Small Town Christmas (Blue Harbor Book 4)

by Olivia Miles

  Other than memories.

  Phil shook away the thoughts. This was a time for action. There was no room for emotion to creep in. This was his wheelhouse. He knew how to focus, get the job done, not let his mind wander down paths of different scenarios. When something made sense, he did it. There were always casualties; it came with the territory. It had just never bothered him until now.

  Tomorrow he would tell Cora the news. Surely, he had delivered worse news before—laying off hundreds, even thousands of employees at a time. It was part of his job: never pleasant, but necessary.

  Even right before Christmas.

  Nonsense. Since when did he care about the holiday?

  His mind made up, today he would tend to the house, and he would start with the easy projects, like the loose doorknobs.

  “I didn’t know you knew how to use a screwdriver, Daddy.” Georgie looked amused as she ate her scone at the kitchen table, watching him across the room.

  “Well, then you learned something new about me today,” he said with a grin. He hesitated, remembering how it was his grandfather who had introduced him to the wonders of a toolbox out in the very garage where his car was now parked. They’d spent hours out there, tinkering with the boat, or little projects around the house, and Phil had loved the one-on-one time, something he’d never experienced with his own father.

  And still didn’t. No matter how hard he tried.

  Phil looked at the tool in his hand now as a thought took hold. He raised an eyebrow at his daughter. “Do you know how to use a screwdriver?”

  Georgie thought about it for a moment. “I don’t think so.”

  “Come here,” he said, gesturing her over. “I’ll teach you.”

  Georgie looked as pleased as he felt when she set down her scone and walked over to where he stood at the powder room door. He handed her the tool and walked her through the process, slowly, carefully, until she had tightened the screws.

  “Look at that!” he exclaimed.

  His grandfather would be proud. He’d make a point to tell him, next time he saw him.

  Phil’s stomach twisted on that thought. He wasn’t sure when he would see his grandparents again, now that he considered it. He rarely visited the home they were in, and he hadn’t factored that into the timeline between now and his move.

  “When are we going to decorate the tree?” Georgie asked.

  “Soon,” Phil replied.

  “Mom always decorates the tree the day she gets it,” Georgie continued. “And she hangs stockings.”

  Stockings. Shoot. Right.

  “And she puts a wreath on the door, and she sometimes puts a candy cane in my lunch box.”

  He knew that he couldn’t fault Michelle, and that everything that Georgie said was true. Michelle was a good mother. And everything that she had said was true, too.

  He hadn’t been there for Georgie in the past. Hadn’t shown up at the big events, hadn’t treasured the small milestones. Hadn’t seen the value in a sit-down family dinner or conversation about how they’d spent their day. He’d focused on the big house, the top of the line swing set, the private music lessons, and the expensive school.

  He’d tried to give his daughter a good life, and now his child preferred to spend her time with her mother. Preferred to spend her holidays without him.

  And when he stopped to think about it, who could blame her?

  Hadn’t he, after all, once longed for more time in this very town, with simple pleasures that only his grandparents had provided?

  He reached for his coffee, but found, much like his excitement for expanding his business opportunities overseas, that it had gone cold.

  5

  By Friday, Georgie had made it clear that she couldn’t wait to get the tree decorated any longer. She had made some paper garland and other ornaments with supplies she had found around the house. Phil had searched the attic for the decorations that had belonged to his grandparents, but that only revealed dust bunnies and a cedar chest with a yellowing wedding gown that still managed to spark a gasp of delight from Georgie.

  “I guess that Great-Grandma and Grandpa didn’t like to celebrate Christmas either,” Georgie said with a shrug.

  That wasn’t true, and he opened his mouth to tell her so, but thought the better of it. Georgie was restless, tired of sitting around while he tended to work calls and emails, and the day was getting on. Soon it would be dark, and the provisions that he’d picked up last weekend were running low. He’d have to hit the frozen food aisle or find a restaurant in town for dinner.

  If it was just him, like it usually was, he’d be happy with another frozen pizza, or even a decent sandwich, but Georgie had made it clear that this wouldn’t suffice, and he wasn’t up for an argument. Technically, he had enough work to stay busy for hours more, but Phil supposed it would be nice to stretch his legs and get into town, and the least he could do, he supposed, was throw some business toward the poor owner of the holiday shop. And give her fair warning.

  “Let’s head into town,” he said, before he could change his mind. He closed his laptop firmly, deciding that it was really just a distraction from the business at hand. He’d come to town to wrap up his grandparents’ estate and that was exactly what he needed to tend to at the moment. Besides, unlike his other projects, he didn’t have any assistance on this one, or backup. If he wanted to get things in Blue Harbor cleared up before Christmas, he’d have to handle it on his own.

  With that in mind, he drove them into town and parked the car near the square, where concession stands were already being set up for the tree lighting ceremony.

  “Look how big that tree is!” Georgie pointed in awe at a giant spruce standing tall in the center of a snow-covered park.

