Abby refilled her coffee cup for the third time that morning, but she wasn’t sure if the caffeine was making her jittery or if it was something else.
“I have no idea what I’m doing, Nadia.” Abby sighed into the phone. “Maybe taking in Max wasn’t such a good idea.”
“You did the right thing,” Nadia assured her. “And you’ll be great. You have the biggest heart of anyone I know, Abs. Don’t overthink it.”
Coffee cup in hand, Abby walked into the sitting room. With its ornate mantel, bay window with built-in seating, and all the beautiful antique furniture, it really was a lovely room. But in light of Max staying with them, it suddenly looked drab and uninviting.
“Christmas is right around the corner and we have zero decorations, no lights, no stockings, no gifts under the tree. Actually, make that no tree, period.” She thought of Logan’s offer to put one up today, and a slight smile lifted the corner of her mouth.
“I’m confused. Isn’t that exactly how you wanted it?”
Abby ran a hand along the smooth marble mantel, envisioning a stocking with Max’s name on it, perhaps an evergreen garland and a few pillar candles. “It was. But Max has been through so much, Nadia. I really want to make this Christmas special. But I don’t think I can pull it off. Everything I own is in storage. There simply isn’t enough time to start from scratch.”
A knock at the door startled her, and she nearly dropped the phone.
“Someone’s here. I’ll call you back, okay?”
After a quick goodbye, she hung up and glanced at the time.
Seven o’clock on a Sunday morning. Wasn’t it a little early for a house call?
Abby went to the door, surprised to find Sage standing on the front porch.
“Good morning.” Sage’s bright smile complemented her cheerful, bohemian-style dress of vibrant, jewel-tone colors.
“Good morning. You look nice.” Abby eyed the large box in her arms.
“Thank you. There’s a special Christmas service at eleven thirty this morning, and I thought you, Logan, and Max would like to come.”
“Sounds wonderful. Thank you. We’ll be there.”
“Great!” Sage continued to grin, not budging an inch.
“Was there something else?” Abby asked.
“As a matter of fact, there is. But I’m waiting for the cavalry to arrive.”
“The what?” Abby blinked as Verna and two young men she’d never seen before crossed the street carrying red and green plastic tubs. A second later, a truck pulled into their driveway. Strangers spilled out of the cab and immediately unloaded ladders and thick coils of Christmas lights.
“What’s going on?” Abby turned her bewildered gaze back on Sage.
“When Verna told us what you’d done for Max, we all wanted to chip in.”
More cars poured onto the street. Abby recognized the man from the Christmas tree farm—Zander something. He brought what looked like miles of evergreen garlands, a plethora of wreaths in different shapes and sizes, and a mountain of potted poinsettias.
“I can’t believe it,” she whispered.
“It’s nothing.” Sage’s eyes twinkled. “Just think of us as your elves for the weekend.”
Abby fought back tears as wave upon wave of townspeople arrived with everything from monogrammed needlepoint stockings to prewrapped presents for Max.
In all her life, Abby had never witnessed such incredible generosity. And she could barely speak as Verna and Sage ordered everyone around, giving directions.
“What’s going on?” Logan descended the staircase in rumpled sweats, his hair adorably tousled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
“Apparently, an intervention.” Abby couldn’t help an incredulous laugh. The whole situation was so surreal. “Is Max awake? I think he’ll enjoy seeing this.”
“I’ll go check.” Logan climbed the stairs, still shaking his head in disbelief.
For the next few hours, townspeople clambered in and out of the house, and Abby did her best to introduce herself to everyone, her heart bursting with gratitude.
She wanted to do something—anything—to say thank you, and an impulsive idea sprang to mind.
She found Logan in the sitting room, where he and Max had finished setting up the tree in front of the window, with Mr. Bingley’s supervision. Verna had even dressed the pup for the festive occasion, squishing his rolls into a red-and-green argyle sweater.
“Nice job, Max.” Logan held out his hand for a high five, and Max eagerly obliged.
Abby sucked in a breath, sensing a second wave of emotion tumbling inside her chest. Max looked so blissfully happy, she wanted to preserve the memory in her mind.
Logan caught her staring and smiled. “It’s been an interesting morning, hasn’t it?”
“To say the least.” Abby still had a hard time processing it all. “Before everyone wraps up and we head to church, I thought I’d make a big brunch as a thank-you.”
“That’s a great idea. Can we help?”
She smiled, grateful but not surprised that he’d offered. They’d become an unlikely team over the last few days, their co-guardianship of Max going more seamlessly than she’d expected. “Would you mind making a quick run to the store? I’m not sure I have enough ingredients for a crowd this size.”
“Sure thing. What do you say, Max? Are you up for the assignment?”
“Can Bing come?”
The dog seconded Max’s request by wiggling his plump backside.
“We’ll have to ask Verna, but I don’t think she’ll mind.” Logan cast a glance around the room. “Has anyone seen her?”
Abby struggled to keep a straight face. “The last time I saw her, she was sticking plastic elves in our lawn.”
