Candlelight Christmas

Everyone has a favorite hot chocolate recipe. But this one is the best. It has a secret ingredient. No, it’s not cinnamon or cayenne pepper or anything weird. It’s just cornstarch. Don’t judge.

Seductive Hot Chocolate

1½ cups half-and-half

1½ teaspoons cornstarch

Sugar to taste

3 ounces fine-quality dark chocolate, chopped or grated

A shot of peppermint schnapps or espresso (optional)

In a bowl, combine a bit of the half-and-half with the cornstarch, whisking until smooth. Place the remaining half-and-half in a small saucepan over medium heat. Bring to a simmer; don’t let it boil. When the half-and-half begins to bubble around the edges, whisk in the sugar. Whisk in the cornstarch mixture until the half-and-half thickens slightly, usually less than a minute. Remove from the heat and quickly whisk in the chocolate until very smooth. Pour into two cups. Add a shot of schnapps or espresso, if desired.

[Source: Adapted from Italian Food Forever (website)]

Chapter Thirteen

Charlie woke up first, just as it was getting light outside. He lay quietly in his bunk and took stock of his roommates. There were André and Angelica, spending Christmas here because their mom was away. Then there were his girl cousins, Bernie and Nan, in a bunk they’d already decorated with sparkly beads and a few ornaments.

Fisher and Goose, the twins, were in the double lower bunk under Charlie. Peering over the edge of his bed, Charlie saw that they lay in a tangled heap, as if they’d fought each other and both lost.

It was fun to wake up in a roomful of kids, like being back at camp. At the base in Oklahoma, Charlie had his own room. His mom said he’d have his own room in Japan, too, but she warned that it was going to be kind of small—everything in Japan was smaller—with barely enough space for one kid, let alone seven.

He knew both his mom and his dad would say how lucky he was to have the chance to live in two such different places. Most kids had the same house, same room, same neighborhood all the time. So living in two completely different places was lucky.

Of course, deep down inside, Charlie knew that was something parents said to their kids to help them get over Divorce.

And even deeper down inside, Charlie knew that lucky really meant he didn’t get any choice in the matter, so he might as well get used to it.

It meant waking up in the morning and missing his mom, and even his little sister, and knowing they were a zillion miles away. And it meant feeling the same way about his dad when he was with his mom. And it meant knowing things were never going to change, because this was his life whether he liked it or not.

But he felt even more sorry for André and Angelica. Their mom was away, and they had no family at all for Christmas. It must feel awful.

This morning, though, it was not so hard to feel a bubble of happiness about pretty much everything. He could look out the window and see nothing but deep snow and deep woods, the perfect picture for Christmas. And he could look across the room and see his best friend, André, just waking up and blinking in the snow-bright light.

“Psst,” whispered Charlie. “Hey.”

“Hey,” said André, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. His hair looked like a curly mop. André called it nappy hair and said it was on account of him being mixed race. Not biracial like Charlie’s aunt Sonnet, but really mixed. He had a grandmother from French Haiti and a grandfather from Mexico, and his other grandma was black. He said he didn’t know anything about his other grandpa.

All André had ever said about his dad was that he was white. And mean.

“What’s that smell?” André inhaled, his eyes no longer sleepy.

Charlie inhaled, too. Coffee and bacon and something sweet. “That,” he said, “is the smell of good news for us. It’s the smell of epic breakfast.”

“Yeah? What’s an epic breakfast?”

“Every kind of good food in the whole world. My dad likes to make epic breakfast before a ski day. Let’s go down and I’ll show you.”

They were both wearing their ninja pajamas, so they fell into their roles as easily as donning their cloaks of invisibility. They sneaked out of their bunks, moving as stealthily as ninja warriors on a mission. The other kids didn’t stir, for André and Charlie were as silent as the wind itself. Out the door and down the hall they went, passing the closed doors of the other guestrooms.

Charlie was still getting used to his dad’s new place on the mountain. It was definitely the biggest house they had ever lived in, even bigger than his grandparents’ place in Florida or their house in Montauk on Long Island. This house, his dad had explained, had been built as the resort’s first guest lodge, but it was converted into a house when the bigger hotel had been built.

André motioned for Charlie to crouch down to maintain their stealthy approach. Christmas carols were playing on the radio, and Dad was singing along. Peeking around the corner, Charlie spotted Aunt India and her friend Darcy. Although judging by last night, Darcy was turning into Dad’s friend. As in his girlfriend.

His dad had had lots of girlfriends since the divorce. There was Daphne, who had been cool, with pink hair and tattoos, but she and Dad didn’t work out because she declared that she was Never Having Kids. Then there was Karma, who taught yoga and was a vegan and had to leave the house whenever Dad cooked bacon. Charlie had liked Tina, who was fun and goofy but she had two bratty daughters who were mean to Charlie behind their mom’s back.

After that, Dad got busy with other stuff, like moving up to the mountain and taking over the ski area, and there was no more dating. That was probably about to change. Charlie wasn’t sure how he felt about that, but like everything else in the grown-up world, his opinion didn’t count.

He and André slithered closer. The smell of bacon lured them down the hallway. “Deck the Halls” came on the radio and all three of them—his dad, India and Darcy—sang along.

Charlie spotted the target—a tray of bacon just off the grill, sitting on a platter lined with paper towels—and they belly-crawled toward it.

“‘Don we now our gay apparel,’” sang the radio.

“I love that line,” said Darcy.

“But what’s gay apparel, anyway?” asked Aunt India.

“I think,” said Dad, “it looks like something like this.” And without warning, a large hand swooped down, grabbing Charlie around the waist and hoisting him to his feet.

Charlie yelled and started laughing. “We were trying to sneak up on you,” he said.

“Because we’re starving,” added André.

“Then we’d better feed you warriors,” said Dad.

They climbed up on a pair of bar stools at the counter and regarded the feast. “See what I mean?” Charlie murmured to André. “Epic.”

In addition to the bacon, there was a big dish of berries and a tray of eggnog pancakes, which Dad only made at Christmastime. The maple syrup was warm and served in a pitcher, and there were big glasses of cold milk to drink. There was cereal, fruit, eggs and potatoes, a tray of pastries and bright red berry juice. Charlie was in heaven.

“He said your breakfast is epic,” said Darcy.

“He’s right,” said Dad. “Try this.” He fed her a bite of eggnog pancake, dipped in syrup.

She made a funny face, eyes crossed, hand over heart. “It’s like I’ve seen the face of God,” she said.

Darcy was funny. She seemed nice. If she was going to end up being Dad’s girlfriend, Charlie figured he was okay with that. Of course if they stayed together, she would become the stepmonster. His friends who had stepmoms called them stepmonsters. It was a risk.

At the moment, he wasn’t going to worry about it because the breakfast was delicious and the day was shaping up to be a total blast.

“First,” Dad said, “we are going to hit the slopes.”

“Hit them with what?” asked André.

“Ha-ha,” Charlie said. “He means skiing or snowboarding.”

“I only had a couple of lessons,” said André. “I’m not very good at it.”

“I’ve got you all set up for Powder Hounds. They’ll help you out,” said Dad.

Finally a sport André didn’t dominate. In all other sports, he was the best.

“Later, we’re going to town for a little shopping, to watch the tree lighting and the Christmas parade. You’re all going to see Santa, too,” said Aunt India.

“Do you guys believe in Santa?” Bernie demanded.

The song on the radio switched to “Jingle Bell Rock.”

And there it was. The horrible question Charlie did not want to think about. Yet it was the one that pressed like a big invisible weight on his mind.

Here was the thing. There were some kids in his grade who claimed there was no such thing as Santa Claus. And they were always the cool kids, so if you said you did believe, then you were toast because they totally made fun of you and made you feel like a complete idiot.

But Charlie couldn’t not believe. He knew, deep down in the most secret part of himself, that Santa Claus was real.

Now he and André looked at each other. It was a stare-down. Who would blink first? If Charlie said what he really believed, he risked looking like a fool in front of his friend.

But if he said he didn’t believe in Santa, and then it turned out André was a believer, then he would be messing with a kid’s true belief, and that just wasn’t cool.

They were waiting for an answer. “Well,” he said, “um...”

“Are you kidding me?” Darcy burst in. “Why do you even have to ask? Anyone with half a brain believes in Santa. These guys look like between them they have half a brain. Together they probably have a whole one. Hey—‘Good King Wenceslas,’ my favorite carol. Turn up the radio, would you?”

Whew, thought Charlie. He didn’t have to answer. He glanced at André, who looked equally relieved, though Charlie wasn’t sure why.

“Have you been really good all year?” asked Aunt India.

Charlie stared at the floor.

“What is it, buddy?” asked his dad.

“I got in trouble at school.” He’d been hoping he wouldn’t have to confess, but his dad had a way of finding stuff out.

Dad frowned. “You’ve never been a troublemaker at school.”

“I brought something for show-and-tell I wasn’t supposed to have. This kid Isaiah said they were called Ben Wa eggs. The teacher told me to put them away This Very Instant.”

Darcy and Aunt India had a fit. They tried to stay quiet, but he could tell they were dying. Charlie still wasn’t a hundred percent sure why the little boxed set of balls was such a problem. His mom had said she’d explain when he was bigger.

“Yeah, uh, it’s probably a good idea to check with an adult before you bring something to show-and-tell. When I was a kid I brought in a snake. We practically had to peel the teacher off the ceiling.” Dad was grating a chocolate bar into a pot of cream for hot chocolate, which made everyone stop talking about getting in trouble.

While they gorged themselves on breakfast, the other kids and grown-ups showed up, and the kitchen and dining room got very loud with clattering dishes and talking and making plans for the day. André’s sister, Angelica, was the last to arrive, still rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She looked really cute in her pink fuzzy slippers, clutching a patched-up stuffed dog she called Patchy Bowwow.

