Small Town Christmas (Blue Harbor #4) - Olivia Miles Page 0,10

of their attention was pulled by a loud clearing of someone’s throat.

Maddie gave Phil a look of apology and handed him his change, which he promptly dropped into the tip jar. From the looks of Georgie’s treat, towered high with whipped cream and crushed candy canes, he suddenly wished he had indulged himself, but then, he was not in Blue Harbor for fun or festive cheer.

He was here on a mission. One which was probably going to be a little less clear cut than he had first hoped.

“Go ahead and help yourself, Candy,” the woman—Maddie—said. “My sister Amelia runs the café,” she explained to him as the blond-haired woman disappeared through a side door. “Candy…well…she helps.”

The hesitancy in her tone made Phil smile. “I’ll have to check it out.”

Maddie brightened. “Oh, it’s a great place for dinner or lunch! Even won a state contest for one of the recipes!”

Phil took note of this. The kitchen situation at his grandparents’ house was vintage at best, and Georgie would only eat so much frozen pizza. “Thanks, we might check it out later.”

He settled into a table near the window, with a view of Lake Huron and beyond it, Evening Island. He smiled, his mind travelling back to another place and time, when he used to splash in the very water that was now cold and still or watch ferries cross to the island on long, summer days.

“I used to fish out there,” he told his daughter now, musing over those carefree days.

“In a boat and everything?” Georgie shoveled a large piece of cheesecake into her mouth.

Phil nodded. He hadn’t thought of that little motor boat in a long time. It wasn’t much, and couldn’t handle the days where the waves crashed against the shoreline, but it was small and manageable, and fun, he thought with sudden nostalgia.

He wondered what had ever happened to that boat. He regretted now that he’d never brought Georgie up here one summer to try it out.

Or Michelle. Maybe if he had, things would have turned out differently. Maybe she wouldn’t have married Arthur, the accountant. Maybe she wouldn’t have moved his daughter halfway across the country.

His gut tightened when he thought of their current circumstances. It was easy to blame his ex, but soon, she’d be moving Georgie back to the Midwest, because Art had a new job in Indiana. Then the only person he’d have to blame for his strained relationship with his daughter was himself.

“How’s your reindeer?” he asked, motioning to the stuffed toy that was still hooked in the crook of Georgie’s arm.

“He likes this bakery,” she told him. She eagerly took another bite of her cupcake. “He likes this town. He thinks it would be much better to stay here than to go back to your apartment.”

Phil frowned. “What’s wrong with my apartment?” After the divorce, he’d downsized into a two-bedroom condo in one of Chicago’s busier neighborhoods, where he could walk to his office and grab dinner from one of a hundred restaurants on the way home.

“You know, Daddy! It’s sort of…sad.” Georgie looked unfazed at this assessment as she continued to happily eat her treat.

Sad? Phil ran a hand over his chin. He supposed Georgie was right. He hadn’t gotten around to decorating it much. Didn’t see much reason to, really. But now, he realized that while functional, it might not be very inviting. Gray walls. A gray sofa. He never did get around to hanging artwork.

“Tell you what,” he said, grinning. “When we get back, you can help me pick out a tree.”

This was the first time since he and Michelle had split that he had four full weeks with Georgie, and that was only because Georgie’s private school was closed for the term, and Georgie would be starting her new school in Indiana in January. Because Michelle was busy packing the house and needed him to help out “for once.”

And because come January, Phil would be overseas, heading up their new European office. This time over the holidays would make up for all the time he’d be missing.

He let out a slow breath. Told himself for the hundredth time that it was what it was. That despite what Michelle said that he’d been a good father. Paid for the best schools, bought the best gifts, took her to the best restaurants.

But it sat as hollow as the feeling that he’d been a good son. That he’d been top of his class, been accepted to the best colleges, and ran