Page 61 of A Christmas Bargain

Ah. That accounted for that mysterious surplus of needles on the floor.

“I think it looks good, though, not that I’m an expert,” Claire said.

“Everyone can be an expert. We’ve all had Christmas trees to compare to in the past.”

“My mom was a little bit of a stickler about them. Dad always teased about her wanting it to look picture perfect, like we were preparing for a magazine shoot.” She leaned back to face me with a sweet smile. “And she would argue that she couldn’t turn that side of her off. She was always hands on with staging homes for showings, back before Dad made the company that much bigger.”

“She was a realtor too?” I asked.

“No, just helped with staging and such. And she was good at it.”

We were quiet for a long moment, but I wanted to know more. Nothing was ever awkward between us. No silences or conversations. Earlier, when I told her that Naomi had told me that she wanted a mommy, Claire handled that somber topic with ease.

But each time we stopped talking, I feared that she’d ask what we were doing. If this was serious. When we’d decide to call this real and not fake. More than that, I worried that she’d put me on the spot and ask about the land I didn’t want to part with, the land I’d led her into thinking she could have for a deal.

It seemed like neither of us wanted to label anything, but I doubted we could ignore that discussion forever. I didn’t want to. I wanted to go to sleep with her in my arms knowing she felt—deep down and in her heart—the same way I felt about her.

“Is this time of the year hard for you?” she asked. “Jenna’s passing and all?”

“Yes and no. It’s hard when Naomi says she wants a mom, seeing all the whole, complete families at holiday events. And it reminds me of when Jenna was pregnant, so close to giving birth and… and all that fell apart from there.”

She stroked her hand on my chest, a gentle, soothing rub that comforted me. “She died from complications of that?”

“Yes. It came out of the blue. She bled out, and it happened so quickly, without warning, that we were all blindsided.”

“It’s hard when it’s so sudden. My mom was diagnosed with cancer, so we knew. But she might have recovered.”

I frowned, not following. I hoped tracing my thumb on her knee, keeping her legs over my lap, soothed her as she talked.

“She was in and out of remission. Yet not. Lab work was never clear. We all wanted to hope. But it was a car accident that took her life. We were prepared to lose her, but never like that.”

“I’m sorry, Claire.”

She sighed heavily, staring at the tree. “Drunk driver.”

I pressed my lips to the top of her head, hoping that holding her close would help somehow.

“It’s that suddenness. That flip of a switch. The change of one minute into the next. So much can happen so quickly, but the aftermath lasts forever.”

“I’ll always miss Jenna,” I said. “But with that, I’ve realized that she’ll never be gone. I see her in Naomi. I feel her in my memories.”

I felt the rise of her cheek with a smile on my chest. “I know. I’ve often thought that too. I am reminded of my mom in somany ways, and it comforts me. It’s been years, but I still haven’t lost sight of the good she gave me in life.”

“The first couple of years were the hardest,” I admitted, “but now that I look back on it, they really did flow by so fast.”

“I imagine being a single parent does that.”

I nodded. “Yeah. I had a heck of a learning curve to deal with. But it displaced my grief, too. I was in survival mode, focusing on Naomi. I didn’t let myself get lonely or wallow in the loss. It was when Naomi was older that it really started to hit hard. When she became more self-sufficient, time dragged slower and I would think more about the loss.”

“Look at us, talking about pacing again,” she mused.

“Grief has no set timeline,” I said.

“No.” She exhaled a long breath. “It doesn’t.”

“Damn, did this get depressing,” I admitted.

“I didn’t intend to talk about such a heavy topic.”

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