As Jack pushed through the front door of The Calendar Café, a barrage of warm air greeted him.
Half the town of Poppy Creek appeared to be crammed in between the overflowing pastry cases and enormous open-hearth fireplace. After removing his wool coat, Jack pushed the sleeves of his flannel shirt up to his elbows as he scanned the crowd.
His gaze rested on Frank Barrie and his fiancée, Beverly, canoodling at a table in the center of the room. Jack’s lips twitched at the uncommon sight. He still couldn’t get used to seeing the town curmudgeon with his arm around the sweet, soft-spoken librarian. As someone stubbornly set in his ways, Jack had a hard time processing the drastic transformation.
Seated next to them at the table, Luke and Colt’s mother, Maggie, clutched a plaid scrapbook Jack instantly recognized as the Christmas Calendar. While the original version had been destroyed last year, the reproduction looked identical, right down to the gold foil lettering across the front. The pages inside were filled with all twenty-five festive tasks laid out by Cassie’s late grandparents before they passed away—a precious family heirloom that evoked a tiny pang of envy in Jack’s heart.
Growing up, Jack’s family hadn’t owned many possessions. And the ones they had owned were promptly upgraded when his father’s real estate business took off. Jack had managed to save only one keepsake—the cast-iron skillet that had kickstarted his love of cooking comfort food.
“Hey, you two! You made it.” The bright, cheerful voice interrupted Jack’s thoughts.
Penny Heart rushed to welcome them, throwing her arms around Colt’s neck before kissing him as though they’d been separated for several months.
Jack averted his gaze. Nearly everyone he knew seemed to be dating, engaged, or married. And nothing amplified his single status quite like being surrounded by couples in love, especially during the holidays. After all, he couldn’t exactly kiss himself under the mistletoe, now could he?
“There they are!” Eliza Carter, Cassie’s best friend and business partner, gestured toward them, snaking her way through the throng. Her fiancé, Grant, followed on her heels, their son, Ben, lagging behind them.
“Luke and Cassie are in the kitchen,” Eliza told them breathlessly, her huge chocolate-brown eyes dancing with delight. “He’s distracting her under the guise of hanging a new spice rack he made for us. I can’t wait to see the look on her face when she sees everyone!”
“And the Calendar,” Penny added, sounding equally excited.
“I wanna see Aunt Cassie, too.” Ben tugged on his father’s arm.
As Grant glanced down at his son, a crease appeared in his forehead. Although on the smaller side for an eight-year-old, Ben wasn’t exactly a little kid anymore, either.
Grant scanned the room, presumably looking for a chair Ben could stand on, but they were all occupied.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got you covered.” With minimal effort, Jack hoisted Ben onto his broad shoulders. “How’s that?”
“Whoa! I can see everything from up here,” Ben gushed, clearly impressed with his new vantage point.
“Welcome to my world,” Jack chuckled. At six four, he was used to the unencumbered view.
“He’s not too heavy?” Grant asked.
“Nah. I barely even notice him.” The eldest of six, Jack wasn’t a stranger to kids crawling all over him like a jungle gym. And if he were honest, he missed being needed by his younger siblings. For years, he’d been the one in charge while his parents each worked two jobs to put food on the table.
“They’re coming!” Eliza squealed, bouncing on her toes.
A hush settled over the crowd, all eyes glued to the swinging door that led to the kitchen as Luke and Cassie emerged. Luke covered his wife’s eyes with both hands as he carefully guided her around the long counter and display cases filled with tempting desserts, of which Jack had sampled every single one.
“What’s going on?” Cassie laughed, her hands stretched out before her as she took hesitant steps forward.
“It’s a surprise.” Luke paused at the edge of the round table where his mother sat with Frank and Beverly and slowly lowered his hands.
As Cassie’s gaze fell on the Christmas Calendar, in all its newly restored glory, she gasped in surprise. “How did you—”
“Mom and Beverly did most of the work,” Luke admitted, casting an appreciative glance in their direction.
“We tried to recreate it as close to the original as possible.” Maggie’s hazel eyes glistened as she handed it to her daughter-in-law.
