Page 13 of Home for Christmas in July

“Did your dad already leave for the fishing cabin?” I ask.

“Yeah, you just missed him.”

I ignore the flash of disappointment that runs through me.

“Listen, if you need another pair of hands?—”

She waves me off. “I know we’re a little behind, but there are six of us. It’ll be a breeze.”

“I’m here. You might as well put me to work.”

She relents. “We’re going to go up to the attic after tea to bring down the decorations, if you want to help with that.”

“I’d love to.” I need to do something to help, seeing I’m the one who tattled on Nick to his daughters.

We traipse into the light-filled kitchen, and I’m greeted by a chorus of voices.

I dig into my purse, pull out a small woolen bag, and place it on the counter. “To have a proper elevenses, we need some authentic English tea.”

Ivy, Holly, and Merry dart over to the box, oohing over the assortment of sachets.

As they paw through the teas, I explain to their cousins, “I lived in England for a while in my early twenties. I got hooked on the good stuff.”

Sage gasps and points to the corner of the book peeking out from the top of my bag. “Is that the new Maisy Farley mystery?”

“It sure is.”

Her face falls. “I’m on the holds list for a copy at my library back home. But it’s going to be a while. I’m number forty-four.”

“Noelle can hook you up,” Holly tells her.

She should know. I’ve been feeding her books since before she could tie her own shoes.

“Really?”

I flash a mischievous grin and pull the book out of my bag. “I have maybe fifteen pages left to read. If you ladies don’t mind if I read them now, I’ll leave this book with you.”

Sage’s eyes widen. “Isn’t there a holds list?”

“I haven’t actually shelved it yet,” I confess. “It’s one of the perks of being a librarian. Growing up, I told my mom librarians had the best job because they could read all the books for free. She worriedly asked me if I understood how libraries worked.”

I pause while they giggle, then go on, “But, it turns out, my positiondoeshave some privileges. I’ll be happy to let you read it before I put it into circulation. You just have to promise not to lose it—or I’ll have to fine myself.”

This isn’t strictly true. I don’t assess fines for overdue or lost materials. But that’s my little secret.

She claps her hands like a little girl. “I promise.”

“Okay, I’ll pop into the parlor and zip through this last chapter.”

“What kind of tea do you want?” Holly calls after me.

Ivy answers for me. “She wants Lady Earl Grey with steamed oat milk and a dash of vanilla.”

I pause in the doorway and turn to blink at her in surprise.

“Lady London Fog. It’s your favorite,” she declares.

She’s right, and the fact she knows this makes my heart swell in my chest. Since when am I this sentimental? I shake my head at myself, smile back at her, and hurry out of the kitchen with a lump in my throat.

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