by Susan Wiggs
“We’ll try the real thing again next year,” she said. “This year, it’ll be Photoshop Santa.”
“Okay, Mom,” he said.
“No problem.” Manipulating a shot of Charlie with Santa would be simply an evening’s work. Daisy had been obsessed with photography from a young age, as long as she could remember. She commuted to the college three days a week for classes, and spent the rest of the time doing freelance work and looking after Charlie.
She zipped him up snugly and pushed open the door, stepping out into the brisk day.
Every year, a section of Blanchard Park was transformed into Santaland, and opening day had arrived, which was a big deal around town. The weather was cold and bright; it was the sort of weather the Chamber of Commerce prayed for every year but rarely got. Santaland was the signature holiday centerpiece of a town trying to make the best of the long, dark winter, and volunteers went all out with the decorations. According to the Avalon Troubadour, the Chamber of Commerce anticipated record numbers of tourists this year.
Children who were normally grumpy and reluctant to stir from their beds on cold, dark school days had probably bounded downstairs today, tearing through breakfast, eager to get in line for Santa. People who usually looked out their windows and groaned at the sight of fresh snow perked up at the view today. The season had kicked off with a pancake breakfast at the fire hall. Kiosks lined the streets, offering everything from funnel cakes to balls of suet for the winter birds. Galahad’s Gallery, a co-op of local artists, had a booth that featured glass sculpture, wind chimes and a selection of prints by local artists—Daisy Bellamy included. Her seasonal nature photographs were gaining in popularity. She stopped at the booth to learn that within minutes of opening, they’d sold two of her pieces—a panoramic shot of the Nordic ski trails winding through the winter woods, and a long-shutter-speed shot of the Schuyler River coursing beneath the town’s covered wooden bridge.
It was heady stuff, knowing people were actually paying money for her photographs. The idea that someone liked her art enough to buy it improved her mood immeasurably.
“Charlie, Charlie, Charlie,” she said as she prepared to drive away from Santaland.
“Mommy, Mommy, Mommy,” he answered cheerfully from his car seat in the back. He knew how to charm her, that was a fact.
He was a lot like his father.
She pulled into the town library to check out some fresh books for Charlie. He adored being read to, and she liked having new material on hand at all times. Daisy and Maureen Davenport, the librarian, had become friends, thanks to all the hours of story time Charlie had attended.
“Books,” he stated with satisfaction when he saw where they were headed.
“You got it. Anything you want—Dr. Seuss, Clifford the Big Red Dog, Olivia—you name it.”
“Six books,” he said. He had no idea how many that was, but he knew the number six.
“That’s right. We’re allowed to check out six books at a time on a single topic.” When she got out of the car, she saw a guy hiking across the library grounds, a backpack slung over his shoulder. It was his army-surplus jacket that caught her eye, and his easy, loose-limbed gait. He didn’t walk the way people usually did in the snow, hunched over with hands jammed in their pockets. He was walking lightly and easily, with a spring in his step and his posture as straight as the trees all around, as though the cold didn’t bother him at all. The jacket, the trees and the snow made a striking palette, so she pulled out her camera. She was taking a class on editorial images, and this might be a good shot.
Charlie made an impatient sound in the back of the car. “Hang on,” she said, taking two more shots. Then she put her camera away and freed him from his car seat. Holding his arms out like airplane wings, he headed for the door to the library.
There was a large placard at the entryway of the building with an urgent appeal for donations. Help Us Save Our Library, it read. We Can’t Do It Without You. Daisy dug in her pocket and forked over ten bucks. She’d saved more than that by not buying the deluxe Santa package. And way more than that by borrowing all the books she wanted.
She brought Charlie straight to the children’s room and peeled off his jacket. At the moment, they were the only ones in the section. This was lucky, because around other kids, Charlie tended to be loud and friendly, another legacy from his father and the Irish side of the family. She constantly had to shush him in places like the library and church.
He was a lot like his father in that way, too.
