the christmas arrangement by janette foreman 1 · mirror before climbing out. if greg’s agent,...

The Christmas Arrangement by Janette Foreman 1


© 2018 by Janette Foreman

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted

in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other

electronic or mechanical methods without written permission

from Janette Foreman. For permission requites, write to the author,

addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.

[email protected]

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events,

locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or

used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,

or actual events or locations is purely coincidental.

© 2018 Cover designed by Janette Foreman at JF Creative Services

Printed in the United States.


“The faithful love of the Lord never ends!

His mercies never cease. Great is his faithfulness;

His mercies begin afresh each morning.”

Leviticus 3:22-23


Chapter 1

This time of year, the radio played nothing but Christmas music. Which was why Jen

Laurie kept her radio off.

The silence nearly crushed her as she sat in her SUV on the curb outside 215 Pine Cone

Drive, waiting. She surveyed the house’s cute shutters, mature trees, and long drive as it called

her back to her ten-year-old self—that moment she saw the house for the first time and prayed it

would one day come on the market. She knew, then and there, she’d buy it. The dream only

solidified in the years to come, until thinking about happily ever after meant living in that place.

She and Greg.

Everything was going according to plan—except for her.

Greg Tuttle’s red pickup eased in behind her. “Now or never,” Jen whispered to the visor

mirror before climbing out. If Greg’s agent, Marco, hadn’t been gone this week, he’d be

handling this final walk-through instead of her. Not that she would ever blame Marco. When

your elderly mother is sick in the hospital, you visit her, and your co-workers at Laurie Realty

willingly fill in where they can.

Marco had texted this morning asking for Jen’s help on this deal, and after last month’s

project fail, she couldn’t bring herself to let the company down again.

“Hello.” She tried her best not to sound reluctant while a breeze curled lacy snow around

her leather boots.

Greg gave her a ultra-wide smile as he shut his door. Obviously trying hard, too. “Hey,

Jen. Long time no see.”

Emily Yancey came around the front of the pickup then, also offering a smile that

screamed awkward. “Hey, Jen.” Strands of her short blond bob whisked across her face and she


brushed them down. “Thanks for letting us look one more time before we sign the papers.”

“Of course. Come right this way.” Jen unlocked the front door, ignoring the ache in her

chest, then stepped aside so the engaged couple could enter.

Emily released a contented sigh, pausing on the hardwood floor leading into the grand

living room. “Still feels wonderful. I can already see the kids playing there by the hearth and a

family portrait hanging there on the wall.”

Greg reached for her hand and they shared a smile. A genuine one. “And it’ll all start in

six days.”

Hanging back, Jen scrunched her brow and leaned around the stairwell. “That’s

Christmas Eve,” she couldn’t help but note aloud. “Aren’t you signing the papers tomorrow?”

“He means getting married.” Emily practically twirled when she turned to Jen. “We’re

getting married on Christmas Eve.”

Those awful words panged through Jen like a can flopping down the road. A whole

bunch of cans, apparently, tied to the back of Greg’s classic mustang. Married on Christmas

Eve? Her Christmas Eve?

Blinking back a sudden sting, she forced a grin to match Emily’s. “How exciting. Wow,

buying your first home and getting married in the same week. You’ve got to be insanely busy.”

“We certainly are. And it’s totally worth it.” Emily met Greg’s gaze before snuggling

beneath his arm. “What about you, Jen? Anyone special you’re spending the holiday with?”

For all of Emily’s enthusiasm, she never actually took her eyes off her fiancé. Jen

bounced her knees and glanced at the front door. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m dating someone.”

“That’s great.” Again, with the googly-eyed staring.

Okay. Jen turned away. “I’ll wait outside while you look around, all right?” She didn’t


need to see the place again. Not with Greg, and not with the woman living out Jen’s dreams.

Visions of future Christmases, Thanksgivings, and Valentine’s days—of love in general—were a

thing of the past.

Giving the door a firm tug shut, Jen inhaled the brisk air before walking the long drive

and hopping into her SUV. Christmas lights glittered from each house on this block—as they did

from most houses in Pine Haven. Her hometown certainly loved its holidays. The South Dakota

sun slid toward the horizon framed in by the Black Hills, and it was only 3:30, causing the lights

to glow like they belonged on a Christmas card.

Looked like Greg had finally found a woman willing to rely on him.

“You can’t be Superwoman, Jen. At some point, you’ll realize you need someone,” he’d

said, his car idling in front of her house, windshield snow crystals glittering beneath the

lamplight. “But I’m tired of waiting. It’s not going to be me.”

Jen allowed one tear to fall before wiping her eyes and telling herself to toughen up.

Christmastime just didn’t feel the same after that. No need to decorate a tree this year. Or

keep the single strand of lights up on her porch roof any minute past December twenty-fifth. The

joy, the parties, the dinners, the near-magic of it all—it all lost its flavor.

Holidays weren’t the same with a broken heart and no reason to dream.

Her mind drifted back to Emily’s question. Yes, she had a . . . well, sort of a boyfriend.

Nick had gone on five dates with her so far, which was a pretty solid record for Jen, since she

hadn’t gone on more than one or two with anyone since she and Greg ended things last

Christmas. Unfortunately, though, she had to face facts. Things with Nick weren’t going

anywhere, and it wasn’t fair to string him along, even if it was the holiday.

She reached for her phone to give him a call. Then hesitated. Breaking up with him meant


being alone at Christmas. Again. And this time, she had to sit by while Greg married someone

else.

Tears threatened to fall again as she blinked them back. No. No matter how hard being

alone was, she couldn’t use Nick that way.

A buzz in her hands made her jump. A text—ironically, from Nick.

Nick

Hey, Jen. So I don’t think this is working. We should see other people.

Staring at her screen, Jen exhaled. All right, well, at least the feeling was mutual. Even if

he did use a cliché break-up line and do it over text.

And even if she was truly now alone at Christmas. Again.

Groaning, she covered her face with her hands and dropped onto her steering wheel. The

horn blasted, and she flew upward. Great. Now she looked rudely impatient. Could she sink into

a pile of snow now and never return?

Still on her lap, her phone buzzed again. A call. She didn’t recognize the number, but as a

real estate agent, she often received calls from people she didn’t have in her contacts.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Jen, it’s Andi Costello.”

Andrea Costello from Pine Haven Tourism, an old friend from high school, and the

president of the Downtown Pine Haven Association. “Hey, Andi. What’s up?”

“Well, I needed to ask you something.”

Except for the rare, occasional coffee meet-up, they didn’t see each other often

anymore—now that Andrea had a husband and small children and Jen . . . well, didn’t. Which


Jen had mostly accepted as God’s will for her life. “Okay, what’s on your mind?”

Was it Jen’s imagination, or did her friend pause ever so slightly? “We’re running into

several issues with the Christmas festival, and I’m wondering if you might be able to help.”

Pine Haven went crazy over its events, especially when they were tied to a holiday. Like

the Downtown Pine Haven Christmas Eve Festival. Spanning the length of Main Street, all the

shops were open with special deals, cider, and cookies. Usually there was some sort of block-

wide holiday scavenger hunt happening, and out in the street, people were roasting chestnuts,

listening to live music, and the magic of the evening culminated in the lighting of the tree—a

giant evergreen harvested by the Forest Service—and an art auction at Whispering Pines Gallery.