Accepting it gingerly, Cassie whispered, “I can’t believe it.”
“Mom even found a recipe card for your grandmother’s mince pie written in her own handwriting,” Luke told her, his voice thick with emotion.
“I—I don’t know what to say.” Cassie blinked back tears as her gaze flitted from Luke to the faces of her dear friends, who all looked on with fondness.
“You don’t need to say anything, sweetheart.” Maggie smiled warmly. “We all love you dearly and wanted to make this Christmas as special as your first one in Poppy Creek. In a way, the Calendar is meaningful to all of us, since it brought you to our little town and into our lives.”
“Tell her the best part,” Eliza practically shouted in her eagerness.
Maggie chuckled. “I’ll let Luke do the honors.”
“We added some blank pages.” Luke gazed at his wife with tender affection. “In case we want to start a few of our own traditions.”
Cassie reached for his hand. “Oh, Luke, I love that idea.”
As Luke pulled her in for a quick kiss, the hollow feeling in Jack’s chest expanded. He wondered what it would be like to have someone by his side to not only share in special traditions, but make new ones. Suddenly, although surrounded by people, Jack had never felt more alone.
Still wrapped in Luke’s arms, Cassie addressed the group, her green eyes shimmering. “Thank you all. I can’t tell you how much it means to me. Before I came to Poppy Creek, I never imagined how drastically my life would change. You didn’t just welcome me into your town, you welcomed me into your hearts. And because of you, I now have a family. A large, boisterous family who’s thankfully very fond of coffee and calorie-rich desserts.”
At that, everyone chuckled.
As the crowd gathered around the newlyweds, doling out hugs and admiring the Calendar, Jack remained near the back of the room, mulling over his conflicting thoughts.
While he wholeheartedly agreed with Cassie’s sentiments—the people of Poppy Creek were his family, too—he couldn’t deny the dull ache in his heart.
But he had no clue what to do about it.
The rustle of worn pages harmonized with the soothing hum of waves lapping against the shoreline as Kat immersed herself in A Christmas Carol. Reading the beloved classic had become a tradition every December 1 after decorating the house with Fern. Even though she knew nearly every word by heart, she found the redemptive tale comforting. During the toughest time of the year, she relished the hopeful reminder that even Scrooge turned his life around.
“Knock, knock.”
Kat glanced up from her lounging position on the bed to find Fern standing in the doorway with a tray of hot chocolate and her mouthwatering Milagros. “I thought you might be in need of a bedtime snack.”
Kat sat up a little straighter and laid the open book across her lap. “Thank you. That sounds lovely.”
Fern slid the tray onto the nightstand, and Kat inhaled the scent of rich dark chocolate and sweet cinnamon.
“One of my favorite stories.” The mattress creaked as Fern perched on the edge of the bed, plucking the thin book from its resting place. “This is a beautiful copy.” She caressed the red leather binding and gold-embossed lettering.
“A thrift store find, if you can believe it.” Kat eagerly reached for the steaming mug of cocoa, smiling as the smooth ceramic warmed her cold fingertips. Although the temperature often reached the low fifties along the California coast in early December, she liked to crack her bedroom window to savor the serene sound of the ocean.
“You know my favorite part of the story?” Fern asked.
“The ending?” Kat guessed, taking a sip. The thick, syrupy liquid slid down her throat, followed by a hint of spice. The dash of cayenne pepper and cinnamon lent Fern’s hot chocolate an extra burst of flavor that other recipes lacked.
Fern shook her head, flipping backward a few pages, while keeping one finger in the spine so she didn’t lose Kat’s place. “My favorite part is when Scrooge sees Jacob Marley and accuses him of being a moldy piece of cheese.” She chuckled softly before turning back to Kat’s spot, gently laying the book facedown on the faded quilt. “We all do that, don’t we?”
“Do what?” Cradling the mug in her palm, Kat nibbled on the sugary treat.
“When there’s something we’re too afraid to face, we pretend it doesn’t exist.”
