Candlelight Christmas

Twisted traditional cookies are always a hit with kids. Also, it makes good use of the broken ones. Everyone knows a broken cookie tastes just as good as a perfect one.

Walking Dead Sugar Cookies

2⅓ cups flour

1 teaspoon baking soda

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

½ teaspoon ground nutmeg

¼ teaspoon salt

1¼ cups granulated sugar

1 cup (2 sticks) softened butter

1 egg

2 teaspoons vanilla extract

Cookie Icing:

1 cup confectioners’ sugar

2 to 3 teaspoons milk

½ teaspoon vanilla extract

3 to 4 drops red food color

Beat granulated sugar and butter in large bowl with electric mixer until light and fluffy. Add egg and vanilla; mix well. Gradually beat in dry ingredients on low speed until well mixed. Refrigerate dough two hours or overnight until firm.

Preheat oven to 375°. Roll out dough on lightly floured surface to ¼-inch thickness. Cut into humanoid shapes with gingerbread-person cookie cutters. Place on parchment-lined baking sheets.

Bake 8 to 10 minutes or until lightly browned. Cool completely.

For the icing, mix all ingredients except food color. Divide white icing into two small cups, and use the red drops to dye one lot blood red.

Use the white icing to create mummy bandages, and the red to create wounds and bloody stumps. Use decorative sprinkles and red hots liberally.

[Source: Freely adapted from McCormick Spice collection.]

Chapter Twelve

Logan was uncharacteristically nervous the day the O’Donnell clan arrived for the holidays. He was on edge, so he worked it off by shoveling the front walkway until he felt himself starting to sweat. The house looked good, he told himself. Not designer-magazine good like his folks’ place in Florida, but like a Christmas house, from the icicle-draped roofline of the front porch to the strings of colored lights lining the gables to the fresh tree in the front window, which he and the kids had decorated the day of Charlie’s arrival.

It would be the first Christmas he’d hosted for the family, and he wanted it to be just right. The big house at Saddle Mountain had plenty of room for everyone. It would be a relief to fill the upper rooms with guests. The place was just too damn big.

They all pulled into the driveway at once. Three SUVs disgorged his parents, his sisters and their families, on a frigid day the week before Christmas.

“Come on, Charlie, André, Angelica,” Logan called. “Get your coats and boots on, and you can help with the luggage.”

“Excellent,” said Charlie. “The cousins are here.” He was supercharged with excitement. They all tumbled outside into the bright, cold day. There were greetings and hugs all around.

His niece Bernie bounded through the deep snow. “You live in Christmas-land, Uncle Logan.”

He grinned and spread his arms wide. “I guess I do. You’re going to love it here.”

“Are you kidding? I already do.” She and her sister Nan toted their pink backpacks up the walk.

His mother took charge the way she always did. Once his parents had agreed to spend the holidays here instead of in Florida, Marion O’Donnell embraced her matriarchal duties. She directed everyone to their rooms and brought tons of decorations in big plastic tubs.

Logan’s heart flipped over when he saw Darcy Fitzgerald walking up to his house, toting a big duffel bag. The smile she gave him was guarded.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey yourself. Hope you don’t mind taking in a stray for the holidays.” She offered a bright smile.

Damn. He liked her smile. “Are you kidding? Some of my best friends are strays. Come on in where it’s warm. I’ve got hot cocoa and spiced cider.”

“Two of my favorite things.”

He wanted to know about all of her favorite things, but he felt his chances slipping away. He hadn’t seen or spoken to her since their brief encounter at the train station. Their quick exchange of text messages had left him in a quandary. He had simply wanted her to understand that Maya and he were definitely not an item. The way she was regarding him now was a bit cryptic, just like the text she’d sent him. On second thought, the text wasn’t cryptic at all. She didn’t want to be his girlfriend.