“I bet you’re hungry.” Dad hoisted her up onto her bar stool.

“Can I have a pancake?”

“You bet.” Her face lit up when she saw that the pancakes were shaped like stars and trees. That was Aunt India’s doing. She was a professional artist and she couldn’t help making things fancy. She had used a metal cookie cutter to pour the pancake batter in.

“We get to see Santa today. What are you going to ask Santa for?” Bernie asked her.

“Oh, that’s easy,” said Angelica. With all those missing teeth, she didn’t really say the letter S right, but she was getting better. “I’m going to tell him I need to see my mom, because I want her to be there when I sing my song at the church on Christmas. Logan’s friend Maureen is in charge of the Christmas pageant, and she gave me a song to sing.”

Charlie whipped a glance at André. But André was already carrying his dishes to the sink. “Let’s go get ready,” he said, and went down the hall and up the stairs without waiting to see if Charlie followed.

Alone in the bunk room, they pulled on long johns and snow pants, getting into a suspenders-snapping contest neither of them won, but it made them both giggle like hyenas. Under orders from Grandma Marion, they made their beds. The beds never looked the same as when a professional grown-up did it.

“At least we made the effort,” Charlie said, mimicking his grandmother, which made them both laugh again.

“Hey,” said André, “can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Do you believe in Santa Claus?”

And there it was. That question again. Did he say yes and be accused of being uncool? Or did he say no and risk losing his Christmas dream?

“Do you?” he asked André.

“The whole world is all about Santa Claus, everywhere you look. Decorations, stockings, songs, school plays, everything. How could the whole world be wrong?” He frowned, then snapped his fingers. “We should figure out a way to prove it, once and for all.”

“Yeah!” Charlie said. “Let’s do it.”

“How? Do we set a trap or something? Or a camera?”

“What’s this I hear?” Darcy stuck her head in the doorway. “We’re talking about trapping Santa?”

Charlie’s cheeks felt hot.

“You know the part of the song that goes, ‘You’d better watch out’?”

Charlie and André nodded in unison.

She pursed her lips. “Well, what it means is that you have to be careful. Because if you start questioning his existence, you’re already in trouble.”

Chapter Fourteen

Logan had a crush on Darcy. He admitted to himself that it felt good. It was a big crush, maybe the biggest he’d ever felt, one that bounced around inside him as he went through his day. One that made him keep glancing at the clock and wondering what she was doing and wishing he was doing it with her.

Was she snowboarding on the fresh powder that had fallen last night? Having lunch with his sisters at the Powder Room? Sitting in front of her laptop, telecommuting to her job?

At his office in town, he had a meeting with Mason Bellamy, Adam’s brother and the finance guy who had organized the investor group for the resort. Logan was supposed to be going over business matters with him, but he had trouble concentrating.

“It’s that girl,” said Mason, nudging him after about the third time he drifted off, staring out the window at the snowy afternoon. “The one you were telling me about.”

He nodded, reluctantly pulling his attention back to the spreadsheets on the desk in front of him. “I’m having a hard time thinking about anything else.”

“Girls will do that to you.”

“You know what’s weird is that my family likes her.”

“How is that weird?”

“All my exes were girls my family disapproved of.”

“Maybe that’s why they’re exes.”

“I don’t want my family’s opinion to matter that much.”

“Hey, it does. Get used to it.” Mason loosened his shirt collar and spread his arms with a laugh. “I’m a Bellamy. I’m used to family matters.” He was only visiting Avalon, having come to town to help his ailing mother. So far, he was not adjusting well to small-town life. But his mother’s affairs needed sorting, and Mason, the moneyman, was the one to do it. “So,” he said, “you’re interested in a girl they all like. What’s the problem?”

“I keep thinking there’s something wrong with this picture. When I was a kid, I used to actively seek out the wrong kind of girl, just as a kind of f-you to my parents.” Logan drummed a pencil on the surface of the desk.

“Yeah, we all did that.”

“And then I pulled the ultimate f-you and knocked some girl up.”

“And let me guess. They got over it and ended up being awesome grandparents to your boy Charlie.”

Logan nodded. “Okay, yeah. They drive me nuts. They always have. But they’re the only folks I’ve got.” He settled back and opened a new window on his laptop. “So we’ve got the year-end board meeting coming up for Saddle Mountain. Tell me something good.”

Mason shifted in his chair. Cleared his throat. “The resorts and recreation business is tricky.”

“In other words,” said Logan, “the finances are in the shitter.”

“It’s more nuanced than that. There are variables to weigh....” Mason sighed. “Okay. In the shitter, yeah. That about sums it up.”

Logan’s heart sank. He knew he wouldn’t get rich overnight running the mountain resort, but he didn’t want to be irresponsible. He had a son to raise.

“The situation is temporary,” Mason said. “The cash flow is in good shape, but your reserves are running low.”

“What will fix this?” Logan asked. “Besides a Christmas miracle.”

“You could use another infusion of cash.”

“More investors, you mean.”

“Yes. You can do another investor offering, or resolicit your current investors. Or some combination of both.”

“How much time do I have?”

“There’s a January fifteenth filing date you’ll want to keep your eye on.”

“Got it.” Logan stood and gathered up his papers. “I’ll figure something out.” And he would, because it was mandatory. He had no alternative. He was not going to let himself fail at this. Still, he couldn’t help hearing his father’s voice, which was embedded deep inside his head. His father would say he’d made a huge mistake. He had walked away from a stable, thriving insurance business for the sake of a risky enterprise that had equal potential to either make or lose a fortune for him. He’d gambled not just his own future, but that of his son, too. What kind of father was he?

“Want to get a beer?” Mason suggested. “Adam’s just winding up his stint as Santa.” The firefighters of Avalon took turns donning the red suit each afternoon. “He could meet us at Hilltop Tavern.”

“That’s okay. I’m meeting my sisters and their husbands and kids. They’ve just been to see Santa. Adam is under orders to tell us what the kids asked for.” He shook hands with Mason and headed out into the wintry afternoon.

“You look superpensive,” said Darcy Fitzgerald, approaching him on the frosty sidewalk. “Am I interrupting something?”

He was ridiculously glad to see her. “Just an age-old argument with my father.”

They fell in step together. “I assume it’s the father in your head,” she said.

“He’s one of my permanent residents.” Logan tapped his temple.

“You, too?” She grinned. “I sometimes have that dad. My mom, too. It’s funny how much influence our parents have on us.”

“True. I think about that a lot because of Charlie. I want to be the kind of father he actually likes having in his head.”

“Is there such a thing?”

“I’m working on it. I’m trying my best to do a good job. For Charlie and for...” He stopped talking. He’d nearly said Charlie and his future siblings. What a boneheaded thing to say. “So,” he said, changing the subject, “how was skiing and riding today?”

“Awesome, as I’m sure you knew it would be.”

“After the snow last night—yeah.” Just the mention of last night made him think about walking with her in the winter woods, kissing her in front of the fire... He shoved his hands in his pockets to keep from grabbing her right then and there. “Where is everyone?”

“India and China are taking everyone to see Santa now, and then there’s apparently some kind of parade. We’re supposed to rendezvous in the church parking lot.”

He nodded. “There’s a parade every Friday evening in December leading up to Christmas. Charlie has never missed a single one. The town kind of goes overboard for Christmas.”

She looked around the lavishly decorated and lit village square. “I noticed. I really like it. Can you actually skate on the lake?”

“Can I skate? No. Can the ice hold me? Yeah, probably through February.”

“I could teach you to skate.”

“I’ll hold you to it. So, what does a big-city girl think of Avalon?”

“It’s lovely here. You’re lucky to live in such a beautiful place.” She looked around at the shop windows, the people strolling from place to place, her eyes shining. “I love all the lights and decorations this time of year.”

“No regrets about missing out on your family’s holiday?”

“No,” she said instantly. “Definitely not. If I were back in the city, my sisters and I would be fighting our way along Fifth Avenue, dealing with the crush of holiday shoppers. Then we’d stagger with our parcels to Penn Station for the LIRR and pray we get a seat. It’s fun in its own way, but this is definitely more mellow.” She watched a kid and his mother crossing the street with a little dog on a leash.

“So, are you a city girl or a small-town girl?” he asked.

“Both. Oh, and a wilderness girl, too. Does that make me hopelessly inconsistent?” She ducked her head and then looked at him again. “I’m still figuring out who I am when I’m single.”

“Fair enough.” He couldn’t quite tell what she was trying to say. That she liked being single and wanted to stay that way? That she was flexible and open to change? That she wanted him to take her to bed and do all the stuff he thought about when he thought about her?

Which was pretty much all the freaking time.

“You must miss something,” he said.

“Shopping for the kids, I guess. That was always one of my favorite parts. I mean, it’s one thing to pick out the perfect cashmere bathrobe for your mother, or a BugZooka for your dad, but shopping for the kids is the best.”

“I’ve got an idea,” he said. “This way.”

He took her to the local toy store. It was nice, the way her face lit up when she saw the window display—a model train circling its figure-eight route through the fake snow and trees, and a lit village in the background. There was a robot endlessly lifting hand weights, dolls and boxing gloves, bikes and musketeer swords.

“It’s fantastic,” Darcy said. “Every kid’s dream toy shop.”

“Yep.” He nodded at the manager, a woman named Guinevere who had been working here since she was a teenager. He drew Darcy over to a display of the latest and greatest. “I’d like to get your help,” he said. “We’ve got a bumper crop of kids this year, and my ever-efficient older sister China sent me a text message with suggestions.”

They spent the next hour channeling the kids. What would light them up on Christmas morning? What would make them laugh, excite them, give them warm memories of their Christmas at Saddle Mountain?

“We have to try stuff out,” said Darcy.

“That’s right, you’re all about testing gear, aren’t you? Let’s steer clear of the things that need to be plugged in,” he suggested.