Even though they were discussing a work of fiction, Kat’s thoughts wandered to the envelope tucked in the bottom drawer of her nightstand. And she had a feeling Fern knew that it would. The older woman had a special knack for seeing right through a person’s carefully erected walls to their innermost secrets.
“I suppose we do….” She set the half-eaten cookie back on the plate, no longer hungry.
“Did I ever tell you the meaning behind my name?”
“Fern?”
“Fernanda. It means brave journey. I’ve always thought that was fitting, considering the path my life has taken.”
“I wish I could be as strong as you,” Kat admitted with genuine longing. She kept most of her past locked in the deep recesses of her mind so she didn’t have to face the painful memories.
“Want to know my secret?” Fern asked in a conspiratorial whisper. “I put one foot in front of the other and wait for God to open a door.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“Easy? Have you seen how big my feet are? It’s a wonder I don’t trip all over myself.” She laughed—rich and warm like her delicious hot chocolate—and Kat cracked a smile.
How she could find joy and humor in the face of all the sorrow she’d experienced, Kat would never know. Not for the first time, Kat wished Fern was her mother, instead of the less-than-stellar role model she’d been given at birth. “And what if God doesn’t open a door?”
“Oh, mija, He always does. But sometimes, it’s not the one we think it will be.” She leaned forward and lovingly brushed aside a wayward strand of Kat’s wild red hair. “Now, don’t stay up too late.”
After bidding her good night, Fern shuffled across the threadbare carpet and through the doorway.
Kat waited for her footsteps to disappear down the hallway before she slid open the bottom drawer of her nightstand. With hesitant hands, she retrieved a thin white envelope from beneath a stack of books.
The letter, addressed to her mother, Helena Bennet, care of Hope Hideaway, was postmarked over four months ago from a small town several hours inland called Poppy Creek.
Slowly, Kat slipped the single sheet of paper from the envelope, along with a wallet-size photograph. Her stomach twisted as she gazed into the bright coppery eyes so full of life and light.
When she’d first glimpsed the photo, she’d assumed it was her mother, taken decades before her tragic death. The young woman had the same striking eyes, auburn hair, and delicate features. When she’d gazed at the beautiful, carefree smile, Kat had broken down in tears, painfully reminded of the mother she’d tried so desperately to forget.
Then, she’d read the neat, sloping penmanship, and her entire world had shattered in the span of a single breath.
Dear Helena,
I’ve debated contacting you since you’ve made it clear you don’t want any communication between us. But I’ve recently discovered I have a half sister, and I’m hoping you’ll pass along a message. I would love the chance to meet her, if she’s willing. I’ve enclosed a photo, and she can find me at the return address. I took over Dad’s antiques store when he passed away.
Respectfully,
Penny Heart
Kat swallowed against the lump of emotion lodged in her throat. Like Scrooge, she’d tried to explain away the unwelcome reality that she had a half sister—it was a mistake or a cruel joke. But in her heart, she didn’t doubt the truth of the letter. Knowing her reckless and capricious mother all too well, the possibility of another family—another life—wasn’t far-fetched. In fact, she had vague memories of her mother mourning the loss of a stunning brooch, crafted from emeralds, rubies, and diamonds, given to her by a man named Timothy Heart—the only man Helena ever referred to with any glimmer of warmth or affection.
Putting the pieces together, Kat realized Helena hadn’t simply left a piece of jewelry behind—she’d left a child, a sister Kat never knew existed.
When Fern gave Kat the envelope—since her mother had passed away several years before its delivery—she hadn’t pried about the contents. Part of Kat wanted to confide in Fern, but then she’d have to face complicated emotions she’d long repressed. In the end, she’d pretended the letter, and her sister, didn’t exist. They remained a part of her mother’s past, where Helena had clearly wanted to keep them.
As Kat folded the note and slid it back inside the envelope along with the photograph, her thoughts drifted to the bejeweled brooch. While her mother rarely spoke about her life before moving to Starcross Cove, she’d frequently lamented leaving the prized possession behind, presumably because it must have been worth a small fortune—a pawnshop gold mine that could feed her many addictions for years.
A small fortune…
Kat bolted upright in bed as an impulsive idea gripped her.