Once everyone was in the house, chaos ruled. The kids ran around exploring, admiring the tree he had put up, and sorting out the bunk bed situation in the kids’ room. André and Angelica seemed to be doing all right so far. It was incredibly gratifying to see them embracing the holidays, far from the city, far from their mom. They each had a part in the annual Christmas pageant at Heart of the Mountains Church. When Maureen and Eddie Haven, the pageant directors, heard Angelica sing, they immediately asked if she’d like to do a solo, “Sleep My Baby,” on Christmas morning. The little girl had been practicing nonstop.

They were already taking ski lessons at the resort, too. André was a natural, eagerly learning the new sport. Angelica was more cautious, but happy to try getting down the hill on her skis, making little snowplow turns.

Charlie had arrived a couple days before, and the moment he’d seen his son, Logan’s world had felt complete. He was grateful for the ease with which they fell into their roles, like putting on warm, comfortable boots. Having André and Angelica there was great, lending a sense of family energy the house had been missing. Charlie hadn’t been out on the slopes yet but was dying to go. Tomorrow morning, Logan had promised.

Dinner was a free-for-all, supervised by the sisters and his mom. Logan’s famous chili was the main dish, and he was gratified to see how fast it disappeared.

“I’m proud of your cooking,” his mother said. “You’re really great at it.”

“Hear that, Charlie? I’m a great cook.”

“Good to know,” replied Charlie.

“Be sure you tell Santa how good I’ve been.”

“Santa,” squealed the nieces. “When do we get to see Santa?”

“Tomorrow, after skiing,” Logan said. “The big guy has a life-size gingerbread cottage in town, and then there’s a Christmas parade.”

“I want everything for Christmas,” announced his nephew Fisher.

“You can’t have everything,” said his brother, Goose.

“But I can want everything.”

Logan chuckled. “Yo, I like the way you think.”

“How come your name’s Goose?” asked Angelica.

“It’s a nickname, on account of Mom’s favorite movie.”

“Top Gun. She watches it at night when she thinks we’re asleep, and cries every time Goose crashes his plane,” Fisher explained.

“Hey,” said India, blushing bright red.

“You are so busted,” said Bilski.

“What’s your real name?” asked Angelica.

“Reginald, and you can blame my dad. It’s his dad’s name.” Goose made a funny face.

“My real name is Emile,” Charlie interjected.

Logan touched his chest. “Don’t blame me. I didn’t get a vote. I’m just glad you have a cool middle name.”

“I’m gonna tell them at ski school tomorrow to call you Reginald,” said Fisher.

“Are not,” Goose retorted.

“Watch me.”

“Nobody’s doing anything if you kids don’t get to bed and simmer down,” said India. “I’ll take bedtime duty tonight.”

Groans erupted, but with impressive efficiency, she herded them all down the hall to the bunk room. In the ensuing quiet, Logan added logs to the fire and put on soft, jazzy music. His father made Irish coffee for everyone, and they all sat around the fire, relaxing.

“Welcome to my new digs,” Logan said, raising his mug. “Welcome to my new life.”

“Hear, hear!” said Bilski. “Your new life is awesome.”

“Thanks.” Some days, like today, Logan was absolutely convinced of the awesomeness. Other days, like when Charlie was in a different time zone and Logan rattled around alone in the old, rambling, too-big house, he was not so sure.

“So, how is the resort business going?” his father asked. Of course he would ask. To Al O’Donnell, business was life.

“It’s a lot of work, but I have a fantastic team,” Logan said. “Karsten’s director of mountain operations stayed on. So did most of the senior staff. I get expert advice in all areas.” What he wouldn’t tell his father was that the financials were precarious. At the end of every day, he felt himself teetering on the fiscal cliff, trying to juggle the overhead with the revenues. Yet somehow he stayed on top of things and made it work. Operations were chugging along. Thanks to a dumping of snow from heaven itself, conditions were great and the daily till kept the cash flow going.

“So, are the revenues just pouring in?” his father persisted.

“Al.” Logan’s mother sent her husband a warning look. “Now is not the time.”

“Pouring in, that’s right,” said Logan.

“It seems like such a lot of work,” China said.

“I’m not afraid of hard work.”

“Are you taking care of yourself?” his mother asked. “You look too skinny.”

“I’m not skinny, Mom.”

“And pale,” she added.

