The beloved memories made Holden wish he had his own good news to spread. When he’d gotten Scout, he’d made a big show of it with a large, pink bow around her neck rather than a collar. And while the pup was as loveable as could be, the announcement of a dog paled in comparison to Sarah’s declarations of love expanding their family through marriage and birth.
Holden wanted that. And yet, he feared he’d never get there. Never get to a place in his life where he could open himself up enough to let someone else in. And he’d witnessed the hurt that occurred when Darren unexpectedly left shortly after Laney was born. Holden saw his sister’s heartbreak firsthand. Sarah had said she didn’t regret any of it. Darren had given her a beautiful daughter and a brief love story she would cherish, even if he’d closed the book on his part in it. She knew she deserved better—that her daughter deserved better—and it was best that Darren’s true colors showed earlier rather than later.
Her resilience was inspiring, but it still made Holden wary when it came to love.
“Please tell me your father isn’t out there by himself measuring that silly tree.” Jill removed her son’s jacket from his shoulders when he entered the kitchen.
“He promised he’d wait.”
“Well, we all know how that goes.” She folded the coat over the back of a barstool at the kitchen island and tipped her head toward a collection of holiday mugs on the counter. “Go ahead. Help yourself. I made a huge batch, more than we can possibly drink.” She paused. “Is there anyone you’d like to invite over to share it with?”
“Nope,” was all Holden said, and he lifted a full mug to his mouth to put a period at the end of that conversation.
Jill dipped down to the retriever’s level to cradle the animal’s face within her hands. “Oh, Scout, sweetheart. You look just precious. I love that sweater on you. Red is your color, girl.”
Jill Hart had so much love to give, it poured out from every part of her. From her constant need to make sure the people she cared for were well fed, to the way she doted over her grandbaby and even grand-furbaby. She always said the apple didn’t fall far from the Hart tree when referring to Holden’s competitive nature, but the way his own heart swelled with love for family had Holden thinking maybe he’d inherited just a portion of that caretaking nature too.
At least, he hoped he had.
A sharp howl from outside suddenly cut short the peaceful moment in the kitchen.
Jill and Holden locked eyes. And then it was a race toward the back deck. Holden reached the sliding glass door first. He threw it open.
“Zeke!” Jill shouted, coming up behind him.
“Dad!” Holden echoed.
“Woo hoo!” His father danced with the teetering pole in his grip, looking like a holiday elf doing a jig in the snow. “Town square tree lighting, here we come! Sir Noble Fir is an official twenty-feet, three-inches tall! Beat that, Joys!”
His overjoyed voice carried through the mountain air, ringing with glee.
Scout barked.
“I know, girl,” Jill said. She patted the dog’s head and rolled her eyes. “I know.”
CHAPTER11
Rachel stood from the dining table and moved to the other side, hoping if she came at it from a different angle, things might look better.
Nope.
Uninspired, she returned the piece of artificial mistletoe to her tote and pressed her hand to her forehead with a belabored sigh.
“How’s it going this morning, sweetheart?” Paula appeared in the doorway. Her fingers fiddled to insert a pair of holiday earrings, the large clay wreath ones Rachel often stole for her dollhouse when she was a child. It was a wonder her mother still had the matching set. Paula clamped the backs on and grinned. “Any progress?”
“Sadly, not a lot.”
“You know what you need?” Paula squinted her eyes like she was in on some secret. “You need to give that brain of yours a break from all of this work stuff. It’s all you’ve been doing since you got here. How about you come with me? I’m heading into town for a holiday knitting class. Sue from church was supposed to join me, but she’s come down with an awful head cold. Care to take her spot? I wouldn’t want it to go to waste.”
Rachel wasn’t sure if an afternoon spent in a knitting circle was the prescription for her mistletoe melancholy, but she didn’t have any other invitations.
“You know what? I think I will join you. Thanks, Mom.” As a child, she’d always loved the In Stitches Yarn Shoppe, the kaleidoscope of colorful, soft skeins arranged on shelves like a rainbow made of yarn. “Let me grab my jacket and I’ll meet you out in the car.”
“Take your time,” Paula said. “I’ll go warm it up.”
Rachel moved quickly through the house, retrieving her coat from the hall tree where she’d left it the day before to dry out. Her hands found the pockets as she slipped it on, and the brittle crunch of mistletoe against her fingertips made her smile.
She didn’t know what Buddy had been thinking. That piece of sad mistletoe was even worse than the one she’d created. She snickered under a breath, the memory of yesterday heating her cheeks and squeezing her heart in a way that had it faltering out of rhythm.
