Page 44 of The Christmas Eve Delivery

“I don’t know if I would call this romantic. Can’t say that I ever considered myself that. But I am trying to be realistic.”

“Speaking of being realistic,” she started, “how long are you staying? What brings you to town this time?”

“Does it matter?” I brushed her hair away from her face and cupped her cheek. “You and the baby are going to keep me here.”

“Are you serious?” A small smile played across her lips.

I much preferred to see her smiling than frowning. Happiness looked good on her.

“I’m very serious.” I was going to have to play the long game with Lydia. I needed to get her to trust me, to know she could rely on me. And I needed for her to trust me enough so when I revealed who I really was in regard to forcing her hand in selling the Sweet Mountain Inn to me that she would happily do so, even though she knew what my plans were.

“I know that your dream renovation is expanding your little apartment, building a kitchen, creating a home. Until you can do that, where are you putting the baby?”

“I’ve already started cleaning up the second bedroom, and I’m going to turn that into a nursery.”

“You have a second bedroom?” I asked.

“This is where I grew up. Where Mom and I lived, and after Mom died, where my Aunt Ruth lived. I tend to not go into that room, but I think turning it into a nursery will give it a renewed sense of happiness.”

“Show me,” I said.

Her little apartment had a sitting room, her bedroom, and a bathroom. The door on the other side of the bathroom, I had always assumed was a closet, but it wasn’t. It opened up onto another equally sized bedroom. It was dark and gloomy, packed in with boxes, and the bed was piled high with somebody’s old clothing.

“I’m still cleaning everything out from when my aunt died. It’s been a while, and unfortunately, it brings up a lot of emotions and memories. So it’s been going slow, and I haven’t exactly been motivated. Now I’m motivated, and the emotions are still getting in the way.”

“Why don’t you let me clear out this room?” I suggested. “I don’t have the emotional attachment. If there are items that are sentimental to you, we can go through and pull those out first?—”

“I don’t want anything from this room. Anything that had belonged to my mom, I already have. Anything that belonged to my aunt, I don’t want. You can get rid of it all.”

“Are you certain?”

“I am. I mean, we can save the furniture. I’d like to pull out those old dressers and paint them in bright colors, because right now, they’re dreary and old. But they’re good quality, and I don’t see why I couldn’t freshen them up for the nursery.”

“Then it sounds like we have a plan for the next couple of days,” I said.

“Are you serious?” she asked me again.

It was as if she didn’t believe I was really here or that I really planned on helping her get this room set up for the baby.

“It’s my baby, too,” I said. “I want its mother to be happy and comfortable. It’s the least I can do for you right now.”

23

LYDIA

Icould not believe my luck. Miles wasn’t mad. I dropped the news on him that he was the father of my child, and he didn’t once argue with me about it. He accepted it and genuinely seemed excited. And he was staying.

I was almost speechless, except there was so much to tell him, everything about the what was going on with the Historical Society and the resort developer, and then, of course, there were all the changes and everything I wanted to do with the Sweet Mountain Inn, and of course, everything I was going to need for the baby. My head was full of so many different things, and every little piece stressed me out.

There was only so much I could dump on Evie. She was going through the same problems, the same situation with the library. Only, as far as I knew, she wasn’t pregnant or having a secret affair with some man from out of town. But if Miles was going to stick around. He wasn’t going to be a secret much longer.

Pregnant or not, I still had my daily chores around the inn.

“Lydia,” Miles said as he carried another box out from my apartment. He dropped it on the floor with a thump. “I was thinking we should go look at furniture and see what you want to order, as well as pick out your paint colors, the next time Mrs. Griffin is in.”

“That sounds like a great idea,” I said. “Is that another box you’re taking to the thrift store?”

“Yeah, and it’s the last box I have. I’m going to go drop this off and pick up a few more boxes. That room is almost completely empty. The furniture is all that’s going to be left by the time I’m done.”

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