“It’s the dead of winter,” he said. “Everyone is pale.”

He tried to keep it light. The dynamics of the family never changed. Or rarely did. People reverted to the old roles carved out a generation ago. His parents expected him to fail. As a dumb kid, he had cheerfully obliged them, time and time again; right up to getting a girl pregnant in high school.

Now they simply expected him to screw up no matter what he did, no matter how much time had passed.

“It’s working out,” he said. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to lose my shirt. I’d never do that to Charlie.”

“Dad thinks owning a ski resort is a guy’s fantasy, like owning a sports bar or building hot rods,” India explained to Darcy. “Fun to pursue, but no way to make a living.”

“Anything that’s fun is immediately suspect, right, Dad?” asked China.

“Girls,” her mother said. “That’s no way to talk to your father.”

Logan glanced over at Darcy. “Aren’t you glad you’re here? Lucky you, getting a ringside seat to our family feud.”

She laughed. “Sounds more or less like my own family, except we’ve got more girls.” She turned to Logan’s father. “My firm brought one of our biggest clients to Saddle Mountain for a photo shoot. It was fantastic. I can understand why anyone would be suspicious that something so much fun could also be profitable.”

“I see,” said Al. “And how did the shoot turn out?”

“One of the best we’ve done all year. The client was thrilled, and Saddle Mountain gets a lot of exposure.”

“You should show us the footage,” said India. “We’d all like to see.”

“I don’t know...” Darcy ducked her head.

Logan was intrigued to see her acting reluctant about it. “Come on,” he said. “It’ll give everybody a preview of the resort.”

She hesitated. “It’s very commercial, aimed at selling gear.”

“But it was filmed right here,” said Logan.

“Okay, does your TV have a USB port?” When he nodded, she said, “I’ll be right back.”

Nice one, thought Logan as she fetched her wallet and pulled out a USB drive. She’d managed to deflect the conversation about resort finance by getting everyone to shift gears.

“All right,” she said, “barring any technical difficulties...” She slotted in the thumb drive.

“Did you really bring work with you?” Logan’s mother scolded.

“Just a little,” said Darcy. “There’s a big outdoor retailer trade show in January, so I’ve got some deadlines.” Logan switched on the TV with the remote, and the client’s logo came up along with adrenaline-pumped music. “This is a montage with video that will be featured on the client’s website and in their retail stores. It’s going to go live this weekend.”

The opening sequence showed the mountain on a bluebird day, the peaks stark against the crisp sky. The broad panorama narrowed, homing in on a grove of birch trees. There was a panning shot of a deer, its head turned toward the camera, eyes alert with caution, before it turned and fled over the crest of the ridge, tail flipped up to show its white underside. The movement startled a brown-and-white hawk into sudden flight. Almost simultaneously, the scene dissolved into a sequence of a snowboarder exploding straight up into the sky as though shot from a cannon. A trail of sunlit snow sparkled in her wake; then she landed in a spray of knee-deep powder, then floated along through a forest glade.

“That’s Darcy, by the way,” India told her parents.

“The snowboarder?” her mother asked. “Heavenly days, really?”

“She’s good, huh?” India said.

“Good” did not begin to cover it. She was phenomenal, gliding through the snowy wilderness as if, for her, gravity was optional. She embodied everything a snow sport should be—fun and colorful, graceful and exhilarating. Saddle Mountain had never looked better.

At the conclusion of the presentation, Bilski leaned over to China and said, “Let’s take snowboard lessons.”

“Better yet,” said China, “let’s go shopping for all that cool gear.”

“My client would love to hear that,” Darcy said.

“The resort looks lovely,” said Logan’s mother. “I’m glad we’re here for the holidays. Truly.”

“Thanks, Mom. It’s going to be great, you’ll see,” Logan promised her. “It’s going to be awesome.”

“I hope those weren’t my brother’s famous last words,” said India after the parents had gone to bed.

Darcy, who was with her in the kitchen washing up the Irish coffee mugs, asked, “What, does disaster follow him?”