Where Cooper Gunther worked. Another shadow from her past, and the reason she hadn’t

indulged her love for art for the last three years.

The Christmas Eve Festival was a staple in Pine Haven tradition. At least, that’s how she

remembered it from her childhood, her teen years. Last year had been different, though. Last

year, the new events coordinator guy single-handedly ruined the evening for everyone.

“Andi . . .”

“Our PR rep went into labor this morning,” her friend continued. “Early. Wasn’t due for

another month. And since you know so many people and have a good reputation in town, I

thought this position might be a no-brainer for you.” She lowered her voice. “And we all know

how much we need a good festival after last year.”

Boy, didn’t she know it. Last year’s coordinator failed to hire live music, had promised

citizens of Pine Haven huge discounts off all downtown purchases—something he hadn’t cleared

with business owners first—and between the extra lights and speakers and such, too much

electricity and a lack of surge protectors caused a Main Street blackout and a small fire on the


town square Christmas tree.

It left everyone a little leery of this year’s event. And apparently, Andi thought Jen was

capable of convincing everyone otherwise.

Jen pursed her lips. “I don’t—I don’t know. I mean, I know you need someone but—”

“Please? It’s only for six days, of course. We could really use your help.”

She pushed air through pursed lips, glanced at the house. Greg and Emily were finishing

their tour, stepping out onto the cute little front porch, cringing and mouthing, “Sorry.”

Ugh, how embarrassing. “I’m really going to have to think about this,” she said. “Can I

call you back later today?”

“Sure, that’s fine. Thanks, Jen.”

Jen hung up and checked with the couple, apologizing about the horn—the house was

perfectly to their liking, of course, so they all said goodbye and headed their separate ways. Greg

and Emily to her mother’s for a celebration dinner and Jen back to the office.

She drove down Main Street to Laurie Realty. Century-old buildings crafted from

sandstone blocks lined the four-lane street, as did quaint lamp posts sporting red velvet bows or

evergreen wreaths for the month of December. Pine Haven was a picturesque town, yet in the

bustle of life, its beauty was easy to forget. During her childhood, the Christmas Eve Festival had

served as a way to slow down and remember. To re-commit to family, to positivity, to soaking in

the gift that this life was.

Pine Haven needed to be reminded. And what if they weren’t because the festival wasn’t

a success?

Wrinkling her nose, she squeezed into a narrow parking space. Should probably trade this

SUV in for something smaller and more reflective of her life status. Nothing screamed married


with a passel of kids like a sports utility vehicle. At least she didn’t have those little stick-figure

families slapped on the back window. Yep, selling this thing would be the right thing to do.

Still . . . Jen shut her door and gingerly stepped over the slushy gutter in her stiletto boots.

It was one more reminder that her life wasn’t going according to plan. And that none of her

previous efforts had resulted in success.

Dad’s real estate agency’s entrance straddled the corner of one of Main Street’s ornate,

historic buildings. She stepped inside and made a beeline for her office. “Millie, cross off my

calendar for the rest of the day, would you? I’ve got a lot of work to catch up on.” And a lot of

humiliation to walk herself through.

“Will do. Oh, and Jen?” The secretary at the front desk swiveled to face her. “Andrea

Costello from the tourism office stopped in, looking for you.”

“Thanks, I talked to her already.”

Alone in her office, Jen sank into her cushy chair and grabbed a red marker from a coffee

mug. In swift motion, she drew a big X through today on her desk pad calendar before dropping

her face into her hands. Forget to-do lists for a few hours. This was how she’d spend the rest of

the day.

By nature, she wasn’t a self-pitying girl. No matter what, you could always find a way to

keep busy and move forward. Lately, though, she’d found herself stuck, like the slow death of

sinking in quicksand. She’d stayed busy, all right, but hadn’t moved forward—neither in life nor

in her career. Ever since she’d started at Laurie Realty, she’d dreamed of becoming the

managing broker. And she thought once she invested in the land, Dad might have given her that

opportunity.

But she’d lost the deal.


A sigh racked through her. She simply needed to get out of Pine Haven. Start over where

there weren’t so many memories. The real estate job she’d applied for in Denver hadn’t

responded yet, but maybe they were busy over Christmas and would call back in the new year.

“Did you get a hold of Andrea Costello?”

Jen looked up to find Dad in the doorway, dressed in his usual pressed pants and tie.

“Yeah.”

“Did you take the job?”

“I said I had to think about it.”

“Well, I highly suggest you take it,” Dad said. “Housing is slow this time of year, of

course. And, you know . . . we kind of need the publicity.”

Since the Pine Haven Realty logo and Maren Andrews’ face were everywhere, since

they’d won the bid, bought the farm land, and were now running all the lot sales in the newly-

zoned Stagecoach Trail subdivision.

The thought made her cringe. “I’ll call her back.” She picked up her phone.

“Oh, hey, Jenny.” Dad’s change in tone caused Jen to pause. “I was also thinking we

should decorate your tree tonight. I know you’ve been busy, but you’re kind of getting to the

point where if you don’t do it now, then you won’t do it at all.”

Family tradition. Decorate everyone’s tree together. Jen, Dad, and her brother Finn. Since

her mom passed away when she was a baby, it had always been the three of them. But Finn was

never in town these days. And Christmas had lost its luster.

“Honestly, Dad, I’m not sure I’m up for decorating the tree this year . . .”

Understanding crossed Dad’s face, and he leaned a shoulder against the doorframe. “You

know, you can’t let what happened with Greg ruin Christmas.”


“I know that—in my head.” She shrugged. “But it still hurts.”

“Yeah. I’ve been there, too. I know how it feels.” He pushed off the door and shot her a

supportive smile. “Chin up, and you’ll get through this. Okay? Now, call Andi back before you

get busy with other work.”

She nodded, and as Dad left, she put the phone to her ear. After she was transferred to

Andrea, she took a deep breath. “Hey, Andi. I’ll do it.”

“Great! Why don’t you stop by sometime tomorrow and I’ll show you the particulars?”

“Okay, that sounds like a plan.”

But did it? That glaring red X on her calendar testified to all the things she’d done wrong.

The way she’d failed Dad, the way it would take her all day to process everything. Hopefully, PR

for the Christmas festival was something she could do right.

“There’s one thing you should know right away,” Andi said, cutting through Jen’s

thoughts. “You’ll need to locate a new graphic designer, like, yesterday.”

Jen frowned, tracing the red X with her finger. “Why, what happened to the one you

hired?”

“He quit. Just up and left yesterday with whatever art he’d done. We haven’t seen any

work yet.”

“You’re kidding.” No ads, posters? “But the festival is in six days.”

“You see our problem.”

Dad passed by her open door, carrying pages from the copier to his office. Responsibility

rose within her. “Don’t worry, Andi. I’ll figure something out.”

Andi exhaled. “Thanks, Jen. I knew I could count on you.”

