don't. At least, not at this moment. You never know when something might come on the market though. Farmers are having a hard go these days." It was heartbreaking to see that change so drastically since I had left town. "What kind of price are you thinking?"

He told me the figure and I clenched my jaw to keep it from dropping. He was crazy or had a vision of something that was headed off the charts.

He masked his features, rolled up his drawings and slid them into the tubes they'd come out of. "Well, maybe another realtor in the area will be able to help me."

"We all know each other's properties, Mr. Barnett. Realtors in our county cooperate. If there was something like that represented by a different agency, I'd be aware of it."

His raised eyebrow and an almost-sneer showed he didn't believe me. "I'll see what I can find. Thank you for your time." He reached to shake my hand and I gave him a business card.

"And I have your card too, Mr. Barnett." I stood it up in my computer keyboard so he'd see I had it quickly accessible. "If something comes on the market, I'll give you a call." I forced a smile, hoping I looked more confident—and less hungry for the commission—than I felt. "Perhaps we'll be speaking again soon."

After he left, I stood staring up at the county map framed on one wall. I wracked my brain to think where a parcel that large, in the type of location he'd described, might still exist. There just weren't any that I could think of, but I could ask somebody at the Standish farm if they had any suggestions. After all, I'd been gone a long time. Although I had seen much of the county since returning, to some extent I was still out of touch.

As I pulled into the parking area by Lillian's house, I noticed an unfamiliar car sitting there. I got out and went up onto the porch. Just when I would have knocked, the door swung open. Mathew flung himself against me, hugging my legs.

"Mommy! Hi, Mommy. Guess what we maked."

I crouched down to him and kissed the side of his chocolaty mouth.

"Um. Chocolate chip cookies?"

His eyes got round and he hugged me around the neck. "Yes! Me and Miss Lillian maked 'em. You want one?"

"Goodness, yes I do. Miss Lillian is about the most famous chocolate chip cookie maker in the world."

Matthew rushed into the kitchen. Lillian had taught him how to carefully place a few cookies on a plate and serve them to a guest, complete with a napkin.

When I stood, I saw Lillian sitting on the sofa beaming at Matthew's enthusiasm. Francie was in an armchair. A handsome man with sparkling brown eyes sat next to Lillian, but rose and walked toward me.

"Hello, Melissa." He held out his hand as if to shake mine, but I hugged him instead.

"David. It's been forever. I take it you've met my son."

David Standish laughed. "Are you kidding? He and I basically solved all the world's problems at the kitchen table this afternoon." He turned as Matthew came back in, cautiously carrying a plate toward me. "Isn't that right, Matthew?"

Matthew nodded sagely. "I told Mr. David people need to be nice to each other and eat cookies." He handed me the plate and the napkin that had gotten a little crumpled in his hand, then beamed up at me.

David's smile was genuine and he patted Matthew on the shoulder gently. "There you have it. Cookies save the world." When he relaxed a little, I noticed that David's eyes looked tired.

"It's nice to see you. Are you home for the weekend?"

He nodded. "Yes, just got here. And I imagine much of my weekend will be spent being bullied by my older brother. He's trying to turn me into a Christmas tree farmer, but I keep telling him that my specialty is marketing." He shrugged, looking amused. "I try to stay with my strengths."

I chuckled. "Jim's difficult to deal with at times, I suppose."

"You know better about that than many."

Though I didn't see any malice on his face, the comment stung. Old wounds were best left alone, if possible. Even though I'd been coming to the farm twice a day for a while now, I hadn't seen Jim since our first day in Serendipity. He had a thriving law practice in town, but I assumed he was also making an effort to stay out of my way. That suited me fine.

At David's graceless remark, Francie kicked him in the ankle while continuing to page through a magazine. He winced but only whispered the epithet that came to his lips. Of course, Francie was on my side. I would have expected as much. Yet so much time had passed, there shouldn't be a need for sides at all. What's a broken heart or two among friends?

Without losing eye contact with me, David moved out of Francie's reach. "You're a realtor, Melissa. I keep telling Mom she should consider selling the farm and getting a nice little apartment in town. Let somebody else take over the job of providing Christmas to the entire southern half of Indiana. What do you think?"

I could only stare at him, remembering Jared Barnett's grand plan.

David waved a hand in front of my face. "Uh. Melissa?"

"Oh. Oh, sorry. I was—I was thinking of...you know, work...stuff." I set the plate of cookies on a side table and crossed my arms, goggling at Lillian. "Sell? You want to sell the farm?"

Lillian held up both hands. "Oh, honey, no. David is pulling your leg. And mine." She sent him a hard look. "This is the Standish Christmas Tree Farm, and that's what it'll be as long as I live. Harry wouldn't hold with me selling, for goodness' sake."

Francie tossed the magazine onto the coffee table. "Plus where would everybody move? The whole fam damily lives on the farm. David, you know it doesn't make sense."

He huffed out a breath. "What doesn't make sense is for us to try to keep up this sham. None of us has the time for the farm. Much as we love Mom and loved Dad, this business isn't the dream for us that it was for them."

Francie pinned him with a look. "So you're ready to find a new place to live? Sell your lot and house and buy a condo in Louisville?"

Frowning, David leaned against the door frame facing his sister. "I could."

"And Carla?" Francie continued. "I guess we just assume she wants out?"

"She has her shop," David answered. "Plus Carla doesn't really need to be in Serendipity. She could do her business anywhere." He shifted his gaze to me looking for support. "Most of her big paying clients order on _line_ , not on the Serendipity town square."

"Carla loves it here," I said softly.

"Of course she does." Lillian agreed.

David stepped back to the center of the room. "What about you, Francie? You own a two acre lot, same size as the rest of us, in your corner of the property. Yet you've lived away from here 'til—a few months ago. I don't see a house going up on that lot. What are your plans? Staying to help with Christmas, or ditching the small town life again, once Mom is okay to be on her own?"

"I am completely fine to be on my own," Lillian murmured.

"And then there's Jim."

I wasn't even sure who said the words, because I was watching Jim walk into the room. He must have come in through the back door and through the kitchen. His face was flushed and his green eyes flashed.

"Yeah, don't forget _old Jim_." He glared at David. "What the _hell_ kind of a fight is this to have in front of company?"

David took a step back. "She's not company. This is Melissa, for crying out loud. We've all been friends since elementary school. We have no secrets from her."

Jim shook his head. He reached his hand down and Matthew, tears streaming down his face, put his little hand into it. They walked together toward the kitchen, then Jim swung Matthew into his arms, and spoke over his shoulder to the rest of us.

"Matthew is our company, and he doesn't deserve to be in the middle of a bunch of grown-ups who can't mind their manners." He turned toward me. "Mel, I'm getting his jacket and taking him outside to say goodbye to Daisy. You want to meet us out there?"

I'm pretty sure I nodded yes.

Nobody said anything. The only sound in the house was Jim's boot treads across the vinyl kitchen floor, and the back door closing softly.

Everyone in the living room looked at each other in silence. I picked up Matthew's blanket from the child-size rocking chair he occupied to watch TV, and let myself out the front door. I gulped cool fresh air and calmed my nerves, then followed the sound of happy barking.

Jim and Matthew stood hand-in-hand watching Daisy retrieve a stick Jim had thrown. Matthew was smiling now. I crouched down in front of him.

"Hi, Sweetie. You okay?"

He nodded. "Yes. They were mad."

Jim put his hand on Matthew's silky hair. "Not mad, pardner. Just real tired, I think." Daisy looked from one to the other, hoping for someone to toss the stick again.

"Are you tired, Mr. Jim?" Matthew asked.

He smiled down at the child. "Maybe a little. Christmas is coming though. There's lots to do. People need their trees." He looked at me and I saw for the first time the dark circles under his eyes. "It's what we do here. You know?"

I nodded, wiping a hot tear from the corner of my eye. "Yes, I know. Your dad loved it, and didn't mind the work. You're all just trying to carry on the tradition."

Looks like it's quite a struggle.

"I don't have a dad," Matthew announced.

Jim sighed. "I don't have one either, but I used to. He was a real nice man, Matthew. You would have liked him, and he would have loved having you around. He would love how you help Miss Lillian, and play with Daisy."

Matthew nodded. "Sometimes I can give Daisy a treat, if Miss Lillian says so."

"Yep. That's special stuff, Matthew. People who take good care of animals, and nature—those are special people. I always trust people like that the most."

My heart was breaking all over again at the loss of Harry Standish and how his family had been coping the last several months. The tree farm had always been full of love—for each other, and for the season. Jim and I had a history, and it had ended badly. But that was in the past. I cared about all of them as if I were part of the family.

Tentatively, I touched Jim's jacket sleeve. "People who take care of children, and talk nicely to them, are pretty special too."

He sucked in a breath, looked down at my hand, and squeezed it briefly. I felt the old sizzle but couldn't tell if he did. Daisy barreled into him, barking for some attention, and Jim smiled. "Anyway...I have lots to do. Looks like I'm not getting any help from David tonight."

"I'm so sorry about that."

Jim shrugged. "Not to worry. By tomorrow his mood will have blown over. David comes home all tied up in knots. Most often they straighten out overnight and he's back to his usual self—almost bearable. I'll find some really fun projects for him tomorrow, I assure you. I don't think he realizes how good the farm is for him, emotionally and physically. I don't mind telling you that, because there's no way anybody would believe it came out of my mouth."

It was just like something Jim would have said years ago, when our lives were all simpler.

Giving up on Jim for the moment, Daisy wagged her tail and barked playfully at Matthew. He sped off with her to chase back and forth and throw the stick as far as his little arm could manage. It made me laugh to see how much fun he was having.

"This farm is a wonderful place. I'm grateful Matthew is able to spend some time here. I have such terrific memories from when I visited as a kid."

Jim's face softened. "And older than a kid too, as I recall."

Would it be possible to keep things light with Jim, not dredge up the ugly part of our past? "Yes, well. A lot of that time you barely tolerated me."

"Not true. But as you grew up, I found you even easier to tolerate. Having you and Alice for friends was some pretty good thinking on the parts of my sisters."

"Then why did you give us such a hard time?"

He shook his head, smiling at the memories. "Because I liked you. Both you and Alice. But mainly you, Mel." He touched a finger to the little cleft in my chin, then slid his hand through some of the hair that had come out of my headband. "I had an awful time trying to forget you after you left."

"I would have said you'd forgotten me _before_ I left." And whose fault was it that he was trying to forget me at all? I was the innocent party here.

He winced. "No. No. In fact I sure didn't. I said I tried."

My breath quickened. "You managed to push the memory to the side then, when you married Diana."

He stiffened, dropped the lock of hair, and slid his hands into his jacket pockets.

"I'd rather never hear that name again."

"That's funny. I feel the same way." I wanted to scream it at him. I'd wanted to scream at him for years about what he'd done, and there'd never been an opportunity. Now wasn't the time either—with my son playing a few yards away, and the Standish family in the house.

Jim looked past me, a nerve twitching in his jaw. "Mel, you have no idea what she did to me."

I took a deep breath. "I'm certain you deserved it to some extent. I'll leave it at that." If Diana treated him the way he had treated me, then I could almost applaud her efforts.

Raw pain seized his face. "Why did you leave the way you did?"

"My heart was broken, my self-esteem had gone from bad to non-existent, and the guy who dealt the final blow was the brother of my best friends. I couldn't stay in Serendipity and run into you every time I saw Francie or Carla. Or just run into you, because it's a small town and that's what happens." I shuddered, suddenly chilled. "We all went off to college. I just chose never to come back. Simple enough." Leaving and making my own life somewhere else had helped me heal—or I thought it had, until seeing Jim again.

"I'm amazed you stayed friends with Francie and Carla and Alice, if you hated Serendipity that much," he said softly.

"I never hated Serendipity. It was boring to us when we were teenagers, but now it's easier to see the positives of small-town living. We were lucky to grow up here, weren't we?"

He nodded, not sure where I was going with this. Maybe not wanting to know, which made me want to lay it out for him. "My family was so messed up. I can say that now, but at the time I wouldn't have wanted to admit it. I don't think anyone used the term 'dysfunctional' back then, but we were it. My brothers were much older. Mom and Dad idolized them, because they'd been these big sports heroes. Then I came along, the only girl, the only one in the family who loved books and learning. My parents fought each other my whole life, it seemed, and I was put in the middle of it. When they weren't fighting each other, my mother would start in on me. I was plain looking...no boy would ever love me...I'd never get married or have children."

Jim groaned. I was glad it bothered him to hear this.

I took a deep breath and looked over at the Standish home. "All I wanted at the time was to feel loved. Your family did that for me. Your mom and dad never minded when I'd come to spend the night, the weekend, or whatever. I was never made to feel as if I was in the way or a bother."

I shifted my gaze back to Jim. "Why my parents have stayed married I don't know. To this day, they still bicker constantly. I seldom take Matthew to visit, and to be honest, I don't think it matters to them. My brothers and their kids and current girlfriends are still the favorites. It's so wrong to raise children that way, in competition with each other. Your family wasn't like that. Your family was about love and acceptance—and obviously still is. Matthew and I feel welcome here, and that is an amazing gift."

I'm not sure Jim would have looked more agonized if I had punched him in the stomach. "Wow, Mel. I knew your parents were, you know, difficult, but you never went into it much. I'm surprised you didn't confide in me back when we were so close."

I shrugged, checking that Matthew was still out of earshot. "They were my parents. What could anyone have done back then? What would you have done? One thing I know is that my chaotic upbringing made me stronger. I don't play doormat for anybody. That includes you, Jim Standish, no matter how nice you are to my son."

I blew out a breath that puffed in a white cloud. It was cooling down quickly tonight. "I do thank you for your kindness to Matthew. You really have been good to him. Just—don't get the idea that I forgive you. That will never happen."

"So why come back to Serendipity now?"

"Kind of a strange series of occurrences. Life was going along fine, then all kinds of doors shut in my face. The one that was standing open with a big welcome mat was the Osborne house, which I've always wanted. You might say that's all coincidence, but I disagree. Most importantly, this is the right place to raise Matthew, and I know we'll have a good life."

"Why the Osborne place?"

Was he really that clueless? "Living there, and holding my head up, is something I've wanted to do for a lot of years. You may or may not recall why that would be important to me."

He looked away, back into the distance. "Everybody has to deal with their past the best way they can. You've changed a lot, Mel, and all for the good. You were pretty in high school, but twenty years later, you're seriously beautiful. I can see you've been through some stuff and overcome it." He looked at me then, deeply into my eyes, and I refused to flinch. "You're hiding something, though. Any chance you'll eventually tell me what it is?"

"None at all." I smiled weakly. "Thanks again for watching out for Matthew." I called to him and he trotted over to me, happy and panting as much as the big black dog.

"I gotta go home now, Mr. Jim. See you next time."

"That's a plan, pardner."

Daisy walked us to the SUV but Jim just stood there, the question still in his smile as he waved when I drove away. Was he bluffing about me hiding something?

Turning onto Tree Farm Road, I turned on soft music to help calm me down. I checked the rearview and saw Matthew's smile hadn't dimmed a bit. He pulled a little plastic truck out of his backpack and ran it back and forth along the window ledge of the car.

_What a day._ A face-off among the members of the Standish family about the future of the farm, an unpleasant stroll down memory lane with Jim, and Jared Barnett asking about a big rolling property with a lake and lots of trees.

I was either in the right place at the right time, or all heck was about to break loose.
Chapter Six

THE GIRLS' DAY out we had started to plan all those weeks ago finally happened, in the form of a shopping trip to Louisville. Francie and Carla assured me that Lillian would be hurt if she didn't get to watch Matthew while we were gone. I hadn't spoken to any of them about the blowup in the family living room that day, and I sure wouldn't say anything about the little talk Jim and I had afterward. If I was super lucky, I could drop Matthew off at the door as I did each weekday morning, and not see Jim at all. But 'super lucky' wasn't descriptive of my recent experiences. When I pulled up to Lillian's house and Matthew scrambled out of his car seat, he dashed straight toward Jim who was coming around the corner with Daisy at his heels.

Carla and Francie stepped down off the front porch smiling, as Jim swung the little boy up in the air, resulting in squeals of delight.

Carla said, "He sure likes Jim. But there's no accounting for taste."

Lillian came out then, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. "You girls have fun now. We'll be just fine. I have plenty to keep these boys busy all day."