India chuckled. “I guess we’ll find out.” She reached for a glass jar and took off the top. “Christmas cookie?”

“Thanks.” Darcy helped herself. It was cut out in the shape of a gingerbread man, though it was missing a limb and had only one cinnamon candy eye. The red-and-white icing resembled bloody bandages.

“Those are the Walking Dead Christmas cookies,” said Logan, carrying a few more dishes into the kitchen. “The kids and I made them.”

Darcy took a bite. “Oh my gosh. This might be the best cookie I ever ate.”

“I bet you say that to all the guys.”

“I swear, I’ve never said that to a guy in my life.”

“He’s good, too, huh?” said India.

Darcy savored another bite. The cookie was tender and delicately spiced. It tasted exactly like Christmas. “I think he knows it.”

“He doesn’t mind hearing people say so.” Logan dimmed the kitchen lights and switched on the yard lights.

She gazed out the big picture window of the kitchen while polishing off the cookie. “It’s snowing again,” she whispered.

“He doesn’t mind hearing those words, either,” he said.

“Everybody loves the phrase ‘it’s snowing.’ There’s always been some kind of magic in those words.”

“Speaks to the kid in all of us,” India said. “Snow days, playing outside. In fact, I’m going to check on the bunk room and make sure lights out really means lights out. Then I’m off to bed. Night, you guys.”

“Night, India. Ski tomorrow morning?” Darcy asked.

“Only if you promise not to lead me over a cliff.”

“I would never.”

Darcy felt so grateful to be where she was tonight, relaxing among friends. But there was also an awkward element. Logan’s presence, just a few feet away, tantalized her. She felt confused by him, and full of questions. Maya’s kids were here, so where was their mother?

None of your business. She turned her attention to the window again and watched the big flakes gently coming down and settling on the pristine yard. An age-old yearning pressed at her chest; she was a kid again, with her nose pressed to the window. “It’s so beautiful.”

“Grab your coat and boots,” said Logan. “Let’s go for a walk.”

“Really? You read my mind.”

“That’s one of my superpowers, didn’t you know?”

They bundled up in the mud room off the kitchen—down jackets, mittens, boots, a lantern and a flashlight.

“You’ll need these.” He handed her a pair of lightweight snowshoes. “Know how to put them on?”

She grinned. “I gear-tested this exact model.”

“Man. You’ll have to tell me more about being a sponsored athlete.”

“Sometimes it feels like turning work into play. Other times it’s more like turning play into work. So I definitely prefer the former.”

He handed her a set of poles and donned a backpack.

“What’s in the pack?” she asked.

“A project. You can help me with it.”

“What kind of project?”

“Come on. I’ll show you.”

They stepped outside together. The cold air and snowflakes touched her face, and she welcomed the freshness, tilting back her head.

“When it’s clear, you can count the stars,” said Logan.

“I feel a million miles away from the city.”

To the right and down a snow-covered track was a cluster of lights, the center of the resort. A couple of vehicles were just leaving the parking lot, their taillights making a cautious red line down the road.

“Last call at the Powder Room is at nine o’clock,” Logan said. “It gets pretty quiet after that. Let’s go this way.” They set off in the opposite direction of the resort. The lantern beam shone on a forest glade of striated birch trees. There was a moon, though it was a weak one, its glow diffused by snowfall.

“I love this,” she said. “I love the silence and the peace.”

“No regrets about not going to my folks’ place in Florida?”

“I’m kind of a fan of winter.” The snowshoes rode atop the featherlight snow. She savored the cold on her cheeks, the pumping of her heart as they hiked through the shadows.

“I noticed. You were fantastic in that video.”

“All in a day’s work.” She looked over at him. “Kidding. I have a day like that once in a blue moon. Most days, I’m stuck in meetings or in my cubicle like anybody else.”

“No cubicles here,” he said.

“You’re living the dream,” she said. “Maybe that’s why your father is so suspicious.”

“Yeah, according to him, it’s only worth doing if it makes you miserable.”

She wondered about his relationship with his father, and why things were strained. She wanted to hear more. She wanted to know everything about him.