I knew I could count on you. Exactly what Dad had said when she thought she’d won the


bidding war. The deal she’d made promises over that she ashamedly couldn’t keep. Because

that’s who she was these days. Incapable.

Jen hung up and stared at the huge red X. She needed a win. A way to prove to the town,

to Dad, and to herself that she was capable of coming through. She grabbed a pad of paper from

her desk drawer and started a list. The first thing she needed was someone with strong graphic

design skills. Someone artistic, known for quick turnaround, and who loved Christmas enough to

design a bunch of ads in just a few days.

She knew the perfect man for the job. Unfortunately, she highly doubted he’d give her

the time of day.

But it was worth the try.

Grabbing her coat, she rushed from her office. “Millie, I’ll be back later. I’m taking a

walk.” Bitter air flushed over her cheeks as she hustled outside, zeroing in on the Whispering

Pines Gallery just two blocks down Main Street. Hopefully, he wouldn’t kick her out before she

had a chance to state her plea.


Chapter 2

Wow. Cooper Gunther blinked. He couldn’t be reading the score correctly.

But he was. Contrary to his assumptions, he’d actually passed the real estate pre-licensing

test. Definitely wouldn’t have believed it if the result wasn’t staring at him from the computer

screen.

80% wasn’t amazing, but it was higher than the required 75%, so he’d take it.

Okay, yeah, it meant he’d really have to study to pass the state and national exam to gain

his South Dakota real estate license, which he would schedule by phone if he could sneak outside

for a few minutes. His sleepless nights and red-eyed studying had gotten him this far—he’d

make sure it got him the rest of the way, too.

And, of course, there was still the teeny-tiny issue of telling Uncle Bill he wasn’t going to

take over the family art business as previously planned.

“Hey, Cooper?”

Startling, Cooper minimized the screen. Uncle Bill peered into the gallery showroom

from the back, where he’d been assembling frames all morning. At the front counter, Cooper

forced a smile. “Yeah?”

“Can you grab a couple of buckets from the storage closet? This leak is growing.”

Cooper grimaced and leapt to his feet. “I’m on it.”

The storage closet stood behind the front desk. After pulling two large paint buckets from

inside, Cooper hastened to the back room. A hodgepodge of frames, clients’ artwork, mats,

sheets of glass, and other various supplies, the space was larger than the show room, and it’s

where Bill spent most of his time. Especially over the Christmas season, preparing buyers’ gifts

and getting ready for the auction following the Christmas Eve Festival.


Handing one bucket off to his uncle, Cooper raised his gaze to the high, tin-stamped

ceiling. “Where do you want this one?”

“Over there, where the can is.”

Cooper located a small can on the original hardwood floor, nearly full of water. He

replaced the can with the bucket and even as he stood there, a couple of drips fell from the

ceiling, landing with a hollow thud-thud.

“It would help if it’d stop snowing.” They’d had storm after storm, proving this season to

be a wetter one than usual.

Bill scoffed. “Not much chance of that, being December.”

“Christmas week, at that.” Not South Dakota’s driest month—though usually the heaviest

winter storms were in February or March. “We’ll get this place fixed in no time,” he said,

sounding more confident than he felt. “We’re just a week from the auction.”

As he met Bill’s gaze, he saw what appeared to be a shadow of doubt crossing his

expression. “Yep. That’ll certainly help.”

Cooper looked away. With the gallery being in an historic building on the National

Registry, there were certain regulations when it came to repairs. Not to mention, the cost fell to

Uncle Bill and Aunt Erin. Funds they could raise if they brought in enough sales during the

auction.

And for that to go well, Whispering Pines Gallery needed to display an impressive and

artistic arrangement of local, holiday, and winter-themed art.

As the person expected to inherit the place, curating that art fell to Cooper. Uncle Bill had

relied on him more and more in recent months to take over the responsibilities.

For the auction to gain interest, the festival needed to be a hit. Last year’s festival


blackout had ultimately postponed the auction. The crowd they would have had sadly dwindled

in size at the rescheduled event, and sales were meager. Too meager. This year had to count for

something.

“There’s a lot to do before the festival, but at least we’re all working on it.” Cooper’s

cousin, Megan Gunther, slipped out from behind a huge stack of tall canvases. Shaking her

chestnut hair out of her face, she held up a three-by-two painting. “What do you think of this

one, Coop?”

“Not really what I had in mind.” He didn’t want to be mean, but it kind of looked like a

kindergartener had painted it. “The size isn’t right for that spot. Also, it doesn’t really say

holiday.”

Shrugging, Megan looked it over. “It has greens and reds . . .”

“Nice try.” Cooper bit back a chuckle. “Do you mind looking for another?”

She released a teasing sigh. “If I must, Your Highness.”

“Hey, you’re the one volunteering your time to help us find a painting. You could be

getting your own shop ready instead.” Cooper crossed his arms. “It’s your own fault.”

Megan had disappeared behind the canvases again. “Yeah, yeah,” came her muffled

response. “The things I do for this family.”

The things I do for this family. Suddenly, all Cooper could think about was the minimized

window of the test score on the computer.

Excusing himself, he headed back into the showroom, scrutinizing it on his way to the

front desk. Several stunning pieces had already been gathered from local artists who were sure to

bring in a crowd—a fine selection of holiday and local-flavored jewelry, other handmade items

strewn about on rustic tables, and paintings of buffalo, tribal art, and nostalgic prairie scenes.


The paintings he had would work for local, but he needed more winter and holiday-themed art, a

task proving difficult since buyers tended to want warmer settings, causing many artists to shy

away from winter scenes.

He especially needed something to go in the center of the main showcase wall—the spot

he and Megan had been trying to fill most of today. It needed a sense of charm to it. Something

that really captured the Christmas season.

Reaching over the keyboard, Cooper deleted the test score window with the mouse.

The bell above the front door chimed, and he straightened, thankful for a distraction from

his guilt-infused thoughts.

Until he looked up.

Jen Laurie strode in, of all people. Chin up. Khaki trench coat cinched at her narrow

waist and blond hair swinging down her back. Her heeled boots clicked across the hardwood

floor toward him—until one slipped and she lurched to a halt.

Still so endearing, even if she couldn’t stand him. “Careful, Jen. Snow makes it slippery

this time of year.”

She removed her shades, and he expected to see a hardened stare. Instead, a sheepish tint

mixed with sincerity. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind. Can I talk to you?”

“To me?” That would be the first time since they broke up. Cooper crossed his arms. “I

guess I have a minute.”

“I need your help.”

“Really.”

“Yes, really.”

“Hmm.” Cooper turned his attention to the wall display. Frankly, he’d much rather face


the daunting task of filling that vacant spot than have any more conversations with Jen. She had

guts coming in here asking for help when last time they were together she’d basically told him

she didn’t need him anymore.

A couple of heel clicks slowly came closer. “Due to extenuating circumstances, I’m

suddenly in charge of PR for the Festival. The first thing I have to do is find a new graphic

designer for all the advertisements and media.”

Cooper inched his gaze around, stopping when he caught sight of her shadow.

