Page 2 of Christmas in Kiwi Country

And I do. Because as I lay in that hospital bed the only regret I had was not being able to tell my daughter I loved her once last time, and it’s a mistake I won’t ever make again.

How many mistakes can a man make in a lifetime?

How many regrets can he endure?

My brother keeps talking and I let him because I know seeing me in the hospital has him more shaken up than he’s letting on. Watching his wife die and then me coming close has him on edge, regardless of how long ago he lost her.

“We’ll leave in the morning,” he says. “And Cullen?”

“Hmm?”

“We’re going to get through this.” I hear hope mixed with nerves in his voice.

“We will,” I say with one more glance at the skyline. “It’s time.”

1

GWEN

A FEW WEEKS LATER

“Turn on the Radio” by Reba plays through the speakers of my truck as I drive out to the chowdah competition happening over at Deke’s—now Hank’s—lake house. A bowl of potato salad sits in the backseat as my contribution to today’s event, and I’m practically giddy at gettin’ a front-row seat to the chaos today.

Hank had come and asked me if I’d be an impartial judge and also to rein in Miss Thelma and Hayden from whatever antics they’d get into. I’d eagerly accepted. First because I love seein’ that boy finally happy, and second, because I’ll never pass up a free show in my hometown.

Turning onto the dirt road, I slow down and maneuver around the potholes and rocks the other trucks kicked up on their way through. It’s already busy when I pull up, and a sign readingFirst Annual Chowdah Festis hung between the trees with tables for food in addition to the ones set up for the competition.

“Gwen!” Flora Thayer yells as she hustles over and takes the dish from my hands with a half hug. “Can you believe today is theday?” Her eyes sparkle, and my grin matches the one spreading across her pretty face. She’s brunette to my blonde, understated where I’ve always owned and accentuated my assets.

Flora is my oldest friend and one of the only ones to really stick by me through all the ups and downs. We don’t always get to spend as much time together as we’d both like, but I’ve never questioned her loyalty and I know she hasn’t questioned mine.

“Is everyone already here?” I ask as I look around and see people bustling in and out of the small house nestled on the property.

“You know Vincent.” She chuckles good-naturedly. “He’s been up with the sun makin’ sure everything is perfect for today.” Lowering her voice she says, “My baby deserves it.”

I squeeze her tight against my side and nod. “He most certainly does.”

Hank had served time in prison for a crime he didn’t do, but the ramifications of that particular scenario followed him until Isla Andrews came bursting into our small town. She’d shaken up more than just the gossip mill with her big-city personality and kick-ass vibe.

She’d won the hearts and minds of everyone in Clementine Creek, and even the eldest Thayer brother hadn’t been immune to her charm. Isla had righted a wrong in Hank’s life, but it took her leavin’ for Chicago for him to admit he couldn’t live without her.

I’ve loved watchin’ them fall in love—seein’ him smile more. She’s a force to be reckoned with, and I can’t think of anyone better to stand by his side.

My musing is interrupted as Miss Thelma comes sauntering over in a pair of capris and a shirt with her cat printed on it. Her white hair is perfectly styled, but my favorite thing about her is her shit-eating grin.

“Hello, dearies,” she says with a grin and Flora starts laughing.

“Oh boy. You are trouble, Miss Thelma,” Flora says.

“Won’t be the last time someone says that about me.” Miss Thelma snickers before turning her attention to me. “Let’s go get settled. Hayden is taking his judging positionveryseriously and I like rufflin’ his feathers.”

I snort. “You’re trouble, Miss Thelma.”

“Why thank you, Gwen.”

We weave through the crowd of people, and she chatters on about the antics her cat, Louise, got into this morning which caused her to have to hustle down here. The woman is a hoot and damn near famous in our quaint little town.

She pats her perfectly coiffed hair, and I look up to see two good-looking men hovering around Isla and her cousin, Emerson. The family resemblance is impossible to ignore. A spark of something—interest maybe—burns low in my belly as Miss Thelma leans close with a conspiratorial whisper.

---