Small Town Christmas (Blue Harbor #4) - Olivia Miles Page 0,70

of that kiss, in the snow, with the moonlight casting shadows over his handsome face.

Nope. No reason to go there. It had meant nothing, even though it had certainly felt like something.

“Well, you can’t throttle him now,” Amelia said.

“He left, Cora,” Britt said when Cora looked at them all for explanation. “Robbie was down at the gas station this morning and saw him filling his tank. He headed out of town.”

Cora let this sink in. “I suppose all hope is lost then.” For her shop. For love.

And for sweet little Georgie to have a proper small-town Christmas.

“Hey,” Amelia said, giving her a little jab. There was kindness in her eyes that made Cora blink back tears. “You were always the one who said that Christmas was the time for hope, no matter how bad the rest of the year had been.”

“Without you, Cora, I’m not sure what Christmas would have been like after Mom was gone,” Maddie said with a little smile.

Cora’s father came back into the room and handed her a glass of cider, clearly picking up on the fact that the hot chocolate wasn’t to her liking. “It’s true, honey. You were the one who always found a way to make the best of things. To keep going. You’ll get through this. You just have to believe.”

“In Christmas magic and all that stuff?” Cora pursed her lips.

“Maybe it’s the time to believe in…yourself.” Her dad gave a little wink and slipped away, leaving the sisters alone again.

“Is that why you all came over?” Cora asked. “To cheer me up?”

Even though she’d hated the thought of her sisters abandoning their beloved tradition, she didn’t want to be the reason they sacrificed their own special plans.

“Consider it payback,” Maddie said. “You cheered us up every Christmas, and now it’s our turn to do the same for you.”

“You guys…” Now Cora did brush away a tear. “What would I do without you?”

“Luckily you don’t have to think about that,” Amelia said as she pulled some of the blanket onto her own lap. “And between us, I can’t think of any way I’d rather spend this evening. It’s Christmas Eve. It’s tradition.”

And some traditions were meant to last, no matter what.

*

The drive back to Chicago was long, but the roads were clear, and traffic was light. Most people were at home, Phil supposed, wrapping presents, or waiting for relatives to arrive. Phil had a flashback to the one and only Christmas he’d spent in Blue Harbor, when his grandmother had been sitting in the front window when the car had pulled up. Now he wondered how long she’d been sitting there, waiting.

And he wondered with a sinking heart when she had stopped.

But unlike him, she hadn’t stopped celebrating Christmas. She’d turned her community into her family.

“You sure that you’re not too disappointed about today?” he asked Georgie, who had put up a fair and expected protest when he’d told her they were leaving this morning.

“I understand, Dad,” was all she said. “Besides, it will be nice to see Great-Grandma and Grandpa.”

That it would. It was long overdue.

The assisted-living community was a series of buildings, with snow-covered landscaping that was lit in the most cheerful way possible, but it was a small cry from the decorations in Blue Harbor, and Phil knew that his grandmother would especially be missing it.

He tried to remember which condo was theirs as he studied the grounds, the reminder that he’d only been here the one time making his gut tighten with guilt.

Finally, he saw it. The unmistakable glow of a Christmas tree in the window containing all the ornaments he hadn’t found in the house—all the ornaments that he hadn’t even remembered until he saw them. He parked the car and helped Georgie out so she didn’t slip, and studied the tree through the window as they approached the front door. Sure enough, there were all the porcelain ornaments that Cora had mentioned.

His hand tightened on the bag containing the dove. A peace offering. One that was long overdue.

“You want to ring the bell?” he asked Georgie, who wasted no time in doing just that.

They waited, shuffling their feet to keep warm, until the door opened, and there was his grandmother, in a bright red sweater, her eyes wide with confusion.

“Phil? And Georgie!” she cried happily as Georgie flung her arms around her waist. “But…I don’t understand.”

“We didn’t want you to be alone on Christmas,” Phil said, stepping inside the small living room where his grandfather was