She shivers and giggles. “Because I love the way they smell.”
“I do too.” I hug tighter and catch myself wishing this were real.
Another lifetime, where I chose differently.
Why could still get here, couldn’t we?
We’ve already done everything else out of order. Maybe that’s just our story.
She’s the piece that makes everything click. She pulls a better version of me to the surface; she always has. I don’t know why I didn’t realize this earlier.
“What you miss most right now?” she asks quietly, circling back to our conversation a couple of days ago.
I draw strength from her, burying my face in her neck.
“The Opening Day bell. Dad always rang it when he opened the Santa Shed for kids to come visit.”
The memory doesn’t hurt as much as it used to. It aches, but there’s a lightness there that wasn’t there before.
“We could ring it,” she whispers. “Or Owen could. It might help to hear it again, in new circumstances. Give it new life.”
She’s right. And another piece of my heart reserves itself for her.
“Thank you,” I murmur. “For helping me remember.”
She turns her head so our faces press together. “I told you I would.”
“Would you two please take this somewhere else?” Evelyn groans, going straight for the coffee. “It’s nauseating.”
The oven timer chirps. Chloe slips out of my arms and grabs the trays, moving with focused efficiency as she rotates them.
Evelyn’s eyes follow her movements, narrowed to icy slits as Chloe works. Both hands wrap around her mug.
“Did we start a food service I don’t know about?” She asks.
“I thought snacks might be nice while people shop,” Chloe says, never missing a beat as she works.
“We open at nine. Maybe they should eat at home before traipsing around a tree farm.” Evelyn sips.
I drag a finger across my throat:cut it out.
She wound tighter than normal, which is understandable, considering.
“You don’t have kids, right?” Chloe turns, bracing herself on the island. “They eat. Constantly. Especially if they’re going through a growth spurt. Hungry kids are fussy kids. If parents can grab something to keep their littles happy, I’m happy to oblige.”
It takes everything in me not to high-five her while Evelyn keeps to her corner and fumes.
“I’m going to get changed and wake Phoebe. See you out there,” Chloe says, catching my eye before she leaves. There’s fire in her gaze, a leftover I’m sure of feeling like she’s got to prove herself here, but she doesn’t.
I didn’t miss the shimmer of something else there, and I wish I could put a name to it. Because to me, it looked an awful lot like hope.
“What’s your problem?” I hiss after a steady rush of customers gives me thirty quiet seconds near the shop.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Evelyn fluffs plaid bows on wreaths as though they’ve personally offended her.
“You knowexactlywhat I’m talking about.”
While we were scrolling through wedding photos last night, I saw the part my sister played in our day. The way she showed up was not just for me, but for my wife. I can only imagine how tough that was for her. But it’s tougher to get used to Chloe being in the house, in the trees, and at my side.
