“It was our fault.” Nadia’s guilt-stricken face matched Tori’s as they perched on two wooden chairs across from Charlie at Tulip House later that evening. Gretchen was in the living room finishing a Christmas movie with Riley and Sabrina, under oath not to come into the dining room while Charlie and the other girls wrapped gifts.
“So you keep saying.” Charlie secured a folded corner of wrapping paper with a piece of tape, then flipped the box to do the same to the other side. She hoped Gretchen would like the plush new robe she’d gotten her. She hoped the girls would change the subject soon from the record-on-repeat one they had going.
And she really hoped she would be able to hide the myriad emotions flickering through her stomach the next time she saw Blake.
“I just feel bad.” Nadia jerked her head in Tori’s direction. “We feel bad.”
“Yeah, we had the idea for the snowpeople to be you guys, but Blake didn’t know we were going to write that in the snow afterward. He didn’t see it until you did.” Tori rolled in her lower lip, twirling a piece of spare ribbon around her finger. “We just thought maybe you needed a gesture. I remembered seeing that title for you two in your old yearbook that Mama Gretchen left out, and—”
“Ah, so that’s how you guys knew.” Charlie looked up, tape dangling off one finger. Forever sneaky. But she still had one question. “But why did you think I needed a gesture?”
After she’d seen the inscription, she’d made an excuse about needing to get back to the ticket booth and her baked goods and hauled Cooper away before Blake could speak another word.
Tori twirled the ribbon fast. “A gesture to make you not be upset at Blake anymore.”
“Yeah, it seemed like whatever happened with you guys was in the past.” Nadia shrugged, running her fingers through the ends of her long braid that she’d tugged over her shoulder. “And he seems cool. So I don’t get it.”
Charlie taped the final corner of the paper and then set the glitter-dusted gift for Gretchen aside. She let out a slow sigh. “Girls, the matchmaking effort is sweet. I appreciate that you care about me. But it’s also dangerous. You don’t know our history. Meddling with adult relationships can be kind of disastrous.” To put it mildly.
“But he just wants to be your friend again.” Tori’s protest tweaked Charlie’s heart. She was supposed to be helping Blake connect with Tori, so she couldn’t explain how badly Blake had hurt her in the past without potentially stirring up Tori’s loyalties and driving a wedge between her and Blake right when it mattered most.
Though, in hindsight, maybe she’d been too hard on him at the fund-raiser, jetting off so quickly with Cooper. Especially if he hadn’t known the girls were going to write the inscription in the snow. At the time, she’d believed he’d been trying to matchmake himself—and bringing the girls into it. She should have known it’d been the other way around. Once again with Blake, she’d had a knee-jerk reaction and jumped to conclusions.
Would she ever be able to trust him?
It didn’t matter. “The bottom line is, he’s leaving soon.” And Charlie had no idea what that would mean for Tori. Blake had to tell the younger girl the truth about being her uncle as quickly as possible. Christmas was rapidly approaching, and what then? Charlie also had no idea how long it would take for him to be granted guardianship—or if Tori would want it. If it came down to a debate in court, Charlie’s voice as CASA would be strongly considered. Which meant she might be in a position to help decide whether Tori stayed in Tulip Mound...or moved away for good.
Talk about a rock and a hard place.
“You know what?” Charlie gathered the tape and scissors and began cleaning up the scraps of paper from the tabletop. “I think this conversation is way too heavy for this close to Christmas. I vote hot chocolate instead.”
Tori’s eyes lit up. “I second that vote.”
Nadia was already moving to the refrigerator. “I’ve got the milk!”
As the girls began the routine of preparing their favorite holiday drink, Charlie tried to slip into the same festive spirit. It was almost Christmas.
But the only countdown she could really see was Blake’s imminent departure from Tulip Mound.
It was finally Christmas Eve afternoon, and it was getting harder for Blake to deny reality. In less than forty-eight hours, the wonder of the holiday would be over, and he would be facing a very lonely plane ride back to Colorado. On top of that, he still hadn’t heard from Mark on a final decision for the shelter, despite multiple messages left with Mrs. Hoffman. On the one hand, it made putting off the inevitable much easier to do. But on the other hand, it left quite a few things up in the air—namely, his job. At some point, he had to label Mark’s lack of answer an answer and react accordingly.
