She laughed again. “You’re right about that. Magic Cafe would always be the clear winner.”
He was enjoying making her laugh, watching her eyes light up, seeing her smile. “And there was always Christmas music and then the tree lighting that evening.”
“Oh, the tree lighting. I loved that.”
“So you want to go to the festival and the tree lighting with me this Saturday?” He looked at her, hoping she’d say yes.
Her eyes lit up with excitement. “I’d love to. I came here thinking I would avoid all things Christmas since it’s my first one without Nana… but now I find I’m getting into the holiday spirit.”
“I’m glad.” Happiness surged through him. Miss G would be pleased with him, making sure Evie enjoyed the holidays.
She reached out and touched his arm, and that same connection ricocheted through him. “You’re the reason I’m enjoying it. Thanks for pulling me out of my mood and making me realize Nana wouldn’t want me to mope around.”
He covered her hand with his own. “Glad to help. Now let’s get out those cookie cutters and get started.”
Evie picked up the star. “Oh, Nana loved this simple star shape. And she’d decorate it so pretty.”
“She did.” He picked up the reindeer one. “This is my favorite, but I swear the antlers are always breaking off.”
She laughed. “Happened to mine too. Oh look, the Santa one, and the angel. I think I love all of them.”
“Then we’ll have to make all of them.” He paused, then decided to plunge on. “And we need some Christmas music. Doesn’t seem right to make Christmas cookies without Christmas music.”
She paused a moment, then nodded. “You’re right. Nana always had it playing while she baked the cookies.”
She left the kitchen, and he glanced out into the living room and saw her pick out a Christmas album and put it on the turntable. No digital music for Miss G. Only her belovedalbums. Soon the mellow voice of Perry Como drifted through the cottage.
Evie came back into the kitchen, smiling. “I love this album. I’d play it over and over, but Nana wouldn’t ever complain.”
“It’s a great choice.”
He pulled out the well-worn baking sheets from the cupboard, and with them came memories of countless batches of cookies made with Miss G. He glanced over at Evie, her brow creased in concentration as she meticulously cut out star from the dough before moving on to tree shapes.
They worked in comfortable silence. The only sounds were the gentle thud of the cookie cutters and the soft Christmas music playing in the background.
He found himself sneaking glances at Evie, admiring the way her hair fell softly around her face and the determined set of her jaw as she focused on making each cookie perfect.
As they loaded up the baking sheets, the kitchen filled with the warm, inviting scent of baking cookies. “I think Nana would be proud of us,” Evie said softly, sliding the last tray into the oven. “Carrying on her tradition like this.”
He nodded, his throat unexpectedly tightening with emotion. “She’d be thrilled to see you here in her kitchen, baking her recipes.”
Evie’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, but she smiled. “Thank you for doing this with me. It means more than you know.”
He reached out and gently squeezed her hand. “I’m glad to be here with you.”
As the timer dinged, they pulled the last batch of golden, perfectly shaped cookies from the oven, the scent of vanilla and spices wafting through the air. As he helped Evie transfer them to cooling racks, their hands brushing occasionally and sent little sparks of electricity through him.
Sparks he tried to ignore. But he had to admit he was helpless against them.
Once the cookies had cooled, Evie went to the pantry and pulled out a collection of tins, each one a different size and shape. Randy recognized them immediately—Miss G’s cookie tins—the ones she’d use every year to package her famous Christmas cookies for the festival. She was always picking up new ones to add to her collection to replenish it. Miss G always said that cookies were meant to be given away in cookie tins, like it was some kind of universal rule.
“She kept them,” Evie murmured, running her fingers along the edges of a particularly intricate tin. “I remember helping her fill these when I was a little girl.”
He nodded as the fleeting vision of a young Evie, her pigtails bobbing as she carefully arranged cookies, flashed through his mind. “She cherished those moments with you, you know.”
Together, they began filling the tins, layering the cookies in festive tissue paper. Soon each tin was filled and sealed. A feeling of accomplishment swept through him at being a part of honoring Miss G’s memory in a way that would have made her proud.
He stepped back to admire their handiwork. The tins were stacked neatly on the counter, ready to be delivered to the festival.