Maureen came by, rolling a cart of books to reshelve. There was no separate children’s librarian at the Avalon Free Library. Judging by the call for donations at the entryway, Daisy suspected it was a budget issue.
“Hey, Maureen,” Daisy whispered. “How’s everything?”
“Great, thanks.” Maureen offered a cheerful smile, though she seemed a little tired. Worried, maybe. Maureen could be anywhere from twenty-five to thirty-five; it was hard to tell based on the way she dressed. Sweater sets and A-line skirts tended to make all their wearers look the same age. Maureen was actually an extremely pretty woman who didn’t make much of her looks. This was a quality Daisy admired. Before Charlie, Daisy had been a teenage train wreck of insecurities. She used to spend hours playing up her looks by dressing in the perfect outfit, making sure her hair was just right, her makeup worthy of a cover girl. Maybe if she’d just left herself alone, pulled her hair back and worn a sweater set, her life would have turned out differently.
Well, of course it would have. For sure, she would be Charlie-less. Logan never would have given her a second glance if she hadn’t thrown herself at him that one crazy weekend.
Since the thought of life without Charlie was completely unbearable, she did not allow herself to go there.
“There’s a new Jan Brett that just came in,” Maureen said, pulling it off the cart. “Beautiful scenes of snow.”
“Thanks.” Daisy took the book, admiring the intricate drawings. Charlie was pushing a copy of Thomas the Tank Engine along the floor, making putt-putt noises with his mouth.
“I see Charlie is in the heavy equipment phase,” Maureen observed.
“Deeply.”
“How are you doing?” Maureen asked.
“Fine, thanks,” Daisy said. “I survived midterms. This is when I always regret signing up for too many classes.”
“Do you have plans for the holidays?”
Daisy hesitated. Between her family and Logan’s, things were always a little complicated around this time of year. When Charlie was first born, the O’Donnells didn’t want to have a thing to do with him, so decisions about the holidays were easy.
On the other hand, Logan, against all expectations, had embraced fatherhood with gusto. He was respectful of Daisy’s role as the main parent, but insisted on seeing Charlie on a regular basis. This amazed everyone who’d known him as an edgy, undisciplined teenager, getting by on looks and charm, fueling his personality with booze and prescription drugs. By the time Charlie came along, Logan was clean and sober—and serious about being a father. Before long, the O’Donnells were as crazy about Charlie as the Bellamys.
This was great for Charlie—fantastic, in fact, but often tricky to manage.
And awkward for Daisy. Because as much as the O’Donnells were in love with Charlie, they were less enthusiastic about Daisy. As the mother of an adored grandson, she was tolerated. But as the girl who, as far as they were concerned, took away their son’s future, she didn’t exactly own their hearts. They were a family with high-flown hopes for their only son. They’d dreamed of a topflight education for him. He was expected to take charge of the family shipping business, enjoying a country-club lifestyle with a family of his own.
Instead, their golden boy knocked up some girl, went to rehab and became a teenage father.
She studied her son—red-haired, merry-eyed, apple-cheeked and innocent. That’ll never happen to you, she silently vowed.
And she knew, of
course, that the O’Donnells had probably said the same thing to their own red-haired son, years ago. It was kind of understandable that they weren’t all that thrilled with Daisy. She used to resent their skepticism of her, but now that she had a beautiful red-haired boy of her own, she knew where they were coming from. The thought of some girl—any girl—being involved with Charlie one day made Daisy nuts. It was completely irrational but she couldn’t help herself. When you loved someone the way she loved Charlie, there was no room for reason. She imagined that was how the O’Donnells felt about Logan.
“Still kind of up in the air with plans for the holidays,” she told Maureen. “How about yourself? What are you up to this year?”
“We always have a big family celebration. This year, I’m going to be super busy. I’m directing the Christmas pageant at Heart of the Mountains Church.”
“Wow, sounds like a big project.”
“Huge. But I’m excited. It’s something I’ve always wanted to do. I was in the pageant every year, growing up, and in the choir as an adult. When Mrs. Bickham retired from the job, I was first in line to volunteer.”