The identical look of mock horror on Jim and Matthew's faces was priceless. Chuckling, Lillian turned and went back into the house.

I grabbed my bag from the SUV and closed the door. "I suppose it's natural for him to gravitate toward a male role model. Just weird for Jim to fill that capacity, however temporarily."

Francie leaned against Carla's Mustang, pulled out her cell phone and sent a text. "Not so weird, honey. You're like family, so Jim is kind of a brother to you." She smiled innocently. "Right?"

I smirked. "Right. That's it."

Francie slid the cell back into her purse. "I texted Alice that we're on our way, so let's get moving. That girl needs a day out more than the rest of us, I'd bet."

"I feel bad for being so caught up in my work I haven't gotten over to see Alice. Of course, I guess the street runs both ways."

Carla opened her car door and slid in behind the wheel. "I don't see her much these days either."

"Is she okay?" I asked, taking the front passenger seat after Francie climbed into the back.

Carla drummed her fingernails on the steering wheel, waiting for us to buckle up before she put the car in gear. "Sure. I think so. It's just, you know, I wish she'd done something more with her life. She was really smart, but has a drudge job. And—she settled for Dean. Don't get me wrong," she hurried to say. "Dean is a very good guy."

Francie made a _tsking_ sound. "Honestly, I barely remember him. He was sort of invisible in school wasn't he? And I haven't run into him since. But then, I don't live in Serendipity anymore." Francie's home was in Florida, but she had put her own life on hold to be with Lillian for a while after Harry's death.

Carla pulled out of the drive, onto Tree Farm Road, then shot a look into the rearview mirror. "Could have fooled me, sister. You've been here how long?"

There was a pause. "A few months. I'm helping Mom."

"Sure." Carla slowed as a squirrel ran across the road, hesitated, and headed back the same way he'd come. "Yes, you're helping Mom. But Mom's doing fine now, don't you think? I mean, considering. What's _really_ going on with you, Francie? Is your marriage in trouble too?"

I felt way out of the loop. "What do you mean, 'too?' Are you saying Alice's marriage is in trouble?"

Carla shrugged. "If it isn't, that's just because Alice has the patience of a saint. Or more likely, she's given up wanting more from life."

Francie batted the back of Carla's seat. "You're psychoanalyzing. Are dress designers supposed to psychoanalyze in their free time?"

Carla's eyebrows shot up. "Dress designers are just like bartenders. People tell us things. Not sure why a fitting room seems to turn into a confessional so often, but I've learned to just listen and make encouraging comments here and there. An awful lot of married women in this town seem unhappy."

Their good-natured sparring reminded me of watching a tennis match.

"You should publish your findings, Carla. I don't know what scientific journal would want to do that for you, though. Is _MAD Magazine_ still out there?" Francie laughed at her own joke.

Carla didn't respond, but a few minutes later stopped the powerful Mustang in front of a tidy white house on Walnut Street and blew the horn.

I opened the car door. "Um. I don't mind going up and ringing the bell."

Carla shook her head. "Nah. She'll be ready. You will have to get out though, and let her in the back seat."

As I climbed out, Francie said, "Carla is having her second childhood. No boring four-door vehicles for her. Right, sis?"

Carla nodded, watching the house. "I'm usually by myself anyway, and heaven forbid somebody ask me to babysit and carry a child seat." She turned to me. "I felt like a contortionist getting the seat in and out when I took Matthew to Mom's after Emily's wreck. No offense, Mel. Matthew is terrific. I'm just not motherly, I guess. And after you hear about unhappy relationships all day long, it's easy to say I'm going to stay single and childless."

Francie sighed, looking out the car window. "You might change your mind, if the right man came along."

Carla shook her head. "Breaking up a relationship is rough—I should know. I've been through it often enough. But I'm sure glad I never ended up with a child to raise alone." She squeezed her eyes shut, and hit the steering wheel with one palm. "Melissa, I'm sorry. I keep saying the wrong things here. You ladies might have to carry the conversation without me, if I can't do any better than this. I'll have you all hating me in no time."

Francie smiled at her sister and batted her eyelashes. "I don't listen to you anyway, sweetie."

"Hey, don't worry about hurting my feelings, Carla," I said. "Because I—"

Alice appeared and waved at us, turned to be sure her front screen door shut securely, and then smiled toward the Mustang. I met her partway and hugged her.

"Hey, girlfriend. I'm so glad you could make it. We've got loads of time to catch up on anything and everything." I squeezed Alice's hands. "Uh—front or back seat? It's been pointed out that we're living Carla's second childhood, if you didn't know."

Alice clambered into the back by Francie, I regained my seat up front, and in a moment we were on our way.

Carla waved a diamond-draped hand. "Make fun if you want, but the way I look at it, this is the vixenmobile, ladies. You haven't lived until you've driven down the street of anywhere but Serendipity, with the top down on this gorgeous car. Right, Alice?"

"Right." Alice took sunglasses out of her handbag and slid them onto her nose. "Beautiful women stylin' in our big, dark shades, music turned up. There's always plenty of attention from the guys." She giggled and suddenly looked years younger.

Carla laughed. "Yep. And the stink eye from the women _with_ those guys."

"Sounds to me like you two are troublemakers," said Francie, leaning against her headrest. She cleared her throat. "So. Can you put the top down, Carla?"

"Yeah, Carla," I chimed in, while wondering if we'd all end up with pneumonia. "Francie and I want the full experience."

"You sure you're up for that? I don't mind—as long as it's not raining, I'm happier with it down all year. I just crank up the heat or A/C." She pulled to a stop in a parking lot, flipped the levers to release the top, and pushed the button to retract it. Then she pulled a bright silk scarf out of her bag and tied it around her thick dark hair. A minute later we were sailing down State Road 135 with the radio blasting hits from the 1970s. The heater blew full-force.

Francie shouted a while later over the wind, music, and road noise, "She's my own sister and never took me for a ride like this before."

"You've been staying pretty close to Mom since you came home," Carla yelled back.

"A little break once in a while...would be nice." Francie finished the sentence a little softer. I looked back at her and wondered if she was sorry she'd said it at all.

We rode for a while without talking much, but sang along with the radio when we knew the words. Carla beat on the steering wheel for percussion on her favorite songs. I felt young and free, and didn't care that the wind was tying my long hair into knots.

By the time we got to the next little town, a cold mist had begun. Carla pulled over in the empty lot of a nearby bank and put the top back up.

"Hate to do this, ladies."

I wanted to say something encouraging but was pretty sure my teeth would chatter too loudly. Half an hour later, we were in a Louisville shopping mall, drinking designer coffee and trying to form our shopping strategy.

"I need to hit the big stores," Carla said. "I've made Mom's gift—a fabulous bathrobe, and...really all I need is stuff for Jim and David—and Matthew. Ooh, I need help with that, Mel. I bought gift cards for my business associates, though I don't like the impersonal way that feels. It's what they'll enjoy though." She shrugged. "What about you ladies?"

I was pretty sure that hesitation meant she was making things for the rest of us too. I hoped so, because Carla's work was gorgeous. We decided to split into pairs for the rest of the morning, meet for lunch, and then mix up the pairs for the afternoon. That way I could shop for Alice whenever I wasn't shopping _with_ Alice, for example.

Francie pulled a list out of her jeans pocket. "Last thing, we'll all hit the toy store together and get stuff for Matthew, okay? At the toy store, I'm shopping on Mom's behalf too. She wants to buy him a toy farm." She looked up at me. "She wants your okay on it, Mel. She did the rest of her shopping online, with technical assistance from Jim and me."

We met for lunch at one of the mall restaurants. Everybody had several pretty bags of secrets, which we would divvy up in portions of the trunk before heading out again after we ate.

"What about the Christmas shop?" I asked. "Are you guys doing that this year?"

Francie stirred her hot tea. "Christmas shop is covered. Mom and I did an inventory and she knew the companies she buys from. We ordered it all. The stuff should start arriving soon."

Alice's eyes were wide. "That's a relief. I wasn't sure Lillian would have the heart to even deal with it."

Francie nodded. "She forced herself, as you can imagine. She feels so strongly that she owes it to Dad to make sure the farm keeps going."

I wanted to know more, yet at the same time I didn't want to intrude. "She can't do that on her own, of course. After that day when David suggested you sell, has it been discussed anymore?" What kind of friend would I be to let them sell for less than it was worth? And what kind of friend would I be to push them toward selling, if they weren't ready?

"Mom is adamant that the farm keeps going," said Francie. "Unfortunately, the bulk of the work falls to Jim because he makes himself available for it. I did a little tree trimming with him this summer, but he did most of it, and that's after a full day at his office."

"Not like he's digging ditches all day, Francie," said Carla. "He sits in a chair and pushes papers."

Francie grinned. "And occasionally makes a trip to the courthouse. But the stress of being a lawyer, you know. Mom worries about Jim's health. She's afraid he'll have a heart attack like Dad."

Carla fiddled with her salad, not eating. "And die out among the trees, with none of us there to help him. I just can't stop wondering what would have happened if one of us had been with Dad...." Her voice caught, and she paused for a moment. "Mom blames herself. I know she does."

Alice touched Francie's hand and Carla's. "But that's the way your dad was, right? He loved being out there among the trees, working. He was so happy doing that. Maybe it's the way he would have wanted to die."

Francie wiped a tear and took a sip of tea. "He would have hated getting feeble and having to depend on Mom or one of us to do things for him. That's for sure."

I put an arm around Francie's shoulders. "And he wasn't alone when he died. That's one thing. Daisy was with him." I re-stated this because the girls had told me about it soon after their dad's death. "I'm sure that was a comfort to him. Don't you think?"

The sisters nodded.

Carla absently pleated her napkin. "Daisy's whole life, wherever Dad went, she was with him, or at least tried to go. Jim said that when he found Dad..." She cleared her throat and smiled weakly. "Daisy was right there with him, laying so still Jim thought maybe she was dead too."

The grieving Daisy had whimpered for days, and it had been weeks before her appetite returned.

"It's so much fun to see Daisy and Matthew together." Francie said, brightening. "Mom and I love watching them in the back yard through the kitchen window. I haven't seen Daisy have that much energy...." She let the sentence trail off. "Mom says Matthew makes her feel alive again. You can see he does that for Daisy too. It's great how they fit together."

We were silent for a few minutes, in our own thoughts.

"So what's the right answer for your family? About the farm," asked Alice, looking from Francie to Carla.

"Dunno," Carla said. "This year it's Christmas as usual—as well as we can manage without Dad, anyway. We've been working in that direction, but I dread opening day like crazy."

Francie nodded. "I do too, and I don't even know what to expect after being gone so long. Brad always wanted us to have Christmas in our own home, and come here for New Year's."

"Car loads of people pulling up for about a month straight, looking for the perfect Christmas tree procurement experience," said Carla with a wink. "Complete with holiday music on the loudspeakers inside and outside the shop, hand-saws loaned to them so they can wander the acres of trees to find the right one. Then, when they find it, they drag it back and one of us helps tie it to the top of their vehicle. Vans and SUVs are the worst. Have to get the step-ladder. While we're doing that, maybe the mom or kids wander into the shop and find ornaments or cookies or candy or wassail mix, or big angels to set on the mantel. You know, whatever will make their home just right for the holidays."

Alice linked an arm through Carla's. "I'm sorry. I know it's going to be so hard. Your dad always was laughing and whistling when Dean and I came out to get our tree. And back when I was a kid and went with Mother and Dad, I remember how much fun he made it for everyone. I thought then Mr. Standish was one of Santa's special helpers." She shook her head. "Maybe my mom said that, but I do remember thinking it."

Carla and Francie, at the edge of tears, were beaming at the memory of their dad.

"I can help some if you need me," I offered. "Not sure how Matthew could fit into that. Maybe I can find a sitter." I hated the idea of leaving him, since evenings and weekends were our time together.

"Me too," said Alice. "And Dean would be glad to help, I'm sure. He'd be good at tying trees onto people's cars, sharpening the saws, and things like that. He knows the different kinds of trees too, so he could help people with information."

"Just so you know," said Carla, "you might think bad weather would cut down on crowds, but if it snows, we have a deluge of customers. They think they're going to have a Norman Rockwell moment."

"Or Currier and Ives," said Alice.

"Or _Christmas Vacation_. It's usually a combination," Carla said, chuckling. "This year you know what I'll miss?"

She looked at each of us in turn. " _I'll be Home for Christmas_."

Francie groaned, grinning. "Dad whistled that song all the time. I'd forgotten."

"Yes you've definitely been gone a few years." Carla sighed. "Dad whistled _I'll be Home for Christmas_ nearly constantly from Thanksgiving to Christmas Day. I remember when I was maybe twenty, asking him to pick another song. He just smiled and kept on whistling. It drove me nuts."

Francie giggled. "David tried wearing ear plugs one year when he was in junior high school. But he couldn't hear the customers talking, so Dad made him take them out."

"I'm sure that song has been on the radio a few thousand times already." Carla looked down into her mug. "Christmas music starts in October anymore. I haven't heard it yet, but I know I'll cry when I do."

"No doubt." Alice patted her hand.

Francie shook her head. "Poor Mom. I don't know how she manages. You know? When it's this hard on us, you know it's horrible for her."

Carla drained her mug and set it down carefully. "They were such a couple. Did everything together. They both loved the holidays so much and were the first in our area to have a Christmas tree farm. I understand her wanting to keep the place going because of that."

So we had returned to the original topic and of course nothing had changed. There didn't seem to be a good solution, and the Christmas season was nearly upon us.
Chapter Seven

THE SUNDAY BEFORE Thanksgiving, I took Matthew for the first time to the church I attended as a child. Some people remembered me, and everyone was charmed by Matthew. After the service, as we filed out the minister solemnly shook Matthew's hand.

"I'm glad to meet you, Matthew. You be sure and come back next week because we'll have a big Christmas tree in the sanctuary. The children get to help decorate it. Won't that be fun?"

Matthew brightened. "Sure. Are you getting your tree from Mr. Jim? He has the best ones."

The minister laughed. "Well, we certainly are. We always get a Standish tree."

"That's good. I work there," said Matthew, puffing up importantly.

The minister chuckled, his eyes flashing to me and back to Matthew. "Really?"

Matthew nodded. "Yes. I help Mr. Jim with the trees. Sometimes we ride the four-wheeler to the back forty." He looked down, concentrating hard to get the two halves of the zipper on his jacket lined up. "And I help Miss Lillian in the Christmas shop." The zipper went up smoothly and Matthew beamed into the minister's eyes. "Christmas is coming."

"So it is," the minister chuckled. Patting Matthew's shoulder, he then stood up to face me. "Sounds like the Standish family has some especially good help this year."

****

Matthew was keyed up by the conversation and barely ate any lunch. "Mommy, can we go to the farm? I might need to work today."

"Sweetie, they may not be working since it's Sunday."

"Please? Can you call? I miss it when I go to school."

Although Lillian had insisted she loved having Matthew and he was no trouble, we all realized she and Francie needed to spend time getting the Christmas shop ready for the season, so I had decided to find a preschool for Matthew. It was one thing to order the stock and put it on the shelves, but Francie and Carla said their mother had decided to overhaul the whole place this year. She planned to take all the shelving and tables out, give the place a fresh coat of glossy snow-white paint, then paint the fixtures, and put them back in. And _then_ put all the merchandise on display. With Matthew to care for every day, that chore would have been nearly impossible.

It had been late in the semester, but Matthew was accepted into a preschool three days a week. This had been his first week of school. He had enjoyed it but missed his friends at the farm. So, without giving it another thought, I caved in.

I sent a text to Francie, and she replied they'd love for us to come out. As usual anymore, Jim was right there when we arrived. It felt normal to see him, not awkward as it had at first. Daisy trotted along with him as he got off the four-wheeler and approached Lillian's house. Matthew ran over to them and Jim swung him up into the air.

Once he was back on the ground, Matthew asked, "Mr. Jim, can Daisy and me ride on your four-wheeler? Please."

Jim looked at me. "Mel, how do you ever look down into those eyes and say no?"

Jim and Matthew sent matching, quizzical expressions my way.

"It's not easy. But you can't say 'yes' when the right answer is 'no.' Just because it's easier to go along with whatever the request is, doesn't mean you should do it." I sighed. "Sometimes it's just being the bad guy. I feel that way a lot."

