Small Town Christmas (Blue Harbor #4) - Olivia Miles Page 0,5

caught her eye across the room.

“I wanted to give you something,” he said, motioning for her to follow him.

Cora glanced at the table, where Britt was helping Keira to a glass of sparkling cider, and Robbie and Matt were politely warning everyone that their stomachs were already full. Aunt Miriam was already scolding Uncle Steve to go easy on the butter and mind his cholesterol, and Britt was asking cousin Jenna what time Miriam’s sister and her family would arrive for dessert.

Seeing as Natalie Clark worked during the winter season for Cora when the ferries stopped running out to Evening Island where she usually worked at a big summer resort, Cora had it on good authority that the Clarks would be arriving at seven. It was their tradition to all come together, including Aunt Miriam’s family along with the Conways, and Cora was already looking forward to the second part of the evening.

“Don’t you need to carve the turkey?” Cora asked worriedly. It was tradition, after all, and she wasn’t exactly sure what would happen to the poor bird if Candy took the task upon herself.

“This won’t take a minute, and I didn’t want to forget. You know how these nights can go.”

She smiled at him as they stopped in his study. These nights were long. There would be food, and laughter, and wine, and then there would be dishes and dessert and more dishes, and then games and music, and more wine. Their family was in the business of wine, after all. And it was a holiday.

Dennis reached over and pulled a box from his desk. “I found this when I was up in the attic, rummaging through our old Christmas decorations. I don’t think we’ve had this out for years, but once I saw it, I knew it was something you should have.”

Of course. Everyone always wanted to give Cora their old Christmas decorations, even if some of it wasn’t exactly worth keeping. But this, this was something from the attic of her childhood home. Meaning that maybe…

“It was your mother’s,” he said, reading her thoughts.

Cora looked up at him, seeing the mist in his eyes, even though the room was dim, only lit by a single lamp in the corner.

Carefully, she pulled back the tissue, revealing a snow globe with a charming village scene inside.

“I’m afraid it doesn’t play music anymore,” he warned.

“It doesn’t have to,” Cora said, feeling her own tears threaten to fall. “It’s perfect just as it is.”

“Your mother loved nothing more than a small-town Christmas,” Dennis said. “This was one of her most prized possessions. I thought it was lost. Or broken. Your mother bought this the first Christmas we were married. She said that every time she looked at it, she remembered that wishes can come true.”

“A Christmas wish always finds a way of coming true,” Cora murmured. She looked at her father sharply. “She used to say that, too.”

Dennis straightened his back. “She’d want you to have it. She’d be so proud of all the traditions you’ve kept going for our family. I am, too, even if I haven’t said it enough.”

“I know,” Cora said as she carefully set the snow globe back in the box. Sensing that her father’s mood was shifting, as she did with every holiday, she did her best to turn things onto more cheerful territory. “And that’s why I think it’s really important that we get back out there so you can carve that turkey.”

Dennis laughed and pulled her in for a quick hug before planting a kiss on the top of her head.

From the dining room they heard Amelia call out, “No touching those potatoes until the turkey is carved!”

“Some things never change,” Dennis said, shaking his head.

Cora grinned up at him. “Some things aren’t supposed to.”

2

Cora stood behind the counter of her shop the next morning, wearing her “lucky” Black Friday sweater—the very same sweater she wore to kick off the official start to the holiday season each year. Granted, it was red, and the color wasn’t exactly the most suitable for redheads, even if her hair was more auburn, like her father’s. But it was soft against her skin, and cozy enough to keep the chill away every time the door opened and the jingle bells jangled to alert her that a new customer had entered.

The bells had been ringing all morning, and while usually the sound faded into the background of the carols she had playing over the speakers, today Cora was