“The guy they were using quit. And he never turned anything in, so I need to find

someone else who could create advertisements and posters fast. And after last year’s flop—” Her

heels lightly clicked closer. “Anyway. Instantly, I thought of you.”

Of course she had. She’d always liked his artwork. Partnering with him in high school

photography class, championing his first piece to hang in Whispering Pines Gallery. Their senior

year, she’d cut his first advertisement out of the newspaper and had given it to him framed for

Christmas.

But that was five years ago—when they were dating. When she cared more about loyalty

than she did about getting ahead.

He ran his hand over his hair. “Jen . . .”

“Please, Cooper? I’d really appreciate your help on this.”

Well, he’d appreciate not having his heart pulverized into a pile of dust, thank you very

much, but no one saw him complaining about it. “It’s not a good idea—you and me, working

together.”

“Coop—”

“Come on, Jenny. Think about it.” He couldn’t look at her without revisiting loss, the


void she’d created in his life. “You must know other graphic designers. Hit up the college art

department.”

“I’m sure that a week before Christmas most of them are back home. Besides, you’re fast.

You could whip something up in a matter of hours, and it’ll look like you took all week.” Her

rounded blue eyes pleaded with him. “Seriously, what can I do to sweeten the deal?”

Silence followed her question, and suddenly, her hand gently landed on his arm. She

lowered her voice. “I know I don’t have a right to ask. We haven’t been on the best terms in a

long time. A lot of that is my fault.”

What was up with Jen? Gone was the persona she always displayed—that put-together

veneer she wore on all those real estate billboards—and in its place was a look of . . . what?

Vulnerability with a hint of fear was what it looked like.

He scrutinized her face for a sign of deception. Was she showing a little false-humility

now to get what she wanted, or did she mean it?

“I found this piece. Would it work?”

Cooper turned toward Megan. Coming out of the back room, his cousin eyed their visitor

with a tentative look that wasn’t well-disguised. “Hey, Jen.”

“Hey, Megan.”

No doubt she had questions about Jen’s sudden appearance. But if she did, she didn’t

voice them as she handed Cooper a mixed media painting of snow, then bent to pick up tiny

shreds of newspaper that had fallen from the canvas.

Yeah, no. Cooper grimaced. “Sorry, Megs. It has character and all . . . we could definitely

hang it, but not right here. Maybe on the opposite wall.”

Megan rolled her eyes, which he probably deserved at this point. He usually wasn’t so


picky, usually deferred to Megan’s opinions—she was an interior decorator for a living, owned

the home décor shop called Color across the street. But he owed it to the Gunthers to create a

show-stopping display for their auction.

“Sorry, Megan. Obviously, I’m having difficulty finding the perfect piece.”

“You and me both.” Megan stood the painting against the opposite wall. “Did you ever

think maybe the painting you want doesn’t exist?”

He glanced at Jen. Like so many of his wants. Mere figments of his imagination,

perfectly designed but hard to materialize.

Then Jen’s eyes brightened. “I have the perfect painting.”

He raised a brow.

“If you help me with a few advertisements and posters, then I’ll let you use it in the show

during the festival.” She straightened. “I’ll even let you put it in the Christmas Eve auction.”

“What? No. I can’t let you do that.”

“It’s fine. I really need your help.”

“I’ll help you, Jen,” he heard himself say, before he’d thought it through. “If I like the

painting, that is,” he amended. “But I’m not selling it.”

“Well, you might change your mind once you see it. It’s pretty special.” She turned, long

hair swishing across her back with the motion. “I’ll be right back with it. I just live a few blocks

away.” Jen headed for the door, this time treading a little lighter than before.

Cooper watched Jen Laurie go, perplexing woman as she was. She looked like she came

from the lap of luxury. And she had—except when they were teens, she hadn’t let it affect her. In

her prime, she could wear sweatshirts and ponytails with the best of them.

He’d loved that about her.


“Are you seriously considering her offer?”

Cooper dragged his gaze from the door. “Why?”

Megan crossed her arms. Growing up in their household, he’d dated Jen—and broken up

with her—with all the Gunthers present. Megan, Sydney, Brooke, and Gray had witnessed it all,

and they’d all told him he was better off without her.

Her eyes narrowed. “You’re gonna do it, aren’t you?”

He shrugged. But she was right. Probably didn’t matter what Jen’s painting looked like.

She genuinely needed his help, and whether or not she ever showed remorse for hurting him or

ever returned to the girl she was in high school was irrelevant.

Sighing, Megan let her shoulders droop, as if she’d resigned. “Just keep your head, okay?

That’s all I’m asking. I care about you.”

“I know.”

“I’m serious. You deserve someone who will actually appreciate you.”

A little laugh escaped him. “Don’t worry, Megs. I’m only designing a few posters, not

getting engaged.”

One corner of her mouth lifted in a smile. “Yeah, but I know you. Helping people is your

weakness. Especially if you’re still in love with them.”

He laughed. “Right, because there are so many people I’ve helped that I’m also in love

with. And I’m not still in love with her. Besides, who are you to tell me that anyway? Miss I-

Volunteer-For-Everything.”

He’d taken aim and hit her right between the eyes. She nodded, still smiling, though some

of the fight was out of her now. “Touché, cuz. Touché.”

She went about hanging the mixed media painting while Cooper turned his gaze back to


the large display windows, Pine Haven’s Main Street bustling with traffic outside. His cousin

was worried for no reason. Sure, he’d loved Jen in the past, but he wouldn’t open himself up to

the possibility of loving her again. That is, unless she’d changed far more than he’d realized.

No, he’d stay focused.

Oh, Lord, please help me keep my head.


Chapter 3

“Come on. Work with me.”

Massaging his temples, Cooper willed a professional-looking advertisement to

materialize on the computer screen. With the gallery door locked and lamp posts illuminating the

falling snow outside, he tried his best to come up with something creative for the Christmas Eve

Festival newspaper ad. Due tomorrow morning at the Pine Haven Gazette.

All he had so far was a stock photo of an awkward Christmas tree. And a garish font he

seriously planned on switching out. Maybe he should put a dragon in it. Everything was better

with a dragon.

Okay, now he was just being ridiculous.

Maybe it was the pressure of the deadline, but it was like all his creative juices had

seeped down through the floorboards. Or maybe it was the fact that working on a project with

Jen Laurie unnerved him.

His gaze snagged on the oil painting Jen had brought in earlier. Something about it had

drawn him in all evening. Maybe it was the canvas’ tall, narrow form. Kind of an odd shape. Or

maybe it was the colors infused within the winter scene. Though it was really just a snowy field

with a forested horizon beneath a starry sky, it practically glowed because of all the sub-layers.

Something almost felt—magical. He’d initially told Jen he wouldn’t sell it because he

hadn’t wanted to be beholden to her for anything. But now that he’d seen the piece, the special

quality it possessed, and the fact that Jen was still adamant about him putting it up for auction—

frankly, he couldn’t wait to see what it would bring.

A knock sounded on the door. When he leaned around the computer screen, he spotted a

figure huddling near the glass door and under the awning, shielded from the falling snow. And


wouldn’t you know who it was?

