Harbor, with Georgie, and carols, and a fire crackling in the hearth.
He hadn’t thought of it until now. Hadn’t wanted to, really.
And now, it was too late.
Next year Georgie would be spending the holidays with her mother.
And this house would be sold to a new family. And he’d have no reason to come back here at all.
Even though it might just be the only place he’d ever been happy. Then. And now.
7
Cora woke earlier than her alarm the next morning, happy to see through her parted curtains that there was a fresh dusting of snow on the tree branches outside her window.
She strained her ear, wondering where the sound that had woken her was coming from. It was a banging sound, and not one that was typically heard at this hour on Main Street in Blue Harbor. The town was usually quiet, muffled by the fresh snow and the knowledge that most people were tucked in their warm beds.
She tossed her legs over the side of the bed, wedged her feet into her oversized and extra soft Santa slippers (a gift from Maddie last year), and put on her Mrs. Clause robe (a top seller downstairs at the store).
The sound was coming from the back door, and only those who knew her well would know that this was her primary entrance to her personal living space. Others might assume that she came and went through the shop door, though considering it was nearly as much her home as this small apartment, she couldn’t exactly say they were wrong.
It was probably one of her sisters—Britt most likely, considering that Amelia and Maddie both went into their kitchens early to get a start on the day. Britt, perhaps, coming to apologize in person for bailing on Christmas Eve.
Cora opened the door to see Bart standing outside, gripping a medium-sized fir tree by the trunk. He gave her the once-over, from her robe to her slippers, doing a poor job of hiding his smile.
“You really do love Christmas,” he marveled, chuckling under his breath.
“Obviously!” she replied, not feeling embarrassed at her attire. This was Bart. Friend Bart. Still, she was almost thankful that it wasn’t Phil. He probably wouldn’t be quite as understanding that she was dressed like she had just come from the North Pole. “And you don’t?”
“Not eleven months of the year,” Bart said. “But something tells me that you do, and it’s not just an act.”
Cora jutted her chin defiantly. “I love Christmas every day of the year. In fact, if it wouldn’t take away from the magic of the holiday, I would celebrate Christmas year-round.”
“Then why is this my first time ever delivering a tree to your door?” Bart arched an eyebrow.
Cora frowned at him, not bothering to point out that she hardly needed a tree of her own when she had an entire inventory of them right here in her shop. There was a bigger topic here to discuss.
“I didn’t order a tree.”
“No, but someone ordered one for you. Left a message last night for this to be delivered first thing this morning.” He looked over her shoulder into her kitchen, which was obviously decorated with snowman cookie jars, a red tea kettle, festive dish towels, and of course, red placemats on her pedestal table. “Where do you want it?”
Cora shook her head. “Wait. Someone ordered this for me?”
Bart nodded. “That’s right.”
“Well, who was it?” Cora asked impatiently.
Bart just shrugged. “Didn’t say.”
Cora blinked. Who would do this? She didn’t know why she even bothered with the next question, but decided that she may as well narrow down the list of potential suspects anyway. Chances were high it was one of her sisters, cousins, or…Candy.
“Was it a man or a woman?”
“I don’t know. They left a message through my online order form. I rarely get one of those come through except for some of the businesses in town.”
“Well, they must have left a name!” Cora said impatiently. Really, everyone knew everyone else in Blue Harbor. Of course Bart knew who sent it.
“Look, I’m just the delivery man, and I get the impression that if they wanted their identity revealed they would tell you. Are you part of some Secret Santa program?”
“No,” Cora said, but then she tucked that piece of information away for another time. Maybe next year she would start a Secret Santa campaign—it could drive business to the store.
“The invoice came through as paid, so I didn’t dig deeper. You want me to check the name?”
Cora hesitated