by Olivia Miles
And magical.
Speaking of, she looked at the snow globe on the counter as she came back around to the main room to help ring up the last of the customers. Would her Christmas wish be coming true this year? She hadn’t seen Phil or his daughter yesterday or today, but then she supposed that there wouldn’t really be much reason for them to come back to the store, would there?
Besides, if they were staying in town, she would eventually run into them. There were only so many places to go, especially in the wintertime when the ferry stopped running out to Evening Island and the lakefront lost its usual traffic.
Cora finished with the remaining customers, sent Natalie home to spend time with her daughter, and then locked up with a tired sigh. She flicked off the lights, leaving only the strands of Christmas lights on, which, considering how many trees and how many lights she had, still made the store feel quite bright.
She paused in the kitchen at the back of the building only long enough to steal one remaining cut-out cookie she had tucked away for herself, and then dashed up the back stairs to her living quarters to get her warmest coat, hat, and gloves. She knew that most people would think she was crazy, walking all the way to her father’s house when she had a perfectly functioning car. But she’d been cooped up all day, and she loved the smell of the air in the winter. The bite of the snow. The freshness of pine. And she loved seeing their small, lakeside community veiled by the blanket of glistening snowfall.
With her scarf pulled tight, she let herself out the back door and came around to the Main Street. The tree lot was conveniently located just beside her store, a happy coincidence that she had certainly taken into consideration when she’d first opened her store, even if she didn’t really have any other options. Main Street was small, but packed with small businesses, and those shop owners who retired liked to pass their legacy down to grandkids, or sometimes, in the case of Cora, to those who would carry things on out of good old-fashioned nostalgia.
The house that Cora had rented out was actually once a primary residence for a sweet couple who moved out to a smaller cottage on the lake. Over the years they rented out the house on Main Street, even considered turning it into a small inn at one point, or so rumor had it. But Cora knew that it was meant to be a holiday shop just as much as she knew that she was meant to run it. And when the lease became available five years ago, she’d jumped at the chance.
“Hey there, Bart!” she called out to the man in the wooly jacket and sensible hat. His gloves were even no-nonsense, fit for a northern Michigan winter and long days spent grabbing trees by the trunk and securing them with twine to car roofs.
He gave her a wave. “Good weekend?”
She knew what he meant by that. He meant good sales. They’d had plenty of chats over the years about how difficult it could be to survive in such a seasonally driven business.
“It’s the start of Christmas! It couldn’t be better!” She paused long enough to feel the wind slice through her coat. “I hope my sisters picked a good one this year.”
“I think it was Candy that did the picking,” Bart replied with a knowing grin.
Cora felt her eyes hood. So there it was. Another change. Another break in tradition.
She could only hope that her sisters guided Candy in the right direction. Still, she braced herself for what might be standing in the big bay window of her childhood Victorian home. She supposed she should just be happy that, seeing as it was a fresh tree, it wouldn’t be pink.
Not that she had a problem with pink trees. She had one in her store, after all.
Still, she felt her spirits slag a bit, and she raised her hand halfheartedly in good-bye, when someone else raised their hand in hello.
She froze, the coldness no longer bothering her, or the wind either. It was Phil. And his daughter. Standing in the tree lot.
Did that mean that they were here to stay for the next few weeks?
“Hello,” she said, smiling slowly as she crossed a few feet into the lot. Bart was busy helping old Mrs. Benson now, and given how picky she had been just a short hour ago in the store, Cora was fairly certain her indecisiveness would distract Bart long enough to keep him from picking up on Cora’s obvious delight at seeing Phil.
Bart had been after her for years to find a little romance, after all, but then, he was yet to find any himself. More than once they’d lamented the fact they were just friends—which they were—because that’s what happened when you knew someone as long as she and Bart had known each other. Since preschool to be exact. He was a sweet guy, and he was in the business of Christmas, but there wasn’t a spark.
There wasn’t…magic.
Whereas with Phil…
She let her gaze drift from Phil to Georgie, who was staring at the trees with obvious joy. She could see the resemblance more clearly now. The dark hair, the bright eyes. There was something else familiar about the little girl, though. Something she couldn’t quite pinpoint.
“Is it safe to assume that your Christmas wish has come true?” She winked at the little girl and then smiled up at Phil, who looked less amused than she was.
“I have a very convincing daughter,” he said wryly. “But it seems that you can’t have a small-town Christmas without a tree, so…”
“You can’t have any Christmas without a tree!” Cora said, laughing. “But then, I do own a holiday shop.”
He gave her a funny look, and she wondered for a moment if her enthusiasm for the holiday was bordering on “too much” as her sisters sometimes accused her of over the years.
She paused, thinking of how, despite their complaints, they were always grateful for everything that she did, and always eagerly looked forward to the little traditions she kept alive, like tonight’s tree decorating, for example.
Phil gestured to the tree he was holding by the trunk. “What do you think of this one?”
Cora hadn’t even considered where they might be staying, but now her interest was piqued.
“It’s beautiful, but it might be a bit large for one of the inns.”
“Oh, we’re staying in a house,” Phil said tightly.