Cooper rose and unlocked the door, surprised to discover two tall cups of coffee in Jen’s

gloved hands.

“Hey, can I come in?” She offered up the paper cups, a lime green straw in one. Which, if

she hadn’t changed, meant it was hers. “I brought refreshments.”

This time, the stylish leather boots she wore had flat heels. As she trekked inside, in a

knee-length gray skirt and khaki trench, his gaze travelled up to the snowflakes clinging to her

long hair.

“I hope you still like English Toffee,” she said. “Or I got an Irish Cream for myself,

which normally I wouldn’t be up to sharing, but since you’re doing me the hugest favor, I’d be

willing to make an exception. This time.” Her eyes glittered in jest, and he was caught off guard

by how blue they looked when framed by her purple scarf and golden-wheat hair.

Blinking, he accepted the English Toffee. “Thanks.”

“I also brought Peanut M&M’s. Hope that’s okay.”

“That’s something I’ll always accept.”

He headed back toward the computer, taking a sip of the too-hot drink, closely followed

by Jen.

“What do you think of it?”

Cooper set his cup on the counter beside the keyboard. “What do I think of what?”

“The painting.” Jen paused beside him, peeling off her gloves. “Still think it’ll work for

the festival?”

“Oh, yeah. Aside from its shape—as I’d rather go wider than tall and skinny—I don’t

think I could have commissioned a better piece for the show.”


“You think so?”

“It’ll draw a crowd, no doubt. I’m going to snap some photos of it tomorrow, and use it in

one of the ads. If that’s all right with you.”

“Sounds great.”

“Do you know where it came from before you hung it in your house?”

“Not really. I’ve only had it a few months, so I don’t know much about it. Dad was

downsizing and chucking stuff, so he let me go through the attic. Said I could keep whatever I

wanted and toss the rest. I found it buried deep in a corner, took it home, and hung it on my

bedroom. Ever since, I’ve been curious at the origin.” Her gaze wandered the piece like a gentle

touch. “It’s a shame it’s been hidden. Someone ought to find this piece really special.”

Leaning in, Cooper squinted a little. “I haven’t found a signature.”

“Yeah, me either.”

“It doesn’t look like anything I’ve seen from the greats,” he admitted. “My guess is an

obscure artist or maybe someone local.”

He realized Jen was leaning in to inspect it, too—closer to him than he’d originally

thought and absently biting the corner of her lip. She flicked her gaze to meet his, and he realized

he’d fallen silent for too long.

Cooper straightened. “Regardless, it’s a beautiful piece. I’m happy to display it during the

Festival and use it in the auction. I appreciate your generosity.” And the fact that she refused to

accept a percentage of the sale when he’d offered it earlier. It was just what he needed to make

sure this place looked like it should—the way the Gunthers deserved it to look—in time for

Christmas Eve.

“So how’s the ad coming?” Jen motioned to the computer. “Is this it?”


“The beginning stages. Though, I plan on changing most of it.” He offered her a nearby

chair and then seated himself beside her. “It’s pretty terrible right now.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Your eternal well of creativity always amazed me.”

“Eternal well?”

“Feels that way to me. I’m not sure I can do anything without a calculator or

spreadsheet.” She grinned. “Give me a group of words to memorize or a test to study for. Or a

house to sell. But not art.”

Her chair swiveled a quarter turn as she dug her boots into the floor. It’s true; she was

good at all those things. Too bad she couldn’t help him take his real estate license exam.

Or help him study . . .

He glanced at her absently toying with the straw in her drink, her features slender and

fetching. No, that wasn’t a good idea. He needed to stay focused. Get the advertisements done,

show the painting in the festival and auction, then stop all contact with Jen. Six days. It was that

simple. He couldn’t risk his heart.

Jen looked over her painting. “I wish I knew where it came from. I’m sure in the grand

scheme of things, it doesn’t matter. But . . . I don’t know. Things have been a little tense between

my dad and me for the past couple of months. I guess I just feel like if I could find out the history

behind this painting than maybe it would help me fix things.” Dropping her gaze to her hands,

she laughed softly. “Which I realize makes zero sense. It’s really silly. The painting was deeply

buried in his attic—it’s not like it’s important to him, right? So all I’m going off of is a feeling

here. A feeling that there’s more to this painting than what meets the eye.” She shrugged. “Don’t

mind me and my crazy notions. A painting can’t heal a relationship.”

Cooper considered her words. “Well, art has a way of healing things sometimes.”


“Sure.”

She’d agreed with him but didn’t look convinced. Only sipped on her coffee.

Maybe he’d try again. “You want to find a connection to your dad through a shared

history found in a painting. There’s nothing silly about that. I think that’s why God gave it to us.

Art, I mean. There’s something about beauty and deeper meaning that strikes a chord in us. Or,

to continue the art metaphor—that paints our reality in a fresh, new shade.”

Jen made a face but obviously couldn’t disguise her growing smile. “Quaint, Cooper.”

“Thanks. I try.”

Her response made him wonder about the status of her spiritual life. She’d come with him

to church in high school and had become a Christian, but after they broke up and she began her

job in real estate, her attendance had dwindled to nil.

She set her coffee on the counter with a soft plunk. “Anyway, sorry. I’m sure that was

way too much personal information. I should probably let you get back to work. I feel bad

enough as it is that you have to stay so late to work on this.”

He shrugged. “My home computer doesn’t have this design program, so that’s why I’m

here instead of on my couch.” His brow furrowed. “How did you know I was here, anyway?”

“I was taking a walk and saw your light on.”

“You were taking a walk in the snow? At night?”

“I like the winter. And walks relax me.” She motioned North. “I just live a few blocks off

Main Street, remember? I told you that earlier today. I don’t have to venture far from home to get

a nice walk in, especially this time of year when everything is especially well-lit with Christmas

lights.”

A few blocks off Main Street? Cooper took a sip of his coffee. All the houses nearby


were some of the oldest in town. Cute places. Small. Mature trees and single-car garages—if any

garages at all. Not the newer, upscale neighborhoods where he’d imagined a well-established

agent like herself would live.

She stood. “Okay, well, I just wanted to drop stuff off, then get out of your hair.”

“No, really. It’s fine.” He motioned for her to sit again, suddenly aware of how much he

didn’t want her to go. “I like having the company. Really. In fact, I could use some help.”

Jen grimaced. “You know I’m not artistic, so I’m not sure how much help I’d be . . .”

“I meant the M&M’s. I figured you’d take them if you left.” Cooper popped a couple in

his mouth. “Yep. Brain food, right there. I can use these.”

A soft giggle escaped her, and something heavy lifted off Cooper’s chest.

“Okay,” she conceded, “if you need the M&M’s that badly, I suppose I could stay a little

longer.” With that, she slid a few candies into her own mouth and gave a closed-lipped grin.

“So, seriously,” Cooper settled back into his chair, “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong

here.” He wiggled his mouse over the screen. “I realize the font and graphic are bad, but how do

I fix it?”

“Coop, I told you I’m not—”

“But you have eyes. You can tell when something looks terrible.” He met those eyes in

mention, deepening blue over pink cheeks. “Besides, you sell a lot of houses, so you’ve got to

have some eye for design.”

