1
JILLIAN
Jillian stood by the fountain in the old park, watching her two little girls chase each other to the pavilion, giggling as they ran.
All around them, signs of the coming holidays were in the air—from the shoppers with their colorful bags, to the crew hanging evergreen boughs on the lampposts, to the shop windows that proudly displayed their festive decorations.
As the cold, sweet air of Sugarville Grove filled Jillian’s lungs, she smiled at the idea that she washomeagain, that the three of them were really home.
The knot of tension that had been tightening in her chest for two years finally began to loosen and she felt tears of happiness prickle behind her eyes.
Raising children in the city had never been her idea, but Alan had insisted, and Jillian was a good wife.
Not good enough, apparently, since he’d left anyway.
A familiar pang of guilt gripped her. Even now, yearsafter Alan had left and divorced her, she sometimes felt like a failure about it.
Ahead of her, the girls had made it to the pavilion, where they were holding hands and spinning around, their laughter pealing bright like bells in the cold breeze.
“Everything is just right,” Jillian reminded herself as she watched them, her heart feeling lighter and lighter by the second.
This was her world now, and it was just about perfect. The only real thing bugging her at the moment was the carload of groceries waiting for them. But it was cold enough that nothing was likely to melt, so it wouldn’t hurt to let the girls just relax and have fun for a minute.
As Jillian watched them play, she was surprised and delighted to see her first-grade teacher coming down the sidewalk in her direction.
“Jillian Johnson?” the woman’s voice called out softly. “Is that really you?”
Of course it was JillianPricenow, had been for years, but she didn’t bother to make the correction. She would always be a Johnson in this town. And with the way things had ended with Mr. Price, Jillian thought that suited her just fine.
“Mrs. Fournier,” she said, taking in the older woman’s white hair and purple coat. “It’s so nice to see you.”
“You can call me Edith now, dear,” Mrs. Fournier said, her eyes twinkling. “Are those your little girls?”
“Yes,” Jillian said proudly. “That’s Marigold in the blue coat, and the little one is Posey.”
“You always did love flowers,” Mrs. Fournier saidfondly. “And now you have a garden of children. How lovely.”
“I’m really lucky,” Jillian replied honestly.
“Are you here for a visit with your grandparents?” Mrs. Fournier asked, her eyes still on the girls, as if a lifetime of watching over kids about their age had formed a permanent habit.
“We just got to town, but we’re actually here to stay,” Jillian said. “I got a job as a nurse at the high school. Mari is in second grade and Posey is in kindergarten.”
“Wonderful,” Mrs. Fournier said. “Sugarville Grove is a magical place to grow up, as you well know.”
“Are you still teaching?” Jillian asked. “Maybe Posey will be in your class next year.”
“Oh, heavens no,” Mrs. Fournier laughed. “I was a little old lady when I taught you. I’ve been retired for years now. I mostly just look after Mr. Fournier. He’s still working though. I’ll never convince that one to retire.”
Joe Fournier had worked at the gas station for as long as Jillian could remember. It seemed like a nice, laid-back job for an older person like Joe, who had always been super social.
“How about your husband?” Mrs. Fournier asked.
“He’s not in the picture anymore,” Jillian said, just as she had practiced it in the mirror, but a little more softly than she wanted.
“I’m very sorry to hear that,” Mrs. Fournier said like she meant it. “But don’t you worry, this whole town will be looking out for you and those precious girls. You did just right by moving home.”
“Mama, Mama, Mama,”Posey yelled,scampering down the pavilion steps and taking off across the park toward them.