  “I don’t think they bought that at the tree lot,” Phil replied, and even he was impressed by the size of the tree. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but it almost gave the tree in Chicago a running. All this time, he’d assumed his memory had been distorted by childish exaggeration—making his experiences here out to be better than they actually were. But Blue Harbor was exactly like he remembered, and he wasn’t so sure how he felt about that.

  It was easier to think of it all as a fantasy, rather than a possibility.

  “I wonder if Cora gets to decorate the tree?” Georgie asked, interrupting his thoughts.

  Phil helped his daughter maneuver an icy patch on the sidewalk as they neared the store. “You’ll have to ask her.”

  That was, if she still spoke to them after he delivered the news. He’d decided to just get right to it. No more stalling. Surely, as a shop owner, she’d understand. And it wasn’t like he was putting her out of business—something that was often the case. She just had to move her merchandise to a different storefront. Really, this was no big deal at all. A minor inconvenience at best.

  He’d spotted at least one or two empty stores off Main Street when they went to the bakery the other day. Perfectly viable options. And didn’t her sisters work there, down near the lakefront? It would be a win-win. Really, she might be happy to have a fresh new space.

  Jingle bells jangled when Georgie pushed open the shop door, welcoming them to the warm and heavily scented space. Each time he came here, the place felt more crammed. Packed from the floor to the ceiling with seasonal dust catchers that would all be packed up come New Year’s.

  He looked down at his daughter, whose eyes twinkled as she looked around the room. It was worth it, he decided. Work could wait—at least until she went to bed tonight. But this time with his daughter…it was long overdue.

  Georgie wasted no time in starting to fill her basket, reaching for anything and everything that was pretty, sparkling, and breakable.

  “Please be careful,” he warned, realizing the hypocrisy in that statement. Here he was, telling his daughter to protect the store, when he was responsible for shutting it down?

  Or at least he would be, when he finally told Cora what he should have said the
very first day he walked in, back when this was just a random property he wanted no further ties to, not a place that had become so important to his daughter in a short matter of time.

  Not a place where Cora worked. Looking just as pretty as always, he couldn’t help noticing.

  Today her sweater was cream and soft looking, with her thick hair falling loose at her shoulders. She smiled when she saw him across the room, and motioned that she’d be right with him.

  No rush, he wanted to mouth. But that wasn’t exactly true. He couldn’t stall forever.

  While she tended to the customers, he walked deeper into the store, monitoring Georgie from a distance, taking in the packed rooms of the old Victorian home that she had filled by theme, it would seem. And oh, was it stuffed. From the floors to the ceilings, where even from the rafters there seemed to hang wreaths and lights and tinsel.

  “Isn’t it wonderful?” Georgie exclaimed as she passed him her basket and went to fetch another.

  Phil looked down at the items that rested in the basket in his hands. Wonderful wasn’t a word that he would use. Expensive, yes. Frivolous, sure.

  A giant commercial enterprise that plenty of people seemed to feed into from the looks of the place. One thing was for certain; Cora wasn’t hurting for business.

  But then, Christmas was only weeks away.

  His stomach tightened at the thought. In less than a month he’d be gone, overseas.

  And Georgie still didn’t know.

  And just like the news he was yet to deliver to Cora, he wasn’t sure why he was holding back. Michelle had said it was his responsibility to tell Georgie. His news to share. And what was really so different? He could always fly back for a visit, meaning that whether it was an ocean dividing them or the prairie states, not much had changed. And it was for work.

  It was business. Just like unloading this shop.

  “Everything okay?”

  He turned to see Cora standing beside him, her cheeks flushed, but a look of concern crinkling her lovely blue eyes. He nodded, grateful for the distraction, because distraction it was. From the stress of parenthood, from the memories he was trying to banish being back in this place. But she was also a distraction from what he’d come to do here. What he had to do.

  “I see you’re going to have a very pink tree!” She motioned to the items in his basket with a laugh.

  “Not exactly traditional,” he said ruefully, but Cora just shook her head.

  “Everyone has their own traditions, however unconventional. Pink ornaments will be yours.” She smiled at this, and despite everything, he joined her. “That is, unless you have other traditions?”

  He shook his head. “Nope. Christmas was never a big deal for my family.”

  Cora’s eyes widened in surprise. “Well, it’s a very big deal for mine! We have special activities planned all season long, started as far back as I can remember. My mother would always make the smallest parts of the season special, beginning with the decorations. We came to love all of it so much, that we couldn’t even change up the dessert come Christmas Eve.” She laughed.

  “My mom always makes a cake for Christmas,” Georgie announced.

  Phil had forgotten that, but it was true. Usually he was working too late to taste any—she would send the leftovers home to her sister and three boys. Georgie would already be in bed, and the presents were already wrapped and under the tree. He was always there for the opening, of course. The swift destruction of paper that no doubt took hours to wrap.

  So inefficient.

  “We always have cranberry pie, and only for Christmas,” Cora said, smiling wistfully. “It’s nice to have something to look forward to all year, I think. Something to rely on?”

  She blinked at him, as if waiting for confirmation. He opened his mouth to say something—anything—that might get them on the subject of the store itself—but he was jostled to the side by an elderly couple.

