Benny was up on his knees now, leaning over the table to look at Cindy. “So, ahem, Aunt Cindy. About that puppy…”
She raised both brows with mock surprise. “Puppy? I don’t know what you’re talking about, sweetheart.”
Red sipped his coffee to hide the chuckle. She was lying smoother than fresh ice, because he knew for a fact that littleteddy bear-looking mutt was sleeping in Jack’s cabin right now. The whole family did—except Benny.
The moment was warm as mulled cider, until Jack pushed back from the table. “Well, I hate to break this up, but I need to head out.”
Silence dipped around them. He’d warned them plenty that Christmas Eve was his end date. Vermont called, and, more specifically, his mother.
Nicole made a face. “I hate that you won’t be here tomorrow, Dad.”
“I do, too, honey. But the red-eye out of Salt Lake will get me back to Burlington in time to make Bertie’s Christmas brunch at the retirement center. I gave her my word I’d be there.”
They all started to get up and begin a round of hugs, high-fives, and goodbyes. Red noticed Cindy pick up a platter and step away toward the island, then slip out the mudroom door.
His heart hurt for her, so he covered by standing up, too, while they all wished Jack well and thanked him for the sleigh rides.
“I’ll walk you out, Jack,” Red said.
Benny piped up, “Can I?—”
“Nope,” Red cut in. “Finish your pie.”
The two men stepped out into the hush of Christmas Eve snow, neither bothering with jackets for the short walk to Cabin One. Flakes sifted soft as powdered sugar, settling on their shoulders. The air bit sharp but clean, and the glow from the lodge windows spilled over the yard.
Jack jammed his hands into his pants pockets. “You don’t have to see me off, Red.”
“I do, though.” Red motioned toward the cabins. “Besides, I need to check on a certain four-legged surprise.”
Jack’s mouth twitched. “He’s curled up by the woodstove in his crate. Benny’s gonna flip.”
They crunched along the path, boots squeaking on snowpack. They made small talk—about reservations, how full the sleigh rides had been, even about Jack’s mother, who apparently ruled her retirement community back East like a benevolent monarch.
“She’s the Christmas queen,” Jack said with a shrug. “Organizes carols, makes sure no one’s alone. I owe it to her to be there tomorrow.”
Red nodded but couldn’t help the memory hitting hard—Jack leaving once before, on Christmas, walking away from Cindy and Nicole to do his fancy TV job.
“You sure this just isn’t you making the same mistake twice?” Red asked, his voice low because he hated that he had to ask.
Jack stopped, blinking at some snowflakes that fell on his lashes. “It’s different. Back then, I had my priorities screwed up. This time, I’m just going home for Christmas.”
“Mmm.” Red slowed his step. “And Cindy?”
Jack exhaled that breath hard, steam fogging the night. “Well, I asked her if we could…” He grunted. “She doesn’t want to try again. It’s that simple.”
Red eyed him. “You asked her?”
Jack nodded. “I did, but she was just dead silent. She might say she’s forgiven me—and she might really think she has—but deep inside? I don’t think she trusts me not to leave again.”
“So don’t.”
Jack gave a soft laugh. “Easier said than done.”
“Is it?” Red pressed. “I know you have a life in Vermont.”
“Not much of one,” he muttered.
“And your mother.”