“Are you expecting a power outage?”

“No, but up on the mountain, it happens. Nonelectric toys are more fun, anyway.”

“Agreed. Remember Battleship?” She pulled out the classic board game.

“Good one. Everyone’s going to want that.”

“Then let’s get it for the pickle prize.”

He scratched his head. “The pickle prize?”

“You don’t do the pickle tradition?”

“Never heard of it. But if it involves a pickle, I’m game.”

“You need a pickle ornament and you have to hang it in some very arbitrary spot on the tree. And whoever finds the pickle first on Christmas morning gets a prize.”

“Gives new meaning to hide the pickle.”

She sniffed. “I can’t believe you never heard of it. The tradition goes way back. According to Wikipedia, anyway.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“Look, they’ve even got pickles for sale.”

They were displayed with the stocking stuffers. They chose one that had eyes and a mouth, a sprinkling of glitter, and a movement activated switch that caused it to yodel.

“How have I managed to live my life without a yodeling pickle?” asked Logan.

“It’s a new world order,” she said.

Toy-shopping with Darcy, just like cooking with her, snowshoeing with her, surfing with her, did not suck. She was very serious in her deliberations, weighing the merits of the slingshot versus the potato catapult, a xylophone versus a recorder. He couldn’t remember laughing with a woman so much. He’d just come from a stressful work meeting and he needed this, needed a change or some shift in perspective.

In the middle of doing a yo-yo trick—an impressive one at that—she looked up at him and grinned.

“What?” he asked, liking the grin.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. For what?”

She gestured at the toys they picked out. “I thought I’d have to miss out on this.”

He paused. “You don’t have to miss out on a thing.”

“Picking out toys is one of the best things about Christmas. It’s part of the magic.”

“For somebody who doesn’t like kids,” he said, “you sure like kids.”

“You’ve got it wrong,” she said. “I do like kids—a lot. The whole nieces-and-nephews thing is right up my alley. I’m just not into parenting.”

“Aunting, then.”

“Yep.”

“Sounds good.” He changed the subject. “Okay, there’s one gift we haven’t nailed down yet.”

“Angelica,” she said. “She’s adorable. What should we get her?”

He thought about the conversation at breakfast. Great big round eyes, soft lisping voice. I want to see my mom. “The only thing she wants is the one thing we can’t give her.”

Chapter Fifteen

Logan O’Donnell was dangerous. Darcy concluded this halfway through the toy store spree. Whenever she was with him, she felt herself getting way too interested in him. That was the dangerous part. Interest led to a deeper crush, which led to passion, which in turn would lead to an emotional entanglement she wasn’t ready for.

She said as much to India when they all met for the Christmas parade later that day. It was hugely fun for the kids, waiting for the hometown processional to pass by. Everyone was bundled up, faces aglow in the twinkling lights.

Darcy kept sneaking glances at Logan, who was like a human jungle gym crawling with nieces and nephews. He looked impossibly sexy to her, even covered in small children. At his side, Charlie was a smaller, cherub-faced version of him, reveling in the excitement of the holidays. In his own way, Charlie was as dangerous to her heart as his father, because when she looked at him, something happened inside her. She yearned to reach out to him, to make him laugh, to gather him into her arms—just as she had done with her ex’s kids.

“Remember the definition of insanity?” she asked India, who was taking pictures on her smartphone. “Doing the same thing over and over again, and expecting different results.”

“Your point being?” asked India, framing a shot of the glittering pillars of the Avalon Free Library.

“Look, I really like your brother—I think you knew I would. But being with him...it’s got disaster written all over it.”

“You guys are great together. I’m not seeing how that’s crazy.”

“He’s a single dad—like Huntley. He wants more kids—like Huntley. It’s crazy of me to think going down that road again will lead to anywhere but disaster.”

“It’s not the same. Huntley is a tool,” she said simply. “Logan isn’t.”

“Why does it not make me feel better to know I was married to a tool? I think I was right to swear off any kind of relationship. I’m simply not any good at it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. This is not like you, Darce. You don’t shy away from things just because they might be difficult.”

“I do now.” She wondered if she would ever get over the searing pain of betrayal, the sense of loss.

“Look, if you refuse to let yourself go with a guy—a good guy, like my brother—then guess what you’re doing?”

“Protecting myself. India, I’m doing the best I can.”

“But if you hold back, then you’re letting Huntley win. You’re letting him walk away with everything he got in the divorce, and he’s taking the most vital part of you. He’s taking your heart, your soul, your sense of joy and optimism, your belief in love. So ask yourself—do you really want to give him that? Do you really want to surrender and give up on things that used to be so important to you?”

“Jeez, when you put it that way...”

“Don’t let him win this one. Don’t let him spoil something special.”

This, thought Darcy, was what a best friend was for. She told you the truth, even when you didn’t want to hear it.

“You know what?” said Darcy. “It’s Christmas. I love Christmas. I’m going to enjoy every minute of it, and then I’m going back to the city and to the real world and...”

“And what?”

“And everything will be as it should be,” she concluded.

“It’s coming,” piped Bernie. “The Christmas parade is coming.”

A small parade moved down the road. It was headed by a group of carolers—the Heart of the Mountains Church choir, followed by a few community groups and of course, Santa Claus, bringing up the rear.

The short processional was over soon enough. They all walked together to the Heart of the Mountains Church, where they were parked.

It was a cute little traditional church with a brilliantly lit steeple, its slender silhouette looking perfect against the purple sky. In the snowy yard was an elaborate manger scene illuminated by floodlights, and a sign that read O Come All Ye Faithful.

“It’s beautiful,” India said to Logan, taking more pictures. “The whole day was beautiful—skiing and lunch and Santa. You are one hundred percent forgiven for talking us out of going to Florida.”

Darcy was drawn to the PAWS contingent—the town’s animal rescue league. Volunteers walked with rescue dogs wearing little jackets with the phrase Rescue Me on the side. Some of the volunteers were passing out brochures about pet adoptions.

“Oh my gosh, I wish I could take one home,” Darcy said, watching a beagle bounding through the snow.

“That can be arranged.” Logan came to stand next to her. “I have it on good authority that Santa loves giving away puppies at Christmas.”

“My building doesn’t allow dogs.”

“Maybe you’re living in the wrong building, then.”

Why did everything he said have a double meaning? It seemed that way to Darcy. “I love my building,” she said. “I was on a waiting list forever to live there. It has everything I need.”

As the parade disassembled, Santa climbed down from his throne in the back of a fire department utility truck.

Logan gave him a wave. “That’s my buddy Adam, behind the beard.”

“Aha. So he’s telling you what the kids asked for.”

“Yep.”

“Sneaky.”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

Yes. Tell me everything. “Sure,” she said.

“Charlie and André wouldn’t tell Santa their Christmas wishes. They wrote letters instead.”

“Uh-oh. So, what’s your best guess?”

“Bad news—I think he wants a dog. He had a dog named Blake, but she was old and passed away.”

She gave a low whistle. “That’s a tough one.”

He nodded. “Not the best timing for me. And of course, when Charlie’s with his mom, the dog is all my responsibility.”

“So what are you going to do?” she asked.

“I hope he wants something else. I’m considering my options. Like giving him a toy dog. Or making a donation in his name to the animal shelter.”

“Dude.”

“What?”

“Do you know how lame that sounds? A dog is a dog. Not a toy. Not a donation.” She indicated the noisy mess in the parking lot as the PAWS volunteers loaded up the animals to take back to the shelter.

He nodded. “I know you’re right. Maybe in the summer, then.”

“Does Santa give rain checks for summer?”

He laughed. “You’re harsh.”

“Being the youngest of five, I learned to play hardball at Christmas at an early age.”

“I’ve got a week to figure this out.”

She wondered if she should tell him about the Santa trap. Charlie and André were right on the cusp of disbelief. One wrong move, and the myth would be busted.

“Good news,” Adam reported, now in his street clothes. “I pried the truth out of Charlie—his Christmas wish. I got him to sing like a canary.”

“Yeah?” Logan grinned. “Good work. So, what am I in for?”

“A new snowboard. The kind with flames painted on the bottom. Boots, too.”

“Excellent. Much easier than a live animal. I can make that happen.”

Darcy felt a twinge of suspicion. That was just too easy. She thought about the conversation she’d overheard between the boys. “What about André?”

Adam shook his head. “That kid’s tough as a Kevlar vest. He wouldn’t talk. You’ll have to figure it out another way.”

“Okay,” said Logan. “I’m on it.”

Adam clapped him on the shoulder. “See you around, buddy. And Darcy.”

After he’d gone, Darcy pondered about whether or not to disclose her suspicions. Not now, she decided. “Can I tell you a secret?” she asked.

“What’s that?”

“I still believe in Santa Claus.”

“You probably just like sitting in guys’ laps.”

“Depends on the guy. Depends on the lap. And how do you know what I like? You don’t even know me.”

“Then maybe we should work on that some more.” He lowered his voice and leaned down toward her. “I know you like kissing me.”

“You do, do you?” Kiss me now, she thought crazily. Kiss me now.

“Yeah, so—sorry, I need to...” He didn’t finish, but sprinted across the road toward a tall pile of packed snow. Charlie, André and some other kids were playing on a Bobcat snow mover, which looked like a toy version of a snowplow. The equipment was clearly marked “keep off,” but the kids were either blind to that or just ignoring it.

“Hey,” Logan called. “Get down off that Bobcat.”

“It’s cool, Dad,” said Charlie. “Check it out.”

André was working the levers and making motor sounds with his mouth.

“Damn it, Charlie. It’s a week before Christmas. Shouldn’t you be on your best behavior?”

“What if that is his best behavior?” asked Darcy, coming up behind them. She couldn’t decide whether she was grateful for the interruption of her moment with Logan or frustrated.

“Then I’ve got my work cut out for me,” he said.