The birch grove led to a perfect, unmarked field of white with a tall evergreen. “In the summer,” he said, “this is a bird meadow, and there’s a sports court over there.”

“You’d never know it. This is just beautiful, Logan. It looks like a Christmas card.”

“That’s what I thought,” he said.

A shadow fluttered past. Startled, she clutched his arm. “Hey, look!” It was an owl, swooping through the trees with wings spread wide. She watched, mesmerized, until it disappeared into darkness. “That was amazing,” she said.

He nodded. “An owl in winter. First time I ever saw something like that.”

“Really?”

“The dolphins were a first for me, too. I have really good luck with wildlife when I’m with you.”

For no good reason, she felt ridiculously gratified to hear him say so.

“Warm enough?” he asked her.

“Plenty, thanks.”

“So, here’s my idea for the project. We’re going to string lights all over that big evergreen over there. The one standing all by itself.” He pointed out the tree in the middle of the clearing.

“I like it. There’s electricity?”

“Yes. In the summer, there are lights for the sports court. There’s an outlet at the base of the tree.”

“Cool.”

“Thought I’d surprise the kids. We could tell them it’s Santa’s landing strip.”

“What else would it be?”

They crossed the meadow, making plate-sized tracks across the powder. Logan left his snowshoes at the base of the tree. “Did you bring a ladder?” Darcy asked. “This thing is, like, twenty feet tall.”

“I can climb it.”

“You’re not serious.”

He grinned, unzipping his backpack, and donned a headlamp. “Watch me.”

“You are serious. Also crazy.”

“The good kind of crazy. I’ll climb up and string the lights on the way down. You stand by and keep things untangled and shine the light.”

He cleared the lower branches with ease. The upper ones were closer together, bowing with his weight. “Do me a favor and don’t fall,” she said.

“Not planning on it. Although there’s so much new snow, it would be a soft landing.”

She positioned herself beneath him, aiming the flashlight beam at the top. He disturbed a snow-laden branch, creating an avalanche that fell on her before she could move out of the way.

“Lovely,” she said, rubbing the fresh snow out of her face.

“Sorry,” he replied. “Almost there.” He climbed until the branches thinned, and reached up to clip the light string close to the top. Then he began his descent, paying out the string of lights from his backpack. “This is what’s known as extreme decorating.”

“I must say, stringing lights on a tree in the wilderness was not the first thing I thought of when you invited me for a walk.”

“You don’t mind.” It wasn’t a question.

“You barely know me. How do you know whether or not I mind?”

“Another one of my superpowers.” He worked methodically while she held the beam steady, lighting the way for him. At one point, he went too far out on a limb and it bowed ominously. “Watch it,” she said. “That one won’t hold you.”

There was a loud cracking sound, and he came down like a sack of coal. Her heart leaped to her throat. “Oh my gosh, Logan.” She waded through the snow and dropped to her knees beside him. “Are you okay?”

He was practically drowned in the deep snow of the tree well. She could tell he was assessing himself—back, neck, extremities.

“Not a scratch,” he informed her, lifting his head. “Superpowers did the trick.”

She rose from her knees and held out her hand. “I think there are enough lights on the tree. Let’s plug them in and see if they work.”

“Sure, they work. I tested them before we came out.” He took her hand, but his weight and the soft deep snow unbalanced her, and she fell forward against him, the snow caving in around them.

“Sorry about that,” he said. “Damn. This is not going well.”

She climbed out of the hole and fetched his snowshoes so he could do the same. If not for the tight cuffs of her sleeves and the muffler around her neck, she would be extremely uncomfortable at this moment.

He found the end of the light string amid the lower branches. “You all right?” he asked as he worked.

“I’ve survived worse in the snow.”

“You’ll have to tell me about it one day.” He worked quickly, brushing the snow away from a pipe running up the tree trunk with an outlet at the top. “All right. Ready for the lighting?”

“Do you want to do the honors or shall I?”

“You’ve earned it, putting up with my antics.”

“Is that what these are?” she asked. “Antics?”

“I’m good at antics. I excel at antics.”

