Page 70 of Yuletide Acres

Chapter 14

Dylan

My mother trails me to Marissa’s room, no doubt eager to pick my brain about my blossoming romance with Poppy.

“I really like her, Dylan. She’s good for you two.”

I chuckle, helping Marissa change into her pajamas. “I know, Mom. She’s great for us, and Marissa seems to like her.”

“I love her,” my daughter replies, climbing into bed, Paddington at her side. Mr. Whiskers has already made himself comfortable at the foot of her bed, sending us occasional glares for disturbing his slumber.

“Do you? You’d be okay with Poppy being around?”

“Dad, Mom sent Poppy here. She’s supposed to be with us.”

I shake my head. Marissa is insistent on that dream, and with each retelling, I believe her a bit more. “I’m not entirely sure Poppy wants a ready-made family, Cupcake.”

“What does that mean?” My daughter’s eyes grow round with confusion.

“I just wouldn’t hold out hope.”

“Hope is a good thing,” my mother interjects, bending over to drop a kiss to Marissa’s brow. “Poppy has no issue with a ready-made family, Dylan. You and I both know that.”

I do know that Poppy isn’t opposed to the idea of marriage and a family now, but I still don’t know if I fit into her equation. Besides, I worry about rushing her. The last time I did that, the woman dug in like a mountain goat.

My mother and I stroll back into the kitchen and she wastes no time sliding some documents across the table. “I wanted to show you these documents.”

I glance through them, riffling the pages. “What are they?”

“It’s all the information about the true origins of Yuletide Acres. Her pagan origins.”

“I want to see,” Poppy exclaims, joining us at the island. She grabs up a few pages, her face beaming. “Old Mother Jane was right.”

“You mean my Aunt Jane?” I tease, scanning some of the papers. It’s a proposal, complete with signed petitions, the proposed name, and the town government. “I’ll be damned. I never would have thought.”

My mother grabs a cup of coffee, her face bursting with pride. “The fundamentalists who settled here in the 1930s firmly believed that a town founded on heathen principles was bad for business. They hoped to turn this area into a tourist spot for all the outdoorsmen frequenting the area. The pagan community, your family included, didn’t like that idea. They relished keeping Yuletide Acres small and private, an enclave where people weren’t subjected to the rigors and bigotry of the outside world. A commune without walls, I suppose.”

“I can’t say I blame them.”

My mother sips her coffee, nodding in agreement. “But the fundamentalists had one thing the pagans didn’t. Money. Lots of it. And we all know that money talks. So, they buried the pagan origins, and most of the founding mothers left the area, never to return.”

“Why did my great-grandmother stay?”

“She was married and had a family. They didn’t want to start over somewhere else. It happens. But your Aunt Jane left. Eugene was just a wild, wide spot in the road in those days. Much the same as Yuletide Acres.”

“Wouldn’t it be great to teach the people about the true origins of the town? Think about the bravery of the founding mothers, risking it all to create a community that spoke to their ideals. They deserve to be celebrated,” Poppy beseeches, those wide hazel eyes pulling on my heartstrings.

“I knew this was a push for the Yule Festival,” I grin, looking between my mother and Poppy, both their expressions earnest. “You know I’m going to say yes. How can I say no with you women ganging up on me?”

Poppy squeals with excitement, pulling me into a hug. I love how this woman feels in my arms. She could ask for the moon and I’d figure out a way to hand deliver it to her doorstep. “Really? We can have the festival?”

“Of course. The council approved it the other day. Besides, I don’t stand a chance against the entire town. You’ve charmed them all, Ms. Mills.”

“All of them?” she asks, those full lips begging to be kissed.

“All of them,” I return, running a finger along her jaw. “Me, especially.”

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