“You didn’t tell anybody, did you?” Back on Saddle Mountain the next day, Charlie and André were making a snow fort.

“Only Santa Claus,” said André. “And only in the letter I wrote. A real letter, not an email. You?”

“Same.”

“Yeah, but I saw you talking to Santa today. You must have said something,” André accused.

“I did. The guy in the Santa hut is my dad’s friend Adam. They think I don’t know that, but I do. I had to say something because they expect it. So I said I wanted a snowboard, even though that’s not what I really want.”

“Cool.”

“Cool.”

They had a stare-down. “So, are we gonna tell each other?”

“Better not.”

“Okay.” The snow was perfect for packing, just sticky enough but not too heavy. “Hey, I think my dad’s going to have a girlfriend,” he said. “I think it’s gonna be Darcy.” He’d already gone over this in his mind. Now he wanted to tell somebody, and André was the perfect choice. A best friend.

“She’s cool.”

“Yeah. Does your mom have a boyfriend?”

André added another chunk of snow to the wall. “Nope. Sometimes my dad used to come around, but... He’s not very nice to her.”

“That blows.”

“Yeah.”

Charlie felt bad for André. Charlie himself had a dad and a stepdad and they were both awesome. He looked over at André and frowned. “Wait a second. We can tell each other our Santa wishes. We can take the best-friend oath, and then we can tell each other.”

André hesitated, staring down at the snow-covered ground. Then he said, “Okay, but the oath is unbreakable, right?”

Charlie thought about things that broke. Bicycle chains. Thin ice. Christmas bulbs. His parents’ marriage. Promises. Sometimes it seemed as if everything was breakable.

Not a friendship, though. Not when you were best friends.

“Right,” he said. “Let’s go inside the fort to make sure nobody hears.”

They crawled through the opening and settled into the icy darkness. Charlie pulled out his flashlight and stuck it in the middle with the beam shining up, lending an eerie bluish glow to the interior of the fort. It felt as if they were the only two kids in the world.

“Okay, do we solemnly swear to keep everything we say and hear a total secret? Forever?”

“I do.”

“Me, too.”

“A dog,” said Charlie. “That’s what I want for Christmas. A dog.”

André’s eyes lit up and a grin broke across his face. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh man. That is so rad.”

“I know. I used to have a dog named Blake. She died, and I thought I wanted to die, too. I miss her so much. I never believed I would ever be happy again. But then I saw this kid playing with a black Lab, and I started thinking it might be time to get another dog. See, there are other dogs that need me, other dogs that can be my dog. This is the biggest thing I’ve ever wished for.”

“It’s big,” André admitted. “Really big. What kind of dog?”

“Pretty much any kind, so long as it’s friendly and wants to play and likes to sleep with me at night. I don’t want to be too picky.”

Charlie’s heart sped up when he pictured himself with a dog. Playing and feeding, lying around, taking walks, games of fetch. With a dog of his own, he would never be lonely.

“I’ve been asking and asking,” he said. “My mom and stepdad said no after Blake died, on account of we’re moving overseas and we move a lot. And my dad said no because he’s always busy working and I’m not home enough. Yeah, right. I know deep down in my heart it would be awesome. It would be a dream come true.”

“That’s totally cool, Charlie. So you think Santa’ll actually bring you a dog?”

“If he’s real, he has to, right?”

“Yep.” They rolled snowball after snowball, and more walls went up. It was awesome, having a best friend, thought Charlie. You could talk, or just be quiet and work side by side. You could tell each other stuff. They finished the shelter, and it was like a dark cave inside, cold and small, a real fort to keep them safe in case of enemy attack.

“What about you?” Charlie asked. “What did you ask for?”

André’s smile sank into a line of seriousness. “Remember the promise.”

“I remember. I could never forget.”

“Good. Because the dog is the biggest thing you ever asked Santa for. My wish is the most serious thing I ever asked Santa for.”

Charlie tried to imagine what kind of serious thing André was talking about.

“You know how we had to come stay with your dad because my mom went away for work?”

“Yep. That’s tough. I miss my mom when I’m away from her.”

“Yeah, but you have your dad. It’s different. I don’t have my dad. And I wouldn’t want him. He’s mean and he does bad stuff. So it’s nice how your dad is letting us come here. But my wish is about my mom.”

“You can’t ask Santa to bring your mom for Christmas. It doesn’t work that way.”

“I know. That’s not what I asked.”

“Then what?”

André drew his knees up to his chest and stared at the flashlight beam. “My mom didn’t go away for work,” he said in a very quiet voice.

“Then where did she go?” Charlie felt clueless, but he could tell André was building up to something big. Like last summer at Camp Kioga, in the cabin when Leroy Stumpf admitted he was scared of the dark.

Only this was bigger. Charlie could tell.

“She’s in jail.”

Charlie frowned. “Nuh-uh. You’re lying.”

“I wish I was.”

“Why is she in jail?”

“She got in trouble. My dad was doing something bad, and they both got caught. The judge sent her to a place called Bedford Hills Women’s Correctional Facility.” André repeated the big words as though he’d memorized them. “She has to stay there until February. It’s a jail. Prison. I looked it up online at the library. Angelica doesn’t know. No one is supposed to know. But I snooped. I heard her crying at night and I heard her talking on the phone, and I figured it out.”

“Oh man. That’s bad, André. That’s really bad.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“Sure you do. And I know it, too.”

“I just wish my mom will be okay on Christmas. That’s all I wish.” André’s voice broke then, and he screwed up his face as though he was trying not to cry, and then he just let go and he cried hard, shaking all over.

“It’s okay, buddy,” said Charlie, patting him on the shoulder the way his dad sometimes did when Charlie was sad. “Maybe it sucks now, but it’s going to be okay.” The news made his stomach hurt. He wondered if he should send Santa another letter—Forget the dog. I want the same thing André wants.

“Do you think Santa will grant my wish?” André asked, dragging a mittened hand across his face.

“If he doesn’t, then there really is no Santa.”

“But he’s really real, right?”

“He’s real. So all we gotta do now is not screw up, and we’ll get our Christmas wishes.”

“Okay, let’s make a pact. We have to be good. We have to not screw up.”

“So, are we still going to stay up all night on Christmas Eve and wait for Santa?”

“Sure.”

“What if he doesn’t come?”

Charlie punched a window into the wall of snow. “Then we’ll know.”

Chapter Sixteen

On Christmas Eve, Logan was in his office in town, brooding over the resort accounts. The office was adjacent to the local radio station, and through the wall he could hear the relentlessly cheerful voice of the DJ, Eddie Haven, talking about the town festivities, which would culminate in the Christmas morning pageant at Heart of the Mountains Church.

Logan wished he could scrub the worries out of his brain. He had always been good at numbers. He had always been good at business. That was why the current situation was so frustrating. A looming loan payment and a year-end tax filing weighted the balance sheet heavily into the red. Despite taking a surgeon’s scalpel to the budget, he wasn’t able to stop the bleeding, not completely.

He glared at the screen and brooded some more, until his eyes glazed over.

The front door opened and shut. His father came in, looking around the small space, the shelves crammed with files and work product.

“So this is where it all happens,” said Al.

Logan pushed back from his computer screen, which displayed a spreadsheet with its depressing numbers. “Not exactly O’Donnell Industries,” he said.

“How’s it going?” asked his father.

There was a world of meaning in the question. What his father really wanted to know was whether or not Logan’s crazy enterprise was panning out. Was he making money or losing his shirt?

“I know that look,” said Al. “I realize you think I spent your entire boyhood with my nose in a business ledger, but believe it or not, I knew where you were, every minute. Still do.”

Logan was startled. “If that’s the case, then why did you just stand by and watch me go off the rails?”

“I didn’t stand by, and you didn’t go off the rails. The things that happened, yeah, some of it was hard, but I watched you turn yourself into a man, same as you’re doing for Charlie. A person can get crippled if he doesn’t figure things out on his own.”

Logan thought about all the dumb mistakes he’d made, the way he’d bumbled through the rough years. But looking back, he realized that despite the trouble and the hurt he’d endured, he wouldn’t change a thing. “Tough love?” he asked.

“That’s what I’ve heard it called. Then again, there’s no shame in asking for help. Sometimes,” said his father, “all you have to do is ask.”

“It’s Christmas Eve.” Darcy came bustling into the office. Her cheeks were bright from the cold, and she looked amazing, outfitted for skating on the lake. “You can’t sit here laboring over the books like Bob Marley.”

He grinned and pushed back from his desk. She was like a breath of fresh air, especially in the wake of his surprising conversation with his father. “Don’t you mean Jacob Marley?”

“Whatever. The point is, it’s Christmas Eve and you’re working.”

He stood up and reached for his jacket. “You’re a good influence on me. Where’s everybody else?”

“India took the four boys skating on Willow Lake.”

“Hope they’re staying out of trouble.”

“I’m meeting them at the skate house and then we’re all heading up the mountain before dark.”

“I’ve got more than work problems,” he said, shutting down his computer. “I’ve got a Santa problem. What the hell are we going to say to Angelica tomorrow when she sings her solo in the Christmas pageant, and her mom’s not there to see? I’m planning to film the whole thing, but it’s not the same.”

Darcy leaned against his desk. “I had an idea about that. I wanted to run it by you.”

“You figured out a way to pull off a Christmas miracle?”

“Not quite, but I thought of something that might help. Er, if you don’t mind me stepping in.”

“Mind? I love that you’re stepping in.”

She smiled. “You know how I’m a rabid Jezebel fan, right?”

Jezebel, the hip-hop star who had filmed a reality show in Avalon the year before, had become an unlikely local hero. “You and about a million others.”

“I watched every episode of Big Girl, Small Town. Do you recall that she was doing community service as part of her conditions of parole?”

“I didn’t tune in to the series, but yeah, I remember the backstory. The show followed her community service project with inner-city kids at Camp Kioga. That’s how the summer program got started.”

