by Lauren Smith
“No, something wonderful has happened. The books are here!” Julia held up a copy of Merryvale Christmas: Tales and Traditions by the Countess of Merryvale and Brie Honeyweather.
Brie accepted the book and skimmed the pages. Her photos, along with the stories and recipes of the Halston family filled the pages in a colorful and engaging way. And this time, her name was there on the cover for all to see. She was no longer a ghostwriter hiding in the shadows.
“Well done, mum.” Alec kissed his mother’s cheek, then pulled Brie into his embrace and kissed her as well. “Well done to you, too. I hear you had a little something to do with it.”
Brie bit her lip and elbowed him in the gut. “I’m on the cover, you jerk.”
“So, I see,” Alec gasped as he clutched his stomach in feigned pain.
“Brie, dear, if you have a moment…” It didn’t take a mind reader to see what Julia wanted to talk to her about.
“Go and talk with mum about the wedding. I’ll be just a moment.”
“Okay.” Brie pulled his shirt collar, so he bent to kiss her again, this one long and deliciously lingering, before she watched him walk away. Her heart swelled, filling her once weary and broken soul with endless love.
Alec stepped into his grandfather’s study and placed the last of Walter’s old journals down on the desk. He’d spent the last month reading everything he could find from his grandfather. There’d been close to a hundred journals cataloging Walter’s life.
Alec eased down into the leather chair. A hint of that old cigar smoke still lingered in the air, but the memory of a ghost was now welcome to him. Coming home to Merryvale had meant finding his grandfather and positive memories in every nook and cranny of the old estate.
Alec removed a new empty leather journal from its packaging and set it down beside his grandfather’s on the desk. When he took up a pen and turned to the first page, he thought of his grandfather’s stories, the things he learned, and what falling in love with Brie had meant to him.
With a deep breath, he dated the first page and began to write.
Brie and I lay beneath the ancient cedar trees of our home, marveling at the distant striations of clouds as we held each other close, and in that moment, we were infinite…
Afterword
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