She shrugged, not wanting sympathy.“Maybe.But you’d be amazed how resilient a kid can be.I learned how to keep going.”
For a moment, he just studied her, something like admiration flickering in his expression.
“Thank you,” he said finally.“For being so patient—with the girls, with me.With all of this.These past few days have been… better in every way.The girls are clearly happier, and I am, too.”
Cat closed her laptop, fingers resting on the cool metal.“I’ve enjoyed these days as well.More than I expected.”She hesitated, then added, “Being here has been good for me.”
“How so?”
“I’ve spent a lot of Christmases alone,” she said, but this time there was no heaviness in the confession—just truth.“This is the first time in ages that feels… festive.Like I’m part of something again.”She gave him a small, honest smile.“When everyone’s getting along, it feels pretty wonderful.”
“It does, doesn’t it?”His gaze went to her laptop.“Are you working on something important?”
“No.Well, yes.Working on different things.Earlier today, I was job hunting and tonight I’ve been researching prices of houses in Kalamazoo.I realized it was time I educated myself on the market, see if I can find out what Grandma’s house might sell for.”
“This is the house where you lived with her?”
She nodded.“I hate to sell it, but I can’t imagine living there by myself, never mind the upkeep.It’s an older house—” She broke off, glanced around and then smiled.“Well, not as old as this one, but Michigan weather is hard on wood houses, and I can’t afford to replace the roof or make all the repairs it needs.”
“So, selling it is good.”
“It’s necessary, and I could use the money.”
“Could you lease it?Do you have to sell?It sounds like a family property.”
“My grandmother and grandfather raised my dad there, and so it does have meaning, but in some ways, it’s too much meaning.I can’t think of the Kalamazoo house without a pang.The cabin in the Upper Peninsula is just a property I remember, as I didn’t spend a lot of time there after my parents died.My father loved the place, but it was too far for my grandmother to take me, so she rented it out.”
“So, you have lots of decisions waiting for you back home.”
“I do, and I just want to get them made.I think I’ll feel better once those decisions are made.”She sighed and rose.“I should go to bed.Tomorrow will be here before I know it.”
“Would you like tea to take up with you?”
“I’m good.But thank you.”She suddenly became painfully aware of him, standing close in what was really quite a small room, warmed by the loveliest golden firelight.He was so much taller than she was, and he filled the space… and a little place in her heart that had felt empty and hollow for years.
Frozen, even.And now it was waking up.Thawing.Which honestly was as exciting as it was terrifying.Cat didn’t want to hurt again, and she didn’t want to be hurt.But if she couldn’t control her feelings, if she couldn’t smash this attraction, she would leave here broken—and she couldn’t let it happen.
Chapter Nine
After breakfast thenext morning the girls decided to make snowflakes in their bedroom and were already at work on Jillian’s bed when Cat saw their activity and immediately knew this was an activity requiring more supervision.Jillian might be fine with her sharp pair of scissors, but Olivia definitely needed something smaller and less dangerous.
“What if you made your snowflakes on the kitchen table?”Cat suggested.“That way you can tape the finished snowflakes in the windows as you go?”
Jillian sighed but only half-heartedly, and Olivia slid off the bed, gathering her pile of paper.Cat helped clean up the scraps already cut and then carried the stack of white printer paper downstairs.
The kitchen was bright with winter light, and Cat let the girls spread out as much as they wanted.“Remember, the more little cuts you make, the fancier the snowflake,” she said, stepping away from the table.
“We know,” Olivia said, already snipping away with fierce concentration.“We make these in school.”
Jillian was also back at work, having folded her paper into a tight triangle and was making careful cuts, her brow furrowed as if she were performing surgery, not a craft.
Cat turned the kettle on for a cup of tea and then picked up her notebook, flipping to a clean page.“What do we need from Bakewell?”she asked.“It’s time for another grocery shop.”
“Hot chocolate!”Olivia said immediately, not looking up from her tiny confetti storm.
“Real cocoa,” Jillian added, more seriously.“Not the cheap mix.”
“I didn’t think I bought that cheap stuff.”