“Prior to her release, she did time at Bedford Hills.”

Now a glimmer of light came on in his work-fogged brain. “The same facility where Maya is.”

“Jezebel’s filming a Christmas special there, starting tonight and going through tomorrow. I read about it online. I asked if someone could help us set up a video call so Angelica’s mom can watch her sing tomorrow.” She pulled a tablet device from her bag. “Jezebel is going to provide a device just like this one. There’s an app called RealTime. Her friend in Avalon—a woman named Sonnet—do you know her?”

“Oh yeah,” he said. “Long story. Remind me to tell you sometime.”

“She seems really nice. She and her husband are going to help us out. Tomorrow at ten in the morning, we’ll connect, and Angelica and André will get to see their mom. It’s not the same as seeing her in person, but it’s something.”

His heart felt squeezed with emotion. “How did you get to be so awesome?”

“You think I’m awesome?”

He had a lot more thoughts about her. But that conversation would have to wait.

“I’ll see you at the house,” he said. “I’ve got a last-minute errand.”

He reached for a stack of files. She put her hand on top of them. “Uh-uh,” she said. “Christmas Eve, remember?”

“Are you going to be that girlfriend who won’t let me get my work done?”

“Who says I’m your girlfriend?”

“Me.” In a swift movement, he trapped her between his body and the desk. “I say.”

Her eyes and her lips softened. She liked him, he could tell. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He leaned down, really wanting to kiss her, but instead, he just whispered in her ear. “Tonight,” he said. “You and me, tonight.”

Chapter Seventeen

Skating was lame. Charlie and André both agreed on that. Aunt India told them they could take off their skates and play in the snow if they didn’t go far. They found some kids playing king of the mountain on a huge snow mound at the edge of the church parking lot, and that was way more fun.

“Hey, check it out over here,” said André, motioning him to the corner of the lot.

Charlie saw the shiny red Bobcat, with its snowplow attachment, parked in the usual spot. He and André climbed up to the scoop-shaped plastic seat, wedging themselves into the small space. They worked the levers and pedals, making motor sounds with their mouth as they fell into their favorite make-believe game, robot wars. Charlie pushed down on a pedal, and to his surprise, the big snowplow blade lifted up. He eased up on the pedal, then pushed it again, and the blade followed his movements.

“Cool,” said André. “You got it to work.”

“Way cool,” Charlie agreed.

André started monkeying with the other controls, reaching across Charlie to work both big levers. “This moves it forward,” he said. “This moves it back. I’ve watched it a million times at construction sites in the city.”

“Okay, you be the driver and I’ll watch for the enemy,” said Charlie.

This year, he decided as he played alongside his best friend, Christmas rocked. There was going to be a feast tonight, and a party and stuff, and then they were going to stay up all night watching for Santa, and in the morning, their wishes would come true. He just knew it. Christmas was like the best thing ever.

André pushed a rubbery green button overhead, and the engine coughed, and then growled, and then turned on.

The two of them looked at each other in shock. The machine vibrated beneath them like a live animal.

“You started the engine,” Charlie said, catching a whiff of exhaust.

“I started it.” André looked as amazed as Charlie felt. “I bet I can make it work.” He pushed one of the hand levers forward, and the machine lurched, then trundled ahead a few feet.

“Holy moly, you’re driving it,” Charlie said.

“This is so rad.” André worked the lever some more, bringing it out into the middle of the empty parking lot. “Look, I can make it go forward and back. And here’s how you turn it.” He worked the levers with both hands, and the Bobcat turned in a circle.

“Awesome,” Charlie said. “Let’s see if the snowplow works.” He pushed the pedals, and sure enough, the blade went up and down.

“We’re working now,” said André, his face lit up with excitement. “Let’s plow that field down there.”

“Yeah,” said Charlie. “We can make a path to the manger.” He pointed across the smooth white churchyard at the manger scene, which tonight would all be lit up for Christmas Eve.

The yard sloped downward, and the Bobcat leaned like a crazy ride. At first it was really fun, like the coolest ride on a sled, but then it felt as though they were going a little too fast.

“Hey, slow down,” Charlie said.

“I can’t.” André struggled with the levers. “It’s not slowing down.”

“Then you better turn around, because we’re heading straight for—”

“Duck!”

The manger was suddenly right in front of them. The plow blade hooked itself on something and then smashed into the manger.

André’s hand flashed up, and he punched a red button overhead. The engine died.

“Holy moly,” said Charlie. “We smashed into the manger.” He looked at the statues strewn around the snowy yard. “We ran over baby Jesus.”

“Oh man, that was not cool,” André said. “What should we—”

“What’s going on here?” asked a gruff voice.

Charlie’s stomach felt as if it had turned into a giant ball of ice. A police cruiser was parked in the lot beside the churchyard. “It’s Chief McKnight,” he whispered to André.

“We’re sunk,” André whispered back.

“You boys climb down from that thing.” Chief McKnight looked really mad. “Is anybody hurt?”

Charlie eyed the crushed fake baby head down in the snow. He and André scrambled out. “We’re okay,” Charlie said. “Chief McKnight, we’re really sorry.”

“We didn’t mean to do it,” André said.

“You kids are in big trouble,” said Chief McKnight.

As if they didn’t already know.

“Honest, we were just gonna do some plowing, you know, to help out,” André said.

“It was an accident,” Charlie said, snatching off his hat.

Chief McKnight leaned down and glared at them. Then his eyebrows shot up. “Charlie? Charlie O’Donnell?”

Chief McKnight had known him ever since Charlie was born. The police chief was married to Jenny, the bakery owner, and they lived in an old-fashioned house on King Street, and when the chief wasn’t on duty, Charlie was allowed to call him Rourke.

But right now it was Chief McKnight, all the way. “Y-yes, sir,” Charlie replied in a shaking voice. “That’s me.”

“You stole a piece of equipment. You committed vandalism...on Christmas Eve,” said the chief. “Bad timing, guys. Really bad timing.”

“We’re sorry,” Charlie said.

“Do we have to go to jail?” André asked in a very quiet, completely horrified voice.

Charlie knew exactly what André was thinking—that he would have to go to jail, like his mom. That was André’s deepest, darkest fear. Charlie nearly knocked his friend down, pushing in front of him to stand before Chief McKnight. He stood tall and squared his shoulders the way his dad told him he should do to show respect.

“It was me,” he said in a loud, clear voice. “I made André sit next to me, but I was the one who stole the snowplow and ran it into the manger. André didn’t have anything to do with it.”

“Hey,” said André.

“If anybody gets in trouble,” Charlie said, “it should be me, not André.”

“Is that so?” asked the police chief.

Charlie knew his Christmas wish couldn’t possibly come true now. What boy could ever be rewarded on Christmas morning after pulling a prank like this? Santa would never bring him a dog now, not after what they’d just done. So he figured he might as well take the blame, because in one big flash, he realized there was something way more important than his Christmas wish, and that was André. His best friend.

And André’s wish—that his mom would be okay—just had to come true.

“Let’s go to my car,” said Rourke. “I need to call your dad.”

Defeated, they followed him up the slope toward the squad car. Normally they would love exploring a police car, but not now.

“Why did you say it was you?” André hissed at Charlie.

“Because we need to make sure your Christmas wish comes true.”

“What about your wish?”

Charlie’s heart sank, but he kept his chin up. “Maybe next year.” And in that moment, he felt funny, kind of light and floating. The moment he had stepped up to take the blame, he had felt this terrific sensation whooshing through him like an ocean wave or like the wind through the trees. It felt good. Really good, even though he knew he had just ruined his chances of getting a puppy. He knew why it felt good to throw himself under the bus and he knew the name of the whooshing feeling.

It was the Christmas Spirit. It was the thing all the songs and stories were about—putting somebody’s happiness ahead of your own.

Even though it felt good, he still had to deal with Chief McKnight...and with the holy family lying half-buried in the snow. He’d run over baby Jesus. How was he going to fix this?

He was going to need a Christmas miracle.

When they were a few feet from the police car, Charlie saw Darcy running toward them. “What happened here?” she asked. “Is someone hurt?”

“No visible injuries,” said the chief. “And you are?”

“Darcy Fitzgerald,” she said. “I’m friends with Charlie’s aunt. I was looking for them at the skate house, and his aunt said they came over here to play in the snow.” She planted her hands on her hips. “Looks like you had a little too much fun with the snowplow.”

“We’re sorry,” said Charlie. “We didn’t mean it.”

“I was just going to call Logan,” said Chief McKnight, taking out a phone.

Charlie wished he could freeze into an icicle and not feel so terrible. Everything that had happened was bad, but knowing his dad was about to get a call from the police was the worst.

“Wait a moment,” Darcy said. “Do you mind if I have a word with you?”

She and the police chief stepped to the other side of the car and had a quick, quiet conversation. A few minutes later, the chief said, “So here’s the deal. I’m going to move the snowplow, and you kids are going to rebuild the manger. I’m letting you off with a warning this time, but if you ever pull a stunt like this again—”

“We won’t,” Charlie said.

“Never, ever, we swear on a stack of Bibles,” André added.

The chief drove the snowplow back to its parking spot. Darcy looked at Charlie and then at André.

Charlie shook in his shoes. What if she decided to act like the stepmonster and rat him out to his dad? Oh man.

“All right, you two,” she said. “Let’s get moving. We’ve got work to do.”

Dark came early to the mountain on Christmas Eve, and outside the window, the winter sky brooded with the weight of a coming storm. The airways were filled with warnings of a lake-effect blizzard. Darcy’s phone vibrated with messages from her sisters and parents to make sure she was all right.

She was returning a text to Lydia when India handed her a mug redolent of wine and spices. “Glühwein,” she said. “Traditional in Tyrolia, I’m told. They made it over at the Powder Room for the overnight guests.”

