Small Town Christmas (Blue Harbor #4) - Olivia Miles Page 0,39

was trying some new things this season, with a new person. And it was fun.

*

Phil stared down at the gingerbread dough and tried not to think of all the work he still had to do before tomorrow’s weekly Monday meeting, never mind the fact that he still hadn’t given Cora notice on the shop.

It was what she had said, last night, about her mother, and Christmas, and traditions. It got to him, damn it. And nothing ever got to him when it came to business. And that’s all this was. A simple transaction. He was the executor of his grandparents’ estate. He was here to do what was in their best interest, and that was to cash out their properties, give them a much-needed nest egg. They had no reason to hold onto the cottage or the house on Main. That part of their life was behind them now.

And behind him too, he reminded himself. Coming back here had muddled with his head. Stirred up memories that he hadn’t thought of in years, evoking a time and a feeling that were fleeting, not part of daily life. At least, not his.

But they could be Georgie’s. At least for the holidays.

“Here comes my sister Britt,” Cora said, barely looking up from the work station, and something in her tone told Phil that it wasn’t because she was a perfectionist when it came to rolling out gingerbread.

Sure enough, the woman from the cider stand arrived with a girl around Georgie’s age. “Hey, Cora. Hi, Phil. Georgie. This is Keira Bradford. She was hoping that Georgie might help her decorate some gingerbread men at the children’s table.”

Georgie smiled up at him. “Can I, Dad?”

“Of course!” He pulled in a breath as he watched the two girls scamper off together. Soon he’d be alone with Cora. What was his excuse now?

Technically, he didn’t have a buyer for either of the properties—yet. But giving ample notice was not only the professional but kind thing to do. Meaning the sooner he got it over with, the better.

But now Cora was rolling out her dough with increased force, and her sister was frowning. Deeply.

“Amelia told me that she talked to you,” she said.

Phil had the impression that he was about to get involved in a family spat, not that he was immune from them. The holidays tended to bring out the worst in people, at least in his experience.

“Maddie did too,” Cora said archly. She sighed and set down the rolling pin. Phil couldn’t help but notice that Britt looked a little relieved about that. “It’s okay. I understand.”

“You sure?” Britt chewed her bottom lip.

“I’m sure.” Beside him he saw Cora wink, and something in Britt transform.

“Well, then, I should get back to Robbie before he finishes frosting all the roofs. It was always my favorite part,” she added. “I forgot how much I missed this event. I guess I forgot how much I missed a lot of things in Blue Harbor.”

“It’s certainly a special place.”

Phil stiffened and focused on his task. Cora’s words had touched a nerve, even though they weren’t directed at him.

“Everything okay with your sister?” Phil asked when they were alone again. Cora was standing so close to him that he could feel the sleeve of her sweater brush his arm every once and a while. He inched closer, liking the sensation.

“Oh, she bailed on Christmas Eve, too.” Cora shrugged. “And Maddie did earlier.”

“So your special traditions?”

“Guess they forced my hand. I’ll have to make some new ones this year.” She gave him a long look before glancing away. “We should probably get these in the oven before the dough gets too warm and they lose their shape. Our first batch should be just about done by now, too.”

They walked to the kitchen, past the children’s table to check on Georgie, who was giggling as she placed gumdrop buttons on a gingerbread man.

“She seems to be fitting right in,” Cora observed.

Yes, Phil thought. She was. But then, Blue Harbor was like that. Then, and now. It was the leaving that was hardest. The reminder that life wasn’t always like this.

“It’s nice to see her with other kids. As an only child, I worry that she’ll be lonely.”

Cora glanced up at him before pushing through the kitchen door. “Were you lonely as an only child?”

“How’d you—” He stopped. “Of course. My grandmother told you.”

“I knew that you were an only child, just like your father. She said the two of you were a lot