Daisy thought directing a Christmas pageant ranked right up there with going to traffic ticket school, but she didn’t say anything. To each his own.
“I guess you’ll be busy saving the library, too,” Daisy said.
Maureen cast her eyes down. “We’re not doing so hot on that front. The library’s scheduled to close at the end of the year.”
“Close? No way.” Daisy could scarcely get her mind around the idea of a town without a library. “I’m sorry. That’s just wrong.”
“Everyone I talk to feels that way, but it’s an economic reality.”
“I’m going to ask everybody in my family to pitch in.”
“Thanks. I have to be prepared for the worst, though.”
“The worst being…?”
“We really do have to close, and I’m out of a job.”
“What will you do?”
Maureen offered a tight smile. “I could land a position with the bookmobile, but I get carsick. I’ve put my credentials up online. We’ll see if anything comes of it. In the meantime, I’ll try to focus on the pageant and the holidays. Christmas has never let me down.”
“I know you’ll do a great job,” Daisy said, trying to sound reassuring. “If I can help out—behind the scenes—let me know. I’m a photography student and I do freelance work on the side. What about a poster?”
“Really? Gosh, that’s so nice of you. I’d love to have some pictures of the event. And a poster or flyer would be wonderful.”
“I can help you out with that,” said Daisy. She dug in her messenger bag for a card and handed it to Maureen.
“Great. And I’ll make sure you and Charlie get VIP seats at the pageant.”
Daisy’s stomach lurched. “It’ll just be me,” she said. “Charlie is going to be with his dad this Christmas.” It hurt just to say it aloud.
“Oh. I imagine that will mean a lot to both Charlie and his dad,” Maureen said diplomatically. She regarded Charlie, who was now applying his motor-mouth sounds to The Little Engine That Could. “He’s one of my favorite patrons, you know.”
As though sensing he was the topic of conversation, Charlie looked up at her, raised his arms, and offered his future-heartthrob grin.
“You had me at hello,” Maureen said.
He held up the book as if it were the holy grail. “Read it,” he said.
Daisy moved toward him. “We’ll check the book out and take it home, okay?”
His expression turned tragic. “Read it.”
“I’ve got a few minutes,” Maureen assured her, pushing aside the book cart. “There’s always time for a story. It’s one of my main rules as a librarian.”
“You’re sure?”
“Trust me. I’m a professional.” She hoisted him onto her lap.
There was something wistful in her eyes as she settled down with Charlie and the book. A sadness, almost. Daisy wondered briefly about the source.
“Then he’s all yours,” Daisy said. Her mobile phone vibrated, signaling an incoming text message.
A moment later, Charlie was blissfully ensconced in Maureen’s lap, chanting, “I think I can, I think I can,” along with the little engine.
Daisy headed outside and pulled out her phone to check messages. There was a text from Logan: HEY YOU. HOWS MY BOY?
ON SANTA’S NAUGHTY LIST, she sent back. HE DIDN’T LIKE THE LAP.
THAT’S MY BOY. I WAS ALWAYS CREEPED OUT BY THE FATMAN. WANTED 2 TALK 2 U ABOUT XMAS. WHEN?
2-NITE WORKS. 7-ISH AND YOU CAN GIVE HIM HIS BATH.
She put her phone away, feeling a thrum of apprehension. She and Logan had no formal custody arrangement. Theirs was based on mutual love for their son. Logan lived in New Paltz, where he was a student, within commuting distance of Avalon. Ignoring his parents’ wishes, he’d chosen the state college in order to be close to Charlie.
And despite a rocky start as grandparents, the O’Donnells had stepped up, as well. And this year, for the first time, they’d asked if Logan could bring Charlie down to their place on Long Island for Christmas Eve, and bring him back Christmas Day.
Daisy had agonized over the decision. Surrender Charlie on Christmas Eve? Give up her two-year-old on the most magical night of the year? Could she do that?
