Small Town Christmas (Blue Harbor #4) - Olivia Miles Page 0,9

made Cora almost believe he was contemplating it, or thinking of how he could politely untangle himself from this situation without making a scene.

“I’ll think about it,” he finally said.

Georgie set the ball back on the counter and collected her parcel. “That means yes,” she whispered.

Cora managed to keep her facial expression innocent as she collected the money and handed back the change.

“Come again while you’re in town!” she said, holding Phil’s gaze.

“Oh, you can bet on it,” he said under his breath, giving her a rueful smile that told her that Georgie might just be right.

Still, just in case, Cora picked up the ball and closed her eyes and made her own Christmas wish. Maybe there was a little Christmas magic in it, after all.

*

Phil decided that the bakery was as good as any place to park himself and Georgie for a while so he could look over the paperwork he’d gathered for his grandparents’ properties. And it earned a few points in the parenting department, too. Right now, he needed all the credit he could get, but staying in Blue Harbor for nearly four weeks was not exactly a great idea.

Although, it wasn’t necessarily a bad one either. The cottage needed work, or at least someone to arrange it if it was going to sell for what it was worth. A year of neglect had taken its toll; he should have come back sooner, dealt with this last summer, but work kept him from it, and now there was no more room for delay.

The Buttercream Bakery was just as enchanting as the holiday shop, and nearly as decorated, too. The front door greeted them with a wreath and a jingle, and the counter was lined with a long pine swag. The room was filled with Christmas music, and the smells that one could only associate with the season; even if traditional holidays were not something he had much personal experience with, the sweet spices immediately conjured up images of sitting around a crackling fireplace, or the base of a tree.

The bakery did not have a tree. There was no room, he quickly assessed, sweeping his gaze over the vibrant establishment which was clearly a popular destination in town. A young woman who was just as pretty as Cora stood behind the counter wearing a red apron and chatting happily to a customer at the head of the line. Georgie already had her nose to the glass of the display case while Phil looked up at the chalkboard menu on the wall, wondering if there was a single item that didn’t contain the word “yuletide,” “Christmas,” or “Noel.” There was no escaping the endless cheer. Not unless he went back to the city.

He finally decided on a plain black coffee. Georgie, on the other hand, announced to the woman behind the counter that she would like the candy cane cheesecake.

“You here for the long holiday weekend?” the woman who must clearly be the sister that Cora had mentioned asked with a pleasant smile. Perhaps sensing Phil’s questioning glance, she added, “We get some new faces around here this time of the year. People visiting family…”

“No family. Not anymore, at least,” Phil added. His grandparents hadn’t lived in Blue Harbor since last winter, not since another stroke had made it too difficult for his grandfather to get by without around-the-clock care; something that was too much for his grandmother to take on. Now they lived in an assisted-living community in the Chicago suburbs. State of the art. He’d seen to it himself. Their only ties to this town were in the physical sense: the lakefront cottage, and the bigger Victorian on Main Street.

The holiday store, to be exact.

Cora was the owner of the holiday shop. He should have known it. It wasn’t like these small businesses were teeming with staff. She was there on Thanksgiving Day. That should have been his first clue.

He supposed he should just be thankful that she didn’t know who he was. Yet.

Phil was saved from having to further explain when a boisterous woman with bouncy blond curls and a necklace made of Christmas lights that flashed on and off, along with the matching earrings, burst in through a side doorway and said, “Maddie! Amelia’s run out of flour next door and was wondering if we can borrow a pound or two?”

Phil glanced at the sign over the open doorway—Firefly Café—and back to the woman, who was giving him the once-over, and not so subtly. Both