After which he very likely might get fired.
Blake tugged the zipper along his mostly packed suitcase until it finally shut. He’d left out just enough clothes to cover the next day—Christmas—and something to wear on his return flight to Colorado on the twenty-sixth. Despite all the unknowns about his job, about Charlie and about the future, one thing was certain—it was time to tell Tori the truth about being her uncle. She seemed to have softened toward him this past week—largely because of Charlie’s stamp of approval. Despite the lingering awkwardness between them since the fund-raiser, Charlie had gone out of her way to provide opportunities for him to connect with Tori—inviting him caroling with Gretchen, Art and the rest of the community; tagging along to see Santa; and helping deliver her last batch of baked goods before the holiday weekend started.
Apparently, Charlie had been caught up in her own denial of reality, because she hadn’t brought up the dog shelter or Mark once in the past several days. Maybe she’d been trying to focus on Tori as well or was attempting to stay positive at Christmas. The unspoken giant obstacle between them seemed to shut down any further connection, though she had apologized for assuming the wrong motives behind the snowpeople creation. He hadn’t given up on trying to be her friend—it was the least he could do after all she’d done for him and Tori. He finally felt like he was making progress with his secret niece—until the guilt over his job crept back in and put a damper on it all.
It’d be way too soon to take Tori with him on this flight home, legally, but after they talked, he’d hoped to at least arrive back in Denver with a solid plan to start the process—and bring her back with him for good on his next trip.
He eyed his suitcase as a dozen conflicting emotions raced through him, until one fact rose to the surface over the rest of the internal noise.
He didn’t want to leave.
A knock sounded on the closed door of his room at the Hummingbird. Grateful for the distraction—and grateful that a knock was usually Noah announcing some kind of free food in the dining room—Blake strode to the door and opened it wide.
Not Noah. Charlie.
She blinked at him, her red hair loose and wild and spilling over the shoulders of her long black sweater. “Hey.”
“Hey.” He leaned one arm against the door frame, trying to hide his surprise.
“I was going to call, but I was passing by on my way home from the community kitchen and thought I’d stop by.”
She wanted to talk. He started to invite her in, then realized he should probably step out, instead. He eased into the hallway, tucking the door shut behind him but not before she got a glimpse of his room. And his suitcase.
She swallowed visibly, then lifted her chin.
“I came to ask about Tori. You’ve got to tell her before you leave.” She hesitated. “Unless you’ve decided not to go through with the adoption?”
Was that what she hoped for? He shifted in the doorway. “I wanted to tell her today, actually.” He drew a deep breath. “I was hoping you could help me plan it.”
“So you are intending on going through with it.” Charlie’s eyes didn’t hold the joy he’d assumed they would at the thought of Tori being reunited with family.
“As long as Tori wants to. Anita said because of her age, she has a voice in the system, though the judge has the final decision.” He crossed his arms over his chest, partly in defense—and partly to resist the urge to pull Charlie into a hug. She looked like she needed one, and he definitely did. “Of course, a good word from her CASA volunteer would go a long way.”
Charlie nodded, but her eyes still seemed distant even as she smiled up at him. “Of course.”
“Okay. I’ll talk to her today, then.” They made plans to meet at the Sweet Briar Café that afternoon for a snack.
It was settled. But nothing between them felt settled at all.
His heart sank as he shut the door and leaned against it, staring at the packed suitcase that seemed to symbolize everything that was wrong. As much as his heart felt led toward Tulip Mound, he had no idea at this point how to make it happen. If he stayed, where would he work? His lucrative life was built in Denver. He couldn’t adopt a teenager after walking away from a solid career. And without a plan, he knew better than to even hint about his desire to stay to Charlie or Tori.
Charlie sat on the couch in the living room, admiring the fully decorated tree as Nadia, Tori, Sabrina and Riley crunched candy canes and squabbled over a game of UNO. In the background, the old cartoon version of the Grinch played on the TV. Art clanged pots in the other room, preparing Christmas Eve dinner while Gretchen alternated bringing everyone hot cocoa and aiding him in the kitchen.
This should be bliss—a holiday to remember. But instead, Charlie’s heart weighed a thousand pounds, and all she could think about were the question marks shadowing the evening. So many unknowns right around the corner...about the shelter. About Blake. About Tori. What was going to happen? The word trust kept ricocheting around her heart, but it just bounced off all the wary guards she had in place, unable to land and plant roots.
