Page 1 of Cabin Fever Baby

ONE

1 Week til Christmas

I drovemy very sensible Subaru SUV rental up the winding road to the local Christmas Tree Farm. So local that I was pretty sure that was the only name for it. Not some obscure family name—nope. Just The Christmas Tree Farm.

It was part of the very expansive Brothers Three Orchard. I’d accidentally ended up at the wrong end of the orchard, thanks to my distractible nature.

All the houses along the winding road between Crescent Cove and Turnbull had been so charmingly decked out in Christmas regalia that I’d gotten myself turned around. The signal for my map app had been spotty at best once I’d gotten into the dense tree-lined areas.

Finally, I’d managed to luck into the wrong entrance and had been lost to all the holiday treated establishments that had cheerfully taken my credit card this evening.

First at the festively lit Lodge with so many white twinkle lights blinding me that I’d been unable to resist the pull to find a spot in the half full parking lot. I’d spent far too long walkingaround the picture-perfect stores that made up the main part of the orchard.

I’d been surprised everything was still open so late into the season, but Christmas seemed to be just as important as the apples to the Brothers Three.

Now my car smelled like the mouth-watering Laverne’s Mile High Apple Pie from the Lodge’s treats shop. I’d been so enamored by the twelve-foot tree in the center of the shop I’d ended up talking to the famed Laverne for a half hour.

She’d directed me to the gift shop a bit farther into the orchard’s maze of gravel and blacktop streets. There seemed to be new construction in progress for an eatery as well as signs for rentals.

Well, that was interesting. The land on this orchard seemed vast and I’d bet fall was as charming as a postcard. It was nice to know that the Hallmark movies I watched to decompress weren’t complete fiction.

Small town USA was in full swing here in Central New York.

I’d worried about how I was going to make this wild hair of a Christmas tree idea work, but I was pretty sure I wouldn’t have a problem there.

I only hoped the tree would fit in the SUV with the nine bags of ornaments, lights, and garland I’d bought from the gift shop. I’d even found a few special ornaments for my siblings.

The girl at the checkout counter had been damn near gleeful as I helped divest her of half of the store’s stock. She even helped me to the car with the bags. Spending a few pennies shy of four digits afforded me a bit of extra help it seemed.

I’d gone on my merry way with Mariah Carey blasting holiday standards from my rental’s surprisingly impressive speakers. I even sang along in my very off-key voice since my brother wasn’t around to make fun of me.

I’d crawled along the roads, my stomach growling due to all the delicious smells coming from the front seat. Unfortunately, the cafe had been dark, but there was a sign inviting me to visit the Cocoa Bus at the Christmas Tree Farm for some hot cider or specialty cocoas, as well as treats.

Good thing because I was about to dig into that pie.

I’d finally found my way up to the famed Christmas Tree Farm. When I’d read the stories about Clay Winslow moving to this area, I’d been shocked. Winslow Industries was a staple of Manhattan’s elite.

He and his now wife, Rachel, were an honest-to-God Hallmark movie come to life.

It had been big news in the city a few years ago. I couldn’t imagine how a man like him could be happy in a small town. I was a tried-and-true city girl.

Well, when I was actually home.

I was beginning to forget what my place looked like in the heart of Times Square. It was an indulgent apartment, but it had been the first place that had been mine.

Being one of six siblings and a staggering number of cousins, aunts, uncles, and two pairs of grandparents meant that having any space of my own had been a premium.

But the Hawkins clan was a little scattered lately. Ever since our parents had retired, they’d taken to traveling—actually, cruising.

I shuddered.

I did not want to be trapped on a huge boat full of strangers, thanks. But Lucille and Al Hawkins were addicted, so my brothers couldn’t help gifting them more trips.

Personally, I was pretty sure it was just because that meant our mom wasn’t in their business every five minutes.

Four sons and two daughters meant there was a whole lot of lives to meddle in. Add in the fact that none of Lucille’sbabieshadbabies, and our parents were more than happy to be globetrotters now that we were all out of the house.

In fact, they’d sold our childhood home.

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