Small Town Christmas (Blue Harbor #4) - Olivia Miles Page 0,3

he bothered with the silly tradition at all. Sometimes he didn’t even remember it was Thanksgiving; work kept him too busy for those sorts of trivial interruptions. But it was late, the town was closed, and Georgie had made a point that they would not find any provisions at his grandparents’ house.

He turned the car around and backtracked ten minutes to the gas station on the edge of town, where, inside he grabbed two frozen pizzas, some instant coffee, a gallon of milk, and a handful of whatever treats he thought might put a smile on his daughter’s face. Yet again, Georgie preferred to sit in the warm car rather than accompany him on the errand. He wasn’t going to argue with her, or push her. They weren’t used to spending time together since the divorce, when her mother moved her out to California.

He pushed back the guilt that reared as he handed over a twenty-dollar bill and gathered up the bags. According to his ex, he hadn’t spent enough time with his daughter long before that. He’d been too busy providing, or so the argument went. And that argument, well, that was just one more thing that hadn’t changed since the divorce.

Back in the car, Georgie cranked up the volume on the radio when he tried to cajole her with a candy bar—her favorite kind, too.

Christmas music, he thought with annoyance. It was still November! But then, as he knew all too well, Blue Harbor loved the holidays…

He turned down the dial, slanting her a glance while he kept his focus on the road. “Look, Georgie, I’m sorry. I didn’t plan ahead and I assumed that some restaurants would be open. Things are different in small towns.”

Very different, he thought, as he wound his way down the dark streets toward town for the second time. It was already growing dark and he turned on his bright lights for better vision. The last thing he needed was to hit a deer or get into an accident on Thanksgiving evening in this remote area.

As a kid, he’d enjoyed a few summer weeks in Blue Harbor, splashing in the lake, and learning to fish from his grandfather. His parents saw it as a way to get him out of the city so he wasn’t underfoot when school was out of session, and he didn’t complain. Unlike in the city, here he could wake to the sunlight streaming through the window, to the sound of birds calling over the open water, and stay up late enough to see the stars fill the sky. His grandmother always cooked his favorite foods, and they would eat together outside on the faded picnic table, or inside, at the cramped kitchen table. It wasn’t exciting, but it was peaceful, and very different from his life back in the city.

His real life, he had to remind himself.

Now he’d much prefer to be back in the comfort of his high-rise apartment, with fifty different take-out menus at the ready. But business was business and he was never one to be irresponsible when it came to that.

Parenting, on the other hand…He sucked in a breath. That was one thing he’d always tried to get right, but unlike every other relationship he had, he had the sinking feeling that he was coming up short.

Now was the chance to change that. He had to do better.

“Tell you what,” he said, grinning at his daughter even though she didn’t match his effort. “To make up for letting you down today, you can choose anything you want that will make up for it.”

As he slid to a stop at the intersection, he saw her eyes widen with interest. “Anything?”

He smiled. “Well, it can’t be too crazy. I can’t buy you a llama or something. I can’t fly you to the moon.”

Couldn’t turn back time either, he thought with a heavy heart he pushed away by tightening his grip on the steering wheel.

She giggled now, a sound that made him nearly sigh in relief. “So we’re good? Even with pizza for Thanksgiving?”

“As long as it’s plain cheese,” she said, narrowing her eyes, but she couldn’t fight the smile this time, and just for a moment, Phil dared to think that this trip might not be so bad after all.

*

So much for tradition. Cora stood inside the lakefront Victorian home where she and her sisters had spent many magical holidays, and stared in dismay at the dining room table, where a giant cardboard cut-out of a