Charlie stared into the tree as the twinkle lights blurred. There were plenty of reasons to hope—Mark still hadn’t gotten back to Blake, so the sale might not go through. Or the fund-raisers might have been successful enough to cover relocating the shelter if it did. Rachel was supposed to update her on the books anytime now.
“Look what I found.” Gretchen blitzed into the room, holding a small cardboard box. Blake’s name was written in Sharpie across the top.
Charlie’s eyes widened, and she stiffened on the couch. Was that the ornament? The one he’d chosen eight years ago and never hung?
“I thought it might be time to bring this out.” Gretchen handed the box to Charlie, then settled on the couch beside her. The comforting aromas of cinnamon and vanilla wafted over Charlie, tugging her back to her teen years.
To the years with Blake.
“I think it might mean something to you now.” Gretchen tapped the box. “Go on. Open it.”
Charlie lifted the flaps and carefully removed a square ornament. “A yearbook.” She turned it over, running her finger over the spine of the faux book. Her voice deepened with suppressed emotion. “With our graduating class year on the side.”
“And something else written on the back.” Gretchen pointed to small letters, slightly smudged.
Charlie held it closer to read.
Most Likely to End Up Together.
Her eyes stung with instant tears. Unlike the same message written in the snow the other day, this one held an entirely different truth. This wasn’t an attempt to manipulate or matchmake. This was genuine. Blake had been a twenty-two-year-old college student when he chose the ornament and wrote on the back. Had this been a small way for him to express how he felt about her? It seemed so much more heartfelt and intentional than the reckless, impulsive invitation to run away with him.
Why hadn’t he ever said anything?
“I never brought this out before, because you didn’t seem in a good place to see it. But when I got your old yearbook out the other day and remembered that title...well.” Gretchen patted Charlie’s knee. “It meant something to Blake, too, honey. Maybe—just maybe—you misunderstood him all this time.”
Charlie held the ornament by its thick gold thread and watched it spin. Maybe she had. But it was too late. Wasn’t that their more accurate title—Most Likely to Be Too Late? Blake was leaving and would once again be dragging a trail of heartache in his wake. Heartache over his absence and now Tori’s, too—not to mention the heartache of Paradise Paws most likely closing.
She took a deep breath, then set the ornament back into the box and closed the lid. She handed it to Gretchen. “I’ve got to go take Tori to meet Blake.”
Gretchen’s lips pursed slightly, but she just accepted the box back, then moved her legs out of the way for Charlie to scoot past.
The doorbell rang before she could coax Tori from her game of UNO. Detouring to the foyer, Charlie tugged open the front door.
Rachel stood on the front stoop, holding a small potted poinsettia.
“Oh, hey, come on in.” Charlie stepped aside. “I didn’t know you were coming.”
“Merry Christmas.” Rachel paused to brush the snow off her scarf, then stepped inside, shivering. “I brought this for Gretchen.”
“She’ll love it.” Charlie took the plant from her friend and shut the door. “Everyone is in the living room. Come get warm by the fire. I’ve got to meet someone in a few minutes, but you’re welcome to stay.” She couldn’t bear to even say Blake’s name in front of Rachel right now—not with Paradise Paws’s fate so up in the air.
“I can’t stay too long, either.” Rachel avoided Charlie’s eyes as she stomped her feet on the entry mat. “Be careful out there—it’s getting colder.”
“Maybe it’ll be a white Christmas.” Charlie shifted the poinsettia in her arms and smiled...then realized her friend wasn’t smiling back. “But that’s not why you’re here.”
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news.” Rachel lowered her voice, craning to see over Charlie’s shoulder as the teens’ laughter echoed from the living room. “But I just ran the numbers. Both fund-raisers did better than I expected, but we earned about enough to pay the bills for a few months. Or possibly pay rent in a new, more expensive location, for one month. Definitely not both.”
Charlie’s last hopes sank. Christmas seemed to be getting bleaker, and not because of the brutal weather. It was official. If Blake made the sale, that would be it for the shelter. Come January, they’d be scrambling to find owners for the existing dogs—or worse.
Charlie stared into the arrangement of bright red leaves in her arms. It was time to tell the girls about Paradise Paws.