“Okay, I’m connecting the power,” she said. She plugged it in and the tree came to life with color. “Success,” she exclaimed.

“Hey, how about that?” In the glow of the lights, he looked boyish and wildly attractive. She wished he would tackle her in the snow right now and cover her face with kisses, but he kept his distance. “Glad it worked. Otherwise I risked life and limb for nothing.”

“It’s been a productive evening,” she said, “but I think I need to drink some more.”

“Let’s go back to the house. I’ll make you more of my famous hot chocolate.”

“I was talking about a grown-up drink.”

“I can put a shot of peppermint schnapps in it.”

“Now you’re talking.”

They crossed the clearing and turned back to admire the tree. It was a winter masterpiece, the lights shimmering through the falling snow.

“It looks like Christmas,” she said. “Exactly like a child’s dream of Christmas. Good job, Logan.”

“Now Santa knows where to land. Let’s head back.” In a movement that seemed unstudied and natural, he placed his hand at the small of her back and steered her along the path they’d made.

His touch felt good. Too good. She stopped and turned to him. “So, about that text you sent me. She’s not your girlfriend.”

He hesitated. “Maya, you mean.”

“Yes.” She hated herself for being the first to bring it up, but she had to know.

“Yeah, I need to explain about her,” he stated. “Like I said, we’re not... It’s like I said in the text.”

Oh boy. She wasn’t sure what to think of that. If he was involved with someone, then she had no dilemma. But if he was available, she would have to admit she was attracted to him. That she wanted to know more about him. That she liked it when he touched her. That she thought about his kiss all the time. That even after the misery of her divorce, she wanted to fall in love again.

A long silence stretched out. It was so quiet she could hear individual snowflakes ever so gently striking the fabric of her parka.

“And the text you sent me?” he prompted. “Does it mean you’re seeing someone?”

She studied his face, painted in shadows and in the glow from the tree. “I’m seeing you,” she whispered, brushing back her hood and looking up at him.

“And I guess I’m seeing you.”

“What are we doing, Logan?”

“Getting to know each other.”

“Fair enough.” A part of her wanted to stay right here in this winter glade with him, kissing him, warming their lips and their bodies together. She forced herself to take a step back. “Let’s go inside. You promised me a hot chocolate.”

“I’m a man of my word.”

They made their way back to the house and took off their snowshoes, jackets and boots. Logan added a couple of logs to the fire and warmed up the hot chocolate. She stood at the window, cupping her hands on the glass to admire the newly lit tree outside. She felt in that moment that life was fresh and new. Coming here was a good idea. Good for her. But was it good for her family? She kept catching herself wondering what her sisters were doing now. Did they miss her? What were they saying about her?

“What are you thinking about?”

“My family.”

“Ah. Families.” His tone conveyed a deep understanding of the concept. He carefully poured the cocoa into mugs and, true to his word, added a shot of schnapps to hers. “Are you in trouble for ditching them at Christmas?”

“A bit. They’ll get over it. It was one thing for me to ditch them at Thanksgiving,” she said. “That’s a low-stakes holiday. But Christmas is a different story.”

“Come here. Have a seat by the fire.” They settled into a big cushy Chesterfield sofa with a deep seat and rolled armrests. In front of them, the logs crackled and glowed.

She sank gratefully into its comfort, and he handed her a warm mug.

“Cheers,” he said, touching the rim of his cup to hers. “Taste it. You’re going to love it so much you’ll never let me go.”

“You are never serious,” she said, though she felt an undeniable thrill at his words. The chocolate was warm and creamy and rich, with just a touch of peppermint. “You’re right,” she said, savoring the deliciousness. “I want to keep you forever.”

“You’re never serious, either,” he said. “I like that about you.”

She took another sip. “I tried serious. It didn’t work out so well for me.”

“Tell me about your family. What are you missing out on? What did my sister pull you away from?”

“I’m going to miss being present for my sister Lydia’s big announcement. She’s the first Fitzgerald girl to be expecting a baby.”

“Sounds like you already know about the announcement. Congrats to your sister, by the way.”

“Thanks.”

