Page 59 of Home for Christmas in July

“Three,” Noelle whispers.

“Do you need me to drive you to the inn? You shouldn’t walk,” Marley points out.

“Thanks, but I already called the inn. Ivy’s on her way to pick us up. You’ve done plenty.”

“Yes, thank you,” Noelle says.

Marley waves off the gratitude. “Of course. I just wish I’d been faster. If I could have caught the guy, this would all be over.”

Noelle widens her eyes. “Marley, listen to me, this guy isverydangerous. If you see him again, don’t try to be a hero. Sensei Adam’s training isn’t a match for him. Do you understand?”

Marley must clock the terror in Noelle’s face the same as I do. She answers in a grim tone, “Noted.”

We stand inside behind lockeddoor and watch the street for Ivy’s beat-up Volvo wagon. When she pulls up in front of the building, Marley unlocks the door and we run to the car. Noelle’s hugging the dress box to her chest like it’s an infant. I yank the back passenger side door open and hustle her and her box into the car, thenrace around to the other side of the car and slide in next to her.

Ivy waits until we’re buckled in to pull out. “We’re going to take the scenic route. The square is teeming with revelers.”

“Got it.”

Rosemary twists around from the passenger seat. “Ivy filled me in, so I called my husband. No shade to your local authorities, but Dave knows some people from a previous investigation. Thyme’s sister-in-law was being stalked by her ex-husband. It was an international thing because the ex was calling the shots from Brazil. Dave’s going to reach out to his contacts about this Dante Bianchi.”

“Thank you,” Noelle whispers, wringing her hands in her lap.

I reach over and cover Noelle’s hand with mine while I thank my niece. “I appreciate this, Rosemary.”

“Of course.” She hesitates, then says, “Mom wanted me to let you know you’re both welcome at Tranquility. He won’t think to look for you in New Jersey.”

For the first time in years, I feel grateful for my meddling sister. “That’s not a bad idea?—”

Beside me, Noelle snaps up straight and says in a steely voice, “No. I’m done running. And your uncle is playing Santa this weekend.”

Rosemary studies her determined face for a moment. “Okay, I get it. The offer stands, though.”

Ivy pipes up, “Dad, I know you want Noelle to stay away from her cottage, but she might want to pick up some clothes or toiletries. Rosemary and I can run in and get her a few things.”

“No. Absolutely not. Nobody’s going near Noelle’s house. Surely between the six of you, you can lend her anything she needs.” It’s out of the question.

Ivy nods. “Understood. We set up the guest cottage in the backyard for Noelle. It’s more private.”

“I thought your cousins were staying there?” Noelle worries.

“We decided to double up in our old bedrooms. Rosemary and Holly, Sage and me, and Merry and Thyme. It’ll be fun. Like a sleepover.”

Only Ivy still lives at the inn. Holly and Merry have their own places in town. But during the holidays, they stay in their girlhood bedrooms in our private wing. In part, to help with the guests, and, in part, because it’s a tradition. Getting the guest house ready for Noelle is a sweet gesture, and I’m sure she’ll appreciate the privacy. But there’s no way she’s staying there alone. I’m not letting her out of my sight until Dante Bianchi is behind bars or in the ground.

My daughters,with the help of their cousins, have outdone themselves. When Ivy pulls up in front of the inn, Noelle gasps. The wide, graceful porch is festooned with twinkling lights and hanging baskets bursting with red-and-white striped petunias. Two large wreaths of silver jingle bells decorate the double doors.

“The place looks great,” I say as Ivy pulls into the driveway.

She meets my eye in the rearview mirror and grins. “We had fun doing it.” She follows the long driveway past ourguest parking area and brings the wagon to a stop in front of the cottage. “Merry had her homemade baked macaroni and cheese in the oven when we left. We can bring some out for you and Noelle.”

Smart kid. My daughter knows I’m not leaving Noelle alone in the guest house. Before I can say that sounds great, Noelle clears her throat.

“It’s the night before Christmas in July. You always have your family dinner tonight, before the chaos starts. I’m not depriving you of that. Not this year. We’ll come eat with you. Just give me time to take a shower. It’s been a long day.”

My heart threatens to explode in my chest. After the wild emotional roller coaster she’s been on today, Noelle’s main concern is for my daughters and their first Christmas in July without their mother.

A small smile plays over Ivy’s lips. “That sounds awesome. We’ll get some clean clothes together for you and bring them out. Is dinner at seven okay?”

---