The following morning was Saturday, and even though Adaline had a million things to do—like plan and execute an impromptu hot cocoa stand by the agreed upon 6:00 p.m. start time—she went to see Gram at the retirement center before the bakery opened.
Visiting Gram was always a bit unpredictable. She had good days and bad. Some days she had trouble keeping up with their conversation and others, she was her usual self. As sharp as a tack.
When Gram first moved into Bluebonnet Senior Living, Adaline had given her a plush, battery-operated dog that could pant, wag its tail and make cute little yipping sounds. It had built-in sensors that responded to motion and touch, so Gram could feel the little dog’s heartbeat and it could respond to her voice with a cock of its head or vocalization.
Adaline had found the mechanical dog online when she’d been researching ways to help seniors adjust to moving into long-term care facilities. The internet had called the plush white poodle a robotic companion animal, but Gram had named it Coco. Right from the start, she lavished attention on the pup and treated it as if it were real. Adaline and Ford weren’t altogether sure she truly believed that or not, but what difference did it make? Coco made her happy, so they just went with it. Ford even took Coco and Gram to the vet every now and then for “wellness checks.” Translation: battery changes. It made Gram feel like a responsible pet owner, and Grover, Bluebonnet’s long-time veterinarian, was happy to play along.
Of course that had been before Maple moved to town. Ford and Maple had actually met at one of Coco’s wellness visits, and now Maple was Coco’s official veterinarian. Comfort Paws had even incorporated robotic companion animals into its mission, providing mechanical golden retrievers to the senior center and the county children’s hospital where Ford was on staff as a pediatrician.
Good days, bad days and every day in between, Gram doted on Coco. Her love for that little mechanical poodle was the one consistent thing in Gram’s life, and Adaline was grateful for it. She knew that eventually the day might come when Gram had trouble recognizing family members, and it broke her heart to even think about it. But something told Adaline that even then, her gram would always know and love her plushie companion.
“Knock, knock,” Adaline said as she tapped her knuckles on the half-opened door to Gram’s room.
“Adaline, dear? Is that you?” Gram’s cheery voice called from inside, and Adaline exhaled in relief. It sounded like a good day. “Come on in!”
Adaline prompted Fuzzy with the go visit command they’d been practicing. He trotted ahead, tail wagging, as she pushed the door all the way open.
“Ford.” She grinned in surprise at the sight of her brother sitting on Gram’s floral chintz sofa. He was dressed in blue scrubs, which meant he must’ve come straight from the hospital. “Hey! I didn’t expect to see you here this morning.”
“Hey, sis.” He stood to kiss her on the cheek while Fuzzy made a beeline straight for Gram.
Adaline returned her brother’s affection with a quick hug and then unclipped Fuzzy’s leash so he could hop onto Gram’s lap. Since this wasn’t an official therapy dog visit, the ordinary rules didn’t apply. Fuzzy always had free rein in Gram’s room. Fortunately, Coco’s presence in the basket of Gram’s walker—always parked within her arm’s reach—didn’t faze him much. Fuzzy craned his little neck to give the stuffed dog a curious sniff and then took a flying leap off the recliner to greet Ford.
“Too bad your dog is so shy.” Ford scrunched his face as Fuzzy covered his cheek with puppy kisses.
Adaline waved a hand. “Oh, please. You love it and you know it.”
After all, this was the same man who’d proposed to Maple by putting matching sweaters that said Marry and Me on Fuzzy and his sister, Peaches, just a few months after Maple saved them during a perilous late-night delivery at the pet clinic.
“Put that sweet thing back in my lap, please.” Gram reached for Coco, scooped her out of the basket and placed the plush dog next to her in the recliner. “Coco wants to snuggle with her friend.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Ford said and dutifully placed Fuzzy in the recliner, where he curled into a ball beside the stuffed animal. So long as he didn’t start chomping on Coco like he did his toys at home, they’d be golden.
Adaline plopped down on the sofa at the end closest to Gram’s chair. She reached out to squeeze her grandmother’s hand, but Gram didn’t seem to notice. Her gaze was glued to Fuzzy and Coco.
That was okay, though. The wide smile on her face warmed Adaline’s heart. Whatever it took to make Gram happy, she was all for it.
Ford’s gaze drifted away from Gram until his eyes met with Adaline’s and held. He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes, and Adaline knew exactly what he was thinking. He was worried about Gram too. Last week, she’d misplaced her handbag. Ford had eventually found it tucked under her bed. Just a few days later, she’d wandered into the extended care wing of the building and couldn’t remember how to get back to her room. Thank goodness one of the members of the senior center’s care team had found her before she accidentally wandered into room 212. What an epic disaster that would’ve been.