Jim smiled and shook his head. "You're not a very believable bad guy." He crouched down to Matthew's eye level. "Sorry, pardner. We could maybe all go in my truck though."

"Yay! Miss Lillian too?"

"Sure, if she wants to. How about you ask her?"

"Okay!" Matthew raced to the house, knocked loudly a couple of times, and burst in. As part of the family now, he knew the routine. Daisy paced around Jim and me, as if she knew a truck ride was in her future.

Jim touched the dog's silky head, then grinned at me. "Mel, you up for a tour?"

I was surprised at the offer. "Oh. Well, we came out to see if you needed help."

"I get that. We can always use Matthew's help. He's everybody's bright spot these days. It'd be nice for you to see more of the farm. We'll have plenty of chaperones, so it should be safe."

Safe for me—or for you, Jim?

Lillian came out the front door, pulling on her jacket as Matthew chattered encouragement. She was smiling and had a nice pink color in her cheeks. Yep, Matthew's enthusiasm had done a lot of good for Lillian, it seemed.

She hugged me. "This is a fun surprise on a Sunday afternoon." Turning to Jim, "I hear we're taking a drive, son. Matthew seems to think the three of us are going to sit in the cab with Daisy on our laps." She reached down and touched the boy's head. "But my guess is that Daisy will be in the bed. How do you see it working?"

"In the bed? Not the truck?" Matthew looked back and forth from Lillian to Jim.

"The back of the truck is called the bed, pardner." Jim let down the tailgate and Daisy immediately jumped in and ran toward the cab end. He closed the tailgate again with a slam. "There. Now she has plenty of room. Once we get going you'll see how she rides. Then I bet you'll be glad Daisy's not up front with us." He opened the passenger door and looking at me, raised one eyebrow. "Coming with us, Mel?"

Matthew clapped his hands. "Mommy! Yes, you ride too."

Jim helped Mathew up into the cab, and gave his mom a hand up. Then it was my turn. I squeezed in and turned to pull the door closed, but Jim was still standing there.

Just looking in my eyes and smiling. I had no idea how long that lasted. A few seconds or a couple of minutes—no idea. Nothing else seemed to exist. What was happening between us? Come to think of it, Jim and I hadn't had a cross word in a long time. In fact, we'd been almost chummy.

"Hey! We're burnin' daylight."

We all laughed at Matthew's cowboyism. Jim winked at me and pushed the door gently closed. Lillian was whispering something to Matthew at the time, so maybe that wink was our secret. It was a tiny delight to have that sweet, secret moment between the two of us.

In high school, there had been many little moments like that—a special smile, a wink no one else saw. And shared dreams. It all seemed like a lifetime ago.

****

In preparation for our senior prom night, some of the moms got together and organized after parties. Back then the junior class had the job of decorating the gymnasium, and only juniors and seniors could attend the dance. This year's junior class had done an outstanding job of transforming the place into a tropical paradise. Grass huts, a semi-believable waterfall, and big colorful crepe-paper flowers everywhere. To go along with the theme, these moms had convinced Mr. and Mrs. Osborne to host an after-prom party for a bunch of us kids. There were some other parties at houses in town too. A lot of kids went to restaurants in Louisville afterward instead, which was way cooler. But parents didn't like it because of the distance and safety concerns. I wasn't one of the cool kids, just brainy. Jim was smart and handsome and very cool, partly because he was quarterback of the football team. But since Lillian was one of the organizers, and she and Harry were good friends of the hosts, he was pretty much forced into the event at the Osborne house.

Jim and I were an item, and had been our whole senior year. Alice Campbell was in our class and was going to prom with Dean Williams after a brutal breakup from hunky Jamison Kincaid. Jim's sister Carla was a junior, David a sophomore, and Francie was a freshman.

The Osbornes were a really nice, middle-aged couple. Their kids were older than us, out of college, and living their lives someplace interesting. Jim and I, and Carla and her date, whose name I've forgotten, drove the few blocks from the high school to the Osborne house and arrived a little after some of the others. I was surprised to see Diana Reynolds there. Sure, she was a senior too, but the crowd she usually ran with had ditched the end of prom and headed for Louisville.

Diana's date, Greg, was also a member of the football team. Greg was known as being a hard-hitter, and though he didn't always abide by the rules, he consistently got results the coach wanted. I didn't like or trust him, and felt the same about Diana. I'm afraid it probably showed on my face or in my demeanor. There were thirty or so of us kids, playing music too loudly, eating lots of junk food, and swimming in the beautiful heated pool. At that time, there wasn't a pool house, so you had to change in a little bathroom just off the kitchen.

When Diana emerged in her bathing suit, it was as if angels started singing and playing harps while aiming a spotlight at her. Anyway, that's the way Jim acted. He followed her and that barely-there bikini the rest of the night. It was disgusting. I was beyond angry, and Lillian and Carla took up for me with Jim. If you know anything about teenage boys, you know that pressure from his mother and sister did nothing for me and everything to ruin the evening more thoroughly.

Well, Diana and her date headed for his car about the same time the four of us started out. Although most of the kids changed back into prom clothes after swimming, Diana was still wearing the bikini, which clung damply to her. She had put her high heels back on and draped the shawl from her prom dress provocatively over one shoulder. Who knows where the rest of the dress had ended up. With that going on just a few yards away, it's a wonder Jim even remembered how to start his car.

He managed to drive me home, and left me on the doorstep with a peck on my cheek. I felt like slapping him, but Carla and what's-his-name were in the car watching. Prom was on a Friday, and I didn't hear from Jim the rest of the weekend. On Monday at school everybody was talking about what had happened at the Osborne's party. Not just those of us who were there or even those who'd been at prom, but every single occupant of the entire school building was talking about the awful way Jim had treated me, and salivated after Diana.

I heard whispers all day long that Jim was getting ready to break up with me. By the end of the school day, I was nearly in tears, and whom did I meet in the hall near the art room door? Oh yeah, Ms. Bikini.

She just leered at me and said, "I guess you know he's mine."

I don't remember what, if anything, I said to her before escaping the building.

Yes it was childish, and yes, if the relationship had been important to Jim and me, nothing would have come of any of it. But he called me that night and broke up with me. On the phone.

Pretty lame, huh?

Diana's dad was the circuit court judge. He and Harry Standish had been friends for years, and they'd been on the football team together back in the stone ages. Jim had told everyone all through high school that he wanted to be a lawyer, and it worked out that way. Jim and Diana got married, her dad was a mentor to Jim, and when he graduated and passed the bar, he got a job at the law firm Judge Reynolds had helped establish before running for judge.

It was all very cozy.

That Monday after prom, I could see the handwriting on the wall. I wasn't going to stay in Serendipity or come back after college and have to witness any more antics from Jim and Diana "Bikini" Standish. I was going to make my own life.

****

Jim started the truck and Daisy began running from side to side, barking joyfully.

Matthew twisted around to watch. "Boy, is she happy."

Jim nodded. "Yep. I don't take her along very often."

"She likes to go, Mr. Jim."

"Sure. But Daisy is Miss Lillian's dog. She stays there at the house most of the time."

Matthew smiled up at Lillian. "Daisy is a good dog. Does she take care of you, Miss Lillian?"

"Yes, she does." Lillian sighed and looked out the windshield. "Pretty much everybody takes care of me these days."

"That's 'cause we love you," said Matthew, patting her hand.

Lillian turned back and kissed Matthew's cheek. She looked near tears.

Matthew sighed. "And 'cause you make great cookies. Right, Mr. Jim?"

"I couldn't agree with you more, pardner. On both counts." He smiled at his mom and she wiped a tear away, smiling too.

"I haven't been out this way in too long," Lillian said. "Jim, you've kept everything looking wonderful. These trees are shaped just right."

"I haven't done it alone, of course."

She shook her head. "Most everything has fallen to you, honey, and I appreciate all you've done. Your father would be so proud." Maybe she'd been about to say more, but her voice broke. We rode along the track in comfortable silence, except for Daisy's happy barks and the complaining truck springs when we hit the deeper ruts.

"What do you do to the trees, Mr. Jim?"

Lillian appeared surprised at Matthew's question. "Oh. Jim, honey, can you show him?"

"Sure." He stopped the truck and took a pair of pruners out of the big toolbox in the bed. Daisy sat down, wagging her tail, likely wondering if the ride was over already. Jim let the tailgate down in case she wanted to run around, and then the rest of us piled out and followed him to a huge tree.

"This blue spruce is just going to grow and grow. We let some of them do that because it's so pretty. But to take home, people need trees that are smaller. And they want their trees to be shaped a certain way." He led us a few yards further. "Now, this tree is about your age, Matthew.

My son turned to me. "Looky at this tree, Mommy! It's four like me!"

"Yes, I see."

Jim led us to a white pine—always my favorite because of the soft needles.

"This one is growing really well, but when they're smaller I have to cut some out of the top so the tree gets fatter instead of growing up real skinny. Most people don't like skinny Christmas trees." He gestured with the pruners to a cut he'd made that summer. "See this? It's healed over, but that's where I had to trim this branch a little bit, to improve the shape of the tree."

Matthew examined the tip of the branch, touching it with one finger, and then ran his little hand along the needles. "It's soft. And it smells good." He took a deep breath and then stood silent for a bit, seeming to listen. "The trees are singing."

A strong breeze had begun to blow through the pines, creating a soughing sound. Lillian and Jim and I exchanged knowing smiles.

"That song is pretty," he said, looking at me for confirmation. I nodded. "This is the beautifullest farm, huh Mommy?"

Lillian gestured to the vista below us. "You just wait 'til there's snow, Matthew. And when people start coming here for their Christmas trees. That's when it's the very most beautiful."

"Christmas is fun!" Matthew was animated again, and grasped Lillian's hand. "You like Christmas, Miss Lillian?"

"Yes, I do. I love it. My husband loved it too. Jim and Carla and Francie and David's dad, he was my husband. And he loved Christmas more than anyone I've ever known. He worked hard all year so people could have the prettiest trees. And when it was almost Christmas, he worked even harder. But the whole time he was smiling and happy because it's what he loved to do." She sighed.

"Now Mr. Jim does that?"

"A lot of it. But he has another job too, so it's hard on him."

Jim put an arm around Lillian's narrow shoulders. "Oh, Mom."

"Well, it is. I don't want your health to suffer, son."

"Mom, I'm perfectly fine. And besides I'm twenty years younger than Dad was."

Matthew had been listening intently. "Mr. Jim needs a helper. He needs elves, like Santa."

"What a wonderful idea," Lillian said, smoothing Matthew's dark hair. "I wonder where we could find some good elves."

Matthew's brows met. "I don't know. This town maybe doesn't have elves."

Lillian was thinking about something. "Maybe it does and we just didn't realize." She started toward the truck. "Everyone ready to head back? I think I need to make a few calls."

I was surprised at her change in attitude and wondered what she had in mind.

Matthew hurried to catch up with Lillian. "Okay! We're gonna call elves."

Once again Jim and I had a moment, just a single moment, together.

He turned his back to his mother and my son, blocking them from my view, and me from theirs. "I don't know what she has in mind, but I like the light in her eyes." He touched the sleeve of my jacket. "I'd like to see a light in your eyes too, Mel. Not only the kind you have when you're proud of your little boy, but the kind you used to have when you looked at me. I want you to know I'm making that a goal this Christmas season." After a moment's hesitation when I didn't reply, he walked to the truck.

I followed a few paces behind, watched him put his pruners away. He called for Daisy and she ran out of the trees, happy and out of breath. Once she had jumped back up into the truck bed, Jim closed the tailgate again.

I watched it all with detachment, as if I weren't one of the people in this scene. After all, I had left this simple life behind years ago. So many times, I had been out on this farm with Carla and Francie, or with Jim, and seen the same landscape, felt the same breezes, smelled the fresh pine smell. It had been my second home back then, and yet not mine at all. Like now, when I cared about what happened here, but it really didn't have anything to do with me.

Why was I forever on the sidelines, wanting to be a part but not belonging?

The Standish farm had always been a peaceful oasis for me. As a kid I had run through the columns of trees playing hide and seek with the girls, and sometimes with David and Jim as well. When we were teenagers, Alice, Carla, Francie and I had many important discussions in the cool, quiet privacy of the evergreens. When Jim and I were dating, there were secluded places on the farm where he could park his car and not be seen. We lay on an old blanket spread over the car hood and watched shooting stars that were brighter here than anywhere else. We talked about the future, and, of course, we made out. But Jim hadn't pushed me further. He respected and cared for me—I had thought.

My own family lived in a crowded neighborhood of small clapboard houses in a grimy part of Serendipity. There was never enough room or enough privacy, and in the summer there didn't even seem to be enough air to breathe in our part of town. Shortly after I graduated from SHS, the biggest factory in town closed, and my parents moved to the Indianapolis area where my dad and mom both found jobs. There would never be a reason for them to move back to this little town.

I still had moments of second-guessing my own decision to return.

Part of it was business. I knew I could take up the slack left by the retiring Parkers. My name was local, which means a lot in a small town, and although it wasn't famous, at least it didn't have any black marks by it. The second reason was that Serendipity, though not perfect, was a better place for me to raise Matthew. Alice and the Standish family were like family to me, and were becoming that way for Matthew. I wouldn't have had a head start on a career anywhere like I did here, and the cost of living difference between a large city and Serendipity was major.

The last reason was the house. Which of course was how the conversation began in the first place. But if the rest of the factors hadn't been there, the Osborne house would have remained an unfulfilled dream.

The presence of Jim Standish in the midst of all this good karma was a bit confusing to my system. I didn't want to be around the guy who had dumped me for no reason. But since coming back to town, I hadn't seen any sign of that Jekyll/Hyde personality. I had only seen the Jim Standish who was a good son and brother, worked hard without complaint, and paid wonderful attention to Matthew. This is a man I really liked. I just had to remember—and remind him if necessary—that our relationship stopped at friendship, period.

Back at the house, Lillian pulled out a pad of paper and wrote a list of names. "Elves. I'll contact them later," she explained to Matthew. Then she invited us to stay for sugar cookies and hot cocoa. Matthew and I accepted, but Jim explained he would have to miss out. He had convinced David to help him sharpen hand saws and get some other preparations made for the season.

As he stood at the kitchen door, ready to leave, he paused. "I guess you realize this Thursday is Thanksgiving." He looked as if he were gauging his mother's reaction, looking for signs of distress.

She looked over at him. "Yes, son. That's why I bought a twenty-two pound turkey last week."

He shifted from one foot to the other. "First customers will show up."

Lillian smiled. "Yes. I imagine I could name some who are always here the first day. I have calls to make this afternoon. My last orders for the Christmas shop are supposed to arrive tomorrow or Tuesday. Francie and Carla and I have accomplished great things in there, you know. We're nearly ready for the season to start."

"Okay. That's good, Mom."

"We'll make it, honey." Lillian put her hand in his and then grabbed mine too. "It's so very hard this year, but this is what we do."

Later, over cookies and hot cocoa, she told Matthew and me some of what they had accomplished this week. She was happy to have made so much progress, while dreading the heartache that she knew would accompany the holiday.

"Harry was everywhere during the season, you know," Lillian said wistfully, tracing with one finger the pattern of holly on her big white mug. "He handed out handsaws and showed people on the big map where to find the kinds of trees they wanted. He would show up when someone had trouble cutting their tree and cut it down for them without making the person feel too embarrassed. He tied the trees to cars, dashed into the Christmas shop to get a cup of cocoa or wassail, and give me a kiss." She blushed. "Then he was gone again on some other errand. Always happy, always whistling his favorite Christmas song. My goodness, how we grew weary of that song, and yet—you know, it's just what we all need to hear now. Of course, I can't bear the thought of it playing on the radio. I've made David promise to make a CD of Christmas music to play in the shop. With every single Christmas song on it, _except that one_. Maybe next year, you know? Next year should be easier."

"You'll always miss him, Lillian. I hope nobody is trying to push you into 'getting over it,' because that's just wrong."

"Maybe a couple of people, friends of mine, think I should hurry up and get my grieving done. Those ladies are well-intentioned and loving, but they aren't widows. They don't understand what it is."

_Heartbreaking_. That's what it was to watch this woman who was missing the man who'd been her best friend for so many years.

She shook off the reverie and smiled gently. "I certainly hope we can plan on the two of you being here for lunch on Thanksgiving Day."

