Small Town Christmas (Blue Harbor #4) - Olivia Miles Page 0,14

one, for example. He gripped the trunk and gave the branches a good hard shake. The needles would probably be long gone by Christmas. And then he’d have a mighty disappointed child on his hands. And that was the very last thing he wanted.

“Maybe we should get a fake tree,” he said, thinking of all those trees in the holiday shop.

“No!” Georgie cried out. “You have to get a real tree! And this one is perfect!” She attempted to give the tree a hug, but knowing that would most certainly add to his concern about the needles falling off, he pulled it to the side.

“Fine,” he sighed. A fake tree would be just one more item to get rid of when he cleared out his grandparents’ cottage. “A real tree it is. But that’s it. I’ve fulfilled my promise. You wanted to stay in Blue Harbor through Christmas, and now we are. Complete with a tree.”

Georgie shook her head. “You can’t have a tree without ornaments, Daddy.”

“I’ll get you some materials to make some then,” he said, jutting his chin to the man in the trailer that was edged with twinkling lights. He glanced down at his daughter. “It will keep you busy while I work tomorrow.”

“Work!” Georgie crossed her arms and pouted dramatically.

“Yes, while I work. My work doesn’t stop just because it’s Christmas. I have meetings and calls. And I have to work on the house.” And at some point he needed to get over to the Christmas tree shop—but not for the reasons that Georgie had in mind.

A notice of lease termination needed to be delivered. Something he should have done on Thanksgiving Day, as intended.

The man with the name tag of Bart took his card and rang it through. “Need help tying it to your hood?”

Phil glanced at his daughter, swearing he saw a challenge in her eyes. “I’m good,” he said tightly.

He resisted the urge to swear under his breath. He’d never tied a tree to a hood before, but really, how hard could it be?

Ten minutes later, sweating so much that despite the temperature, he’d had to loosen his scarf and had the urge to shed his coat, he could feel the heat of his daughter’s eyes on his back as he wrestled the massive tree onto the hood, wondering just what kind of damage it was doing to his paint finish.

“You sure you don’t need a hand?” Bart called out, and Phil could hear the trace of amusement in his voice.

He flashed a look at his daughter. “You wanted this, so you can help.”

“Only if you say we can decorate it. For real,” she added, for good measure.

She’d make a fine attorney one day, Phil thought ruefully. Just like his father. Still, he was desperate. And he suspected that she knew it.

“Fine. Now, open the door on the other side and climb in. Grab this rope when I pass it to you, okay?”

She nodded and did as she was told. Another ten minutes later, and not without more than one slipped curse word that his daughter reprimanded him for, the tree was secured to the roof of the car.

Sort of.

“We did it.” Phil didn’t know why he felt so triumphant, but he did, and it might have been partly because of the joy in his daughter’s eyes as she looked up and admired their effort.

“We make a pretty good team, don’t we?” Phil said, putting his arm around her.

She beamed up at him: a look he hadn’t seen in a long time. If ever.

“The best, Daddy.”

*

Cora stared at the tree that had been set up in the front room’s bay window with a critical eye. After heavy scrutiny, she determined that she couldn’t really find fault with it—something she knew should technically delight—not disappoint—her. The proportions were even, the color was an attractive shade of deep forest green, the needles were thick and healthy, and the branches were evenly distributed for the boxes of ornaments that her father was carrying down from the attic.

Britt, of course, was the first to say, “Are you being careful, Dad? I can call Robbie over here to help, you know.”

He brushed away her concern with a deep and lingering frown. Ever since he’d broken his leg and arm last spring, Britt’s fussing had been merciless, even worse than Amelia’s, who had always been the most nurturing of the four sisters, and clearly, it was no longer appreciated.

Cora was secretly pleased that they’d decided not to include significant