Small Town Christmas (Blue Harbor #4) - Olivia Miles Page 0,52

which turned out to be a coloring contest of sorts.

“Every kid who helps me decorate my tree gets a free dessert,” the woman who was visibly Cora’s sister said when she motioned to the tree covered in paper ornaments, some colored carefully, others not so much.

“I’m an expert at decorating trees,” Georgie informed her. “We decorated our own tree and I also helped decorate Cora’s tree.”

The woman’s eyebrows shot up as she glanced at Phil. “Cora happens to be my sister. I’m Amelia,” she said warmly, clearly giving him the once-over.

Phil had prepared himself for this. As Cora pointed out—it was a small town. He couldn’t hide his friendliness with Cora anymore than he could have hidden the fact that he was the Keatons’ grandson.

“Phil Keaton,” he said. “And my daughter, Georgie.”

“I heard that you were related to the Keatons! Sorry, word travels in small towns,” Amelia said apologetically.

Phil chewed the inside of his cheek uneasily, wondering if word of his plans for the properties might have traveled too.

But Amelia just smiled and said, “I love your grandparents. They used to come in here nearly every Saturday night and sit right over there at that table.” She gestured to the window. “They’re certainly missed.”

Phil wasn’t quite sure what to say to that. He was pretty certain that his grandparents must miss it here, too, though how would he know? He barely visited. Didn’t have time. He’d set them up, paid for their expenses, took over their affairs, much the same way that he had paid for Georgie’s private school tuition, sent her expensive gifts, asked his assistant to show her a good time when she came for a visit.

He’d assumed everyone was happy that way, taken care of—that he had made their lives easier, the best way he knew how.

Now, he wasn’t so sure.

He wasn’t sure of anything.

“Well,” Amelia said, “I’m actually heading out early this evening. I’m hosting a Christmas party at my house for some of the ladies in town.”

“Not that I was invited,” said Candy, as she joined the conversation, pushing close to Amelia. She gave her a mock scolding look.

“I meant for my sisters and cousins—”

“Oh, I know what you meant,” Candy said. “But it’s fine. It’s fine. You young ones need some fun.” She eyed Phil meaningfully. “Especially Cora.”

Amelia was glowering at Candy now, and Phil hid his smile behind a menu. Being an only child, he missed out on this kind of banter growing up, but then, he supposed that even in his home, his parents rarely joked. They weren’t together often enough.

“Well, I have a feeling that Georgie here will make the prettiest ornament on my tree,” Amelia said, shifting her attention away from Candy.

“Oh, no doubt,” Candy remarked. “Especially if you’ve been spending time with Cora. She has a way of rubbing off on people.”

Amelia leveled her with a look, clearly suppressing a sigh. “She has a way of spreading Christmas cheer, that much is certain.”

Candy gave a little mew. “That too.”

“Candy, can you please check on the flatbreads in the oven?” Amelia said, a noticeable edge to her tone.

Candy didn’t seem to catch it and hurried away, only to say cheerfully, “I’ll be back!” over her shoulder before disappearing through a swing door.

Phil set down his menu, deciding to place his order, even if it was just to let poor Amelia have it out with Candy behind the closed kitchen door. “I’ll have the pot pie.”

“And mac and cheese for Georgie, I’m guessing?” Amelia collected the menus, and Georgie nodded happily. “Those are two of my specialties. I’ll make them before I go.”

“Oh, don’t let us keep you,” Phil said. “I’m sure Candy—”

But Amelia just shook her head. “A special friend to my sister is a special guest of mine.”

Phil grinned, happy that Candy was out of earshot. No doubt she’d take a comment like that and read into it.

Even if she might not be far off the mark.

*

Cora hadn’t seen her sisters since Maddie had broken the news to her about her alternative plans for Christmas Eve, but tonight was their family’s annual cookie swap party, and that was one tradition that she knew they wouldn’t sacrifice, at least. It was something that their mother and aunt used to do with their friends and neighbors, and as the girls grew older, they were invited to participate. Now, an entire new generation of women still met one snowy evening in December to drink wine and cider and hot chocolate, and swap