She held her hand out, palm up, as if she were about to make a point—then paused,

stammered through a couple of sentences starters. “To be honest, it looks amateurish.” She

winced in his honor, and Cooper couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Thanks, Sherlock. I gathered that much on my own.”


“Hey, you asked.”

Then he got an idea. “Grab your painting, will you?”

She did, and lowered into her chair. With it on her lap, the back of the canvas facing her,

she held it up for him to see.

He pulled out his phone and snapped a photo.

“Thanks.” Turning to his phone, he pressed his email icon. “I’m sending this to myself to

use in the background of the flyer.”

“If it has good photo appeal, then we should definitely use it in an ad for the auction, like

you said earlier. It could be the inspiration for the event’s theme.”

“Hey, good idea.” Cooper opened the internet on the computer. “I knew I liked you,

Jenny Elle.”

His fingers paused over the keyboard. Only for a millisecond, before he regained his wits

and typed in the address of his e-mail provider. As if nothing had happened, as if he hadn’t just

used the nickname that only he’d been allowed to use through high school.

Elle was her middle name. And since it was also phonetically similar to the first letter of

her last name, his fifteen-year-old self thought it would make a clever name for his first crush.

You know, before things got really good between them. And before things completely

fell apart.

“Did you see this?”

Cooper glanced over his shoulder. Jen had the painting face down on her lap, bent over

the back of the canvas. Whether or not she was purposefully changing the topic focus to

something less awkward, he’d follow along.

“See what?”


She pointed to a scribbling across the top. “Love you forever,” she read.

Cooper frowned. “Let me see.” He scooted his chair closer. The note was written in

pencil, all caps, in what seemed like a man’s handwriting. Reminiscent of chicken scratch. “Have

you not noticed it before?”

“No, I guess I just looked at the front. Never really paid attention to the back.” She read

the sentiment again. “Honestly, it looks like my dad’s handwriting. Which, I guess, would make

sense. He must have written it to my mom.” Her gaze collided with Cooper’s.

It was pretty special to find a note from her dad to her mom—Cooper could see the

unspoken truth radiating from her as she peered at the piece. Especially considering she’d never

really known her mom. With his own folks dying in a car wreck when he was fourteen, Cooper

knew the ache of missing loved ones, the absence of their fingerprints on his life. But he’d at

least had time with his. He had no idea what it’d be like to grow up without a mother at all.

“What are these?” Jen leaned in closer. “It’s hard to make out the scribbling.”

Cooper leaned in too, nearly touching her forehead with his. Tempting as it was to move

in a bit closer, to show her that he recognized the emotions filtering through her, he kept his

distance and dragged his gaze down to the painting.

A handwritten list of items ran down one stretcher bar. Same penmanship as before. He

squinted. “I can’t make out this first line. Then again, I am upside down. The second looks like

old church.”

“Clock.” Jen pointed to the third line. “And the first is coming bridge.” She scrunched her

nose. “What’s that?”

“Oh, covered bridge.” Cooper looked at Jen.

“This isn’t a list of items. It’s a list of locations—around Pine Haven. The covered bridge


in the park, probably that really old church on Serenity Drive—”

“And the clock in front of Laurie Real Estate,” Jen finished. “In the town square, where

we light the festival tree on Christmas Eve.”

“You think so?”

“It’s the only major clock in town.”

Standing twelve feet high, the old black clock was ornate as if it had come from a

Victorian postcard. It had stood watch over Main Street since the town began a hundred years

ago.

Sitting back, he could nearly see Jen’s mind spinning. “I wonder what the list is for,” he

prompted, thinking it might get her explanations going.

“Beats me. Dad has never mentioned holding any significance to these places. Never

visits them either, unless you count the clock, but that’s only because it’s right outside the

agency’s door.”

Cooper shook his head, then shrugged. “They must have meant something or he wouldn’t

have made a list of them.”

Standing, she took one last long look at the back before propping the painting on the

counter, where it had sat earlier. For a moment, she studied the painting, a silky lock of her long

hair slipping over her shoulder. “I guess I’ll have to ask him about it.”

Then she turned back to him, back to her chair, so Cooper zeroed his focus in on

grabbing a handful of M&M’s from the bag on the counter. Stay focused. He swiveled to the

computer and downloaded the painting’s photo, then worked on inserting it into the ad.

“It’ll have to be the day after tomorrow, though.”

“Say what?” he asked.


“When I talk to my dad about the painting. He’ll be pretty busy until then.”

“Oh.” Cooper watched his computer screen, but a poking feeling made him glance at Jen.

The way she bit her upper lip, he could almost see her retreating into her mind.

She used to confide in him. In the days of stressful finals and friendship hiccups, when

she didn’t know if she’d studied enough to pass her real estate license exam. He’d always been

available to help. Which apparently had been their downfall.

Helping people is your weakness.

Megan’s words earlier today rattled through him now. He wasn’t sure how it was

possible to help too much, especially when someone needed it. But Jen had made it very clear on

the night they broke up that his help wasn’t wanted. That she could do things for herself.

Ironic, since she sat in the gallery beside him now, needing him.

He blinked. No, not needing him. Needing his artistic services. There was a major

difference.

“There’s a thing tomorrow night at the agency.”

The hesitancy in Jen’s voice brought Cooper’s head up.

“A Christmas party. It’s open to the public, but a special invitation was sent to clients to

ensure they’d come.” She toyed with the fringe on her scarf. “I’m certain Greg’s going to be

there.”

Greg. He’d grown up with him, too, though he was in a different circle of friends. Had

always had his eye on Jen. He was pretty quick to scoop up the opportunity to date her once

Cooper was no longer given that privilege.

It hurt, obviously. But he’d seen Jen around town with the guy, and it didn’t take a

scientist to recognize how happy the relationship made her. Ultimately, he couldn’t ask for


anything more for her.

“How are things going with Greg?”

“They’re not. Since last Christmas.”

A whole year ago? Had Cooper been living under a rock? “Sorry, I didn’t know.”

She remained quiet at first, winding the fringe around her finger forwards and backwards.

“He’s getting married to someone else. Emily something, I forget now. I think they met online.

And it’s doesn’t help that it all goes down on Christmas Eve.”

The day Jen had always wanted to get married. In high school, she’d had this nostalgic

idea of getting married during the festival, in front of the Christmas tree, with all of Pine Haven

there to witness it. Every year at the festival, as the lights flickered to life on each evergreen

branch and the crowd marveled at the Christmas glow, Cooper could see the dreams dancing

behind Jen’s eyes.

And now her ex-fiancé was getting married the same day. “That stinks, Jen. I know that

day meant a lot to you.”

She must have realized her fiddling, because she dropped her hands, letting her scarf lie

motionless on her lap. “It was the day my dad proposed to my mom.”

“Now that I didn’t know.” In consolation, he picked up the bag of M&M’s and offered it

to her.

With a little smile, she took a handful.

“Well, hey,” he said, “if you need to save face, I can tag along. Make a few funny jokes,

break the tension. Maybe we’ll find out a little more about our mystery surrounding the clock.”

