Page 13 of Christmas Promises

As he drove, he took in the beautiful scenery. Frost clung to the bare branches of trees, glittering in the pale morning sunlight. Rolling fields were blanketed in snow, and occasional plumes of smoke rose from the chimneys of scattered farmhouses. Clusters of pine and oak trees created dappled shadows on the road. All in all, it seemed very Christmassy.

He turned up the radio, enjoying George Strait’s song about cookies.

His thoughts drifted back to Laney. He still couldn’t believe she was here. He also had trouble believing his reaction to her. It was as if he’d stepped right back in time.

Was it wise to spend time with her, given his feelings? She wouldn’t be ready to date for ages. After what she’d gone through, who could blame her after what that idiot had done to her. Not to mention she’d lost her best friend. The supposed best friend.

When he thought back on his broken relationship from three years ago, he knew it was partially his fault. If he’d admitted to himself that he was playing a part, pretending to be the man she wanted, they would never have gotten engaged in the first place. But he’d been at a low point, still reeling from the death of Dylan, when he’d met Jill. She’d seemed like the answer to prayer.

Spoiler alert. She had not been.

There were many times in his life he felt like an outsider. Even in his own family. He was the quiet one. Cerebral and pensive, his mother had said once. But with Laney, that summer, he’d felt accepted just as he was. Maybe it was that they knew she was leaving at the end of the season, therefore they could both show their real selves instead of trying to fit in. Teenage years were rough for everyone, but they’d felt harder for him than his brothers. Maybe that was only his perception, but he didn’t think so.

He’d been such an innocent, gawky fourteen-year-old boy. But with Laney, he’d felt like a king. She’d hung on his every word, clearly delighted when she made him laugh and vice versa. He certainly loved making her laugh. In fact, nothing in his life had been as satisfying.

With Laney, he could be himself, without pretenses of trying to be cool. However, the thought of Laney and him rekindling a flame that had never gotten as bright as it should be was ridiculous. I mean, how long had it been?

They’d been fourteen that summer and were thirty now—a decade and a half plus one more. Yet he could close his eyes and recall details from those days in alarming clarity.

The moment he’d first met her at the bookstore, he’d been transfixed by her pretty eyes and silky hair. Then she opened her mouth, and he was a goner. She’d been articulate and smart, with impeccable manners. Once they got to know each other better, she opened up to him about what it was like to grow up as an only child of two intense parents. She’d told him how difficult it was at the prep school she attended. Rich and spoiled kids who expected the world to fall at their feet were also surprisingly driven. Schoolwork had been competitive. Sports and extracurricular activities had not felt like fun but more like building a college résumé. He remembered her telling him how much pressure she felt to be thin and dressed just right. How mean the girls had been.

By the end of the summer, she had transformed into a girl who belonged in Sugarville Grove. Sadly, she’d had to return to her real life.

Leaving him bereft.

No one was like Laney Gray back then. He had a feeling the same was true today.

The day had dragged on,and he’d found his thoughts drifting back to Laney much too often. Finally, though, he’d been able to call it a day and head home. He and Laney had exchanged numbers the night before, and he’d texted to confirm their dinner. She’d not texted back right away, which had made him nervous. Like a silly kid. But she apologized once she did, saying the store had been really busy. She promised she would be there at six with wine.

He once again stopped at Max’s store for a package of locally made fresh pasta, tomatoes, garlic, onion, and a few cans of tomato sauce. His brother was not in the store, but Nolan spotted him in the outdoor picnic area helping Santa’s elves to herd kids and parents into a dignified line.

When he arrived home and parked in the garage, he grabbed his leather satchel and the bag of groceries, balancing it in one arm as he entered the mudroom attached to the kitchen. He kicked off his snow-dusted boots and hung his keys on their hook, then set the groceries down on the counter in the kitchen.

This house had been a labor of love. It had taken six months after gutting the place to complete the remodel. His dad and brothers had been great, helping when they could, but they all had work and lives of their own. Thus, he’d hired most of it out to a contractor. Regardless of how long it took and the amount of money he had to borrow from the bank, it had all been worth it. It was now a home and sanctuary.

He’d wanted to keep the spirit of the early 1900s farmhouse intact after the remodel. Although the interiors had been outdated, he could still feel the love and warmth that had unfolded in what had been a family home. Growing up in a close-knit clan, he knew that the heart of every home should be the kitchen. His mother had helped him choose the refurbished wood he’d had made into wide-plank floors. She had also suggested the creamy white cabinets with open shelves to display vintage cookware and dishes. Large windows flooded the space with natural light. A central island with wooden stools served as a gathering place for the evenings he hosted friends and family. Fresh herbs grew in terra-cotta pots near the window.

Nolan stepped into his cozy den just off the kitchen to deposit his satchel. He’d turned what had once been the maid’s room into an office where he often graded essays or prepared lectures. He’d put careful thought into the space, as he did most things in life. He had to say, it pleased him immensely every time he stepped inside, even if he was tired or burned out after a long day teaching. The natural wood tones and soft, neutral colors, as well as bookshelves filled with some of his most treasured reads, calmed whatever nerves or angst had followed him home.

His father had designed a window nook, and the two of them had built a bench long enough for his tall body. Mom had made a cushion and plush pillows so that he could nap or read in the natural light from the window that overlooked his scenic yard.

Next, he crossed through his living room toward the stairs to the second floor, a gray-and-white rug soft under his feet. A soft gray couch decorated with plaid and floral throw pillows had also been his mother’s doing. A large stone fireplace between built-in bookshelves housed more of his lovely books. He’d found a wooden coffee table at a yard sale and had stripped it and refinished it himself. A prominent oversize clock with a wooden frame had been a gift from Max, who had found it during one of his antiquing excursions. Nolan treasured it, although it lost a minute of time every day. By the end of the week, he had to reset it to make up for seven lost minutes.

Once he reached his bedroom, he shrugged out of his tweed coat and hung it in the walk-in closet. He had few clothes—only pieces he actually wore, many bought from thrift shops. Sustainability and simplicity were tenets of his life, as pretentious as that might sound. Simple white linens layered with earth-tone pillows and a rich brown throw were atop his rustic wooden bed frame. Mismatched bedside tables sat on either side of the bed, one with a lamp and alarm clock and the other with books stacked high.

He’d turned one of the smaller bedrooms in the original house plan into a full bathroom, including a claw-foot bathtub and full shower. Now, he turned on the water and stripped while it warmed. The house had new plumbing but for whatever reason, it took a long time for the water to turn hot, which made him uneasy. He didn’t like to waste water. However, the cold plunge trend held no interest to him.

After his shower, he dressed in a pair of well-worn jeans and a soft navy sweater, rolling the sleeves up to his elbows as he headed downstairs. Nolan turned on his Bluetooth speaker in the kitchen to listen to classical music while he cooked. As much as his brothers mocked him, the music soothed him and also helped him to focus.

He sliced garlic, halved the tomatoes, and chopped up fresh basil, setting it all aside for when Laney arrived. The dish only took a few minutes to prepare, and it was much better served fresh.

At precisely six, the front doorbell rang. His stomach fluttered as he yanked it open. Laney stood there, bundled in a red coat and hat, eyes sparkling under the light hanging over the entryway. She held a bottle of wine in one hand and her bag in the other.

For a moment, he stood there, overcome by how beautiful she had become in the years since he had known her.

“You look lovely. Absolutely stunning. That coat looks amazing on you.” Oh my God, he was totally babbling like an idiot. He cleared his throat. “Come on in. I hope you’re hungry.”

“Thank you. You’re sweet. And yes, I’m starving.”

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