Adaline shuddered at the thought of an accidental meeting between Gram and Jace’s uncle Grinch...oops, uncle Gus. She wondered if Jace might be in the building at that very moment visiting the horrid man. Then she wondered why on earth her thoughts kept straying back to a lumberjack she cared nothing whatsoever about.
“Adaline? Hello?” Ford waved a hand in front of her face. He’d apparently sat down beside her while she’d been imagining Jace in a soft flannel shirt rolled up to the elbows, dark hair dusted with pine needles.
What was wrong with her?
She gritted her teeth and banished the image from her mind. “Sorry, my mind was someplace else for a second. What are you doing here, anyway? Isn’t bingo usually on Tuesday mornings?”
Bingo was Gram and Ford’s thing. Adaline’s brother never missed it. He rolled up to the senior center every week with a roll of pennies since the cost per card was one cent each per game. The collected funds were distributed to the winners. One week, Ford and Gram won an unprecedented combined jackpot of nearly eight dollars. They’d celebrated big with root beer floats from the ice cream parlor across the square from Cherry on Top.
“I wanted to stop by and share some news with Gram. This works out great, because now I can talk to both of you at the same time.” Ford’s hands were clasped loosely in front of him, but Adaline was getting family meeting vibes, which gave her pause.
Her leg started jiggling as she narrowed her gaze at him. She’d had enough surprises lately. She wasn’t sure if she could take another one. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” He arched a brow at her and made a big show of pressing down on her knee, forcing her leg to go still. “Dramatic much?”
The collective voices of the Ghosts of Boyfriends Past boomed in Adaline’s head. This is a lot...you’re just a lot.
“Sorry.” Her teeth sank into her bottom lip. When would she learn to just chill for half a second? “We’re excited to hear your mystery news, whatever it is. Right, Gram?”
“Right,” Gram said as she took two tiny Milk-Bone biscuits from the pocket of her pink terrycloth housecoat—a Valentine’s Day gift from Adaline—and offered one to Fuzzy and the other to Coco.
Fuzzy chomped his down in record time and then delicately plucked Coco’s biscuit from her mechanical mouth after Gram had switched her focus to Ford.
“Go ahead and tell us.” Gram pushed a button on the arm of her chair and the recliner’s footrest popped open. Fuzzy gave a start in her lap. Coco, as always, remained perfectly unruffled.
“Maple and I are getting married.” Right on cue, Ford’s face split into a dopey grin the way it always did when he talked about Maple. It was both adorable and nauseating in equal parts.
You’re happy for them, Adaline reminded herself. You don’t really want what they have anyway. You’ve already decided to live happily-ever-after with Fuzzy.
The love and devotion of a dog was purely unconditional. Never mind the fact that Fuzzy’s life expectancy was significantly shorter than Adaline’s. And never mind the fact that even though Fuzzy was the sweetest, most wonderful thing that had ever happened to her, she still felt the tiniest bit lonely every time she thought about attending her brother’s wedding without a date. She’d made up her mind, or rather, circumstances had made up her mind for her.
“We know you’re getting married.” Adaline tried her best to keep an edge out of her tone, but honestly, was a repeat grand announcement of their engagement truly necessary? “You proposed months ago. We heard all about it.”
They’d also seen the video of the proposal Ford had captured on a nanny cam he’d hidden in the belly of a stuffed dog toy tucked on a bookshelf in Maple’s living room. Adaline was mortified to admit it had made her cry big, fat, ugly tears—even the part where Lady Bird had snatched the dog toy off the shelf, affording viewers an up close and personal view of the golden retriever’s tonsils.
“We’re so happy for you, Fordy,” Gram said, using the pet name from his childhood that only she could get away with now that he was a grown man. “But even I haven’t forgotten you’re engaged. Just how bad do you think my memory is, anyway?”
Adaline bit back a smile. Sharp as a dang tack.
“Clearly my excitement has gotten the best of me and I’ve botched this announcement. Let me start over.” Ford took a deep breath. “Maple and I talked things over last night, and neither one of us wants to wait for a spring wedding. We’re in love, and we just want to be together. Sooner rather than later.”
Adaline’s eyes filled, but she blinked away the tears before anyone could see. At least, she hoped so.
“Fordy, that’s wonderful news. Just wonderful,” Gram said while Adaline swallowed against the lump in her throat.
Joy leapt in Ford’s eyes, and despite the tug of envy Adaline felt deep in her chest, she’d never been happier for her brother. He deserved this. It had taken a long time—and ultimately, falling in love with Maple—for Ford to stop taking care of others long enough to let someone tend to his heart and his hopes and dreams. He and Maple were a true partnership. A perfect match.
“We’re moved the ceremony to Christmas Eve,” Ford said, abruptly pulling Adaline out of her reverie.