Darcy took a sip. “Oh, that’s nice.”

India gestured at her phone. “Everything all right?”

“My sister just wanted to make sure we’re not going to freeze to death in the storm.”

“I heard it was going to hit around midnight.”

“It’s kind of exciting,” said Darcy.

“Let’s hope the power stays on.” India studied her. “You look good.”

“As opposed to...?”

“I thought you might be depressed, missing your family, that sort of thing.”

“I’m fine.”

“So, you and Logan—”

“Fine,” Darcy assured her. “Everything is fine.” She wasn’t ready to talk about her growing bond with Logan. It was very unexpected, and very fast. And if the encounter with him today was any indication, she was in for a very nice Christmas Eve. She didn’t want to spoil things by talking about them too soon. She didn’t want to talk herself out of it. He had done nothing specific to win her trust, yet she trusted him. She wanted to take a chance with him.

“I’m going to go say good-night to the kids,” she said to India.

“Okay. I think we wore them out sufficiently, and they’re exhausted enough to sleep. Charlie practically fell asleep in his Christmas Eve Frito pie.”

India had no idea. Darcy had kept the Bobcat mishap to herself on condition that the boys put the manger back in readiness for Christmas morning. She had worked the boys like a pair of rented mules. Fueled by pure repentance and helped by the incredibly understanding chief of police, they had put the manger back in order quickly. They’d managed to swaddle the broken baby Jesus so it would look brand-new. Tonight’s layer of fresh snow would cover their tracks.

In the course of repairing the damage with Charlie, she had made two discoveries. Number one, she was falling for the little boy as hard as she was falling for his father. And number two, telling Santa he wanted a snowboard for Christmas was merely a diversion Charlie had set up. As they were finishing up with the manger, André had pulled her aside and whispered the truth. She only hoped there was enough time to do what had to be done.

The process of getting the kids off to bed began with a chorus of groans from the kids. “The sooner you get to bed, the sooner Santa comes,” China reminded them.

“And the pickle prize,” Darcy reminded them. “Don’t forget that.” She explained the game to them, and eventually they were all rounded up and sent to bed. Darcy went in to tell them good-night.

“Thank you,” said Charlie, “for, um, helping us out today.”

“You’re welcome.” She didn’t lecture him. She knew he’d learned his lesson. She’d seen it on his face at the scene of the crime.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Why did you help us?”

“I have four older sisters. I know all about doing something dumb, and getting in trouble, and trying to make it right, and then moving on. And by the way, that’s a nugget, Charlie.”

“A what?”

“A nugget. Like a nugget of wisdom. Something to remember as you go through life.”

“What, like there’s a rule that I should never do something dumb?”

“No. Just assume you’re going to because you’re only human. The important thing is to make it right and move on.”

“Okay. I’m really glad you helped us.”

“I always help the people I love.” It just slipped out. She stared at him, and the little red-cheeked face and bright green eyes stared back at her.

His gaze never wavered. “I love you, too. I hope you stick around.”

Oh, boy. This could go so wrong. Charlie was a new love interest for her heart—and also a new risk. If things didn’t work out with Logan, her loss would be doubled. She’d been there before and feared going there again. On the other hand, the excitement she felt for Logan was doubled, too. Maybe it was time to quit being afraid.

“Good night, Charlie. I’ll see you on Christmas morning, okay?”

Chapter Eighteen

“They’re nestled,” said Marion O’Donnell, coming down from the kids’ room.

“All snug in their beds,” added Al.

“Then Santa had better get to work,” said Bilski, nudging India. “We’ve got a pair of bikes to put together.”

“Humbug,” she said. “I’d rather have a hot toddy and go to bed.”

“I’ll give you a hand,” said China’s husband. “But only if you promise to help me with the dollhouse. All that itty-bitty furniture. I don’t get it.”

“We’ll put out the milk and cookies,” said China.

“You can put them right here,” Logan said, indicating the table next to him. “Santa needs a snack.”

Seated on his other side, Darcy felt a warm sense of contentment. She liked this family. She liked the interplay and the way they cared for one another. It reminded her of her own family, before the trouble with Huntley began.

She felt relaxed and at peace, far from trouble now.

India checked her phone. “Your mother sent a text message,” she said to Bilski. “She wants to know how we’re making it through the storm.”

“Tell her we’re suffering.” Bilski helped himself to another beer.

The coming storm was making national news because of its predicted size and severity. Currently it was hurling itself across the Great Lakes, gathering strength.

They went over the next day’s agenda like a team of battle commanders. “I’m going to get the ham in the oven before we go to church,” said Marion.

“We need to leave early,” China said. “Midnight service was canceled because of the storm, so the morning celebration is going to be packed.”

“Is everything in place for the live feed to Angelica’s mom?” Darcy asked.

Logan nodded. “We did a test run. It’s all going to come together, blizzard or no blizzard. If the internet service goes down, there’s a cellular backup.”

Darcy felt a wave of warmth for him. She loved that they were working together on this project. She just hoped it was enough to make Christmas bearable for Angelica and André.

The others peeled off gradually, everyone going to their rooms, until it was just Logan and Darcy and the roaring fire.

“Can I just say, I love this?” He gestured at the roaring fire with an impossible number of stockings hanging from the mantelpiece. “All these stockings. My mom and sisters are serious about stockings.” They were different colors, but all the same size so the kids wouldn’t bicker over them. There was a photograph of each person pinned to each stocking.

“It’s nice,” she said.

“I love having a big group like this, a big family. A tribe.”

She didn’t answer. She’d come from a big family, one that was tribelike. And it hadn’t worked out so well for her.

His hand dropped from the back of the sofa to her shoulder, gently caressing. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“Coming on to you.”

“That’s exciting.”

“I think so, too.”

It was quiet and warm in the room, with music drifting from the speakers. It was briefly interrupted by a storm update. The new prediction was for up to three feet in Ulster County.

“Are you worried?” she asked him.

“I have a rule,” he said. “No worrying on Christmas Eve. Oh, and I have insurance, just in case. I was in the business, so I’m covered. Actually, there is one thing I’m worried about.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“How to get you to spend the night with me.”

And there it was. The invitation she had waited for, hoped for, yearned for and at the same time dreaded. Before she opened her mouth she honestly did not know what she would say.

“Sometimes all you have to do is ask.”

For Darcy, the biggest surprise of the night was not the blizzard. It was not the power of the wind lashing at the windows.

No, the biggest surprise was that Logan delivered on every single promise he’d made with his kisses. Yes, he really was that tender, that attentive to her. He seemed to know just how to make her want him with a yearning so intense it took her breath away. As stealthy as a pair of teenagers, they crept up the stairs to his room. The only light came from the string of colored bulbs hanging from the eaves outside, casting a rainbow glow across his high, peeled birch bed. The room smelled of woods and soap and some ineffable fragrance she found wildly arousing. He went over to a dresser and lit a tall column of a candle, dimly illuminating an area cluttered with unsorted laundry and a box of gift wrap, curly ribbon and gift bags.

“Sorry about the mess,” he murmured. “I wasn’t expecting company.”

“You weren’t?”

“Hoping, maybe. Not expecting.” He took her by the hand and brought her over to the bed.

“I’m glad you’re here.”

She started to reply, but he shushed her with a light brush of his thumb across her lips, and it was all she could do not to moan audibly.

“We’re already pretty good at talking,” he explained. “We can make conversation, joke around.”

“Yes, but—”

“Shh. Let’s see how we do at being quiet together.” He cupped the side of her head in his hand and kissed her, long and searchingly, his tongue teasing its way into her mouth. She ran her hands over his upper arms and around his shoulders, mapping the terrain of hard muscle under his soft sweater. He felt so good to her. She was so ready for this—another surprise. Before Logan, she’d wanted nothing to do with guys, and relationships. All she thought of was the risk and the emotional pain. Just a few weeks ago, she had been patently unable to imagine being vulnerable again, but suddenly she felt as if someone had let her out of a small, cramped box of her own making. Stepping back, she pulled her top over her head and let it drop to the floor. It felt wonderful, liberating, to finally leave the past behind and step into this unexpected new place—Logan’s world.

He took in a sharp breath, then put his hands at her waist and pulled her close, bending to place a line of kisses along her collarbone, then reaching around to unhook her bra, fumbling a little.

“It’s a front clasp,” she said, slowly guiding his hands to savor every bit of his touch.

He took it off, and made a wordless sound she found completely gratifying. He peeled his sweater off one-handed and dropped his jeans, and she followed suit. Then he pressed her back on the bed, onto the soft, age-worn quilt. She welcomed the weight of him, feeling amazed at how clear-eyed she was about wanting him. Instead of feeling smothered, she felt untethered, ready for adventure.

He pulled a ribbon of connected packets from a drawer of the bedside table. “Better watch out,” he murmured.

“Better not cry,” she said.

Then he raised himself above her and held her hands up over her head, sinking down with exquisite timing. “Santa Claus is coming tonight,” he whispered.

Time slipped away, the minutes uncounted as they lost themselves in making love. Darcy felt dazed by the storm of pleasure, and in the aftermath, the silence was deep, broken only by their satisfied, tandem breathing. His long, muscular body curved around hers, unfamiliar and exciting.

Her life seemed to be taking an unanticipated turn. She thought she’d come here simply to survive the holidays away from her family. And now here she was with this new thing happening to her. This...romance. Really, there was no other word for it. She was swept into a lovely swirl of emotion, one that freed her heart and filled her with joy, gently unspooling the tension she’d been holding on to from the past. He turned his head and gently kissed her temple. “That was nice,” he whispered.

“Yes,” she said. “But there’s something I don’t understand.”

“What’s that?”

“This is supposed to be awkward,” she said. “We’re new, it’s our first time, so...why isn’t this awkward?”

“Because it’s the real thing. It’s not awkward, because it’s real.”

