Armand turned to his younger son. His expression softened. “Kathy wants my head for leaving her on Christmas,” he said. “But I made a mistake, and I had to make it right.”
Kent went very still beside me. I could practically feel him holding his breath.
“I’m sorry for using your trust fund against you,” Armand continued, his voice carrying genuine regret. “I was wrong. I punished my son for having a big heart, and that’s not the kind of man I want to be.”
He turned back to me, and there was mischief in his eyes. “You have no idea what kind of family you’re about to marry into,” he said, giving me what I could only describe as a classic Bancroft grin—charming, slightly dangerous, and completely irresistible.
I suddenly understood why there were so many brothers. His sons had inherited his looks and charm. I knew how hard it was to resist Kent. If I wasn’t on the pill, I’d already be pregnant.
I glanced at Kent, then at Austin, who was hanging back but watching the interaction with obvious interest, and finally back at Armand.
“Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea,” I said, matching his smile with one of my own.
Armand’s laughter was rich and genuine. I could see where Kent had inherited his sense of humor. “I suspect you do,” he said. “And I suspect my son is very lucky to have found you.”
Austin cleared his throat from his position on the porch. “Well, this is getting a little too touching for my taste. I think I’ll head inside and see if there’s any of that Christmas breakfast left.”
I caught the look that passed between him and his father, layered with years of hurt and misunderstanding but also holding the possibility of forgiveness. I had not had the chance to ask Kent what the story was there, but clearly, it was deep.
“You didn’t have to drive all the way out here, Dad,” Kent said.
Armand shrugged. “You told me I would understand why you did what you did if I saw the place. So, show me.”
I felt like I was witnessing something precious and fragile and full of hope.
Kent looked at me like he was asking for permission. I didn’t feel like it was the right time to remind him he basically owned half the place. He could go wherever he damn well pleased.
“Go,” I said. “I’m going to help put out the lunch buffet. We usually just snack until dinner.”
He leaned in and kissed me. “Thank you,” he murmured close to my ear. “Keep an eye on Austin for me, please.”
I touched his upper arm, gently squeezing his bicep. “Of course.” I turned to his father. “After you’re done with the tour, I hope you’ll come in and enjoy some coffee.”
“I’d be happy to,” Armand said.
I walked inside but couldn’t resist peeking through the window. Kent and his father were walking together toward the tree farm. The seemed to be okay. I hoped they were going tobe okay. Driving all the way out to the farm was a huge gesture. That had to be a good sign.
EPILOGUE
KENT
One Year Later
It was the day we had all been working toward for nearly a year. I couldn’t believe it was finally happening. We were about to see if our hard work was going to pay off. Nah, fuck that. I knew it was going to pay off. There was no way we could fail. I refused to fail.
I looked around and found myself smiling. I could barely recognize the place that had captured my heart almost a year ago.
The lodge wasn’t what it had been last Christmas. The building itself remained the same charming structure that had welcomed me during the worst and best period of my life, but the improvements we’d made were nothing short of transformative.
The pool and hot tub were back up and running, their surfaces steaming invitingly in the crisp November air. The old winter maze had been completely restored and expanded, now illuminated by thousands of Christmas lights woven through evergreen hedges.
Visitors could wander the winding paths and discover hidden treasures at certain locations. It was Sylvie’s idea. She had collaborated with local businesses to get gift cards donated. We also had vouchers for lodge activities, and small handcrafted ornaments made by artisans in town stashed throughout the maze.
Santa’s cabin had been demolished and rebuilt three times larger, now serving as the centerpiece of what we’d dubbed “Christmas Village.”
That was another one of Sylvie’s ideas. She had woken me up in the middle of the night, dancing around and holding up a notebook that she had sketched her vision on.
And then I got the pleasure of helping her make it happen. I loved watching her create. I loved helping make her dreams come true.
