Page 11 of No Time for Traditions

At last, he’d finished this side of the property, which meant he might not have to see Brittany again. The rest of the onsite work revolved around the back of her grandpa’s house, which neighbored her cousin’s property.

After loading up his equipment and climbing into his ATV, Greg took one last look at Brittany’s childhood home. Was she okay? He sat still, contemplating whether to go check. He could always use needing to talk to Marty as an excuse for coming to the door.

Deciding he would only make matters worse, Greg cranked his four-wheeler and headed through the trees to where he’d parked in Grandpa Barnes’s yard. As he drove away, Greg expected to feel relieved knowing he wouldn’t have to go near Brittany’s house any longer. Instead, emptiness rushed through his gut, and it wasn’t because he was running on two cups of coffee. It was because he very much wanted to see Brittany again.

Chapter 5

It took everything Brittany had to stand. Her body hadn’t collapsed this hard since she’d let Alice talk her into taking back-to-back Pilates classes. As soon as she’d heard the word “sell,” her limbs started numbing. By the time she made it in the house, her body slid like Jell-O down the doorframe.

Hearing her dad in the kitchen, Brittany decided she needed to get up. They had a lot to talk about. He just didn’t know it yet.

She brushed her hair behind her ears and wiped her soggy face with her sweater sleeve. So far, the only upside to coming home had been decorating a tree. And if that remained the case, she could’ve stayed in New York and enjoyed her four-foot beauty that had been on display since Halloween night. Not to mention the tree at Rockefeller Center.

Brittany trudged toward the kitchen, the bubble lights and sunlight illuminating her way. She stepped under the Christmas-card archway and found Marty standing at the counter, eating one of her sugar cookies.

“Brittany, these are really good.”

“Thanks.” Brittany forced a half-smile. She wasn’t happy with him, but he didn’t need to know that just yet.

“Your mom should be back soon. I think she planned on taking Scotty to ride the train before coming back.”

Brittany nodded, trying to appear interested. Every year, an older man in town dressed like Santa and drove a miniature train around town square each Saturday in December. She and Scott rode it as kids each year growing up, and it’d had a big influence on him wanting Santa to bring him a train.

She wished her mom were back already. Or, even better, that her brother were there. Brittany didn’t want to have this conversation alone. Her dad had dealt with a lot over the past year. From Grandpa Barnes officially turning full control of the company over to him and his brothers to watching his father slowly decline with multiple strokes until he went to sleep one night and never woke up. It didn’t help that Marty lost his mom the year before.

Brittany crossed the kitchen and stood by the window with her arms folded. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to put herself in her dad’s shoes. The mature part of her said to let it go and enjoy the holidays. But the other part took over. They’d been her family members, too. And most of her favorite childhood memories had taken place in their farmhouse.

“Daddy?”

“Yeah?” Marty answered in between bites of a snowflake-shaped cookie.

“Greg said something that really bothered me.”

“Doesn’t he always.” Marty laughed. “I remember when you two were starting school—”

“No, not teasing. He said . . .” Brittany swallowed the lump of nerves forming in her throat. “He said his job was to survey Grandpa Barnes’s place so you could sell it.”

Marty stopped chewing and set the remainder of his cookie on the counter. He sighed and ran his hand over his brown hair. As Brittany studied him, she realized he’d grayed a lot since she’d last seen him. And the worried look on his face made her wish she’d kept her mouth shut.

“Brittany, I should’ve told you, but it wasn’t my idea.”

Brittany looked down at her boots and leaned against the table for support. “Then whose was it?”

“Your Uncle Thomas.”

Brittany’s eyes met her dad’s. His face let her know this conversation wasn’t much fun for him, either. Thomas may have been the youngest of the three Barnes brothers, but he was the most business savvy. He’d chosen a business degree and made most of the financial decisions for the company. Brittany imagined he’d crunched the numbers before making this decision, but it still didn’t seem right to her.

When she didn’t speak, Marty continued. “Trust me, Thomas, John, and I all talked it out. Plenty. With all of our kids grown and either having their own places around here or moved away, like you, we didn’t see the need to let it rot away.”

Brittany pressed her lips together tightly, half-afraid to speak. She sat on the edge of the table, choosing her next words carefully. “What about Scotty?”

“What about Scotty?”

“Maybe he would want to live there.” Surely, her nephew or maybe even a cousin’s kid might want to live there.

“Honey, he’s four.”

“Yeah, but he’ll grow up.” Brittany’s words sounded more desperate than she’d wanted.

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