Small Town Christmas (Blue Harbor #4) - Olivia Miles Page 0,72

pieces she had collected over the years, hoping to share her love for the holiday with all those she loved most. Hoping that people would come into her store and buy something special, something that might become a tradition of their own someday.

Even if just for a little while.

Plans changed, and people adapted, and traditions did too, she knew now.

She stopped at the counter and picked up the snow globe her father had given to her on Thanksgiving, thinking of all the wishes that had been made on it, even if they had only partly come true. It was one special item from her mother, her mother who believed that Christmas was full of magic and possibility.

And an open heart.

Cora hadn’t bought anything for Candy yet—she still hadn’t thought of the right gift. But now, she wrapped the snow globe in tissue and tied the most festive bow she could around the box she set it in.

Candy had come into their lives and nothing had ever been the same since, and that was not a bad thing at all. It was, in many ways, a gift in itself.

She went upstairs to shower and dress, and then hurried back downstairs with all the carefully wrapped gifts, to find Gabby’s flower delivery truck parked outside, Gabby inside waiting. Inside the warm vehicle, the radio was turned to the Christmas station—something her cousin had done just for her.

They roads were quiet and still, and Cora knew that everyone was tucked inside their homes, enjoying the holiday with their family.

Her own childhood home was far from quiet. The house was full when they arrived—of presents, and music, and laughter, and conversation. Aunt Miriam and Uncle Steve were already there, as were Jenna and Cora’s sisters. And their significant others. Candy was wearing a beautiful off-white sweater dress, Cora noticed, stopping to pay her a compliment.

“I did it to go with your theme of White Christmas,” Candy said. “I can’t wait to see how you set up the table.”

It wasn’t a Christmas tree, but it was a peace offering, and before Cora could escape, Candy wiggled her fingers and pulled her in for one of her good, long, squishy hugs. And Cora could only laugh and wonder what her mother would think, and know in her heart of hearts, that she’d be smiling. From ear to ear.

After setting up the dining table, which was stretched to full capacity with two leaves, Cora entered the kitchen where Amelia and Maddie were hard at work on the center island, Maddie on a pie crust, and Amelia peeling potatoes. “You need any help?”

“Just prepping while I have time,” Amelia said. “But if you want to help me, you can keep Candy out of the kitchen.”

“It’s practically her kitchen now,” Cora pointed out, and the room fell silent. It wasn’t long ago that this entire house was silent, but now, in this moment, it was full of Candy’s singing—because she loved any chance to put those pipes to use—and her laughter, and their father’s laughter too. And it was nice to know that even when they all went back to their own homes, to their lives, and maybe even to their traditions, that this house was still full of life.

“You okay with that?” she asked her sisters, who had spent more time in this room than she had.

They gave each other a glance and smiled. “Change isn’t easy, but it’s often worth it.” Amelia gave her a meaningful look. “It will all work out, Cora, I believe that.”

Cora pushed back the heaviness in her heart when she thought of her shop and the meandering rooms that she’d so carefully decorated. This weekend she’d look at some other spaces, figure out how to make one of them work, and hope that she could cover the lease, even if her father had offered to help bridge the gap if need be.

“I suppose I’ll finally have to cut back on merchandise,” she said to her sisters, but they didn’t give her the knowing look she’d expected. If anything, they looked just as disappointed for her as she felt.

The doorbell rang, cutting through the din of the house, and Cora and her sisters exchanged questioning glances. They were all accounted for until Aunt Miriam’s sister’s family arrived for dessert, unless a neighbor had decided to stop by.

“I’ll get it,” she said, seeing that her sisters were otherwise occupied. She walked down the hall and opened the door and saw, to her surprise, Phil