Page 10 of All I Want For Christmas Is You

But her favorite thing of all—and the real money maker—was her Christmas ornaments. She’d only started it as a fun project to do at night while her ex watched TV—just to keep him company—but the response had been amazing. And now, thanks to Aunt Lucy not charging her room and board, she was building a nice little savings account.

Of course, it would never be enough for her to retire. She’d have to work the rest of her life. Fear stabbed the base of her spine, and she got jittery. No, no, no. She couldn’t let negative thoughts worm their way in. She had to keep pushing forward.

Okay, where was I? She tried to sink back into her work, but every time the door to the lodge opened, she couldn’t help looking over.

Is it him?

She should probably feel foolish, but this was the first time since getting married two decades ago that she’d felt that zing of excitement for a man. It was harmless, and nothing would come of it, so she wasn’t worried. He was passing through, and she had a business to build so she wouldn’t have to make espresso drinks for the rest of her life.

It was just… He’d been nothing more than a crush until last night, when one of the servers had called out sick, and Margot had stepped in. She’d finally gotten to meet him, and the real man was so much better than the fantasy.

Beau. Such a handsome man. Like an old-school Hollywood actor—all dark hair, strong jaw, and sexy mouth. She could imagine him on a horse, cowboy hat hanging low, hard expression as he surveyed the barren land around him.

And then, during karaoke, when he’d looked at her with such vulnerability, it had ignited interest into a full-blown obsession. Because she’d somehow convinced herself there was something happening beneath the surface. Like their souls were calling out to each other.

Ha ha ha.

Souls.

Oh, my God. You’re a sad, lonely woman.

Go back to work.

She clicked on her sales tab for the tenth time that day. It might seem silly, but it was her only source of comfort these days. Every time she got scared of her future, she’d reach for that hit of reassurance that her business was growing. She was doing just fine. Better than fine.

Just as she sank into designing a commissioned set of ornaments for a small museum in Kansas, the lodge door swung open, and a family burst into the lobby. A little boy raced ahead, his dad shouting for him to slow down. A mom with a baby in a carrier strapped to her chest held the hand of a little girl. All of them had red cheeks from the cold mountain air and, while the parents looked harried, there was an air of contentment about them. Like they were right where they wanted to be in life.

I remember that.

She’d loved every second of raising her two kids.

This was her first Christmas alone, and it hurt. All those years of bringing the magic—the lights and decorations, the cocoa with marshmallows—were gone in the blink of an eye. No wrapping presents in the basement with her husband, laughing and talking the night away. No family gathered around the oven to see if the Yorkshire pudding had puffed up. And no one to ooh and aah as she brought the Yule log to the table, everyone excited to see how she’d decorated it.

The twist in her chest was so violent, it brought a sting of tears. She blinked them away. Oh, come on. It happened to everyone. Kids grew up and moved away. It’s called an empty nest.

Emerson loved living in Hawaii and adored her fiancé. And Owen, her sweet, earnest little boy—in a million years, she could’ve never imagined him in the Armed Services. When she thought of how his deployments might change him, it scared her down to her bones. Still, he seemed to be doing all right.

The door swung open again, but this time, she was too damn sad to look up, so she kept her focus on the screen and worked on the project.

Moments later, two chairs scraped back at the table next to hers, and when she glanced over, her gaze locked with Beau’s.

Adrenaline slammed her, colliding with her sadness and sweeping it right out of her body. She felt alive in a way she hadn’t in years.

His daughter sat down and, while he draped his coat around his chair, he asked, “Scone and cocoa?”

“Um.” Jessa lifted half out of her seat to peer at the display case. “It depends on what kind.”

“Oat date,” Margot said. A wave of mortification crashed over her, making her hot and itchy. She might’ve chatted with them last night, but she’d been their server. Not their friend. She had no business barging into their conversation.

Jessa didn’t seem bothered, though. “Are they good?”

“Yummy.” Margot glanced at Beau, who was already on the move.

As he passed her table, he pointed to her drink. “Skim decaf latte or vanilla chai?”

Stunned that he knew what she ordered each day, she could only gape. It took a full ten seconds to get her wits about her. “No, no. I’m fine. I’m good.”

“That one’s gone cold by now.” He pointed to her mug as he joined the line.

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