He winked.

She raised her gaze to his. “You’d do that for me?”


He shrugged, now not as certain as he’d originally been. Was this a stupid move on his

part? A little hard to focus on a business partnership when he was accompanying her to parties.

Then again, it was only one outing. And it was for a good cause—moral support.

Besides, maybe he could use it to meet a few real estate professionals, get his foot in the

door. After he received his license, he’d have to work for a while under another agent to learn the

ropes. This would be a good time to meet a few.

“I just thought maybe it’d make an awkward night easier.”

“I really appreciate it, Coop.”

She flashed that grateful look, and something in his heart tripped. They were eighteen,

and he’d promised to help her study for her real estate license exam. In a frenzy, she’d come to

him, her arms encompassing a notebook, highlighters, and a thick tome of terms and concepts to

study. One look at her near-panic, and he was incapable of saying no. Seeing her smile made all

the late nights worth it. In the end, it didn’t matter that they’d parted ways shortly after she got

her license and a job at her dad’s agency. He’d helped her achieve her dream, and by the looks of

things, she was rocking it.

Cooper nudged her knee with his fist, goofy smile in place—then realized what a stupid

gesture that was because even a thick pair of tights didn’t disguise the dips and angles of a

female knee. “Hey, no sweat.” He cleared his throat. “What are friends for?”

Ultimately, her success was all the satisfaction he needed.

And if he had to risk his heart to ensure her success again, he’d do it. Small price to bear.


Chapter 4

Megan’s mini-SUV sat in her old spot in front of her parents’ house. Which was odd,

being ten o’clock at night and her studio apartment being in town above her shop. Uncle Bill and

Aunt Erin were usually asleep by now.

Cooper slipped into the darkened garage through the side door, locking it behind him

before trekking across the concrete floor. After finally finishing the ad and emailing it off to the

newspaper, he’d driven the long, winding canyon toward home. Whispering Pines Canyon was a

narrow, forested ravine lined with towering, craggy cliffs. Pockets of properties hid within the

folds of pines, and his aunt and uncle’s home was tucked into one. It felt a world away from

civilization even though it was only a fifteen-minute drive into Pine Haven. And with its timber

frame design and rustic furnishings, the house sort of felt like an extension of the scenery out

here.

It wasn’t the house they’d lived in when Cooper joined the family. That one was in town.

But honestly, he was fine with moving away from there. Most kids liked growing up with all

their memories surrounding them, as dear to them as their own family members. But here, he

didn’t have the constant reminder of how it felt to walk through that door for the first time as an

orphan. The looks of sympathy and the awkward tension as his aunt and uncle worked out the

kinks, shifting him into their daily routines. Here, all of their memories started at the same time.

Their routines were refigured as a family. Here, he was simply Cooper.

Yet, even still, he couldn’t quite shake the feeling of being an extra. Not fully. He

supposed he was simply grateful for their acceptance of him, their support these past several

years. They certainly didn’t have to take him in, become the parents and siblings he needed, but

they’d done it anyway.


His phone buzzed in the pocket of his jeans.

He paused to fish it out, giving him a chance to glance around the garage, at Bill and

Erin’s matching Jeeps. His aunt was really more of a VW Bug person, if Cooper said so himself,

but a Jeep was four-wheel drive—necessary for living out here where the snow got pretty deep

sometimes. The third garage stall used to hold any one of the four kids’ vehicles, but everyone

except Megan —Sydney, Gray, and Brooke—had moved away from Pine Haven.

Now it held Bill’s toys. Four wheeler. Snow mobiles. Not at Bill’s insistence but at

Cooper’s. He could park outside. It wouldn’t hurt him to scrape a little ice off his windshield

from time to time.

He checked his phone. A text from Jen.

Jen

So, I feel terrible, but if this painting was important to my family, then I can’t sell it. We can still have it in

the show, but . . .

Cooper

Don’t worry, I won’t sell it.

The moment he saw the handwritten sentiments, he’d figured as much. It wouldn’t be

right to sell the piece, no matter how striking it was or how much he suspected it would make at

the auction.

Which definitely meant he needed to make sure the show was spectacular anyway. It

wasn’t just about fixing the leaky roof—it was about giving his family what they deserved after

all their constant hard work.

Stepping into the mud room off the kitchen, where normally he fully expected to need the


aid of his phone flashlight to navigate to the basement stairs, he saw soft light coming from a

living room lamp instead.

And heard a twitter of female voices.

The massive, free-standing fireplace divided the kitchen from the living room. As

laughter broke out, Cooper dropped his keys and mostly-gone bag of M&M’s on the dining table

before poking his head around the rock structure, its flames visible in either room through the

two-way insert.

Megan and Aunt Erin sat on one couch facing him, opposite a woman on the loveseat,

whose short brown curls bounced as she laughed with her head thrown back. Cooper lifted a

brow at Megan before suddenly recognition dawned.

“Hey, Coop, guess who came to visit for Christmas?” Megan said.

Aunt Betty whipped her head around, huge turquoise earrings swinging over her

shoulders. “Land sakes, if it isn’t little Cooper Troy!” She bounced from the loveseat with more

energy than a toddler could even imagine and snagged him in a hug. A poof of flowery perfume

billowed over him. Enough to cough a little at the onset but after a moment, the scent was

actually inviting.

“I’m so glad to see you! Of course, I’m disappointed Brookie, Sydney, and Gray aren’t

here, but when my sister said you and Megs were still around, I knew we’d have the time of our

lives.”

“It’s great to see you, too, Aunt Betty—all the way from Idaho.” Or wherever she was

from these days. She traveled so much it was hard to keep straight.

Crossing the room, Aunt Erin must have noticed his questions parading across his face.

“She surprised all of us. Called me from the airport.” She linked her elbow around her sister-in-


law’s neck and winked. “I’m just glad we were in town.”

“Oh, stop. You never go anywhere over Christmas, what with that art auction you do, and

you know it.”

If Aunt Betty was a tree, she’d be a Christmas one. Decked out in a hodgepodge of all

colors, shapes, and sizes—vintage, brand new, and definitely quirky. She was candy canes and

twirls of ribbon, bright wrapping paper and a warm, crackling fire. The youngest of three, Uncle

Bill being the oldest and then Cooper’s dad, she was a free spirit who showed up when she

wanted, went by her own schedule, and if she entered a room, you knew it.

Honestly, Cooper couldn’t help but love her for it. It would have been nice if she popped

in more often, but it’d probably been three years since she’d last made an appearance in Pine

Haven, and then had only stayed a few days, brushing a quick but beautiful stroke across those

who came in contact with her. Now she was back to do it again.

“How long are you staying?” he asked.

“Oh, a few days maybe. Until sometime after Christmas.” She positively glowed. Then

reached out and ruffled his hair before giving him another bear hug. “I’m just so glad to see you

kids. Can’t believe how much you’ve changed.”

Cooper caught sight of Megan over Aunt Betty’s shoulder, and all she did was roll her

eyes over a laughing tease. Nice. How come he was getting all the attention?

Aunt Betty pulled back, grasping him by the shoulders. “Cooper, Megan just told me the

news. I’m so excited for you.”