Cora didn’t press. There were plenty of people in town who rented out vacation properties, though less so at this time of year. Still, if Phil had decided to go so far as to rent a house, that meant that he was committed to staying.
She couldn’t hide her smile.
“I think it’s perfect,” Georgie said.
“I couldn’t agree more.” Cora shivered against a gust of wind. Maybe it was the shop owner in her, or maybe it was the thrill of a potential romance, but she added, “If you need some decorations for the tree, you know where to come.”
“Right next door!” Georgie exclaimed. Then, after a brief pause, she asked, “Will you have cookies again?”
Cora laughed. “Every day of the holiday season,” she promised. Maddie’s bakery was new; it was her way of supporting her youngest sister, and so far the customers were all too happy with the addition.
“Then we’ll be there!” Georgie said.
Cora gave Phil one last glance before she walked away. “I look forward to it.”
*
Phil groaned under his breath. Georgie certainly wasn’t making any of this easier for him, not that he could tell her that. She was a child, and she wanted a magical Christmas, and he could already tell that Blue Harbor was going to offer her more than his “sad” apartment back in Chicago ever could.
If that wasn’t history repeating itself, he wasn’t sure what was.
But it wasn’t just the part about staying in town that was the issue. It was Cora, and her friendly way with Georgie. After all, what child wouldn’t love a store like that at Christmastime? There were toys and lights and…a pink tree!
He smiled in spite of himself. He knew the answer to that question, and it was him. Growing up, Christmas was just another day of the year. His father saw it as his busy season—close to the year-end crunch. His mother saw it as a soci
al season, a time for parties and toasts. There wasn’t time to bother with a tree most years, and eventually Phil stopped seeing the reason for one and started thinking practically, like his parents. Take this one, for example. He gripped the trunk and gave the branches a good hard shake. The needles would probably be long gone by Christmas. And then he’d have a mighty disappointed child on his hands. And that was the very last thing he wanted.
“Maybe we should get a fake tree,” he said, thinking of all those trees in the holiday shop.
“No!” Georgie cried out. “You have to get a real tree! And this one is perfect!” She attempted to give the tree a hug, but knowing that would most certainly add to his concern about the needles falling off, he pulled it to the side.
“Fine,” he sighed. A fake tree would be just one more item to get rid of when he cleared out his grandparents’ cottage. “A real tree it is. But that’s it. I’ve fulfilled my promise. You wanted to stay in Blue Harbor through Christmas, and now we are. Complete with a tree.”
Georgie shook her head. “You can’t have a tree without ornaments, Daddy.”
“I’ll get you some materials to make some then,” he said, jutting his chin to the man in the trailer that was edged with twinkling lights. He glanced down at his daughter. “It will keep you busy while I work tomorrow.”
“Work!” Georgie crossed her arms and pouted dramatically.
“Yes, while I work. My work doesn’t stop just because it’s Christmas. I have meetings and calls. And I have to work on the house.” And at some point he needed to get over to the Christmas tree shop—but not for the reasons that Georgie had in mind.
A notice of lease termination needed to be delivered. Something he should have done on Thanksgiving Day, as intended.
The man with the name tag of Bart took his card and rang it through. “Need help tying it to your hood?”
Phil glanced at his daughter, swearing he saw a challenge in her eyes. “I’m good,” he said tightly.
He resisted the urge to swear under his breath. He’d never tied a tree to a hood before, but really, how hard could it be?
Ten minutes later, sweating so much that despite the temperature, he’d had to loosen his scarf and had the urge to shed his coat, he could feel the heat of his daughter’s eyes on his back as he wrestled the massive tree onto the hood, wondering just what kind of damage it was doing to his paint finish.
“You sure you don’t need a hand?” Bart called out, and Phil could hear the trace of amusement in his voice.
He flashed a look at his daughter. “You wanted this, so you can help.”
“Only if you say we can decorate it. For real,” she added, for good measure.
She’d make a fine attorney one day, Phil thought ruefully. Just like his father. Still, he was desperate. And he suspected that she knew it.
“Fine. Now, open the door on the other side and climb in. Grab this rope when I pass it to you, okay?”
She nodded and did as she was told. Another ten minutes later, and not without more than one slipped curse word that his daughter reprimanded him for, the tree was secured to the roof of the car.
Sort of.
“We did it.” Phil didn’t know why he felt so triumphant, but he did, and it might have been partly because of the joy in his daughter’s eyes as she looked up and admired their effort.
“We make a pretty good team, don’t we?” Phil said, putting his arm around her.
She beamed up at him: a look he hadn’t seen in a long time. If ever.
“The best, Daddy.”
*
Cora stared at the tree that had been set up in the front room’s bay window with a critical eye. After heavy scrutiny, she determined that she couldn’t really find fault with it—something she knew should technically delight—not disappoint—her. The proportions were even, the color was an attractive shade of deep forest green, the needles were thick and healthy, and the branches were evenly distributed for the boxes of ornaments that her father was carrying down from the attic.
Britt, of course, was the first to say, “Are you being careful, Dad? I can call Robbie over here to help, you know.”