Her head snapped toward Ford. “But that’s in just a few weeks.”
“Exactly.” Her brother shrugged one shoulder. Ah, the poor lovesick fool. Had he and Maple both lost their minds?
“You can’t just throw together a wedding in less than a month. At Christmas, no less.” Adaline glanced at Gram, expecting her to jump in any second and back her up.
But her grandmother simply pressed a hand to her heart and smiled. “You grandfather and I got married during Christmas, you know. In that sweet white chapel on Dogwood Drive.”
“I know.” Ford regarded Gram thoughtfully. “So are we. It was our first choice.”
Gram’s eyes went glassy, and suddenly, Adaline saw the whole picture. Ford and Maple didn’t simply want to accelerate their plans because they were too in love to wait for spring. In part, they were doing this for Gram. Ford wanted her there, and no one knew what the future might look like for their grandmother. Tomorrow wasn’t promised to anyone, as Ford knew all too well. When he was just a kid, he’d lost his best friend to leukemia. The loss had changed Ford so profoundly that Adaline had scarcely recognized her brother afterward. As an adult, she’d watched him channel all that grief into caring for his patients. And now here he was, doing what he could to treasure their grandmother before it was too late.
“A Christmas Eve wedding at Bluebonnet Chapel sounds perfect,” Adaline said, throat going thick.
“I knew you’d come around.” Ford flashed her a quick wink. “We won’t even need to decorate the chapel because the pastor told us they’d leave the poinsettias up from the twilight Christmas Eve service. We want to keep things simple and intimate. Close friends and family only.”
“And Lady Bird, of course,” Adaline and Gram said at the exact same time.
Ford nodded. “She’s going to be the flower girl.”
“Perfect.” Adaline grinned. “But you’ve still got the most important part to figure out.”
“And that would be?” Ford prompted.
Adaline waggled her eyebrows. “Who’s going to make the wedding cake?”
Jace spent his Saturday morning losing at chess while black-and-white reruns of Gunsmoke and old John Wayne movies played on the television in Uncle Gus’s room. At least his uncle was in a somewhat decent mood today. He swallowed the pills the nurse brought to him in a tiny paper cup without protest. He wore a crisp new pair of pajamas and the new slippers Jace had given him the day before instead of the ratty ones he insisted were his favorite. He even cracked a smile at Jace’s latest corny Christmas tree joke.
What looks like half a Christmas tree?
The other half.
The jovial mood quickly evaporated when Jace steered the conversation toward an actual tree.
“I told you I don’t need one,” Gus growled as he slid his rook from one white square to the next.
“A Christmas tree might brighten up the place,” Jace countered. “I’ve got a small three-footer that would look perfect right over there.”
He tipped his head toward the space in the corner beneath the mounted television where two cowboys were squaring off against each other in front of a saloon.
Uncle Gus muttered something that sounded an awful lot like bah humbug.
What was it about this town all of a sudden? Jace had never had so much trouble giving trees away before.
“I’ll bring it over tomorrow morning,” he said, ignoring his uncle’s protests. He hated the thought of Gus stuck in this room all day, with its plain mint-colored walls and generic furniture. Maybe he’d gather some items from his uncle’s house and bring them next time he visited. Anything to make the space a little more personal...a little more inviting.
The living space in Gus’s home was sparsely decorated, at best. It was practically barren. Jace wasn’t sure if it had been that way back when he’d been a kid. He knew his memories of Gus and his farmhouse, with its big red barn just outside of town where the bluebonnets grew wild every spring in rolling fields of blue, were sugar-coated. He’d seen things differently back then. Staying with Gus had been a reprieve from the fear that had wrapped itself around Jace’s heart when his dad had been diagnosed with bladder cancer.
His parents had thought it best for him to go stay with Gus while his dad got treatment. The prospect of staying with his gruff uncle for an entire school year had flat-out terrified Jace. There’d always been an air of mystery about the man, who was more than was a decade older than Jace’s father. He rarely said a word, and he never, ever showed up for the family’s Christmas celebrations. But he came to every single one of Jace’s birthday parties and important school events. He’d been the one who’d first taught Jace all about plants and growing things. The window over the sink in Gus’s kitchen hadn’t been flanked with ruffled curtains, but tiny seedlings sprouting from damp paper towels had been lined up in a neat row on the windowsill. To Jace, the home had been a respite—a place where he could breathe again after feeling like he’d been holding his breath every time his dad had gone for another doctor’s appointment or his mother broke down in tears. If the place had been as bare-boned as it was now, Jace had been blissfully unaware. Beneath Gus’s stern exterior beat a sure and steady presence—one that Jace had so desperately needed that strange, sad year. Gus...that house... Bluebonnet itself, they’d been his saving grace. His soft place to land, as safe and warm as a downy feather bed.