Ultimately it was Charlie who’d made up her mind. He completely adored his father, and he deserved to be a part of the O’Donnell family as well as the Bellamys.
Still, it hurt to imagine spending Christmas Eve without him. Daisy reminded herself that she had a great family she could lean on. Her parents and stepparents were the best. But earlier today, she’d been hit by bad news. Sonnet, her best friend, who had been studying abroad in Germany, had opted to stay overseas another semester and planned to spend the season with her host family.
Daisy’s phone sounded again, this time with a ring tone that made her heart flip over—“You’ve Got to Hide Your Love Away,” the Eddie Vedder version. It was the tone she’d assigned to only one person in her life—Julian Gastineaux.
Julian was that guy.
The one she’d been thinking about since tenth grade, the one she could never quite get out of her mind.
She hit the button. “Hey.”
“Hey, yourself. I’m in Avalon. Got in last night. Did Olivia or Connor tell you?”
She leaned back against the building, a smile spreading slowly across her face. “I haven’t talked to my cousin. God, I can’t believe she didn’t tell me. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”
“I have to go back tonight. When can I see you? It’s a four-hour drive to Cornell, so the sooner the better.”
Daisy hugged herself. The words were a song, soaring through her. Julian. One summer, before the craziness, before Charlie, before everything, Julian had been the best thing about her life. Sure, they’d both been young, only high-schoolers, but every time they were together, she found herself thinking of forever. There had been a glimmer between them of…something powerful and rare. A passion. Even a future, maybe.
But when you’re sixteen, you do stupid things. Daisy did, anyway. At summer’s end they parted, she for her oh-so-exclusive prep school in Manhattan, and he for a life he refused to describe in Chino, California. Despite a sweeping but unacknowledged yearning between them, she and Julian followed separate paths that rarely crossed.
But, oh, when they did… Thank God his half brother, Connor Davis, and Daisy’s cousin, Olivia, were married. That meant she and Julian were family, no matter what. And he didn’t realize it yet, but he was going to save Christmas for her.
He had a habit of showing up unexpectedly, often when she needed him the most. The glimmer that had sparked between them never quite disappeared. She told herself to snap out of it. To snap out of him. He was a student at Cornell, financing his education through the Air Force ROTC. Every spare moment, it seemed, was spent in training.
<
br /> Daisy decided not to worry about any of that. Julian was in town. “Where are you?” she asked. “How soon can we—”
“Turn around, Daze.”
Her heart nearly leaped out of her chest. She dropped her bag with a thud and ran to him, suddenly so desperate to feel his arms around her that she practically flung herself at him.
“Hey,” he said, laughing, his breath warm in her hair as he clasped her against him. “Hey, you.”
She pulled back. There was that moment, awkward and ponderous, that always seemed to occur between them. Do we keep hugging? Let go and step back? Kiss each other’s faces off? She was never sure what to do, because she was never sure what they were to each other. She stepped back, feeling the cold wind snaking between them. No need to be seen making out with him in a public place. People probably gossiped about her enough, anyway. That poor Bellamy girl, such a disappointment to her family….
“How did you find me?” she asked.
“Spotted your car in the parking lot.” He grinned. “It’s kind of hard to miss.”
When she’d launched her wedding photography business, her dad had given her magnetic signs with her logo to put on the sides of her car. Daisy wasn’t sure about the logo, but since her dad had given her the car, she didn’t criticize.
“So, can you go for coffee?” Julian asked. “Or…”
She wanted the coffee. She wanted the or…. But neither one was an option at the moment. “I wish,” she said, gesturing toward the library. “Charlie’s inside, having story time.”
“Tonight, then,” Julian said. “Are you free tonight? I don’t care how late it is when I drive back.”
She thought of Logan’s text just a few minutes ago, and her heart sank. “Unfortunately, I’m not free.” Damn, she thought. Damn. There never seemed to be a good time for her and Julian. “And I don’t want you driving in the snow late at night. Still, I wish we had more time together.”
“Like more than five minutes?” he said. “Yeah, me, too.”