He brushed away her concern with a deep and lingering frown. Ever since he’d broken his leg and arm last spring, Britt’s fussing had been merciless, even worse than Amelia’s, who had always been the most nurturing of the four sisters, and clearly, it was no longer appreciated.
Cora was secretly pleased that they’d decided not to include significant others tonight, even if she did wonder if it was because she was currently the only unattached sister. But having them together, with their childhood ornaments, the carols playing over the speaker, and the fire crackling in the hearth, was a tradition that was special to them, and she liked that it wasn’t yet diluted by having to share it with anyone else.
Anyone other than Candy, that was, she thought, as Candy followed their father down the stairs, holding a box that most definitely didn’t match the others.
Technically, Candy still had a condo in the neighboring town of Pine Falls, but from what Cora and her sisters could gather, she had all but moved into the Conway family home, or at least, she was hell-bent on putting her personal mark on it.
“Now, I know that you all usually put an angel on the top of the tree,” Candy began, and immediately Cora felt her heart race with panic.
She glanced at her father, who shifted his gaze, and then to Amelia, who was not only mother hen of the group but also the most diplomatic of the sisters. Amelia looked just as concerned as Cora felt, and seemed to open her mouth and then close it, as if she wasn’t even quite sure what to say.
“But I couldn’t wait to share my star tree topper with you all,” Candy continued as she unwrapped a giant, gold and red object with a flourish.
The room fell silent. Cora felt the blood rushing in her ears. It wasn’t that there was anything wrong with the tree topper; in fairness, she sold something similar in the shop. But this was her family home. This was their tree. Their tradition. And the angel was part of it.
She glanced at her sisters, wondering who would speak up first, and then decided that since she had been the self-appointed keeper of the holidays since their mother’s passing, the responsibility fell squarely on her shoulders.
“That’s a lovely star, Candy, but we’ve always had the angel on our tree. We used to take turns growing up, each year one of us had the chance to finish off the decorating with it. It’s…well, it’s tradition.”
Really, did anything more need to be said? Tradition was not something that you argued with, not in Cora’s world. Not in the Conway house. And definitely not at Christmastime!
“Oh, I know, honey, and it’s such a lovely angel. I just thought that, well, when Denny here offered to let me be included, that I might introduce something personal to my holiday. A new tradition, if you will.”
Cora was aware that every eye in the room was on her, waiting for approval. Technically the angel was just wood and paint and fabric. But it held years of memories that had meant the world to her. Granted, they never argued over whose turn it was to put the thing up anymore. By the time they hit their teen years, they’d all just happily handed the task to Cora, but it was still a task that was performed, without fail. Was it ridiculous at her age that she needed to see that angel on the top of this tree?
“And all the ornaments are still your traditions,” Candy pressed. “And look! We can put the angel right here, on the mantle. Won’t that look sweet?” She plucked the object from the coffee table and walked over to the fireplace, smiling hopefully.
Cora glanced at her sister Britt, who gave her a little shrug as to say that it didn’t bother her if the angel sat in the middle of the mantle, where it was at risk of getting roused and toppling over and falling into the flames below. Sure, that was probably unlikely, but not completely out of the question.
She gave a pleading look to Maddie. As the youngest, Maddie had often jockeyed for a chance to put up
that angel, after all, and her eyes would shine in awe once it was up. But Maddie just gave her a little wince. It was only then that Cora remembered, of course, that Candy had set up Maddie and Cole. An unlikely pairing that couldn’t have been a more perfect match than marshmallows and hot cocoa. Maddie was indebted now.
Sensing that she was outnumbered, Cora swallowed hard and said, “Whatever you all want.”
“Thank you, Cora,” her father whispered to her, as he popped the lid on another box.
Cora felt her heart sink as she set down her hot chocolate and began decorating the tree with her sisters, as they always had. Only now the conversation wasn’t the same as it used to be, when they would retrieve a forgotten ornament, or find one that they thought had been lost, and all sorts of lovely memories and warm feelings would fill the air.
Now Britt was talking about the tree that she and Robbie and Keira had decorated last night! And Amelia was talking about the one that Matt had helped her carry up the stairs to her living room. And Maddie—who had never put up her own tree before, because she tended to just rely on one of the older sisters for that—was talking about how she and Cole were getting one for his house, and how she was going to bring him into the store for ornaments tomorrow on her day off from the bakery.
Was it so strange that Cora didn’t have a tree of her own in her apartment when she had a dozen trees downstairs in her shop?
But the real reason, she knew, why she didn’t have a tree of her own, was because this was her tree. The tree in the bay window of her childhood home. The tree that she and her sisters always decorated together, with these special ornaments, in these boxes. The tree with the angel on top.
She blinked back tears that threatened. What could compete with any of that?
Only from the way her sisters were chattering, one thing could. Love. True love. Something that she was yet to find.
“I think I’ll go get a refill of that hot chocolate,” she said, hoping that no one caught onto the hurt in her voice, but knowing that they probably did. She and her sisters had always been close. Losing their mother had pulled them together, even when some of them, like Britt had tried to push away. She was back now; her first Christmas in Blue Harbor since she’d left at eighteen.