“How do you know that? We barely know each other.”

“I know stuff.” He laughed softly. “I’m smarter than I look.”

“What stuff?” she asked. “I mean, you’re the first man I’ve wanted to make love to since my marriage. If you’re so smart, you’d realize this is probably rebound sex.”

“As opposed to what?”

“The kind of sex you have when you realize you’re over your failed marriage and you’re ready to move on, and you find someone you click with and you realize you’re not reacting to the past but to right now.”

“I think you just answered your own question.” He trailed his finger along her jawline, then down over her shoulder. “This is not a rebound,” he said.

“What makes you so sure of that?”

“Because I’m not letting you go.”

Her heart surged with excitement. Happiness. She wished the feeling could go on forever.

And this was unfortunate, because she could not see a way for the situation to sort itself out in the long term. Logan was incredible, but there was a red flag as big and bright as the cape of a matador. He claimed he wanted—he needed—a woman who wanted children, not just Charlie but babies, too. She couldn’t promise him that. It just felt too risky, too fraught with pitfalls. She wasn’t ready now and couldn’t be certain she’d ever be.

“There are things you don’t know about me,” she confessed. “Things that would make a big difference in the way you feel. Things that would tell you that this might not be the right move for either of us.”

“There’s plenty we don’t know about each other, but it’s only a matter of time. I plan to learn everything about you. I’m going to know what makes you laugh, what makes you cry. I’m going to know what makes you mad and what makes you sad. I’m going to learn all about you. And you’re going to love every minute of it. Oh, and you’re going to learn everything about me, too.”

“You sound very sure of yourself.”

“Because I am sure. And the more you know me, the more you’re going to love me.”

That word. Love. Although her feelings for him were all brand new, she could not convince herself that he was wrong. “You seem to know a lot about us. Do you have a crystal ball?”

“I know what I know.” He propped himself up on one elbow and gazed down at her, serious now. In the faint glow of the Christmas lights and the flickering candle flame, his eyes looked deep and intense. “I know what my heart’s telling me to do. It’s telling me to love you. It’s telling me to take you in my arms and never let you go.”

A flurry of alarm fluttered in her chest. “But we want such different things. I can never be the person you want me to be.”

“Darcy. You already are that person.”

“You’re wrong. I’m not. And I never can be.” She suddenly felt overwhelmed by his certainty, by the power in his eyes. She could never live up to what he wanted from her. She could never be the mother he wanted for Charlie, couldn’t imagine having his children.

She’d said it a hundred times. She didn’t want children. And she was scared. She had emerged from the demise of her marriage more or less intact, but also firmly resolved to be smarter, going forward. She was too young, too hopeful to declare she’d never fall in love again. But now she was wise enough to know that if and when she did, she would do so cautiously, not leaping into something the way she’d just...leaped.

“Why are you so afraid of finding happiness?”

“Because it doesn’t last, and it’s awful when you lose it.”

“You’re not going to lose it. When the right thing comes along, it’s just going to grow and deepen and get stronger every day, every year until the end of time.”

He was a hopeless romantic. She wished she could be that, too, wished she could surrender and not see all the obstacles in the way.

But she couldn’t. It was too hard for her. Too scary. She needed time, time to think. Time to see if there was any truth in what he was telling her.

“It’s almost Christmas,” she said. “Can we just agree to enjoy the holidays?”

“And then?”

“And then I have to go home.”

“To the sock warehouse,” he said.

“Hey. Don’t judge. I searched high and low for my place in the city.”

“Yeah? Well, maybe I searched high and low for you.”

Chapter Nineteen

At some point in the dead of night, the power went out. Logan awakened to chilly darkness, and found himself lying in an empty bed. The Christmas lights were dark and colorless, and the big candle on the dresser had burned down to a puddle of white wax. If it was not for warm memories swirling through him, he might have thought he’d dreamed the night with Darcy.

He jumped out of bed, pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt and thick socks and went downstairs. His breath created frozen clouds. The Christmas tree looked sad and neglected, standing there in the weak light through the window. In the aftermath of the blizzard, the light in the great room was stark from the deep blanket of snow. Over at the resort, the emergency generator chugged with a distant hum.

Working quickly, he made a fire. A big one. But it would take more than that to chase away the chill in the air. Suddenly his perfect Christmas wasn’t looking so perfect.

His father came into the room, unshaven and bundled up against the frigid weather. “Bad luck on the power,” he said.

“Yeah.” Logan braced himself, expecting an I-told-you-so and a reminder that they could be enjoying the Florida sunshine today. But the diatribe never came. Al stood in front of the fire, slapping his palms together.

“So much for hot cinnamon buns and coffee this morning,” Logan said. “And unless the power company gets right on it, I’m not so sure about Mom’s baked ham and all the trimmings.” He glared at the dead-looking tree. “There’s something totally depressing about an unlit tree by daylight.”

“Maybe this will cheer you up.” His father handed him a business-sized envelope.

“What’s this?”

“A contract. You can read the fine print later. It’s an investor’s agreement. I’m looking for a stake in Saddle Mountain.”

Logan’s jaw dropped. “What the—”

“Did he come?” The kids arrived en masse, tumbling into the room, sleep-tousled and still in their pajamas. “Did Santa come?”

Logan put the contract in his back pocket and couldn’t keep from grinning at his dad. “Yep,” he said. “It appears that he did.”

“Yay!”

Al turned to the herd of children. “Well, now, looks like Santa didn’t bring any electricity. Better check the stockings.”

“Stockings!” There was a mad scramble.

India and China arrived to supervise the first wave of holiday madness. Someone switched on the battery-powered speakers, and lively carols filled the air. Logan’s mother went around lighting every candle she could find. The stockings were stuffed with treats and crazy little toys, like windup roaring dinosaurs, stick-on tattoos, nostril-shaped pencil sharpeners, mini whoopee cushions. Charlie was enamored with a set of finger-sized steel drums, and André accompanied him on the harmonica.

“When can we open presents?” Bernie demanded. “We’ve been waiting forever.”

“After everybody gets here,” China said.

“Where’s Darcy?” Charlie asked, looking around.

Good question, thought Logan. Had last night’s conversation freaked her out so much she’d disappeared into the frozen tundra?

“I’ll go look in her room.” Bernie clambered up the stairs.

Uh-oh, thought Logan.

A few minutes later, Bernie returned, her eyes wide. “She’s gone. Her bed is all made up, and she’s gone.”

Instantly Logan’s sisters turned to him with knowledge written clearly in their gazes.

He offered a sheepish grin and a shrug.

“Where’d she go?” Charlie asked. “Should we go look for her?”

A commotion ensued as everyone debated and speculated, but it didn’t last long. “Hey, check it out,” said André, running to the front door.

There was Darcy in her parka and snowshoes, coming up the front walk, pulling a small sled behind her. She looked like a dream to Logan. Small and bright, a breath of fresh air. Last night had been incredible, and deep down, he felt completely certain this was not a fling or a rebound. They had a lot more talking to do.

Maybe not just talking.

“Hot coffee and hot chocolate from the lodge,” Darcy announced, leaving her snowshoes on the porch. Al and Bilski went outside to help her.

“Christmas is saved,” Logan’s mother declared.

As Logan took her coat and shut the door behind her, he noticed a line of snowshoe tracks leading around to the back of the house.

“Now can we open presents?” Charlie asked.

“Ready, set, go!” India yelled.

The kids rushed toward the Christmas tree. Despite the lack of electricity, their squeals of excitement lit the room. The Santa gifts were a hit—a dollhouse and princess outfits for the girls, sleds and snowball bazookas for the boys, André’s baseball mitt, the snowboard for Charlie. Logan saw the boys sharing a knowing look.

“I got a special card,” Angelica exclaimed. “Look, it’s from Santa!” She opened the card, which featured a sparkly picture of Santa and a simple message. “See you at the church, later.”

“I wonder what it means.” Bernie turned the card this way and that, squinting at the careful lettering.

Angelica’s eyes shone with hope and excitement. “Maybe it means I’m getting my Christmas wish.”

“I bet it does,” Bernie declared.

Logan was probably the only one who noticed Charlie’s smile seemed forced as he inspected the shiny new snowboard. “It’s really cool,” he said.

“I bet you can’t wait to try it out,” said Al.

“That’s right.”

“Just what you wanted?” asked Fisher.

Charlie ducked his head and slid his snowboard along the rug under the tree. Logan could tell something was up. Charlie’s cheerfulness was an act, that was apparent.

Logan’s gut twisted unpleasantly as he went over to the fireplace mantel, where there was a small stack of Christmas cards. Among the cards were the notes they had written to themselves last summer at Camp Kioga. True to her word, Sonnet had mailed them to arrive the day before. Logan’s message to himself had been succinct: Make Christmas awesome for Charlie.

He sensed Darcy beside him, peering over his shoulder. “Remember this?” he asked her.

She nodded. “I filled one out, too. But I wasn’t home to get my mail.”

“What’d you write on it?”

She hesitated, but smiled up at him. “Maybe I’ll tell you someday.”

He liked the sound of “someday” coming from her. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“What did you write?”

He showed her. “I’m not doing so hot.”

“Nonsense. Look at this, Logan.” She gestured around the room, at his parents and sisters, nieces and nephews, André and Angelica and Charlie. Everyone was laughing or relaxing or playing while outside the window, a soft snow began to fall. His parents were on the sofa, sipping coffee and watching the kids. “Joy to the World” was playing on the stereo. “Look at these happy faces. You did this, Logan. You.”

It was exactly what he needed to hear. How had she known? His heart skipped a beat. He was going to love this woman forever. He just knew it. Now he had to figure out if she knew it, too. “Hey—”

“The pickle prize,” she said suddenly, turning to Charlie. “Don’t forget the pickle prize.”