Now Jace was all grown up and he could see things as they really were. The house—a rustic log cabin with knotty pine walls—was filled only with necessities. There wasn’t a family photo or a trinket in sight, other than the school picture from Jace’s lone year at Bluebonnet Elementary, still tacked to the refrigerator door with a bluebonnet-shaped magnet. The living room still held the same console television that had already been past its prime when Jace had been a kid, along with the same patchwork sofa and a lone recliner with a TV tray parked in front of it.
As for the barn, Jace had no idea. He wasn’t ready to go back in there. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
The entire property felt much more remote than Jace remembered. Sterile. Lonely.
Gus scowled. “If you put a live tree in this room, the dog that nutty woman drags around this place will probably pee on it.”
“‘Nutty woman?’” Jace repeated with a shake of his head. “I thought I told you to be nice to Adaline.”
For the life of him, Jace couldn’t figure out why Adaline seemed to bring out the worst in Gus. The woman was a walking ray of sunshine, with her dangly cherry-shaped earrings, blunt-cut bangs and big blue eyes. She dressed her dog in reindeer antlers. She baked pie for a living, for crying out loud.
“I thought you didn’t even know her. From where I’m sitting, you seem awfully interested.” Gus let out a sardonic laugh that quickly turned into a coughing fit.
End stage chronic obstructive pulmonary disease. Jace had uprooted his life and come as soon as he’d heard the official diagnosis. He had a feeling that Gus had known about it for quite some time before he’d finally shared the news with Jace. He might never have said a word if things hadn’t progressed to the point where he could no longer live at home.
Jace waited for him to quiet down before pointing out the obvious. “I’m not the one who brought her up. You mentioned Adaline first, not me.”
Gus glanced up, made brief eye contact and then looked away.
“Just saying.” Jace nudged his chess piece into place. It didn’t really matter where he moved. As usual, he was losing. “You’re the one who seems interested.”
“Not interested in her or her dog,” Gus insisted.
“I don’t believe you,” Jace said.
Objectively speaking, Adaline was interesting. More interesting than Jace cared to think about, if he was really being honest. He wasn’t ready to admit that he was attracted to her, especially when that feeling was so obviously not mutual.
“And I don’t believe you.” Uncle Gus pushed one of his pieces closer to Jace’s king.
“She’s perfectly lovely.” Jace tried not to think too hard about decorating the tree with her last night. The rosy glow of the twinkle lights had suited her. He’d felt like he was seeing her world through rose-tinted glasses. As if when he’d stepped inside Cherry on Top, he’d somehow found himself in a place filled with sweetness and beauty and light.
Just thinking about it made his chest ache.
“Too lovely for the likes of me,” Jace said, and he wasn’t sure who exactly he was trying to convince—his uncle or himself. His parents liked to tell him how much he reminded them of Uncle Gus, and in this context, that didn’t seem like a good thing. “What if I want to be a lifelong bachelor like you?”
Gus went still.
“You don’t want that,” he finally said with a crack in his voice that Jace had never heard before.
“Why not?” he asked, hoping Gus might peel back a layer of his hard exterior and tell him something real. Something that might explain why he’d chosen such a solitary life.
They were running out of time. In a matter of months—a year, at most—Gus would be gone. Jace had been so busy building Texas Tidings Christmas Tree Farm into a sustainable business that he hadn’t had the chance to come visit his uncle in recent years. He regretted that now, obviously. The farm...the trees...the house he’d worked so hard to restore...none of that seemed to matter now. He should’ve been here. He was all Gus had.
But why?
Why hadn’t Gus let himself get close to anyone else? There had to be reason. Or was it just who Gus was?
A loner.
Maybe it’s who I am too. Jace was beginning to wonder. More than one woman he’d dated had told him he was too closed off for a real relationship. He never let anyone get to know him beyond surface level. Jace disagreed, but maybe they were right. Maybe he was more like Gus than he wanted to admit.
“Trust me. You don’t want to be like me. You need a family,” Gus said with a finality that told Jace he had no intention of elaborating.
Jace studied the board for a long moment, and then he finally saw it—the move that would give him the win. He could checkmate Gus if he wanted to. All it would take was a simple diagonal cross with his bishop and he would win. He’d beat Uncle Gus at chess for the very first time.
Fifth-grade Jace wouldn’t have hesitated. Not for a second. Adult Jace didn’t have the heart to do it, though. Not here, of all places. Not now.
“You do have a family, Uncle Gus,” he said as he made a useless move with his rook. Then Jace smiled at the older man, and his heart gave a bittersweet tug. “Me.”