"Well—"

"We eat at noon, sharp. Everything has to be eaten, cleaned up, and leftovers put away because our first customers will arrive an hour before the posted opening time. I don't know why they can't wait one hour. I guess everybody has their traditions."

The farm was open to customers every weekday evening until Christmas Eve, and opened at noon on Saturdays and Sundays. A grueling schedule I knew I would dread if it were my own, even without the lurking sadness of Harry's absence.

"Mommy? Please?"

Thanksgiving? It was a family event, and we weren't family. My parents had invited us to be with them for an early evening meal, but I wasn't looking forward to the four hour round-trip drive knowing I needed to have my office open Friday as usual. You could never predict when someone would want to look at real estate. As a new business owner, I needed to be known for excellent service.

"Lillian, I was just planning a little Thanksgiving feast for the two of us, followed by a viewing of the original _Miracle on 34_ th _Street_. You know, just keep it low-key."

Matthew was astonished. "Mommy! It's time to sell Christmas trees. I gotta work. Remember?"

Lillian smiled at me and I rolled my eyes, giving in without a fight. Who would want to crush a Christmas spirit like that?

"Okay if I bring Waldorf salad?" I asked.

"Perfect."
Chapter Eight

ON MONDAY MORNING when I pulled into my driveway a little after eight, Jared Barnett was leaning on my doorbell. Matthew had been draggy, so I was a few minutes late getting him to preschool and then driving back here. The sign on my door said the office opened at eight, and I adhere to that. Except for this one time. You'd know it would happen with a potential client I wasn't sure what to do with. I parked the SUV in my drive instead of pulling all the way into the garage, then walked up onto the front porch where he stood.

"Mr. Barnett. Nice to see you again." I shook his hand, unlocked the door and opened it, preceding him into my office.

Barnett was muttering something about the greasy breakfast and fuel-oil-flavored coffee he'd had at The Diner before coming here. Obviously, the man wasn't used to small towns. For all he knew, I was related to the owners of The Diner. You just don't go around slinging words like that, unless you're prepared to have them slung back at you sometime.

I walked quickly behind my desk, gesturing for him to have a seat. "What can I do for you today?"

I saw his mental dismissal of a scathing remark he'd like to have said. I silently counted to ten, trying not to dislike him or have any personal feeling about him at all. The guy was a potential business associate. Could be nothing, but also could be important—for me and for the Standish family, if they decided to go that way.

"Ms. Singer, you remember when I was here last and told you the type of property I'm looking for?"

"Yes, of course I do." I picked up a pen and slid a pad closer in case he was going to say something worth writing down. "Nothing has really changed on that though. No big parcels have come onto the market."

He leaned back and steepled his fingers. "No? Well, I think there's one you may have failed to mention. The Standish farm." His over-bright eyes bored into mine, watching for a reaction.

"To my knowledge, that farm isn't for sale." My voice was clipped. "I don't know where you heard otherwise."

He didn't move, barely blinked, keeping eye contact. Hoping I would flinch first?

"I realize it isn't exactly on the market, but I also know there are issues with the family. With the old man dead and his widow grief-struck, they're struggling to go on with business as usual." He sat up a bit straighter. "But it isn't business as usual, is it?" He shook his head, feigning concern for the afflicted family members.

"I understand what grief is, Ms. Singer. I've had my share." He sighed heavily. "It's difficult to decide it's time to let go of the past. But the Standish family needs to consider the present as well, and the future."

I wanted to interrupt him—shut him up—but found myself speechless as he continued his soliloquy.

"What of Jim and Carla and David? Do any of them have a chance at normal lives when they're burdened by a tree farm as well as their own careers? And Francie, who's been here for months looking after her mother. Her husband must wonder when she'll come back to him. What kind of strife must this be inflicting on her marriage?

"Ms. Singer, I understand you know the Standish family quite well. And that your son is out there several days a week when he isn't at preschool. You care about them, I'm sure. Think about what all of this is doing to their health." He raised a hand. "I understand they're all relatively young. Except Lillian, of course. Wouldn't it make the best sense for the farm to sell, Lillian buy a nice little place in town where she can grow her flowers and get together with friends? Wouldn't it be better if Francie could go home, and come to visit when she wanted? Wouldn't David be happier in the city where he belongs? And Carla would have all the time she wanted to pursue her design career instead of putting it on hold because of the extra work she has to do. She'd have more time to spend with friends too, wouldn't she?"

He took a long breath. "And Jim. You know Jim has worked himself to exhaustion. What if he has a massive heart attack like his father, out in the midst of those trees some evening? Who would know until it was too late? He doesn't have anybody—does he?" He raised a brow.

Barnett stood up and leaned both hands on my desk pleadingly. "Think about _them_ , Ms. Singer. They deserve to be guided by someone with knowledge of the business, knowledge of their needs—and knowledge of the potential price for their property _at this moment in time_. Serendipity is close enough to Louisville to make this development successful. And you, Ms. Singer, are close enough to the Standish family to make the development happen in the first place. I think if you listen to your heart, you'll discover this is the right thing to do. Likely it's why you were led back to Serendipity in the first place. To broker this deal for the Standish family...and then see what results from it, for you and little Matthew. Your lovely home here is a demonstration of the fact that you appreciate the finer things in life. You and I both have an idea what your commission will be on the sale. It would do a lot for a college fund for the little guy."

Straightening again he smiled and extended his hand. "You think about that, please. I have confidence you'll do the right thing."

****

My hands were shaking as I locked the door after Jared Barnett left. I stood back a little and watched through the sheer curtain as he pulled away from the curb in that sleek BMW. The man was an incredible salesman. I had realized that the first time we met, but today I felt as if he'd reached into my soul and used its contents against me. Of course, I was already worried about the whole Standish family and what they were going through. I didn't need to have a total stranger point those things out to me.

Mr. Barnett had evidently found some chatty folks in town to be able to glean that much information about the Standish family, and about me. Not that it's difficult to find someone around here willing to share like that, but still somehow it was disconcerting to have it all thrown in my face at once. After a few minutes, I got a handle on my emotions and unlocked the door. It was office hours, for goodness sake—I couldn't very well leave the door locked.

Same with the situation at the farm. That wasn't something that could be locked away and ignored. It wasn't my place to solve the problems there, but I wanted to help. It was the least I could do as a friend. A potential commission wasn't the issue. So it would have been vastly easier to know I was considering presenting Mr. Barnett's idea to the Standishes because I cared about them, as opposed to foreseeing a huge improvement in my own bank account.

I was sure surprised to see the name and number of the local bed and breakfast show up on my phone when it began to trill. Mrs. Jenson, the proprietress, was concerned that one of her boarders was in Serendipity for nefarious reasons—possibly aimed at me. He had asked a lot of questions and had been pumping people for information. Seems he had been particularly inquisitive this morning when he'd had breakfast at The Diner. Mrs. Jenson's sister and brother-in-law own The Diner, and although they'd been happy enough to talk to the guy at first, when Barnett left, everybody in The Diner started wondering out loud about his purpose in Serendipity. One of the other customers said he had heard the guy asking nosy questions along the same line when he was having dinner at Al's Place the night before.

It was Mrs. Jenson's considered opinion that the people of Serendipity needed to stand up to anyone who would put their own interests before the interests of others. Especially when those people weren't "from here." And most especially, if they had an inclination to destroy a local landmark like the Standish Christmas Tree Farm.

Mrs. Jenson said her great-niece had gotten a call from Lillian Standish about working part time in the Christmas shop this year.

"Seemed to me a real good thing that she's looking for extra help, don't you agree, honey? Lillian's a strong woman. She'll hold that family together—you mark my words."

When the call ended, I was surprised to feel myself smiling. Jared Barnett didn't understand how a small town works, and I doubted he would realize what his lack of education might cost him.
Chapter Nine

TUESDAY MORNING DRAGGED by. Whether people were already off work and heading somewhere for Thanksgiving or what, they certainly weren't calling me. I met a couple of other realtors for lunch for some networking. The relationships between real estate offices here in Serendipity was much more pleasant than I'd experienced in the city.

"Melissa, I heard about that guy Barnett. What a crazy idea he's got, huh? Can you imagine people building mansions like he's talking about here in our county?"

I stirred my coffee. "No, not really. But he seemed to be convinced."

"I told him to his face that he was crazy. Not in a hateful way, you know."

"I'm sure you were very subtle about it," I murmured.

"Maybe not subtle, but you know, I sugar-coated it some. Thanks for thinking of us, we've all given it our consideration, and just so you know, the guys in white coats have been alerted to the make and model of your vehicle." He guffawed and slapped his knee.

I was glad to get out of there. Although I doubted the luxury development could happen, I wouldn't have shut Barnett down if the kind of property he wanted had been available. The conversation over lunch had been a reminder of the kind of narrow thinking that had stunted the county's growth for years. With factories moving out or simply shutting down and nothing much new coming in, we needed to be looking for options, not throwing ideas out before they had a chance.

It made me angry and sad at the same time. Serendipity was a neat little town with a lot of potential, but we were very adept at ruining opportunities for ourselves.

I piddled around my office the rest of the afternoon, and even did some housework carrying my phone in my pocket and listening for the doorbell. Just when I was ready to put the "Closed" sign in the door, the doorbell rang. Jim Standish was standing on the front porch peeking through the glass at me. I opened the door.

Instead of the pleasant demeanor he'd had lately, he was glowering. "Mel. We need to talk."

I stepped back, motioning him inside. "Well, you look different." He was wearing a dark gray suit, white shirt, and a red necktie with tiny green Christmas trees woven into it.

He stalked into the living room. "These are my work clothes for the day job."

"I'm not sure when I last saw you looking so dressed up."

"Maybe prom."

Did I need that? Had I actually somehow deserved that?

"Yeah, maybe prom. The night you ruined my life."

"That's ridiculous."

"The night you started ruining my life then. Let's see. Dump Melissa, marry Diana, get set up in the law firm, make big bucks, and be very happy."

He shook his head. "Mel, don't do this."

"Oh really? Why shouldn't I? What can I possibly hurt? Matthew isn't here, so as far as I know, I can say anything I want to you."

"Why not say it in front of Matthew?"

"Because he worships you. He loves you, Jim. Maybe you haven't noticed."

"Yeah, I noticed. Matthew is a great kid, and I wouldn't do anything to hurt him. Which is one reason you and I are having this discussion now."

"Your mom will wonder why I'm not there to pick him up on time."

"That's okay. She and Francie will keep him busy. They've got a million things to do this week, you know. It's almost the Christmas season." A muscle in his lower jaw twitched at his effort to keep his temper under control. "Not that you care what that means to my family. All you care about is money and making a big name for yourself back here in the little hometown. What happened after you left here, Mel, to make you so cold-hearted?"

I crossed my arms. "It's what happened _before_ I left that changed everything. _You_ changed everything, Jim. Don't accuse me of being driven by money and making a name for myself. That's your own profile, isn't it? Except you had the trophy wife and her precious daddy to help you. Pretty neat set-up. I'm sure glad you didn't let me get in the way of it. Little boring Mel, so love-struck. I would have followed you anywhere. But you broke off our relationship with no explanation at all, and rode into the sunset of success. Well, now that the trophy wife is gone and her daddy's law firm kicked you out, how's life treating you, Jim?"

Other than that twitch in his lower jaw, he looked completely calm. Must be something he perfected in court.

Jim paced the width of the room. "Life's not working out too well. I managed to live through that series of poor decisions and was getting along okay with my own small law office, and settled into my new little house on the farm. And then—boom—Dad died. And everything seemed to fall on me as the oldest son. But I worked hard and thought the family would get through okay. Then you showed up and I had the crazy idea that the two of us might make amends. I fell for Matthew, as if he were my own kid, and you and I had some moments. But what I hadn't realized was that all this time, as my mom babysat your son and you wormed your way back into our lives, you were scheming to ruin everything."

My head was spinning. "What? What are you talking about?"

He stopped pacing, and faced me. "I know about Barnett. I know you've been talking to him. He came to see me today, Mel, _after_ he paid a visit to my mother. Do you know what that did to her? She considers you almost one of her own, you know. She kept telling me that Barnett wasn't being honest about his conversations with you. But I can see from your reaction that her trust in you is misplaced. You're representing him, aren't you? You're somehow working for him to get us to sell the farm. How can you do this?"

He stopped, took a deep breath, and continued, almost in a whisper. "Mel. I was falling in love with you again. I thought—I thought we had a chance this time. That our lives were headed in the same direction at last."

He went out, leaving the door standing wide open. A cold November wind blew through me as Jim Standish got into his blue pickup truck and drove away for the last time.

****

I pulled into the parking area by Lillian's house, afraid of what my reception might be when I appeared to pick up Matthew. I parked, took a deep breath, and walked up the front porch steps. Francie opened the door before I could knock. She had obviously been crying. She stepped out onto the porch with me and closed the door silently.

"Mel? We're pretty confused here about what's going on. This Barnett guy, you know?"

"I understand—Jim told me the guy came out and talked to your mom. I can't believe his nerve."

"But—you didn't know what his plan was, right? He said you did. He said you had seen the drawings and thought it was great. But I know that can't be true." Her eyes were pleading.

I held her arms lightly. "Francie, I had talked to the guy, but that's it. I don't represent him."

Francie's eyes were wide. "Jim says you were trying to get us to sell. That you were getting close to our family—you know, like the old days—so we would listen when you were ready to spring this idea on us."

I felt as if I'd been slapped. "Francie, how can you think for a minute that I'd do something like that?"

She shook her head. "I don't know what to think, Mel. You were gone, then you were back. You didn't keep in very good touch before, but suddenly you're here all the time. And Matthew—you know, he's stolen our hearts. We're so confused. This is such a horribly hard time for us right now, anyway...."

I put my arms around her and hugged her tight. What in the world was that Barnett guy trying to do here? Making me out to be some kind of infiltrator wasn't going to encourage the Standish family to sell. It was nuts.

Francie was crying for real now. "Mom says—maybe that's what people think about us. That we're just sitting on this property for no reason, and there's all this money to be made for the whole community, but we're not letting it happen. Mom says maybe we should just sell it and get out. I couldn't believe the words came out of her mouth. I really couldn't. It's like her heart was broken all over again."

I locked eyes with Francie. "I'm not a perfect friend, but I would never, never push Lillian to sell this land. Now with your dad gone, the farm represents a lot to her. I remember Harry talking about how the farm started, that he had inherited it when his dad died. And since he and Lillian loved Christmas so much, they planted a few trees. And over the years, they just kept planting, and buying little bits of land to add to the property. They were original thinkers, because this was the first Christmas tree farm in the area. I think they're the first entrepreneurs I was ever aware of."

Francie blew her nose. "Mostly I have just taken it for granted until lately."

"Sure, because you were raised here. That's human nature."

"It's cool that you remember Mom and Dad's story." She managed a watery smile.

"They're important to me. Your whole family is so special to me, Francie." I put her away from me, shaking her a little. "Francie, honey, wake up and smell the wassail."

She looked at me, blinked, and started to giggle. "Wake up and smell the _wassail_?"

"Honey, it's two days before Thanksgiving. Besides the fact that Jared Barnett is one of the smoothest liars to grace our fair town, the other big news is that we have a Christmas season to get through. Or maybe I should say, we have a Christmas season to bring to southern Indiana. Isn't that the way your dad looked at it? He was just a few pounds and a flowing white beard shy of being Father Christmas himself. I don't want to let him down, that's for sure."

Francie hiccupped some leftover tears. "None of us wants to let Dad down. I worry about Mom...."

"Which is why I need to go inside and talk to her. Okay, Francie?"

Lillian was more jangled than angry. She hadn't wanted to believe Barnett, and when she had called Jim about it, he had immediately sided with the liar.

Wow, that rankled. Did he hate me so much?

Francie took Matthew over to "work" in the Christmas shop for a little while so I could talk to Lillian. I knelt by her chair.

"Lillian, there is no way I would try to push you into selling the farm. If you wanted to sell, sure I'd be glad to assist in whatever way was appropriate. Barnett and Jim would be quick to point out that I could make a tidy sum working on the deal. But whether or not you sell, whenever, is entirely your call. You and your kids have to decide the right thing to do here, for all of you."

Lillian nodded. "Melissa honey, I didn't want to believe it. I shouldn't have let Jim― Oh, that boy. When will he ever learn?"