The kids perked up, and there was another mad dash for the tree. Darcy nudged Charlie and pointed at a spot in the tree.

“There it is,” Charlie yelled. “I saw it first!” Reaching through the branches, he unhooked the ornament from the tree. The motion sensor went off, and the pickle made a yodeling sound.

“You won the pickle prize,” Darcy declared.

“What’s the pickle prize?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

“I bet it’s on that little note,” Bernie said, indicating the tiny tag attached to the ornament.

“What’s it say?” asked Nan.

“Read it!” Fisher and Goose demanded.

Charlie unfolded the note. “It says pant...pantry. I got it, I’m supposed to look in the pantry.” He set down the ornament and made a beeline for the big storage room off the kitchen.

Mystified, Logan shot Darcy a look and followed him. Charlie swung open the door and peered into the dark.

“What’d you find?” asked André, crowding in behind him.

“It’s just pantry stuff,” Charlie mumbled. “I don’t—” He stopped and held very still.

“What?” asked André.

“Shh.” Nearly masked by the music and conversation, a tiny noise sounded. Charlie bent down and picked up a wicker basket filled with fleece blankets.

When he turned, his face was lit with wonder. “Dad,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Dad, look!” He set down the basket and moved the blankets aside to reveal a fluffy, squirming, squeaking bundle. “A puppy! I got a puppy!” His eyes shone with joy as he carefully lifted it up.

“Charlie got a puppy!” Bernie exclaimed. “Oh my gosh, he’s so cute!”

Everyone gathered around to admire the little puppy. It had floppy ears and butterscotch-colored fur, a black button nose and bright eyes. There was a red ribbon around its neck and a tag. Charlie read it aloud. “Please look after this dog. His name is Taffy, and he wants to be your forever friend. Love, Santa.”

The pup licked Charlie’s face, and the laughter that came from him was the sweetest sound Logan had ever heard. He looked over at Darcy—clearly, the culprit in this. She looked back, grinning.

“Whaddya know,” André said, “Santa really is real.”

Logan had told Darcy all the reasons it was a bad time to get a dog—the mess, the noise, the work, the inconvenience. But for now, he simply caught her eye from across the room and mouthed two words: Thank you.

“How are we going to get to church?” asked Logan’s mother, checking her watch. “And will we make it on time?” All the adults in the house were in on the Angelica project. Everyone wanted the live video link to work so Maya Martin could see her kids on Christmas.

“Not to worry,” said Logan. “One of the groomers is driving the big plow down the mountain road.”

“Then let’s get going,” said India, rounding everyone up.

The town of Avalon looked as if it had been covered in fluffy white icing, but the church parking lot was full.

The church had power, thanks to a generator. Volunteers were pouring hot chocolate and coffee in the candlelit lobby. Everyone filed inside, breathing a sigh of relief at the warmth. More candles glowed around the altar. Charlie brought his puppy in a portable carrier lined with soft bedding, thoughtfully provided by Santa.

“How’d you pull that off?” Logan murmured.

“A little bird told me,” she whispered. “I paid a visit to PAWS yesterday, and they kept the dog at the lodge overnight. I just had to sneak him into the house this morning.”

“You’ve got a lot of tricks up your sleeve.”

“I know I put a lot on your plate without asking you, but I’ve heard it said that it’s easier to apologize after the fact than to ask permission in the first place.”

“Don’t apologize. You’re amazing. Charlie and I will never forget what you did.”

“It was Santa’s doing. I was only following orders.”

Eddie and Maureen Haven, the pageant directors, greeted people at the door to the sanctuary. Charlie handed the travel crate to André and approached them, his face pale and serious. “I’m sorry about the manger. I’m really sorry.”

“You fixed it just in time,” Eddie said. “No harm done.” He glanced down at his wife. “Years ago, I made a much bigger mess on Christmas Eve. Took me a long time, but I made amends.” They shook hands.

Logan frowned at Darcy. “What was that about?”

“I’ll tell you later. Or maybe Charlie will.”

Inside the sanctuary, the kids got into their choir robes while the adults filed into their seats. Logan and Darcy found Zach Alger getting the video link ready. He motioned them over. “All set,” he said.

Logan brought André and Angelica to look at the setup. “There’s someone who wants to say hi,” he said. The children’s faces lit up when they looked at the small screen. There was Maya, smiling tremulously. She wore a collared blue shirt and had every hair in place. There were rings of sleeplessness around her eyes, but when the kids stood in front of the camera, the tense lines were softened by joy.

“Hey, babies,” she said. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas to you, Mama,” said Angelica.

“We miss you,” André said. “We can’t wait to see you.”

“Are you gonna watch the singing?” Angelica asked, toying with the red ribbon of her robe. “I’m gonna sing a special song.”

“Yes, I get to watch. And I’m going to be so proud of you. I love you both. I’ll see you soon.”

“How soon, Mama? Sometimes in the night, I miss you so much that I cry,” said Angelica.

“Ah, baby, I’m so sorry I can’t be there. I cry, too. But not today. Not on Christmas. I hope you’re having fun, up there in the mountains.”

“It’s really fun!” said Angelica.

“I’m learning to snowboard,” André said.

“And Charlie got a puppy from Santa,” his sister added. “A real live puppy. Show her, Charlie.”

He took the pup from the crate and held it in front of the screen. “His name’s Taffy.”

“Wow, that’s really cute,” said Maya. “Santa was good to you this year.”

“Yes,” Angelica said. “I got what I wanted, Mama. You were my Christmas wish. And here you are.”

“Yeah,” Maya said, her voice rough. “Here I am.”

“I really wanted you to see me sing and I didn’t think it could come true and it did.”

“Are you okay, Mama?” asked André, his voice subdued. He sounded mature beyond his years.

Logan put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. Watching Maya on camera, he could see her struggling to keep her smile in place.

“I’m okay now, baby boy,” she said. “I swear, I’m okay.”

“Christmas wasn’t perfect.” Logan eased his arm around Darcy as they sat together on the sofa that night, after everyone else had gone to bed. “But it was one of my favorites.”

Darcy smiled, snuggling closer. The power hadn’t come on until evening, and their Christmas dinner had consisted of hot dogs roasted over the fire. Yet the kids had all had a great day, and they’d gone to bed content.

“Maybe we just have to redefine perfect,” she said. She felt nervous and excited. She told herself she’d better have the conversation she was afraid to have. If it didn’t go her way, if it scared him off, then at least she could know. She could move on with no lingering doubts. Would she miss him? Of course she would. Would it kill her? No, she’d survived worse.

She finally felt like herself again. After all this time and after all she had been through, her wishes and dreams had stumbled. They’d been downgraded. She had come to believe that shrinking her dreams was better than inflating her hopes. It was the ultimate self-protection against disappointment.

That was the wrong kind of thinking, though. In Logan’s arms, she remembered the value of taking a risk. It was better to risk everything for something she believed in than to hide from the best part of life, from love and connection and joy. Now here was this unexpected thing happening, right in the middle of her life, something she had never planned for or dared to imagine for herself.

With Logan, she discovered that the dreams she had set aside actually had a chance of coming true. Almost in spite of her hopes and fears, without even realizing it, something new was forming. She sensed it in the deepest part of her, the way she felt when something clicked into place. It seemed as if her body knew what was happening before her mind accepted the concept. She felt herself relax, a big unwinding of the squeezing tension she didn’t know she was holding on to. It was like exhaling at last after holding her breath for a year.

“How is this going to go?” she asked Logan. “Do we get a happy ending or...”

“What if it doesn’t end it all?” he asked.

“Meaning?”

He smiled and kissed her temple. “Suppose it’s a happy beginning that never has to end?”

She couldn’t think straight when he kissed her. “Fair enough. But there are logistics to consider.”

“Logistics,” he said, his voice prompting.

She shifted on the sofa, turning to face him. “Logan, we want different things.”

He looked away. “I always thought my happiness depended on having a family. You know, more kids. Brothers and sisters for Charlie. More babies to raise. That’s what I thought would make me happy.”

She felt her insides freeze up with apprehension. More babies to raise. Would she? Could she? “I don’t—”

“Something occurred to me,” he said.

Oh God, she thought. Oh no. She teetered. Could a person who never wanted kids be happy with a person who did want kids? There really was no room for compromise.

She pictured a future with him. Pictured being pregnant, her belly growing. The discomfort. The night feedings. The struggles and the joy. With Logan.

This was not a compromise. With all her heart, she yearned to fall in love with him. It was already happening. But could she want the same things he wanted? Don’t be afraid anymore, she told herself. When it’s right, you don’t have to be afraid. Maybe, she thought, it wasn’t the prospect of children that made her feel trapped but the way she approached a relationship and the way her partner treated her. Everything was different now. Everything. “Logan—”

“Let me finish.” He stroked her hair. “Listen. Everything I imagined when I thought about the future has changed. And it’s because of you. I want you to be my future. Not some image I had, not some concept in my head. You make me happy. You and me together—that’s what I want. Us.”

“I don’t understand. What are you saying?”

“That now when I think of family, I think of you. And Charlie. I don’t need any more than that.”

Her breath caught, and then for no reason she could fathom, she started to cry. “I feel exactly the same way.”

“You do?”

“But I changed my mind about something, too.”

“Darcy—”

“No, listen. I’ve been so scared, for so long. Scared of hurt and disappointment. Then I realized disappointment doesn’t kill you. Either it just teaches you not to hope...or it shows you how strong you can be.”

“I won’t hurt you, Darcy. I won’t disappoint you.”

She trusted that with all her heart. “I know,” she said. “I want the future with you, too. I want the family. I want us.” Declaring this to him made her feel both vulnerable and liberated. She put her arms around him, praying she would never have to let him go. “What I don’t know is if I can keep from disappointing you.”

“I’ve heard you’re a true believer. You told me so yourself.”

“Yes.”

“Then you have to believe wishes can come true.”