“So, what else will you miss?”

“A generation of tradition. But after my divorce, those traditions didn’t really work so well for me. In a nutshell, my parents and the parents of my ex are best friends.”

“Yeah, but blood is thicker than water.”

“It gets complicated. My parents and the Collinses considered it one of the great achievements of their life that the two Collins boys married two of the Fitzgerald girls—me and Huntley, and Lydia and Badgley. The marriages were meant to knit our clans together forever.”

“And then you and Huntley split up.”

“Yes.”

“He cheated?”

She did a double take. “How did you know?”

“A hunch,” he said. “It’s always my first guess. Here’s another guess—you didn’t tell your family about the cheating.”

“And how did you know that?”

“Because if you told them, it’d be the end of your knit-together Christmases.”

He got it. She felt a sense of relief that finally someone understood. “I couldn’t tell my family about the cheating,” she said. “I mean, I could have, but it would have been a terrible thing to do to my sister. Lydia’s a Collins. They’re expecting their first baby, and she wants to make a big announcement at the holidays. I didn’t want to ruin anything for her.”

“You’re a martyr.”

“No. Just a sister, although in some families, it’s the same thing.” She drank more of the hot chocolate. It was so delicious she wanted it to last forever.

“And did your breakup cause the world as we know it to end?” he asked.

“I tried not to let that happen. We were supposed to be civil about it all. At first, I did try. But instead, I discovered I couldn’t stand to be anywhere near him. I had to break away, and India was nice enough to throw me a life preserver. What about your breakup?” she boldly asked, then regrouped. “Sorry, is it weird that we’re sitting here talking about our divorces? Isn’t that supposed to be a no-no?”

He shrugged. “I like talking to you. I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Was cheating a factor?”

“Nope. She got pregnant our senior year of high school. At that age, we didn’t know ourselves, much less each other. Daisy and I, we gave it a shot. For Charlie’s sake, we gave it our best shot. But we were never a match. The breakup sucked for me, but made me admit we were both lying to ourselves. Anyway, Charlie’s the best thing I ever did, although I could have planned it better.”

Kids, she thought. The eternal complication.

“I need to tell you something,” he said. “It’s kind of personal.”

“I can handle personal.”

“I’m not the once-burned-twice-shy type. I want to fall in love again. I want to be committed, to create a family. I want Charlie to have that sense of security, maybe even brothers and sisters one day.”

You’re barking up the wrong tree, then. She didn’t say anything, though. When they were getting to know each other, they didn’t need to draw a line. Later, she thought. If things progressed, she’d tell him later.

“Ooookay,” she said, forcing a smile.

“And just so you know,” he said, taking their mugs and setting them on a side table, “your ex is an idiot.”

No longer forcing the smile, she wondered how to snuggle closer to him on the sofa without being too obvious about it. He just looked so inviting, with that tousled red hair, those big shoulders. “You, sir, are preaching to the choir.”

“I need to tell you about Maya,” he said abruptly. “I think you might have questions.”

“I might.” So much for snuggling. She instantly wondered if they had a past.

“She’s just a friend,” he stated as if reading her mind. “We met when our kids became friends at summer camp. Charlie and André really hit it off.”

“Where is she?” asked Darcy. “Is she coming up for the holidays?” Her stomach curdled. There was a spare twin bed in her room. Was she going to have to share it with Sofía Vergara’s twin?

“Unfortunately, no.”

Whew, thought Darcy. “That’s too bad,” she said. Liar.

“She had to go away for a while. Until February, actually.”

“She’s not going to be with her kids at Christmas?”

“She can’t. See...” He planted his elbows on his knees and stared into the fire. “She got in some trouble earlier this year. Legal trouble.”

“Oh gosh.”

“Made a bad decision. Her kids’ father is not a good guy. He was running drugs and convinced her to make a delivery for him. It’s always just a simple transaction, right? That’s what they always say.”

“And she got caught holding the bag.”

“Yes. She could have been sentenced up to twenty-one months, but she got sixty days instead, so that’s a lot better. The bad news is, her sentence spans Christmas.”