Logan released a good-natured groan, and Abby laughed, her joy bubbling to the surface.
Sage had been right.
The spirit of Christmas wasn’t something she could ignore.
And thanks to Blessings Bay, she no longer wanted to.
Carrying a large basket of warm scones into the formal dining room, Logan paused in the doorway. He couldn’t remember ever using the room before, and now half the town crowded around the large rectangular table devouring Abby’s delicious breakfast.
She fluttered around their guests, refilling cups of coffee, her cheeks flushed and glowing with happiness.
Not for the first time, he wondered why she didn’t do something like this for a living, instead of working behind the scenes on cookbooks for other people.
She came alive with the personal interactions, as though seeing the enjoyment on their faces added to her joy in preparing the food.
His grandma used to say, The Good Lord told us all to be hospitable, but to some souls He gave the gift of hospitality.
Abby was definitely one of those souls.
He wished he could help her see that. Unlike him, she needed to be around other people. Not everyone was cut out for the hermit lifestyle. Although, a niggling voice in the back of his mind told him he might not be as much of a natural born recluse as he once thought.
“Logan, over here.” Abby had set the carafe on the sideboard and patted the chair beside her.
He placed the basket in the center of the table and joined her, although he racked his brain for an excuse to go back to the kitchen. Until that point, he’d been perfectly content to complete all the odd jobs Abby threw his way, avoiding the discomfort of making small talk over scrambled eggs and scones.
But before he could offer to brew a fresh pot of coffee, Zander asked him about one of the rosebushes out front, and he casually slipped into conversation.
For the rest of the day, Logan barely spent one minute alone, between brunch, the church service, and Sage offering to take them all down to the beach to look for sea glass, which Max loved.
After dinner, it finally whittled down to just the three of them again, and they watched Home Alone until Max fell asleep on the couch.
Logan carried him up to bed and tucked him in before heading back into the sitting room, where Abby picked popcorn kernels out of the couch cushions.
“I’d forgotten how good that movie was,” he said casually, slowly folding the blanket. He hated to see the evening end, but it was probably for the best. Throughout the entire film, his thoughts kept drifting to their almost-kiss. And it didn’t help that Abby had sat so close to him, he could smell her vanilla-scented shampoo.
Against his better judgment, he blurted, “It’s still early. Want to watch another Christmas movie?”
Okay, so nearing ten o’clock wasn’t early. And he expected her to turn down his offer—to be the rational person in the room who knew watching a movie alone was a bad idea. In fact, he already had visions of himself slipping an arm around her shoulders.
Why, oh why had he said anything?
To his surprise, Abby cocked her head and asked, “What did you have in mind? And before you say it, Die Hard is not a Christmas movie.”
He laughed—the kind of laugh that erupts from a person’s core, that’s only generated when shared with someone else. The kind of laugh he hadn’t experienced in years. And it made him forget every previous objection. “No, I wasn’t thinking of Die Hard. How about one of your girly movies, like The Bishop’s Wife, Holiday Inn, White Christmas…”
Before he could ramble off any more movie titles, she walloped him with a throw pillow. “Those are not girly movies! They’re classics. I resent the sexist implication.”
He chuckled again, loving the way she got all fired up. “Yes, ma’am. I hereby retract my former remark.”
“You know, you don’t have to call me ma’am. We’re the same age.”
He caught the feisty flicker in her hazel eyes, and his stomach swirled. All he could think about was kissing the smirk off her perfect lips. An impulse he should definitely ignore.
“Aren’t you technically a year older?” he teased.
Pretending to be offended, she raised the throw pillow again and he lunged for it. She fell backward onto the couch, holding the pillow above her head.
Logan hovered over her, attempting to pry it from her hands.
“Don’t make me tase you again,” she threatened.
The breathless flutter in her voice did strange things to his insides. And when their eyes met, she inhaled sharply.
The slight, sultry hitch sent him over the edge.
He leaned in closer.
Every reason he’d ever had for keeping his distance evaporated in the span of a single second.
He lowered his mouth toward hers, knowing if she came to her senses first and told him to stop, he would.
But she didn’t.
She held his gaze, her eyes soft and full of fire at the same time.
And in that moment, he desperately wanted to believe they had a fighting chance.
Then the doorbell chimed, ripping hope from his grasp.
Abby’s eyes widened, flooding with awareness. She scrambled out from under him, suddenly edgy and agitated. “Who could that be at this hour?”
Logan didn’t respond. He couldn’t, even if her question hadn’t been rhetorical. His heart ached, struggling to come to grips with what just happened.
He and Abby could never have a future together. Donnie had been gone only a little over a year and she’d be leaving soon. This—whatever this was—could never last. He knew that. So why, in that brief moment, had he seen their future so clearly?
Logan watched Abby walk to the foyer, and the distance between them seemed like miles instead of a few feet.
As she answered the door, she kept her back to him, her features hidden.
But her shocked gasp was unmistakable.