Abby wasn’t sure how long she’d been sitting on the park bench staring blankly at the ocean. Her cheeks had gone numb from the frigid breeze, though she barely noticed.
Coming to Blessings Bay was supposed to simplify her life, but each day that passed left her more confused and conflicted.
Meeting Max had been one of the most unexpected events of them all. Something about the boy stirred maternal instincts—a desire to protect and nurture—that she’d convinced herself she didn’t possess.
Maybe her concerns about his home life had zero basis in reality. Maybe her issues had more to do with her own emotional state.
A twinge of pain pierced her temple and she pressed two fingers to the tender spot.
She came looking for a hideaway, a place to heal. So why did she feel like everything she’d worked so hard to hold together over the last year had started to unravel?
Shivering, she scrambled to her feet. Caffeine usually helped her tension headaches. The town should have a coffee shop somewhere.
She left the promenade overlooking the bay and strolled along Main Street, wrapping her arms around herself to block out the cold.
The inviting aroma of sugar, vanilla bean, and buttery confections drew her to a stunning stained-glass door framed in polished redwood. The scene depicted the crescent bay, white-tipped waves, and the lighthouse in the distance, each brilliant piece of glass illuminated by the glow from inside the shop.
Above the door, a hand painted sign read CeCe’s. Underneath the name, in smaller print, another line denoted Coffee & Crafts.
Abby entered the expansive space, immediately engulfed in a welcoming warmth and mouthwatering scents.
One half of the unusual establishment appeared to be an art studio and small gift shop that offered craft classes and sold wares from local artisans. The other half resembled a more traditional coffee shop with a small stage for open mic nights.
Customers clustered at spacious tables, sipping from colorful coffee mugs while working on scrapbooks.
That’s when Abby noticed the chalkboard calendar listing the week’s classes. Each craft was paired with a different drink and dessert.
Scrapbooking with Spiced Cider & Sweet Cream Scones.
Card Making with Caramel Mochas & Chocolate Macarons.
Christmas Ornaments with Cappuccinos & Orange Cardamom Cake.
Abby stared at the last one, lost in her memories.
Their first Christmas as a married couple, Donnie started a tradition of hand painting a glass ornament together, then slipping a special note inside the bulb to open and read aloud to each other on Christmas morning. The messages were supposed to be a wish or intention for the new year.
Before Donnie died, they’d painted their keepsake ornament, but hadn’t written their notes yet. Not that Abby knew what to say, anyway. Her wish was to be a mother. And Donnie had made his feelings about that perfectly clear.
If she could go back in time, she’d change all of her wishes to have one more year together.
A hot tear slid down her cheek, burning her skin. Abby quickly brushed it aside, hoping no one noticed.
“Hi.”
Feeling exposed, Abby flushed a deep crimson as a woman roughly her age smiled at her.
“Are you here for today’s scrapbooking class?”
“No, I’m just looking around.”
“First time at CeCe’s?” The woman’s smile deepened, accentuating the friendly shimmer in her sea-green eyes. Her tightly coiled honey-colored curls were barely contained by a floppy knit hat.
“It’s that obvious?” Abby offered a shy smile.
“First timers usually have a confused look on their face.” She laughed, reminding Abby of a tinkling bell. “I’m Sage, by the way.” She held out her hand, which was partially obscured by crocheted fingerless gloves.
“I’m Abby. Is this your place?”
“No, but I teach some of the classes. Beadwork is my specialty.” She gestured toward a display of ornaments on a nearby table. Polished sea glass and silver and copper wire were twisted into stars and snowflakes. They glittered in the overhead lighting, creating a truly mesmerizing sight.
“They’re beautiful.”
“Thank you.” Sage had the glow of someone who truly loved her work, which Abby envied. She didn’t mind writing cookbooks, and found some satisfaction in the process, but it wasn’t her passion.
“Are you new in town or visiting for the holidays?” Sage asked.
Abby hesitated, unsure how to answer honestly. “I’ll be here for the month of December.”
“In that case, you have to come to the Christmas tree lighting ceremony this weekend. There’s live music, delicious food, and the kids in town make ornaments to hang on the tree. It’s the cutest thing.”
“Thanks, but I’m not really doing Christmas this year.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well…” Abby grappled for the right words. Why had she even gone down this road? It had been difficult enough to explain to her own mother, let alone a stranger. “I’m sort of… skipping Christmas.”
“Skipping… Christmas.” Sage repeated slowly as though learning a foreign language. “Like pretending it doesn’t exist?”
“Exactly.”
“Huh.” Sage’s nose wrinkled in confusion, and Abby regretted opening her big mouth.
“I know. It’s an odd concept,” she said, as though admitting the strangeness excused it, somehow.
“It is a bit unusual. And also seems rather impossible.”
Now it was Abby’s turn to be confused. “How so?” She’d been doing a decent job of it until today.
“Isn’t ignoring Christmas kind of like ignoring the sun?” Sage asked. “You can squeeze your eyes shut and pretend it’s not there, but it won’t stop you from feeling its warmth.”
Abby opened her mouth, but realized she didn’t have a retort.
Sage smiled again, softer this time. “If you change your mind about this weekend, I’ll be helping at the kids’ craft table. Stop by and say hi, okay?”
“Okay,” Abby said weakly, still slightly off balance.
While she may not have a response to Sage’s doubts about her plan, she did know one thing with absolute certainty.
She would not be attending any Christmas tree lighting ceremony.
After Verna showed Logan how to put the finishing touches on the meal, she roused Mr. Bingley from his deep, drool-inducing nap.
“Thanks again for your help,” Logan repeated for the hundredth time. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“Isn’t that the truth.” Verna laughed, shooing Bing off the armchair.
The doughy pup reluctantly slid off the cushion, plopping onto the floor.
“Well, you kids enjoy your date tonight,” she called over her shoulder as she headed for the door.
“It’s not a date,” Logan quickly corrected.
“And why not?” Verna paused in the foyer and turned to look at him, her gaze unwavering.
Yeesh. With a penetrating stare like that, she could be in counterterrorism.
“Because…” He racked his brain for an answer. “We’re just friends.”
“But you do like her, don’t you?”
Logan’s jaw dropped but no words came out.
“I see.” Verna nodded gravely as though he’d poured out his entire life story in the single second of silence. “While I can certainly sympathize, in my humble opinion, succumbing to fear is not a becoming look on any man. But especially not a man in uniform.”
Startled, Logan straightened. “Ma’am, I don’t wear a uniform anymore.”
Her features softened. “Maybe not a physical one. But it’s more than what you wear. And once you put it on, you never really take it off, do you?”
Logan recognized something in her eyes. “Did your husband serve?”
“On the USS Samuel.”
How had he lived across from Verna all these years and not known her husband served in the navy?
“When… how did he…?” Logan stammered, suddenly unsure how to phrase his question.
“You mean how did he die, dear?” Verna finished with a kind smile. “Cancer, I’m afraid. The toughest battle of his life. And the cruelest opponent.”
“I’m sorry.” Verna always seemed so cheerful and optimistic; he never would have guessed.
“We had fifty incredible years together. That’s more than a lot of people get.” She placed her hand on the doorknob, then added, “But we never know how much time any of us have left. So I don’t advise wasting it.” And with that, she and Bing slipped out the door.
Leaving Logan alone with her words.