  He moved toward the wall for more space. And privacy. Now was as good a time as any to broach the subject of selling this old building. Best to get it over with. Really, he’d never had a problem conducting such straightforward business before. But then, it was never personal before.

  “Daddy, look at that angel!” Georgie said, coming up to them. She was pointing at an angel on the tree next to where he stood, and he craned his neck to look at it. Old and used, if anyone were to ask him.

  “That one is not for sale, I’m afraid,” Cora said. “Actually, that angel was one of our traditions. I have three sisters, you see, and each year we would argue over whose turn it was to put the angel on the top branch.”

  “Strange tradition. Arguing?” Exactly what Phil didn’t understand about the holiday. From where he stood, it just brought out the worst in people. His mother used it as an excuse to drink too much, to turn charitable events into social scenes. And his father saw it as an excuse to hide, to work more. But there was no arguing. They were never all together long enough to argue.

  Cora tipped her head. Her eyes were bright as she stared up at the angel. “You’d think so, but that angel brings back some of my happiest Christmas memories, and we all need some of those.”

  Phil’s smile felt tight. He had one happy Christmas memory. Just one. And he’d tried his best to forget it.

  “Why isn’t it on your tree then?” Georgie asked.

  “Good question.” Cora sighed heavily. “My family grew up and changed, and so did this tradition. I love Christmas the most, they all say, well, other than my mother, but I got it from her. So I brought the angel here, where she can always be with me and remind me of why I love this holiday, and this store so much.”

  Phil felt his mouth go dry. He could swear the temperature in the room just went up a couple degrees.

  “Well, we should probably let you get back to your customers,” he said. He took Georgie’s second basket from her hand. Normally he’d wade through the stuff. Half of it was dust-catchers that would either break or be forgotten come the day they took down the tree. The money would be better off in a high-interest college savings account, practically speaking.

  But he was about to single-handedly shut this place down. The least he could do was buy a few ornaments.

  Cora rang them up, and Phil couldn’t help but gape at the figure she told him. Another problem with a small store like this. Most people would only buy one or two things at these prices, and now that he looked around, he realized that while the store was filled, most people were doing just that. He’d taken over many companies like this. Bought them out, restructured, set them up for a more successful future. Maybe he could share a little wisdom with Cora—guide her to a better path. A different path, technically.

  “This is a big space,” he started, feeling her out.

  “I need it for all my merchandise!” She laughed good-naturedly. “My sisters probably think I should buy less, sell what I have, but, well, I love it, I’m afraid. I’m my own best customer.”

  Despite himself, he smiled. She loved what she did. And better—or worse—she loved where worked. She was a hard worker—something they had in common.

  But it probably stopped right there.

  “So you’ve always been in this space? You didn’t grow into it?”

  Cora smiled. “Always here. The people I lease it from just love Christmas.”

  Phil managed a polite nod but his jaw felt tense. It was true that his grandparents had loved Christmas. Still did, far as he knew. They fed into the fantasy of it all, much like their lifestyle in Blue Harbor—laid-back, carefree, every day felt like a vacation. But that wasn’t real life. And it wasn’t his life.

  And in time, it was easier to forget the music and the lights and the joy that had come with that one perfect Christmas.

  He realized, however, that it was Cora’s life. And that she probably wouldn’t be very willing to give it up.

  “They were so supportive of me starting a shop like this that they gave me a great deal on the space, and
it went a long way in enabling me to go through with it!”

  Phil knew that the rent was low, but he’d assumed that was because this was a small town, not a big city where retail space went for a premium price tag. Now he shifted uneasily on his feet. He hadn’t considered that rents elsewhere in Blue Harbor might exceed Cora’s budget.

  “Plus, this place has so much character,” Cora went on. “I love the winding rooms, how I can really get creative with the entire space. At Halloween, I even have a haunted house room.”

  She rubbed her hands together for Georgie, who lapped it up, excitedly. “Can we come back for Halloween, Dad?”

  “I think you’re with your mother for Halloween,” he said, realizing that next October would have been his Halloween with Georgie. His first since the divorce, and only because she was moving back to the Midwest.

  Right when he was leaving.

  Georgie pouted, while Cora finished wrapping their items. She tossed in a candy cane from the jar on the counter, giving Georgie a little wink.

  That did the trick. His daughter’s smile was back, and as for Phil…his resolve was gone.

  This was a conversation that couldn’t be had in front of his daughter. Or with a line of people forming behind him.

  He paid with cash again, eager not to reveal his last name and connection to this store just yet, and sideswiped the snow globe on the crowded counter with the bag.

  “Careful, Daddy!” Georgie warned. “My Christmas wish came true,” Georgie said, looking suddenly at Cora. “Did yours?”

  Cora gave Georgie a little smile. “We’ll see.”

  Phil was in a cold sweat by now. The store was stifling, his coat was heavy, and his guilt was strong.

  “I think that the tree lighting is starting soon,” he told Georgie, even though he had originally hoped she’d be too excited about the new ornaments to bother with seeing a tree in town all lit up. But anything would be better than standing here, face to face with the woman whose life he would soon be responsible for ruining.