Page 3 of Yuletide Acres

Chapter 1

Poppy

Ten Years Later–Eugene, Oregon

“Idon’t understand, Poppy. You’re going to have to explain yourself again, because this idea is the most cockamamie one yet.”

I giggle at my friend, Helda, as she shakes her head in dismay. She does not approve of my sudden decision to leave Eugene and relocate to a small town in Montana. A town that neither she nor I know anything about. “It’s something I have to do.”

“But why? You’ve never been to Yuletide Acres.”

“That’s not entirely accurate. I’ve visited it several times in my dreams.” It’s the truth. The town has played a starring role in my nightly visions, along with the redheaded woman who has persuaded me to go on this spur-of-the-moment jaunt. I’ve never met the woman on this plane, but in my dreams, she’s a regular. All I know, besides her somewhat bossy disposition regarding my upcoming move, is that her name is Merry, and she loves the town of Yuletide Acres.

“Poppy, I adore your free-spirited nature. Always have. But this is a stretch, even for you. You have a good practice here, with a devoted clientele. You’re just going to start over in the wilds of Montana?”

“It’s not entirely primitive. Per the realtor, they actually have indoor plumbing and electricity. Who knew?”

Helda crosses her arms, shooting me a glare.

I get it. I do. I spent the last seven years setting up an acupuncture and holistic healing practice here in Eugene. Now, it’s the top-rated clinic in the area, with a waiting list that extends for months.

I must be out of my mind to shutter the doors and head off to parts unknown.

Except I’m not.

“You’ll think I’m crazier than a June bug if I tell you my reasoning.”

“Sweetheart, I already think you’re crazier than a June bug.”

I pat the sofa, inviting my friend to sit. “I’ve been having dreams again. Vivid, nightly dreams. All about the same thing.”

“Let me guess—Yuletide Acres?”

I nod, tossing my long dark hair over one shoulder. “This woman has visited me so many times that I feel like I know her intimately.”

“Who is she?”

I shrug, trying to recall what little information my dreamtime visitor provided. “I only know that her name is Merry, and she needs me to go to Yuletide Acres. Hell, I thought it was crazy, until I looked it up on a map and saw that the town resembles the one she showed me in my dreams.”

“Are you sure you didn’t stumble through the town during your festival days?”

“I’m quite sure,” I bite out, my insides twisting at the mere mention of that part of my past.

Helda knows better than to bring up that topic.

I don’t discuss those times. Not now. Not ever.

“I thought festival circuits were supposed to be fun, but your face turns cloudy as an Oregon winter when I mention it.”

“There were fun times,” I concede.

“And someone special?” Helda prompts.

Oh, what the hell. She’s put up with me for the last five years. Might as well let her know the secrets of my soul.

“His name was D. I know now that he was the great love of my life. Unfortunately, I wasn’t the great love of his. We spent a year together, traveling the country and experiencing the nomadic way of life. But he got called home. He asked me to go, and I slept on it. In the morning, I decided I would rather follow D than any festival. But it was too late. He had left in the middle of the night, and I never heard from him again.”

“Never? Not a postcard or email?”

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