I wondered the same thing myself. One minute Jim was falling in love with me and the next minute he was accusing me of high treason against Christmas. Somebody was conflicted, and in a big way.

Lillian went to the kitchen sink and washed away the signs of crying, dried her face with a paper towel. "Well. I have a Thanksgiving dinner to start. It's Tuesday night, for goodness sake." She picked up a wooden spoon and gestured me toward the door. "Honey, you and Matthew be sure and arrive Thursday by ten-thirty. I have a feeling this Christmas season is going to start even earlier than usual."

I checked with Francie and Matthew. They assured me that they had loads of work to do, and wouldn't miss me if I needed to run an unexpected errand.

Instead of turning around and going down the driveway to Tree Farm Road, I put the SUV into four-wheel drive and headed toward the trees. I was pretty sure I saw Francie's face in the Christmas shop window as I went past, and that now she was giving me a thumbs-up.
Chapter Ten

IT TOOK A little longer than I expected, but I managed to find my way to Jim's cabin. Years ago when we were dating he had brought me up here, stepped off the size of the house he would build for us. We'd be happy here, in our cozy little log home. I'd help on the farm and he would work in a law firm. We'd have two kids—a girl who looked like me and a boy who looked like him. Yep, we had it all figured out. But one of us had decided to chuck our plans.

I pounded on his door until he opened it. In jeans, flannel shirt, and sock-footed, he looked comfortable and angry at the same time.

"What do you want?" he growled.

I stood in the doorway with my arms crossed. "How about honesty? That would be different."

"Meaning?"

"Start with why you suddenly dumped me in high school, and then finish by telling me why _in the world_ you would believe a desperate real estate developer over me. Don't worry about trying to spare my feelings, because apparently I don't have any."

When he sighed, I swear his shoulders sagged six inches.

"Come inside, Mel." He didn't wait to see if I did it or not, just walked away and dropped into a big rocking chair by the cold fireplace. I followed him in, closed the door behind me, and perched on the hearth directly in front of him.

"I'm waiting." Seething was more like it. I tried not to tap my foot to hurry him up.

"Yeah." He scratched his jaw. "Remember when I told you about this cabin? About how I was going to build it for us?"

"Of course."

"I was going to be a lawyer and we would have two kids, and—do you remember what you were going to do?"

"Of course. I was going to work on the tree farm."

He grimaced. "Right. What if we had followed that little plan? Would you have even gone to college?"

"Well...sure. I had those scholarships." I had wanted to go to college, but also wanted to marry Jim and have a happy home. The main thing I needed at the time was to be away from my parents, making my own life one way or another. I had thought Jim and I could make it work.

He shook his head. "I don't think you would have gone to college, Mel. Carla and—oh, I can never remember that guy's name—the guy she went to the prom with, you know?"

I nodded.

"The four of us, at prom, while we were eating, got to talking about what we'd do after graduation. That guy said he was off to Purdue to study pharmacy, Carla said she would go to design school. I talked about being a lawyer. And you just sat there and smiled."

"And that's a bad thing?"

"Mel, you had so much going for you. You were the smartest one in our class, but you were ready to settle down and be happy."

I crossed my arms, angry with him for trying to make this my fault. "You obviously couldn't let that happen."

He frowned. "I wasn't prepared for that kind of commitment—not yet. There you were, ready to get married right away and start making those two kids. I had college to get through, and then law school. I loved you, to the extent an eighteen year old knows about love. But it scared me to death for you to talk that way. I was intent on starting my new life. College and career first, wife and family later on. I wanted to do those things, you know? Everything we had talked about. But we hadn't given it a timeframe while we were dreaming it, and things were happening too fast for me. You were so good and sweet, but I was suddenly looking for a way out."

"Enter Diana." Whom I could picture in her bikini, high heels, and smug grin. It still made me a little nauseous.

"Diana had been flirting with me for months." He shrugged. "When you're on the football team, it happens. That night in the gym, with the fake waterfall making that weird sound and all of us talking about our futures, I realized something needed to happen, and fast. Diana and Greg showing up at the after-party was a surprise, but it set some stuff in motion."

"Stuff like lust?" I asked sweetly.

He leaned forward. "Diana—Diana was desperate. She had made a lot of mistakes in high school. Her dad basically gave her an ultimatum to shape up or he'd cut off any funds. Let her go out into the world on her own and see if she grew up. She saw me as a way to make amends with the old man, and for the most part it worked. Of course, I had always known him. He liked me, thought I would do well as a lawyer. He also could pull strings. I had some internships I would never have gotten otherwise."

He sagged into the chair. "Not that it mattered in the end, of course. I came back to Serendipity to practice. Diana and I had the biggest wedding of the year, and the ugliest divorce of the decade. No matter what I did, she was never happy. She was always out with friends, female and male. If I questioned her, she got defensive and hateful. I would never have believed how spiteful she could become." He shook his head. "When the divorce and property settlement were done, I came out here to the farm and built the house I always intended to build."

I looked around for a moment at the living room. It was the way I had pictured it all those years ago.

He stood and started to pace. "You never needed me, Mel. You just thought you did. My family had become like a second family to you, and marrying me would make it official."

"What a horrible thing to say." I should never have confided in him about the ugliness of my own family after keeping it to myself all these years.

He whirled to face me. "But true. More true, in fact, than I knew at the time. Because of the way you were brought up, you didn't believe in yourself, that you could do great things on your own. I pushed you away out of selfishness. If I had known back then, on prom night, how your parents had treated you, maybe I would have done things differently, found another way instead of the Diana 'out.' I don't know." He smacked a door frame with his hand. "The best thing that happened is that you went out into the world and made your own life."

Jim came back to me, looked into my eyes, and touched that dang cleft in my chin for just a second. "You thought you needed me and my family, but you just needed to believe in yourself. You're amazing, Mel. I've always known that, even if you haven't."

It made sense. Some of it was very convoluted thinking, but we'd been teenagers, so what can you expect? By pure dumb luck—coincidence?—serendipity—due to Jim's breaking up with me, I had discovered my own strength and abilities. The hurt and anger I'd held all this time started to fall away.

But he still had more explaining to do. "And today when you believed I would go behind your back and work with Jared Barnett to make a great business deal?"

His eyes rolled. "That was me being defensive. I love having you back here, Mel. And Matthew has given us all a better outlook. I was afraid that, just when I could believe you and I might have a future together after all, you were using the past against me."

"Which you deserved."

He hung his head a little. "Yeah, probably."

"So, Jim, what will it take to convince you that I wasn't doing something underhanded?"

"That Barnett guy himself, it looks like. A little while ago Dean Williams called me. Seems a stranger named Jared came in for a haircut and was asking a lot of personal questions about my family, and about you too. Dean didn't trust the guy, and tonight when he was talking to Alice about it, she suggested he call me. Soon as I hung up with Dean, Mom called and reamed me out." He rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish. "That would have happened after you talked to her and Francie."

"So you broke up with me because I was terrific, and when I came back to town you deemed me untrustworthy." His twisted logic was maddening. I could only imagine he was a great courtroom lawyer.

"Sorry, Mel. I've built up some pretty strong defenses for myself and my family. Even more so since Dad died."

"Oh, Jim. I know you're hurting too. You were always so close to him."

"I talked to him most every day of my life 'til he died. Even in college and law school. We were really tight, and I miss him like hell."

"I'm sure he would be proud of the work you've done this year to keep everything going, and how good you are to your mom. Their dream of this farm came true through hard work. Driving up here, I got a glimmer of an idea that might be a nice little change-up for everybody in your family."

"What?"

I held up a hand. "Not yet. I have to think it through more thoroughly, do a little research. But right now I need to pick up Matthew and get him to bed." I stood up. "Good night, Jim."

He took my hand and held it in both of his. "Night, Mel. You don't hate me anymore, right?"

"Right. I could maybe warm up to you a bit, but it will require more effort on your part."

He brightened. "I will take that under advisement, Ms. Singer, and present my findings to you in a timely manner."

"Oh please, no lawyer talk."

I was smiling the whole drive back down to the Christmas shop. What a weird series of circumstances had brought Jim and me to this point from the pool party at the Osborne house all those years ago. But I had to admit that, even though I felt I had been so badly wronged, I had gained a lot during the intervening years.

I had worked hard and excelled in college, sought out my career, and made a name for myself there too. I had been in a few relationships, but none of them had that forever feeling. If I'm honest, I was looking for someone like Jim, and never found him. So when I decided I was ready to be a mom, I did all the stuff necessary to have artificial insemination from an anonymous donor. The selection process was pretty cool. Kind of like an online dating profile, only different. I think I'm a pretty good mom, though as expected, single parenting is a challenge.

I picked Matthew up at the shop and got us home as soon as I could. I snuggled into bed with him, feeling happier because I understood my past a little better. I sang the usual lullaby, but instead of falling asleep, Matthew patted my cheek.

"Mommy, I'm gonna sleep in my truck bed tonight." He picked up his blanket and went into his room across the hall. I didn't want to jinx things by following him in there, so I just tiptoed to the door, which was ajar. He was humming softly to himself, lying on his side facing the wall where the colorful trucks were painted.

Funny how Matthew had found a bit of independence tonight, just a little while after Jim had explained his concern years ago that I wouldn't find mine.
Chapter Eleven

THANKSGIVING LUNCH WAS amazing. There was so much food we almost didn't get the leftovers wedged into Lillian's big fridge. I checked the clock and decided I had plenty of time to share my ideas with everyone. Lillian and all four children were there—Jim, Carla, Francie, and David who had a couple days' start on his annual Christmas season beard. Matthew played on the floor with Harry's wooden truck, hauling some twigs back and forth. Daisy lay near him, watching carefully.

I stood in the center of the living room, looking around at all of them, and cleared my throat.

"Since we're all here together and the frenzy hasn't quite begun, I wonder if we could take a few minutes to discuss the future of the farm."

Lillian nodded and sat a little straighter in her chair.

"I understand you all care about the farm and want to continue Harry's dream. I also understand it's more than you can physically do."

I looked at Francie. "Your heart isn't here now, honey, much as you love your family. If you end up staying in Serendipity because you have to, you'll always be a little bit unhappy. Nobody wants that. I think you've had plenty of unhappiness already."

David huffed. "Of course, she isn't going to stay in Serendipity. Her husband would never want to live here. We all know Brad well enough to know that."

"Well, Brad does have a successful legal practice—" Francie began.

"And he wouldn't want to go into a partnership with our dear brother Jim," said David, rolling his eyes. "So Francie moves on when Mom's ready for her to go. But what about her piece of the land?"

Francie was wringing her hands. "You can sell it, if you need to, to support the farm."

"Harry wouldn't want us to do that," said Lillian decisively.

Francie's eyes flicked from her mother to the stricken faces of her siblings. "No. I know he wouldn't, Mom. But if the money is needed, I'm offering."

David groaned. "I'm sorry I mentioned your corner of the farm, Francie. I always come off sounding heartless, but really I'm just painfully blunt. I don't want you to give up your inheritance. Dad gave each of us a piece of the land, and that's yours."

I touched Francie's shoulder, and smiled down at her. "Selling off one corner of the farm isn't any kind of an answer. It decreases the value of the rest and wouldn't realize much in the way of quick money. It's good of you to be so unselfish, Francie."

"I don't know what to do to actually help," she said.

I nodded, struggling to keep my voice calm. "I want to talk to you all about an opportunity that might be the answer we've been looking for."

I didn't correct the fact that I included myself in that. My developing relationship with Jim gave me a bigger emotional stake than ever concerning the Standish family and their farm. "I've spent some time with Mrs. Jenson who owns the B&B in town. She keeps pretty busy with that. Sometimes there are more calls than she has rooms. Sometimes the people who call have something specific in mind and she doesn't have what they want, so they hang up and find another place to go. We're talking about people who just want to get away, not those who have a particular interest in spending time in Serendipity."

David chuckled. "Yeah. There aren't a lot of people in that second category."

I wagged a finger at him. "More than you might think, but we'll get to them. So anyway she fields calls from people who are celebrating an anniversary and want a private setting. Something cozy and intimate. Most of her rooms share a bath, and the one that doesn't is still right there with everybody else in a big, old house with creaky floors. Mrs. Jenson's place doesn't cater to people who want a romantic getaway. Get the picture?"

Carla shot me a wink showing she knew what I was hinting at.

I plodded on, afraid of losing momentum. "She also gets inquiries from people she's met at statewide church meetings, who know she has a B&B. These people are looking for a place for a spiritual retreat. Much as she tries to accommodate everyone, she can't host a religious gathering among her other patrons. Besides the fact that she simply doesn't have that much space."

Jim shook his head. "I'm listening, honest, but sure don't have any idea why we're talking about Mrs. Jenson's B&B."

I looked at him, hands on my hips. "Because that's the opportunity."

"What is?" Jim still looked confused.

"A B&B. Right here on the tree farm," I announced, and hoped my smile was encouraging.

David frowned. "Mom likes people, but she doesn't need to have strangers wandering in and out of the house. I wouldn't be comfortable with that happening, to be honest."

"How sweet, David." Lillian smiled at him, then turned to me. "It might be interesting to try it, Melissa. I've never given any thought to running a bed and breakfast."

Bless her heart. She was an adaptable lady.

"I wasn't necessarily suggesting that you have people stay here in the house with you, Lillian. If you did, you would have a similar clientele to Mrs. Jenson's, and as I was saying, she isn't able to meet the needs of some potential guests."

"So what you're suggesting is...?" Lillian leaned forward eagerly.

"Mini barns. Not exactly mini barns, but you know the ones you see for sale at the hardware stores and such?" I looked around to make sure everyone was following. "Something a bit bigger than that, and trimmed out so it has more of a cabin look. A bed, tiny bathroom, living/kitchen area, and there you go—private little getaway for a romantic weekend, or spiritual retreat, tucked into a beautiful pine forest."

"Put mini barns all over the farm?" Jim frowned in concentration, as if he were trying to picture the result.

"Not every few feet," I assured him. "But spread around the acreage."

"Huh. Well, we've got the lanes for people to drive back. Just need a little more gravel on some of them." He was giving the idea a chance, thank goodness.

I smiled at him, grateful. "Don't make it too perfect. Part of the draw will be the backwoods feel of it."

David looked relieved at that, as if he had expected to shovel gravel.

"We might put one or two cabins near the lake," Carla said, considering.

"We'll have to get the building inspector to sign off on this," said David. "Whatever we do will have to have plumbing, electricity, some kind of septic. Sounds like a lot of money to spend for something we don't know the return on."

Francie laughed at him. "David, you know this will be a draw. You're an example of the kind of people who would come up from Louisville on the weekends. They work hard, maybe travel for their job, and by the end of the week they just want quiet and relaxation. Hey—I live in the city, remember. I know what that's like."

David looked thoughtful, no doubt doing some mental math.

I appreciated Francie's contribution. "That's the kind of thing that really made sense to me about Jared Barnett's idea. I know this wouldn't be everyone's vision of a perfect weekend, but think of the kinds of vacations that are touted in magazines. So many that have a taste of quiet and nature are in national parks, or at the least in state parks. Indiana state parks don't all have cabins, so they're still not reaching the people who want to be out in nature, yet not camping."

"We could offer camping too, I guess," Francie said cautiously.

"Do you want to get into that?" David's deep frown was back. "More danger of fire I'd say, because campers like to have the option of building a campfire."

"No campground," Jim said emphatically. "One hot dry summer and an unsupervised campfire and the whole place, including our homes, could go up in flames."

Lillian clapped her hands. "I just realized what I could do. The Christmas shop could be used in the off season as the place for our guests to come and have breakfast. That could be included in the fee, right? I would know how many people are staying each night, since I'm taking the money and handing out the keys. Somebody can draw a nice map for me to hand out. And each morning I'll serve breakfast in the Christmas shop. Casseroles, biscuits and gravy, fresh fruit in season. It could be fun. Sometimes I miss cooking for a crowd."

Carla looked at Lillian. "You sure that wouldn't be too much on you, Mom? We don't want you to overdo."

"I'm not sick, honey. I'm grieving—we're all grieving. But Melissa, and everybody, help me understand how this would make the farm more sustainable."

"We would get a loan to do the improvements. I don't think that'll be a problem at all," said Jim. "We advertise—"

"I'll be in charge of that," David offered.

"Great," Jim said. "We advertise, we get people in here, they tell their friends. The money they spend will pay back the loan."