“So that’s what she was doing at the train station. Dropping off her kids.”

“Yep. We’re trying to make it as easy as possible for them.”

“Wow. That’s incredible of you to take the kids.” What a kind thing to do, she thought. She wondered if, under similar circumstances, she would be that kind.

“I just thought about Charlie. If I were facing a similar situation, I would hope someone would do the same for him.”

“How are they doing?”

“Pretty well. They think she went away for work. The little girl, Angelica, does, anyway. André...I think he suspects. Maya’s a full-time nanny to a family in New York. She was. They’ve let her go, so she’ll have to start over after her release. Anyway, that’s the story of Maya and me.”

“I am really impressed,” she said. “You’re incredibly generous.”

“Doesn’t feel that way. I want to make sure the kids have the best Christmas possible.”

“So far so good,” she said. “They seem really excited to be here.”

“Angelica still believes in Santa Claus, a hundred percent. So when they all go see Santa tomorrow, we need to pay attention to what she wants for Christmas. Because no matter what it is, she’s getting it.”

“Even if it’s a live unicorn or wings that work?”

“Even if. Same goes for André and Charlie. They’re true believers, still. I made myself a promise that I’d give them Christmas with all the trimmings.”

“That’s really cool, Logan.” She settled back, enjoying the play of the fire in the grate. “They’re lucky kids.”

“I’m the lucky one. I’m crazy about Charlie, and the other two are a bonus.” He turned to her on the sofa. “That’s what you are, too.”

“A bonus?”

He gently brushed the hair back from her cheek. “Yeah. I was happy enough that my family came up for the holidays. The fact that you came along... Score.”

That was all it took. He kissed her then—at last—warm chocolate and heat from the fire. When he touched his mouth to hers, it felt wonderful—fresh and exhilarating, filling her with the taste of something new, something that might be hope.

“I like kissing you,” he said, lifting his mouth from hers. “I like it a lot.”

“Then you should do it some more.”

There was a part of her—okay, all of her—that wanted to peel all his clothes off and go at it all night long. The rush of desire was powerful and unexpected. She felt a huge sense of relief, because she hadn’t felt that burning hot need in so long she had started to worry that it might be gone. A thing of the past. But in Logan’s arms, it was alive and well.

She was alive and well. She’d thought she was dead inside, but here was proof that passion could come back to life in the blink of an eye, in the time it took to light a Christmas tree, in the time it took to fall into a well of snow. Thank God, she thought. Thank God.

He pulled back again and gazed down at her. “That was nice,” he said softly. “You are nice.”

She sighed and stretched, feeling amazed and excited, and surprisingly comfortable with him. “Thank you for saving my Christmas.”

“We’ve got a week to go. Still plenty of time to ruin it. But I’m not planning on that.”

“Okay. I trust you.”

He leaned in for another kiss. And it was the softest, sweetest kiss imaginable, the kind of kiss that set her on fire. She wanted more, deeper; she put a hand on his chest and was gratified to feel his heart racing even faster than hers. This thing that had initially seemed so impossible now felt exactly right.

She curled her hand into a fist and felt him tighten his arms around her. She wanted the kiss to go on forever, to lead to something more—

“Dad.” Charlie’s voice shattered the moment.

Darcy and Logan broke apart like a pair of guilty teenagers, leaving a void in the middle of the sofa.

“Hey,” said Logan, “what are you doing up?”

“I can’t sleep.” Charlie looked straight at Darcy. “I have jet lag. It’s an hour earlier in Oklahoma.”

She knew that look. It was the look of a kid who did not want to share his parent, not with anyone.

“Your dad has the perfect remedy,” she said, getting up. “Hot chocolate. Guaranteed to make you sleepy.”

“Really?”

She yawned elaborately. “It made me sleepy. I’m heading off to bed right now, as a matter of fact.” She shared a look with Logan. He was all silent apology and frustrated desire. “See you guys in the morning,” she said.

As she was going up the stairs to her room, she heard Logan say, “Dude.”

“It’s not my fault I can’t sleep, Dad.”

“I mean, dude. Really?”