Page 9 of Wedding Bells in Silverwood

“And we won the contest.” Holly looked up at Nick with a grin.

Cupid barked as if wanting to add to the story.

Vivian patted Nick’s shoulder. “Your father’s a lucky man to have people in his life who love him so much.”

“He is, indeed.” Nick beamed.

“Well?” Vivian nudged him with her elbow. “Let’s see it.”

Nick pulled the tarp off the giant form in the middle of the garage, unveiling the handcrafted sleigh Jake St. Ives had spent years mastering.

Vivian’s hands flew to her face, and she pressed her palms against her cheeks. “It’s even more beautiful than I remember.” She ran her fingers along the side and patted the thick, red cushion—spacious enough for two adults—on the front bench. “It’s bigger than I recall, too.”

Cupid moved beside her, sniffing the sleigh.

Holly admired the perfectly sanded curves and polished rails.

Vivian faced her, tears pricking her eyes. “Your father loved working on this.” She stopped as her voice caught in her throat.

Holly placed an arm around her mother’s shoulders and squeezed.

Vivian’s smile turned into a lengthy yawn. She tried to stifle it with her hand, but there was no stopping it.

“Oh, Mom. You’re exhausted. It’s the middle of the night in the Philippines. You must be all mixed up.”

“It’s just a bit of jetlag. I’ve survived worse than missing a bit of beauty sleep.”

Holly shook her head. “Why don’t you lie down? We can catch up more after you’ve rested.”

Vivian waved her concerns away with an exaggerated flick of her hand. “That reminds me, Holly, dear. I have something for you.”

“That’s sweet, Mom, but I think it should wait until after you deal with your sleep deprivation. I’ve fixed up my old room for you. I hope that’s okay.”

“Okay, okay. Fine.” Vivian rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at the corners of her lips anyway.

“I wish you a nice rest.” Nick held open the door that led back inside. “We can take you to The Gingerbread House tomorrow if you’d like.”

“I’d love that.”

Chapter Four

Viola’s mind wandered as she cleared tables at Nick’s bakery-slash-lunch bistro. As usual during Christmas, The Gingerbread House was bustling with business. But Viola’s shift was almost over, and she was trying to recollect the list of groceries she’d promised to pick up for her mother after she clocked out for the day. If only she had remembered to bring the actual paper she’d written the items on …

Suddenly, the tray flew from her hand, and Viola’s thoughts scattered as plates and mugs crashed onto the floor.

She gaped in horror at the customer standing beside her, the man’s beige coat stained with hot chocolate. The man pressed a finger to the Bluetooth device in his ear, his other hand frozen in the air near her arm, and his jaw hung agape.

“I’m so sorry.” Viola wasn’t sure if she should tend to the broken dishes or get something to soak up the dark mess from the man’s expensive-looking apparel. Was it cashmere?

Just my luck.

“Hold on, Scott,” the tall man with sun-kissed caramel-colored hair said into his device. “I just got attacked by a waitress. I’ll call you back.”

Viola blinked. “Attacked?No. I’m sorry, but you’re the one who knocked my tray out of my hand. What were you doing standing behind me anyway?”

“I wasn’t standing behind you. I was reaching for my briefcase.” The man pointed to a leather attaché sitting under the adjacent table. “You backed into me. And ruined my coat. I will look ridiculous showing up to my meeting like this.”

“I’m sorry about your coat, but you surely can’t place all the blame on me.”

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