Now we were on a roll. "And the increased income will free up some money so you can hire someone, or more than one, to help Jim do the pruning."

He nodded. "And the mowing. Most of the grunt work is in the summer. Might be a decent summer job for a couple of high school kids who don't mind working hard." He slapped his forehead. "I should have gotten more help this year, but I just toughed it out. Sometimes I'm too hard headed."

"Only sometimes?" asked David.

"You're like your father, Jim, in that you try to do it all yourself." Lillian looked slowly around the room, making careful eye contact with each of her children, and also with me. "That's not a good way to run a business, and we won't be doing it that way anymore. We can't let Jim keep carrying more than his share of the work. I love the idea of giving jobs to high school students."

"They'll be fighting over who gets to run the big fancy mower," Carla chuckled.

"Maybe," said Jim. "We'll see what happens."

"What do you think about letting people stay in the cabins in the winter?" David asked. "Might get in the way of our main business, right?"

I addressed that one. "The overnight guests will mostly be inside the cabins. There will be one, maybe two vehicles parked outside each one. If guests want to walk in the woods, that doesn't hurt anything, right?"

Jim shook his head, and winked at me. "Right."

My face grew warm as I remembered some of our walks in the woods. "So the B&B users won't be in the way of tree customers to any great extent."

"I think people would love staying here during tree season," said Francie. "It's a short trip from Louisville for a change of pace, and if there are kids they can see how the tree farm works."

David held up a hand. "What about breakfast for them when the Christmas shop is set up for the retail season though? That won't work."

Lillian considered. "Maybe I'll serve breakfast in the house then. I'll have to think about it. Or drive around to the cabins and deliver breakfast. That might be an option. I know a friendly dog who would love to go with me and announce our arrival at each place."

Carla winced. "That might not be quite what people want, if they're here for a romantic weekend, Mom."

I laughed. "These are things we can fine-tune later, everybody. The question right now is, do you want to pursue the possibilities of little cabins scattered through the property as extra income?"

"It's worlds better than selling to a developer who would destroy the farm, take down most of the trees, and replace them with big houses," said Francie. "Then, of course, name the development Piney Acres. Gag."

Carla laughed. "I love the idea of being able to keep the farm and the Christmas tree business, but having something else going on too. I think it could be a lot of fun to decorate the interiors of the little cabins." I could see she was envisioning décor already. "We could have some that are particularly romantic, say, and if someone calls for a honeymoon or anniversary, we'd know which ones to suggest."

"Put pictures online. Start a website. Put flyers in the State welcome centers." David was getting into it now.

"Advertise in magazines that target this area," Francie offered.

"Don't go crazy with lots of paid advertising," I cautioned. "Join the State B&B association and see what perks go along with membership. I know you get listed on their website with a link to your own, if you have one, because I looked up the local B&B. She isn't interested in having a site of her own, but gets some referrals that way."

David had found an envelope and was furiously scribbling notes. "Try to get some Louisville media attention. One of the news anchors always comes up here to cut his own tree. He would be a good contact for that."

By the time the first Christmas tree customer showed up, we were ready. We had some hope—hope that not only would we get through this Christmas season, which had seemed such an insurmountable task a few weeks ago, but that we might be able to keep the farm going in the future, too.
Chapter Twelve

A COUPLE OF weeks into the season, Alice stopped at my house shortly before closing time.

"Hey."

"Hi, Alice. This is a surprise."

"Yes. To me, as well." She raised the cardboard carrier I hadn't noticed when she walked in.

"You brought coffee?"

"Cocoa and doughnuts from Something Sweet."

"Oh, wow. Come right on in. That place spoiled me for any other bakery in the world. Have a seat." She perched on the big sectional and I sat facing her. We each pulled a cup from the carrier. "Thanks for the sugar high. I only have a few minutes though. I have to leave to pick up Matthew. Assuming no potential clients come in right before closing."

"Mel, I know you're pressed for time. I'm going to work in the Christmas shop this evening too." She took a deep breath and seemed to be at war with herself. "I try really hard not to gossip. I hate the gossip in this town—it's always tearing people down. But Dean shared something with me that I thought you should know."

My heart skipped a beat at her serious tone. "All right."

"You know he's a barber and he had a run-in with that guy who was trying to pressure the Standishes into selling?"

"Um, yes."

"Dean was really riled up about that."

Was this going somewhere? "Oka-ay."

"He was very angry and full of righteous indignation on behalf of the Standish family—Jim in particular. Partly because they went to school together, partly because Jim's a customer and an occasional fishing buddy. But also partly because Jim was very badly wronged in the past by another gold digger."

I shook my head. "Um, Alice. None of my business here." I took a big drink of cocoa, scalding my mouth.

"Yes it's your business. You and Jim have a history. And I think you have a future as well."

I felt a smile starting at the possibility. "Maybe. We've been talking."

She hurried on. "Here's the thing, Mel. A while ago, David, Jim, Dean, and Dean's buddy Irv went on a camping and fishing trip. Evidently out by the campfire one night they started sharing stories. Most guys from Serendipity in that age group are dads. But these four aren't, and they started talking about it. Who knows how much beer they'd consumed, but Jim really loosened up. He said he and Diana were trying to have a baby—"

I stood up, almost toppling the hot cocoa on the low table. "Alice—time out. This is nothing I want to hear about, trust me."

Her eyes were intense. "Yes, it is, Mel. Have a seat."

Alice is always very soft spoken, always asks and never tells. I sat.

"Diana told Jim she was doing all the right herbal teas and relaxation and whatever to try to get pregnant, and normal methods—sorry—normal methods weren't working. The doctor told her the only way was to try artificial insemination. They go to the city and the sperm is collected. Evidently, there was some kind of preparation Diana was supposed to undergo before implantation. And she made the appointment at a time when Jim had a jury trial, so he couldn't go with her."

My throat was super dry, wondering where this story was going, and if I'd be in any shape to hear the end of it.

"Long story short, it was all a ruse. She had no intention of getting pregnant. And for some reason, she hated Jim so much that she _sold his sperm to a sperm bank."_

"She—are you serious?" I had never liked Diana, but this was beyond anything I could have imagined. Plus it was extremely weird.

Alice nodded. "Of course I'm serious. I don't have a clue how you'd go about doing that. Seems like you'd need the donor's permission." Alice shivered. "Well, when she left Jim, in addition to all the other ugliness of the divorce, she laid this news on him." Alice brushed away a tear that had escaped and started to run down her face. "He wanted kids so much, and he was devastated that she had lied to him about it and then sold his sperm."

I moved over by Alice and put my arm around her. This was more painful for her than I would have expected.

She took a deep breath. "Well, Jim had been dealing with all that trauma for the last two or three years, and then his dad died. I just thought you might want to know."

It was a huge burden for Jim to have carried, but I still didn't understand what Diana's treachery had to do with me. "You're telling me so I'll be more patient with Jim?"

Alice took my hands and pierced me with a look. "Mel, come on. Hello— _Matthew_?"

"Matthew?"

"You never said who his dad is."

"No, I didn't." Alice was talking in circles. And this wasn't a topic I wanted to launch into.

She squeezed my hands a bit, as if encouraging me. "I'm listening, if you want to tell me a story now about a wonderful guy who would have been a great dad, but somehow was tragically killed on a mission trip to take food and medicine to some starving children."

Her eyes were intense but they weren't searching for an answer. In spite of the fact that I had never told a single soul, she _knew_ the answer.

"How, Alice? How did you know this about Matthew?"

She smiled gently. "I have no idea. Maybe because you and I have been friends since almost babyhood." She stood, preparing to leave. "I just didn't realize until Dean told me this story, that Jim is Matthew's dad. Pretty strange coincidence, huh? Even for Serendipity."

My heart was pounding—could it be true? Had I, through fate or whatever, given birth to Jim's son? My mind filled with images of the two of them. I recalled the day we arrived in Serendipity, and Carla was speechless when she saw Matthew. Then there was the way he and Lillian were immediately so close. However unlikely, Alice's theory was at least possible.

Alice cleared her throat, bringing me back to our conversation, and to the fact that I was supposed to work this evening at the tree farm. I stood too, though a bit shakily. "It's a very strange coincidence. But we don't know for sure that Jim is Matthew's father."

She smiled. "True. We don't know—yet." She paused. "Anyway, as far as I'm aware, you and I and good old Diana are the only females to know Jim's story. And only you and I know your story. I'm not going to tell anybody anything. But I think there's someone you should talk to about it."

I started to disagree but she just shook her head and gave me a hug. "Think about it, Mel," she said softly. "I know you'll do the right thing."
Chapter Thirteen

TREE SEASON WAS going well, according to the Standishes. There were lots of customers, but also plenty of help. The weather was mostly decent, and when it turned cold or snowed a little, there were even more customers, just as expected.

Carla told me that Emily's dad drove up one afternoon in his pick-up truck. He reported Emily was doing better than the doctors had expected. His plan was to buy a big tree for their home as usual, and also take a small one to Emily's room at the rehab facility. David and Jim helped him choose, cut, and load the trees, and flatly refused payment. Lillian assembled a little bag of goodies from the Christmas shop when she realized what was going on, and hugged the appreciative man after handing it to him.

"Send us a picture of your girl enjoying that tree," Jim had said gruffly, and Emily's dad promised to do so. That, Carla said, is just how their father would have handled it.

The Friday morning before Christmas, I got a text from Jim. Francie had given him my cell number. He asked me to go out with him after the farm and shop closed for the night. Carla would drive Matthew home, put him to bed, and stay with him until I got back.

He had everything organized, which was sweet, and I appreciated his effort. I wondered if he would regret it all after we hashed out the things remaining between us. Since my talk with Alice, I'd rehearsed a few ways our conversation might take place. Unfortunately, even in my imagination, none of them went smoothly.

A cold drizzle started to fall about an hour before closing, effectively stopping the traffic. Jim came into the Christmas shop. "Hey."

"Hey." I was nervous. To Jim, this was just a date, but I knew the evening could alter both our lives. And possibly Matthew's as well.

"Weather forecast says this drizzle won't clear up tonight. Unlike snow, rain does dampen customers' Christmas spirit. David can handle things outside, if you think the boss will let you leave a little early." He sent Lillian a winning smile.

"I suppose," she said. Clearly, Lillian was happy to see the possibility of Jim and me getting back together. She glanced at Matthew, who was sitting at the little desk they had created for him near the cash register. He was "counting" his play money. "Yes, it seems things are under control here. You children have a nice evening. See you tomorrow?" This question was directed at me.

"I hope so. I feel the need to have the office open in the morning, just in case. But I'll be out here as soon as I can."

"You do what's best for yourself, Melissa. I mean that." She turned then and went to check a display of Christmas sock monkeys. But I wondered if there was more than one meaning to her statement. Was she afraid I would fall in love with Jim without thinking it through?

Jim stood beside me gesturing around the shop. "Look at this, Melissa," he said softly. "You and Matthew have made this possible. Before you came back to Serendipity, our family was really struggling. We still are, of course, but we're getting our feet under us at last. Look at Francie. See what she's wearing over those designer jeans and cashmere sweater? Dad's favorite old Carhartt jacket. She's worn it every day since the weather turned cool. Sure, she and Brad have lived in Florida, and you can imagine her blood has thinned some. But if you give her a big hug you'll smell Dad's aftershave mixed with pine from the trees."

I smiled, touched by his story. "Francie tells me Brad is flying up for Christmas, and Joseph is going to be here too. That will be so good for her. She's sacrificed a lot. You all have."

He shrugged. "It's family. You do what needs doing. Like Carla over there giving decorating advice and enjoying herself. She doesn't feel like she has to give up her work, or spend less time at her shop to work with me on the trees. She _would_ do it, if we needed her to. That's the point."

Jim tipped his head toward the door where trees were sold and tied onto vehicles. "David's not exactly in his element here, but he also doesn't mind giving these few weeks to the farm. It makes him feel better about living away all year and not really contributing much in the way of physical labor. Plus, in my opinion, he just likes the excuse not to shave for a month straight." He chuckled. "And now he's going to be able to lend his marketing expertise to the new life of the farm."

Jim looked around slyly, then snatched a little bag of chocolate chip cookies off the counter and slid it into his pocket. "And Mom. She's doing great, isn't she? Working here in the shop, and thinking about how the B&B will work. We would never have come up with the idea to rent out little cabins, Mel. You've done us such a favor."

He sighed. "What a gift you've given us all, helping us look at our situation in a different way. I wish Dad could see us now. I think he'd be happy to know that even though we're missing him like hell, we're figuring out our road from here." He took my hand gently. "Too bad he and Matthew never got to meet. Matthew's such a trip, I know Dad would have loved having him around. Would have taught him stuff about the farm, if he wanted to learn."

I squeezed his hand. It was such a blessing to be accepted by this family. "I wish Matthew could have met Harry too. Your dad was so good and kind, and so much fun."

"Yes he was." Jim sighed. "Okay, Ms. Singer, I'm going to sweep you off your feet tonight. Let's stop talking about work."
Chapter Fourteen

JIM FOLLOWED ME home in his truck and waited while I parked in my garage. Then I climbed into his pickup with him.

"Have you been to the Barbeque Basement?"

"Um, no. I've heard of it though."

He backed into Main Street, and turned south toward the town square. "Best barbeque in Serendipity."

I laughed. "Also the only barbeque in Serendipity?"

"Well, yeah, unless people are grilling on their back porches. It's great stuff though. Some reviewer from the Louisville _Courier-Journal_ came up and gave it a glowing write-up, so there are always crowds."

The small lot behind the restaurant and all the street parking was full, so Jim parked in a municipal lot just off the town square. At first, I thought we were going to the rear entrance of what had been a shoe and clothing store when I was a kid. But instead, we descended a dark stairway. Jim opened the heavy door and we entered a huge rock-and-brick-walled basement. The white ceiling was heavily textured, reminding me of stalactites. The floor was concrete and brick, and a rough wood bar stood along one wall. The tables and chairs were sturdy but certainly not fancy. A little stage on the far end was empty for the moment except for the band's instruments. They seemed to be taking a break at the bar. We had to wait a few minutes for a table, and were seated in the center of the room. The food was delicious, and the craft beer selection immense, but once the band started playing there was no chance for private conversation, or much of any conversation at all. They were very talented though, and the whole experience reminded me of prom because of the loud music and funky décor. They were lacking a fake waterfall and grass huts, but still.

It seemed like another world when we were outside in the cold fresh air again. The relative quiet made it feel that we had the rest of Serendipity to ourselves. Jim reached for my hand, and we strolled back to the truck. Okay, definitely not like prom.

"I enjoyed dinner," I said. "It's such an unusual place, and so busy."

"Like I said, people come up from Louisville. I'd guess twenty percent or more of tonight's crowd wasn't local."

"I wonder if the management would let you put up some kind of advertisement about the tree farm. Next year, I mean. Might bring in a few customers from that area, and you know word of mouth."

"Yeah. Word of mouth, good or bad, makes all the difference. I like that idea. I'll sic David on it." He chuckled. "You're always thinking, aren't you, Mel?"

"I guess. Just trying to help."

He squeezed my hand and looked over at me as we walked. "Hey—I didn't mean that to sound negative. It is a good idea, and you've had lots of them. I appreciate it. We all appreciate it."

My hand was warm, and felt at home, in Jim's big palm. "Maybe it's easier to look at things from a little bit outside like I do. I'm sure it's difficult to imagine changes from your perspective. Your focus this year especially is to honor Harry. That's admirable."

Though his face clouded briefly at the mention of his father's name, Jim shrugged. "No big deal. It's just who we are."

But it was a big deal. It was a very big deal. The Standish family, with the help of some local folks who were hurting right along with them, was not only going to survive this Christmas, but would thrive. I wanted to help make that happen. We stopped, having reached the passenger side of the truck.

"Mel, I'm really out of practice at dating, and of all things, I don't want to mess up when we're trying to start over. What do you want to do now?"

Concern etched his features. He really was afraid of making a misstep and losing me again. In a man who was usually so sure of himself, it was heartwarming. I smiled up at him. "In the old days we would have hung out with our friends, gone bowling, or to the drive-in theater. Or parked on the farm and made out."

He tugged me a little closer. "Now that last one's an option."

I laughed softly. "That's good to know. I wonder if the old zing is still there."

