of nieces and nephews, and saw no need to bear her own child, not when there were so many around her who needed love. But seeing Andrew holding a child made her insides do funny things.
From the rear of the store came the sound of a door slamming, and a man called out, “Whew! It’s colder than a witch’s—”
“Ian!” Ella interrupted sharply, calling toward the other room. “Eric is listening, and we have customers!”
A man chuckled, and Christa was surprised when he appeared. His hair was the same russet as his son’s, and he peered at the world through spectacles. His most notable feature, however, was his missing right leg below the knee. He used the tautly strung ropes to support himself instead of a crutch.
“Andrew!” he called with a big grin. “I’ve got your tobacco right here!” He reached under the counter and pulled out a small, wrapped package. “Been hoping you’d stop by.”
“Christa,” Andrew said, including her in the conversation, “this is Ian Crowne, the proprietor of this store and a good friend. Ian, this is Christa Harrington.”
Ian, who had propped his hip against the counter for support, nodded politely to her. “Welcome to Everland, Miz Harrington. Merry Christmas.”
It was impossible not to feel jolly in this place, and Christa was smiling as she murmured her thanks and watched Andrew allow Eric to choose a peppermint stick. Then he set the lad down to run back to his trains as he paid for the candy and his tobacco.
“Have the other items I ordered been delivered yet?” Andrew asked as he accepted his change.
Ian winked. “Not yet, but I’ll send word as soon as they are. It’s only been a week since you ordered, but I’m hopeful they’ll arrive before Christmas.”
Andrew seemed to be particularly interested in putting away his money, because he didn’t meet Christa’s eyes. But on the other hand, she’d only known him a short while, and only been out and about with him a few times since last week and their first dinner they’d shared. He wasn’t obligated to tell her everything about his life.
Behind her, the bell over the door tinkled merrily, and she turned to see a boy—much older than Eric—push inside, then hold the door open for a couple who she decided must be his parents.
“Merry Christmas, Eddie!” Ella called out, and the boy, who was not yet a teenager, but close, turned to beam at her.
“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Crowne! We’re here to pick out a new hat.”
“Yes, someone lost his while playing with Jack Horner and Tom Tucker down at the lake when they should’ve been working,” his mother said with a twitch of her lips, as she led her husband down the aisle.
When Christa got a good look at the husband, she managed to refrain from sucking in a startled gasp, but just barely. The man might’ve once been handsome, but his face had been mangled by some sort of terrible disaster which had taken his eyes. The skin had healed over the empty sockets, leaving him appearing out of proportion.
Andrew noticed her reaction, even if no one else did. “Christa, this is Vincenzo and Arabella Bellini, and their son, Eddie. Arabella runs our local bookstore, which you might’ve seen, and Vincenzo is a world-famous violinist.”
“Retired,” the other man interrupted, his voice lovely and deep, with just a hint of an accent she couldn’t place.
As his wife led him to the counter, Christa could tell the man had a remarkable sense of spatial awareness. She cleared her throat. “Retired or not, I’m pleased to meet someone so famous.”
When he grinned, Vincenzo was almost handsome again. He offered a flourishing bow, unerringly pointing toward her voice. “Charmed, my lady.”
“Vincenzo, try to remember you’re married,” Andrew cautioned with a chuckle, although his wife had rolled her eyes and dropped his arm. “This is Christa Harrington, and she’s mine.”
Maybe he hadn’t meant it to sound that way. Or maybe, from the way Vincenzo cocked his head to one side and seemed to study them both from behind empty lids, Andrew had meant it exactly that way.
Regardless, his words caused a frisson of something to climb up her spine, then down again.
Finally, the blind man smiled. “Then I am doubly charmed, Christa. I shall call you Christa and insist on being friends. Arabella, we have a new friend!”
From where she was now chatting with Ella, his wife looked up and sent them a smile. “Welcome to Everland. We’ll have to have you over for