I didn't have to wonder long, because he leaned down and gently kissed my lips. The electric pulse was stronger than the other times we had touched since my return. Stronger than it was when we were kids. I pushed aside memories of the past and yielded to him, and to the moment. The kiss went from gentle to exploring, tinged with passion. Jim held me as if I were the most precious person in the world to him.

One of his hands skimmed down my hair where it lay along my back. Straightening a little, he expelled a long breath. "Oh, Mel. I almost can't believe you're here. I'm so thankful you're giving me a chance to start over." He opened the door for me to climb in, then closed it with a click. Excited as a teenager, I slid from the edge to the center of the bench seat before securing my belt. He drove to the farm—past Lillian's house, to the northwest corner where his neat cabin sat.

He shut off the engine and kissed me lightly. "We can sit in the truck and make out, or go indoors and make out."

I wanted Option B, but we needed to have a discussion before anything went further. "Is there a possibility of going indoors and talking?"

He groaned comically. "We already talked. But you're the company, so if you want to talk instead of kiss, we can. Is this going to be a habit?" He got out of the truck and I slid out after him. He unlocked the cabin door and opened it for me. "Or do you think there's still a future for something more physical?"

I walked in ahead of him, glad for his light mood. "Oh, I'd say there's a great future for something more physical. But we still have some things to iron out between us. More than I realized."

"What does that mean?" He struck a long match and held it to the kindling of a fire he'd already laid. Setting the screen in place, he turned, searching my face for a hint of what I was going to say. "Something to drink?"

"Um. No thanks. I'm good." I sat on the sofa, watching the flames begin to dance. Jim sat next to me, and pulled my hands into his.

"What is it, Mel? You're worried about something."

I managed a weak smile. "Jim, you and I have taken different routes to get where we are now. I'm glad now I understand why you literally pushed me down my own path. But nonetheless, we've made decisions that brought us from nearly this exact location years ago, back here tonight. We could put it down to coincidence, but I'm not much of a believer in coincidences. So I think there's an important reason you and I are here now."

He nodded, looking serious. "I hope it's making out, at the very least."

He said it so deadpan, I laughed out loud. Then I mustered my courage. "I need to tell you something about Matthew. I haven't shared it with many people. Carla and Francie don't even know."

Jim's face changed in an instant. "Matthew? Is he sick? Can I help somehow?"

"Oh—my goodness. No, he isn't sick." I stood up and started to pace, needing the distance.

"It's more about Matthew's father."

Jim frowned. "He wants visitation?"

"Um. Well, no. He doesn't even know he's Matthew's father." I felt my face getting hot. I forgot my carefully planned speech and rushed into the explanation. "I became pregnant with Matthew through artificial insemination. I went to a clinic and filled out a profile. From the possibilities, I chose this nice-sounding donor. Never had a name or where he lived, but of course that didn't matter to me. I wanted to be a mom. I have never regretted my decision."

Jim's expression went from surprise to understanding. After a few moments, he said, "Good for you. You're a terrific mom." More softly, he continued, "I wanted kids so much. Diana—she didn't."

We looked at each other for a minute or more. I had hoped Jim would pick up on where I was headed. But it seemed I'd have to spell it all out—without letting him know I had been told what Diana had done.

I took a deep breath and sat by him again. "Since coming back to Serendipity, I've noticed several things about Matthew that remind me of you. Well, more than several. I didn't know you when we were Matthew's age, but my guess is that he looks a lot like you did then." I shifted under Jim's intense concentration. "And sometimes when you're side by side, and react to something, it's like he's a smaller version of you. It's uncanny."

Jim rubbed the back of his neck. "Mom and Carla both told me the same thing. In fact, Mom got out some old photos of me. Yeah, the resemblance is striking."

He cleared his throat. "I might have an explanation for it, Mel. It's going to sound far-fetched, but hear me out." His face displayed excitement about the possibilities of Matthew's heritage, but also desolation as he recalled an ugly part of his past. "Diana said she couldn't get pregnant, and that she wanted to. We were going with artificial insemination. But instead of getting the sperm implanted, she sold it. At least, that's what she said she did. I haven't been able to corroborate it, and believe me, I've tried." He hung his head. "She really hated me a lot. Still does, as far as I know."

I was relieved that he felt comfortable sharing the story. "Why would she hate you?"

"She said our marriage was a lie. That I had only married her—used her—to further my career. She said..." He rubbed his hand over his five o'clock shadow. "She said I was still in love with you."

"But you weren't."

A corner of Jim's mouth quirked up in a half smile, and he laced his fingers through mine. "Diana got a lot of things wrong, but she was right about that."

It was tragic that Jim's sham of a marriage had been doomed from the start. Years ago I might have thought he deserved that misery, but my old wounds were nearly healed over. "Oh, Jim. And I thought I had suffered."

His shoulders sagged. "We all did. You, me, Diana. What a mess."

I put an arm through his and scooted closer. "We survived, Jim. And—about Matthew. I don't expect you to do anything different. He's crazy about you as it is."

Jim sat bolt upright. "If you're good with it, Mel, I'd like to have DNA testing done. If Matthew is my son, I want to do right by him—and by you. But whether or not he's biologically mine, I love him _and_ his mother. Looks like my misguided teenage good intentions sent us on an awful long road to come right back where we started."

Dragging my gaze from his, I stared into the crackling fire. I didn't want him to see all of the emotions our conversation had dredged up. Jim wasn't the only one who had made some mistakes in the last twenty years.

Holding my hands, he didn't push me to speak, but in a few minutes I did. "I'm okay with the DNA testing, after Christmas sometime when life slows down. And the long road? I'm glad for that. It surprises me, but I really am glad. I came back to Serendipity to make a name for myself. I bought the Osborne house because it would give me control over the memory of prom night." My voice grew stronger and I met Jim's eyes. "But being here has helped me realize I was always a person I could be proud of, and I had already risen above the pain of the past by making my own life."

His eyes searched mine. "Meaning you don't need me anymore, like you did?"

I looked down at our joined hands. No longer covered with smooth teenage skin, they looked different together than they had a lifetime ago. His showed years of working on the farm in addition to his day job. Mine were dry and a bit cracked from laundry, handling paperwork all day every day, and dealing with a busy and occasionally sick child. Our hands, as well as our faces, and our hearts, showed years of doing our best in life, despite our mistakes.

I kissed his cheek. "Exactly, Jim. I don't need you the way I did. I need you the way I do now. I like this equal footing better, and I have you to thank for that. You and your twisted teenage logic."

His eyebrows waggled. "Is this a good time for celebratory making out, do you think?"

I moved into his arms. Even kissing was better now than it had been when we were young. Our relationship had progressed immensely—in spite of, and partly because of, the years we'd been apart.
Chapter Fifteen

FROM THAT EVENING on, I feel asleep every night with a smile on my face. After tucking Matthew in, I snuggled into my bed with my phone, and had a long conversation with Jim. We talked about books and movies and travel, hopes and fears, and plans for the future. Hesitation was out the window. We knew who we were and where we were going. Finally, we were going there together.

The joy of the season was multiplied for me this year because of being so happy in every facet of my life. But a part of me still worried about Lillian, Francie, Carla, David, and Jim, who were facing their first Christmas without Harry. The work of the farm had kept them busy, but how would they feel when met with the holiday itself? There'd be plenty of time then to remember and mourn afresh their own Father Christmas.

Christmas Eve dawned cold and clear. Lillian predicted that today would be relatively quiet since most people already had their trees. But there were always a few who waited until Christmas Eve.

She smiled. "Who am I to question? It's their tradition. We all have our own, don't we?"

Francie's husband Brad and their son Joseph had arrived the previous evening and were staying with Lillian in the big house. They both put on work clothes and boots and pitched in where they were needed. The farm closed for the season every year at six o'clock on Christmas Eve.

The time came and no customers remained outside. Joseph and Brad, David and Jim gathered up the tools and put them into the box of Jim's truck, so he could take them home to sharpen, oil, and whatever was needed. Next year the tools would be in good shape.

Next year there would indeed be another Christmas on the Standish tree farm.

The guys came into the Christmas shop and helped extinguish pine-scented candles and unplug light displays. Carla was emptying the cash register, and Lillian walked around tidying as she did each evening. Francie shut off the CD player that had piped music inside and out for all those weeks.

That's when we heard it, sung so softly in a child's voice:

"I'll be home for Christmas. You can count on me..."

Lillian gasped. Francie and Carla clapped their hands over their mouths. David's jaw dropped and in spite of the scruffy beard, I could see his face turn pale.

I looked at all of them, not understanding their reaction.

"That's Dad's song," Jim whispered in my ear.

_Of course._ The song the family had grown so tired of every Christmas season, but that they were afraid to hear this year, because it would bring back the raw pain of their loss.

Matthew, standing near a window, continued to sing. It was full dark outside, but the moon and stars were bright.

Jim knelt next to him. "Hey, pardner. Where'd you learn that song?"

Matthew blinked and turned serious eyes to Jim. "The trees."

"Trees?"

"The trees sing it to me." Matthew noticed everyone standing in the Christmas shop in total silence. "When I play with Grampa Harry's truck, the trees sing. Daisy listens too."

David asked, "You called him Grandpa Harry?"

Matthew smiled, resembling Jim more than ever. Then he turned to look outside again. "My Grampa Harry. In the trees."

I glanced at Francie's grown son, Joseph. He was the only known grandchild, the only person who would have referred to Harry as Grandpa. But Joseph had never been around Matthew until just a little while ago. And nobody here had taught Matthew the song.

"Honey," said Lillian, "maybe you learned that song at preschool."

I knew he hadn't. At preschool they were into the big show stoppers like "Jingle Bells" and "Here Comes Santa Claus."

There's no way my four year old could have learned a relatively complicated song like "I'll Be Home for Christmas," when all the people he spent time with made sure the song was never played.

Unless, like me, you believe what Matthew says.

And unless, like me, you believe that there's more than a little magic in Serendipity, Indiana. Especially at Christmas.

The End...or is it The Beginning?

# Serendipity, Indiana Series

SMALL TOWN CHRISTMAS

Melissa is moving back to Serendipity, Indiana to raise her young son and run her new business—in spite of a painful past and the fact that her ex-boyfriend still lives in their hometown.

EMILY'S DREAMS

Emily Kincaid has a second chance at life, and a voice in her head that keeps nudging her along. But she can't move forward without dealing with her past.

CHRISTMAS WEDDING

Dec. 1: Jim Standish is ready, right this minute, to marry the love of his life, but Melissa Singer wants the day to be one they'll look back on forever. Planning and execution time: 25 days. Is it possible to create the perfect Christmas Wedding?

THE BLANK BOOK

Alice Williams is surviving widowhood, but must unlock the secrets of a mysterious blank book before she can confidently step into her future with a man she's afraid to love.

THE RING

Carla Standish's life and career are going according to plan, until the rainy day in Dublin when an elderly gentleman hands her an antique Claddagh ring...

THE ROAD NOT TAKEN

Francie Standish Carrington and husband Brad are spending Christmas in her hometown of Serendipity, but it's no vacation. There are marital problems, career decisions, and a major change on the horizon for the Standish family Christmas tree farm. Can Francie find a way through all this, to a happy ending for anyone?

A PIECE OF HER SOUL

Nick Marshall has a hole in his soul, and Jacqueline must help him find the missing piece. Their teenage history in the gossipy town of Serendipity compounds the situation, as Jacqueline's visit to help her injured mother (Reba Markland, EMILY'S DREAMS) turns into something more.

ONCE UPON A TIME

Taylor Kincaid has big plans for her life, and falling in love with the mysterious new shop owner in her hometown isn't one of them. Sweet romance, "coincidences" that might be more than that, and a love that survives the unthinkable come together in this new Serendipity, Indiana tale.

A COWBOY FOR CHRISTMAS

Hannah Kincaid has her eye on Jacob Hollingsworth, the handsome co-owner of Serendipity's new (and only) dude ranch. When Jacob's brother Michael shows up, everything at the Rocking H is turned on its head—including Hannah's plans, and her heart.
The McClains of Legend, Tennessee

Small Town Romance in the Great Smoky Mountains

MIDNIGHT IN LEGEND, TN

CHRISTMAS COLLISION

WHERE HER HEART IS

BUILDING A DREAM

SECOND CHANCES

CHRISTMAS CHARM

HOME FOR CHRISTMAS

UNDER THE MISTLETOE (Retro Prequel)

THE HOLLY AND THE IVY (Retro Prequel)

Find all of the McClain books here: <https://magdalenascott.com/legend-books/>
Dear Reader

Thank you so much for reading Small Town Christmas. If this was your first trip to Serendipity, I hope you felt a warm welcome from everyone in the county. It's a treat for me to write about a little spot in Indiana where coincidences often seem like more than that. Why? Because I live in a town similar to Serendipity.

Is it possible in our modern world that a series of choices could result in a situation like Matthew's unexpected heritage? It might not be probable, but it's possible. Far-fetched? Yes. But a sprinkling of far-fetched and _what if_ is good exercise for our minds. And what a wonderful result—not just for Jim and Melissa, but for the whole Standish clan. If you hadn't guessed it, I'm a hard-core believer in happily ever after. It doesn't always happen in real life, but I can make sure my stories end happily. My readers deserve it!

You'll see Matthew and the rest of his family again throughout the series. The characters have become very dear to me, at times seeming real. I guess I'm not the only one, because readers asked me to write about what happened to Emily Kincaid, Matthew's babysitter. Therefore, Emily's book (romantic women's fiction) is the second in the series.

I would very much appreciate a review for Small Town Christmas posted at your favorite retailer, Goodreads, etc. It doesn't have to be long, just honest. Reviews can make a huge difference to readers who are browsing, in search of their next book. Your insights about Small Town Christmas could help someone else know if they would enjoy the story. Thank you for considering it!

Until we meet again—Happy Reading!

Magdalena Scott

Please visit my website to sign up for my newsletter, contact me via email, and learn about my books: https://magdalenascott.com
Preview of EMILY'S DREAMS

Emily Kincaid has a second chance at life, and a voice in her head that keeps nudging her along. But she can't move forward without dealing with her past.
Chapter One

_Turn the page_ , Emily.

There it was again—the same disembodied voice I'd heard countless times, giving me the same inexplicable direction. If I could find a page to turn, literally or figuratively, maybe the voice would stop nagging me. Maybe, too, I'd finally know what direction my life was supposed to take. Considering my lack of focus in the past, there was almost unlimited opportunity for improvement.

I opened my eyes. The tiny room I inhabited now in my parents' home was painted marshmallow-crème white, and except for the bed and an antique dresser on the opposite wall, nearly bare.

I groaned as I pushed myself to a sitting position on the bed and managed to get both legs over the side of the mattress. My flannel gown had ridden up as I tossed in my sleep, so my knees were visible. The right one was still swollen, and I massaged my thigh.

"Come on. You're supposed to be getting better every day, remember? That was our deal." Truth be told, the leg hadn't been consulted, but the rest of me had decided it was in the best interest of all concerned.

Stretching to reach a shelf just above the bed, I unplugged my phone and replied to texts from my friends Karly and Danielle. I read a long email sent in the middle of the night by my brother, "the perfect child," Ben who felt guilty for not calling more often. Lucky Ben, at college getting an education and having the time of his life. He was on the right path to leave boring old Serendipity, Indiana, behind him.

I smiled, remembering what a pest he'd been as a little kid. Now that he was big and strong and generally pleasant, I seldom saw or heard from him. However, I was in frequent contact with the twins, our seventeen-year-old sisters who seemed bent on driving all of us completely bonkers. The faces of Hannah and Taylor flashed into my mind and I groaned again.

Setting my phone aside, I pulled Lightning off its perch at the head of the bed and hoisted myself up, bound for the bathroom. The fam said I was moving faster these days, but when you're twenty-five years old and dependent on an aluminum cane, it's hard to feel super positive about yourself. And yes, I named my cane. Doesn't everyone?

The bathroom mirror confirmed the scar along my jawline was still quite obvious, continuing to hinder nonexistent beauty pageant options. I washed my face, ran my fingers through my hair, and sighed at the dark circles that were still under my eyes.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. None of this will make sense to you if you don't know what happened before.

Just a heads-up, Taylor and Hannah won't be the only unpleasant types in this story. I'm sorry to say they learned a lot of attitude from their big sister—me.

First I need to tell you about the dream. Although it only happened once, it was emblazoned on my memory. But the voice telling me to turn the page...I'm not sure how many times I'd heard that. You'll have that little phrase memorized before long, I bet.
Chapter Two

_Eyes tightly shut_ _against the brightness of the sun, I lift my face to its warmth. Soothing heat bathes the skin of my neck and arms. A gentle breeze musses my blond hair, and soft tendrils tickle my neck. I slowly open my eyes and watch the breeze rustling the full skirt of my pretty blue dress. Surrounding the blanket I am sitting on, wild daisies sway and dance. The field of flowers extends as far as I can see, even from my vantage point high on the hill. Songbirds call as they chase each other across the sky._

Turn the page, Emily.

I didn't recognize the soft voice.

And what page?

I opened my eyes. The hill, the daisies, and my pretty blue dress were all gone. The movement of the breeze was gone. I also had the jarring recollection that my hair wasn't blond at all, but dark brown. Instead of that lovely scene, there was a very beige room, an assortment of medical equipment beeping and whirring, and the smell of disinfectant. The world's ugliest abstract-print curtain hung from a metal track in the ceiling.

So it had been a dream—but it had seemed, and felt, so real. I squeezed my eyes closed to block out the current view and try to recapture the place I'd just left.

"Dr. Waverly. Dr. D. L. Waverly." The intercom voice sounded bored. "Please call one nine."

I opened my eyes again and saw my mother sitting beside me, her head resting on one palm.

"Mom?" I whispered, in case she was asleep.

She was suddenly sitting straight up, on high alert. "Emily. You're awake! Oh, sweetie. We were so afraid...." Her hug was gentle but awkward because of the mass of tubes.

"What happened?" I choked out the words, and my throat hurt from the effort. Due to my rasping, it took Mom a moment to understand what I had said.

"You're in the hospital, sweetie. You had a car wreck about a week ago. Late at night, on your way home from an evening with your friends."

"Adam?"

"Adam was here to see you." Her voice was flat. "But he had to leave."

"Oh." So he was okay, at least. I knew she didn't like Adam any more than she had liked my previous boyfriends, and I had no desire to go down that road now. As long as he was fine, I knew I'd see him soon.

I didn't remember a wreck or what had led up to it. "Mom, was anybody else...?" Oh please, let nobody else be hurt—or worse.

She shook her head no. "Just you," she whispered. Her eyes filled with tears, and she looked away. I felt fabric brush my arm as she smoothed the sleeve of what was probably a super ugly hospital gown.

"Sweetie, it's a miracle you're still here with us. They said we might lose you." Her voice broke. "We didn't give up though—and look at you now!"

"I look that good, huh?" It was the best I could do at humor, to try to cheer her. I bet I looked horrible, because I was beginning to realize I felt that way. My entire body ached, and my right jawline burned.

"You look like an angel to me." She brushed some hair off my face. "But you'll feel better when you're not in that hospital bed. Now you're awake, we can work toward getting you out of here and home where you belong." She smiled the way she did when she was being sad and brave at the same time.

I grinned weakly up at her, I think, but felt completely exhausted. I probably fell asleep again.

After that, there were many times I'd wake up and realize I was in the hospital and Mom or Dad was sitting by my bed. One time Grandma Reba was there instead.

"Hey, Gran."

"Hey, yourself." Her blue eyes sparkled with a mischievous challenge. "Are you going to stay in that bed forever, Emily Elizabeth?"

I chuckled, which by this time only hurt a little bit. "I hope not."

"That's good to hear. What _are_ you going to do?"

The answer to her question depended on Adam who hadn't been here any of the times I was conscious. Surely, he was making plans to take me home to our apartment. He'd better not let me down.

"Go home, I guess." Meaning the place I shared with my boyfriend, but I didn't say it that way because I knew Gran didn't approve.

She frowned, something Gran seldom does. "You've been given a second chance, Emily. Best be using it wisely."

A tall, dark-skinned man came in, wearing a white lab coat. As he walked, his focus moved back and forth between the clipboard he held and the phone he was texting on. He stopped at my bed and seemed surprised to see us.

"Well. This is lovely. The grandmother is visiting?"

Gran nodded. "Are you her doctor?"

"Yes, yes. One of them. Miss Emily Kincaid, you have come back from the dead. Very nice." He glanced at the clipboard and back up, meeting my eyes. "Concussion, internal injuries, and a severe right tibial fracture." He must have noticed my lack of understanding. "Shin bone. Your lower right leg is fractured." He gently turned my face to one side with his long fingers. "And this scar to help you remember." His grin was unnaturally white, but his deep brown eyes were friendly. "So you must now begin to work. This will be hard work, Miss Emily. You will tire easily and become frustrated." He wrote something across the paper on the clipboard. "But it cannot be helped. We start at this very low point." He nodded and looked at my grandmother. "Your name, dear lady?"

Gran brightened, looking immediately younger at the handsome doctor's attention. "I'm Reba Markland." She held out her hand, and he took it solemnly. For a grandma, she did look pretty awesome with her silver hair in a pixie cut, and a complexion that had never spent time lying out in the sun.

"Ah. Miss Reba Markland, it is a decided pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am called Dr. Jay. I have noticed your presence here many times since this fine girl came to us."

"Of course. I've been here many times." Gran retrieved her hand slowly, her face glowing with pleasure. "Emily is part mine." She looked at me and winked.

After beaming at her for a long moment, Dr. Jay turned back to me. "Miss Emily Kincaid, you have a very nice family. Also, two teenage sisters." His delight faded briefly, and I wondered what the twins had said or done to make an impression. With them, the possibilities were endless.

"This is important," he said, writing again. "Your very nice family will be a help to you in recovering."

"Just what will that involve?" I didn't want to commit without knowing first what Dr. Jay had in mind.

"You will be up to sit in a chair a bit today with therapy at your side. This will be done, and when you are stable, you will transfer to rehab. When you can safely function, you go home." He took a moment to read something on his phone, and when he looked up again, his big brown eyes pinned me. "Miss Emily, one does not visit death and return to the living without change. You are beginning a new life. Proceed with gratitude."

Clueless of an appropriate response, I nodded at him, and he did the same to me. He took Gran's hand again, bowed slightly, and left.

"That was weird." I pitched my voice low to be sure he couldn't hear me if he was still outside the door.

Gran shook her head. "Not really. He just has a bit of difficulty with the language. I only know one language and so do you. I'm always impressed with those who know more."

"Uh, no. I meant it was weird what he said about beginning a new life."

She took a deep breath. "You do realize the wreck nearly—killed you?"

Why did everybody have to mention my close scrape with death as if it was news to me? I wanted to scream— _put the past where it belongs and get me out of here!_

I cleared my throat, forcing my voice to remain calm. "I get that I was in bad shape."

"You were given a fifty-fifty chance, Emily. Do not take this lightly. The fact that we are having any type of conversation at this moment is miraculous. Take Dr. Jay's advice. Proceed with gratitude." She closed the magazine that lay ignored on her lap. "Then decide how you're going to _live_ your life. Enough of simply existing."

I sighed and turned my head toward the window, remembering the dream about sitting on the hill in a field of daisies. The scene was still beautifully vivid in my mind, but I hadn't mentioned the experience to anyone, afraid of spoiling its perfection. Though I liked to think of the dream as a glimpse of heaven, it was just as likely induced by pain meds. Either way, I would keep my secret, hugging the memory tightly when I felt despondent, which was often.

And no amount of being preached at about gratitude was going to make me feel better. I was in pain, bored with the hospital, and missing my boyfriend.

Turn the page, Emily.

Although I'd heard it before when Gran wasn't there and knew it wasn't her voice, there was no one else in the room, so I turned back and looked at Gran. She was gathering a large knitting project and her magazines, sliding them into her massive tote bag.

"Did you hear that?" I whispered.

She glanced at me as she slid her arms into her coat sleeves. "Hear what?"

"Oh...nothing." I wanted an explanation for the voice, yet was afraid to explore for it. "Um. You're leaving already, Gran?"

"I've been here six hours, Emily. You slept most of the time, but I'm ready to go home and flop into a _comfortable_ chair." She picked up the black velvet tote with bright shapes stitched onto it in an eccentric pattern. "Your parents will be here in a little while, honey. I'll let you tell them your news." Leaning down, she kissed my cheek. "I'll see you very soon. I love you, Emily Elizabeth."

"Love you too, Gran."

My parents arrived, looking tired and rushed. I wondered how many times they had driven the forty minutes to visit me here, even when I was unconscious and didn't know they were around. At any rate, I could see the whole experience had taken a toll on both of them, as it had on Gran. But it wasn't like I'd asked them to make the trip so often, right?

"Hey, guys. Good news from Dr. Jay. Have you met him?"

They nodded.

Dad slipped off his coat and helped Mom with hers. "He and the other doctors in his office have been impressive. What's the news?"

"I get out of bed today, and before long, I should be out of here."

They looked doubtful. "I'll go to the nurses' station," Mom said and left.

Dad tossed the coats onto the chair Gran had vacated. He perched cautiously on the edge of my bed and took my hand in his big one.

I was hurt by their reaction—or rather, lack of it. "Mom doesn't believe me?"

He shrugged. "We've learned to check at the nurses' station after talking to a doctor. Sometimes we've been so overwhelmed by everything, it's been difficult to take in the information the doctors give. Checking to see what's written on the chart is a reassurance or helps us clarify."

I sagged into the pillow. "I'm sorry for what I've put you through, Dad."

"No need to apologize. Your focus should be on getting stronger, Emily."

"You've got it. I want to get out of here and get on with life." Such as it was.

"Has Adam been in to see you?" Dad's voice was casual as he re-arranged the ugly privacy curtain.

"Not that I'm aware of. I mean, if he was here, it was when I was asleep." I sighed. "Probably not."

"That's no way for a young man in love to behave."

"Maybe he's sick and doesn't want to give me a germ." Whatever. I didn't want to think deeply about my boyfriend's absence or have this conversation—the one that started with— _Why do you always choose that kind of guy? The irresponsible kind. The ones who aren't worthy of you?_

I'd heard those words many times through the years. From my parents, siblings, friends. And with Gran it was even worse—she could just look at me a certain way and I knew what she was thinking. No doubt she compared all my boyfriends to my grandpa, who'd been like this ideal husband, father, grandfather, important citizen in the community, and all that. I had loved Grandpa Geoffrey, but his memory would be hard for anyone to live up to, especially the losers I seemed to gravitate to.

Mom's face was flushed with excitement when she came in after getting the details from the nurses. "Marcus, the nurse says once Emily is able to get up into a wheelchair and her temperature stays normal, she can be moved to Meadowbrooke for rehabilitation. It's just a few miles from here. Easy to get to from the flyer they gave me." She was clutching the flyer in one hand and gently put it in mine. How pathetic is it to see your mom excited about moving you to a nursing home?

Without looking at the paper, I pushed it away and it fluttered to the floor. Again, I had to force my voice to sound normal, even when I felt I was about to lose it. "You must be kidding. I'm not going there."

"Yes, you are." Dad's 'no-nonsense' look had appeared. "In anticipation of the doctor's statement today, I've already talked with several of the staff here and done a little research. Meadowbrooke's rehab department has a great reputation." He scooped up the flyer and deposited it on the table by my bed. "We need to be thankful for this step in the right direction, instead of ruining it from the outset with the wrong attitude."

I took a deep breath, curled my nails into my palms when what I wanted to do was pound on something in frustration. "I'm _twenty-five_ , not eighty-five. I'm _not_ going to a nursing home."

His face was suddenly as forbidding as winter storm clouds. "I know a lot of people over eighty who are in better shape right now than you are, Emily. You will go to Meadowbrooke and work hard, and when you're well enough, you can come home."

Frowning right back at him, I barely managed to keep my thoughts to myself for the moment. It felt as if they were pushing me away, not wanting to deal with me when I wasn't able to do everything for myself. Well, the good news for them was that I wasn't going to their house after I was better. I was going to Adam's, once he got off his butt and took some initiative. They had conveniently managed to forget that fact, and I would just let it ride for now.

Mom was still smiling. "They're sending physical therapy in a few minutes to get you up, Emily." She took a bathrobe out of the meager closet space, draped it over my knees, and pushed the bed control to slowly raise me into a sitting position.

A stoic looking woman soon appeared, carrying an aluminum walker. "Hello. I'm June. I understand Dr. Jay has told you about starting P.T. today."

We muttered agreement.

"Good." She nodded, made use of the hand sanitizer, and looked at her watch. "An aide will be here soon to assist me." June was my mom's age or more and had deeply etched frown lines between brows that could have used some shaping. She cleared her throat and looked at the clock on the wall, focused on doing her job and not on chatter. That worked for me—I wanted to check this physical therapy thing off my list so I could get out of here.

"Hey, June." A stocky girl with swinging dark hair bounced into the room. Her face was a giant smile, and I immediately disliked her for it. "Hey, everybody. I'm Kim. They told me Emily's ready to start P.T. How great is that?"

Staring at her, I tried to recall meeting her before. "Do I know you?"

"I'm Kim," she said more slowly this time. "Don't know if you remember me, but I've been in to help with you a bunch of times. You were asleep a lot."

Wow. There's news.

"I remember you, Kim," Mom said cheerfully enough for all of us. "Thanks to both of you for coming in so quickly. We think it's wonderful news the doctor wants Emily to start getting out of bed."

"I bet. Since she was almost dead and all." Kim winked at me. "But not quite dead, right, Emily?" While I glared at them, they efficiently got me swiveled around and gently lowered my legs off the bed. "And not as far gone as Westley in _The Princess Bride_." My legs were dangling over the side of the bed now, and Mom rushed to put slippers on my feet. I think she was trying to be gentle, but it hurt so much I bit my lip to keep from shrieking. Suddenly I was dizzy and my stomach began to roll with queasiness. I was in pitiful shape if sitting up in bed had this effect.

June spoke briefly to Kim, her voice so low I couldn't hear.

Kim nodded understanding and resumed chatting to me and my parents. "So we don't have as much of a project as Miracle Max had. Now...if you were _mostly dead_ , this would _really_ be a challenge." Deep dimples appeared in Kim's cheeks and her dark eyes sparkled as she chuckled at the movie reference. I knew that old movie too and steeled myself not to be taken in by Kim's cheerfulness.

To move things along and get Kim out of my face, I started to push off the bed, but they stopped me.

"Take a moment," June directed. "Breathe slowly and deeply."

Kim's smile widened. "No magic pill here. Your rehab is going to require lots of hard work."

I stared into her eyes. "Are you playing the part of Andre the Giant in this epic?"

Mom gasped, and Kim took a deep breath. "Whatever works to get your motor running, Emily. You need to say ugly things to me, go ahead. I'm just doing my job. Or you could be pleasant. Up to you."

I didn't want to be pleasant. I wanted to be left alone—or even better, to just be okay again. Nobody seemed to know who or what had caused the wreck, so I was angry without anything in particular to direct the anger toward. The giant, day-at-a-time calendar on the wall told me I'd lost two weeks of my life flat on my back in this stupid hospital. It was mid-November already.

June re-positioned my hands on the walker. "Do _not_ put any weight on your right leg, Emily. Ready? Here we go!"

I tried not to but couldn't help yelling. The pain was incredible.

"Emily!" Mom was instantly at my side. "June, should she be up if it hurts this much?"

"Doctor's orders," June said softly, while helping support me.

Kim added, "From what the doctors and nurses say, she's gonna hurt for a long time. Lucky to be alive." She looked from Mom to me. "You don't feel lucky right now, I bet."

No way would I try to answer. Tears streamed down my face as I stood there, clutching the walker.

~ End of excerpt ~

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About the Author

Try a romance novel on—for SIGHS!

_USA Today_ Bestselling Author Magdalena Scott writes sweet romance and romantic women's fiction. A lifelong resident of Small Town America, she invites readers into her world to find out what's hidden just below the surface of those tiny dots barely visible on the map. Romance, mystery, and the journey to be one's best self are all part of a day in her neighborhood. Readers have commented that they'd like to move to the imaginary towns Magdalena writes about, which she takes as high praise indeed.

Magdalena is a practicing minimalist, having downsized from a 3,000 square foot house to a studio apartment, where her Giant Closet continues to resist taming. When not writing at home, she loves to travel—carryon baggage only—and is always pleasantly surprised at the kindness of strangers.

Visit her website: https://magdalenascott.com