His chest cinched into a knot. The news? She knew about the real estate exam? His mind

grappled over his actions the past couple of days, praying he hadn’t accidentally left the test

score or study material somewhere in plain sight. “Well, I—”


“I’m just so glad you’re taking over the gallery. It really needs to stay in the family. I’d

do it, as I used to own it, you know. But I can’t sit still long enough to make a go of it. Too many

places to see in the world.” She released a rich laugh that had the others smiling.

All but Cooper.

“Oh, um, well . . .” But his flustered, half-formed thought took a nosedive as Aunt Betty

left him to sashay into the kitchen, Bohemian skirt billowing behind her. “I’m getting more tea.

Does anyone want some?”

Cooper glanced at the oven clock. “I’d better head to bed. But thanks anyway.”

“Suit yourself.”

Nodding a quick goodnight to the others, he made a beeline for the stairs.

“Oh, and Cooper?”

He turned.

Aunt Betty held a mug in one hand and the steaming kettle in the other. “Megan also tells

me she’s single this Christmas, so I hope you’ve got some juicy stories for me.” Then she waved

him on before he could answer. “Tomorrow, though. You’re beat. Get some rest.” She picked up

the candy bag from where he’d placed it on the table and shook it slightly, a smile lighting her

face. “Mm, M&M’s. Great choice.”

Rather than try making a coherent sentence out of the tangled muck in his brain, he

simply gave a tight-lipped smile and went downstairs.

Once inside his bedroom, he shut the door and flopped onto his blue-plaid comforter,

stared at the ceiling for probably too long, wading through the waist-high worries and concerns

that were too often keeping him up at night these days.

In so many ways, when he looked at Aunt Betty, he saw Mom. They weren’t related by


blood, of course, but she had the same light-brown hair, wiry frame. Big smile and inviting

embrace. If you were around Betty, you were loved. Period. And it made him miss Mom and

Dad even more.

The family photo on his dresser caught his attention. From two Christmases ago, it was

the last one where everyone was home. As the smiling faces stared back at him, guilt rose in his

throat. He hated letting them down like this. Hated letting go of a family business when everyone

wanted him to keep it going.

But what about his own life? Each of his cousins were living their dreams. Megan had

her interior decorating, Sydney pursued chiropractic, Gray had photography, and Brooke graphic

design. Where did that leave him?

He’d piddled around since high school, not really knowing what he wanted to do. Taking

odd jobs here and there, finally landing at the gallery and working his way up to managing the

place. And sure, he loved art, and felt guilty for leaving the gallery—but a huge part of him

ached for his own story to tell. A path to blaze that was of his own making. Something he could

look back on and know he’d turned his own blood and sweat into personal success.

Real estate would be that for him. He’d get his own place, spread out, create new

memories, and make a life of his own.

The sooner he took the exam, the better. He’d called the office administering them, and

he could either take it on December 21 in the late afternoon, which was the last exam date of the

year or he’d have to wait until February. Of course, he’d chosen the earlier date, but that would

mean telling Uncle Bill about his plans sooner than he’d hoped. Not that he liked sneaking

around with this information—it just didn’t feel right to say anything at Christmastime while

they prepared for the auction.


Once the auction was done and money had been secured for the roof, once he’d had a

chance to look around for a replacement buyer, he’d have his ducks in a row. Maybe that would

take some of the sting out of his news.

Maybe.

#

“So, Jen. Have you ever been on the radio before?”

The cushy, pleather chair beneath Jen squeaked as she shifted. Across from her and a

table of computer screens and a few knobs and switches sat Cowboy Arnie, one of Pine Haven’s

local radio personality and D.J.

Cowboy Arnie was middle aged, oversized, and known for his strong opinions, and Jen

couldn’t help but feel a dose of intimidation rush through her veins.

“No, can’t say that I have. Sir.”

“There’s nothing to it. Just put on the headphones there and speak into the mic whenever

I ask you a question.”

“Got it.” Oops, sitting on her hands. She quickly stuck them in her lap. Crossed her legs.

Uncrossed them.

She could do this. It was only a short interview dealing with the festival, letting people

know what to expect this year and reminding them to come out and enjoy the event. No big

whoop. If she could sell million-dollar houses, she could talk into a microphone for ten minutes.

“All right,” Cowboy Arnie said, glancing at a computer screen. “Here we go.” He pressed

a button and Jen’s pulse skyrocketed. “Good morning again, folks. Hope you liked that selection

of ten-in-a-row Christmas songs by your favorite artists. Now, as I mentioned earlier, we’re

pausing the music for just a few minutes to talk to Jen Laurie. Say hello, Jen.”


She leaned toward the microphone. “Hi, Cowboy Arnie. Thanks for having me.”

“Jen Laurie is one of Pine Haven’s top real estate agents, and now she’s playing hostess

for our annual Christmas Eve Festival.”

PR rep. That’s what she was. The public relations representative. No matter what

happened in the next few days, her job was simple. Paint a fun, nostalgic, and inviting picture of

the festival, so that the public would buy into the wonder. So that the festival she adored as a

child continued until she could take her own children. So that Dad’s realty continued to come up

in the minds of any listeners who might soon be selling or buying a property.

“What do you think, Jen?”

“Huh?” She looked up, blinked, realized dead silence was stretching across the airwaves.

“I’m sorry. What did you ask?”

“I was just saying how last year’s festival was a flop.”

Okay, skipping the small talk and jumping right in. “Yes, but—”

“What are you planning to do about that?”

“Well, the—”

“Because some people don’t even want it to continue.”

“Yes, there is some concern, but—”

“I mean, I’d even count myself in that category,” Cowboy Arnie said. “Last year wasn’t

the first disaster. The festival’s been going downhill every year since four or five Christmas Eves

ago. Business owners aren’t making enough money to compensate being open during those late

hours, and the activities and entertainment have been lacking. This isn’t a new problem, but I

think we’re all curious how you’ll fix it.” He leaned closer to his microphone, staring at her over

the table. “Do you have a plan, Jen?”


“Do you have a plan, Jen?”

That’s what Dad had asked her the morning she’d scheduled a meeting with the owner of

the land for sale. Of course, she’d said yes, but basically, she’d planned on relying on her

expertise. She was one of the top associate brokers in their agency.

But she’d been too confident. And now, with Cowboy Arnie staring her down, much of

Pine Haven listening in, her own jaw slacked in surprise, all she could see was agent Maren

Andrews’ short blond bob and shining smile—and Jen’s failed attempt at winning the

subdivision deal. Incapability could easily come disguised in confident-looking packages. It had

happened to the guy planning last year’s festival, and it had happened to her with Stagecoach

Trail.

It was happening to her now.

“Don’t worry, sir,” she said, squaring her shoulders, forcing her voice to sound confident.

“I’ll personally oversee all the details as we get closer to the festival and ensure that everyone

has a fantastic time. The Christmas season is magical, enchanting. And the Christmas Eve

Festival is a rich representation of that.”

Cowboy Arnie snorted. “Sure, I guess. If you’re a fourteen-year-old girl waiting to be

kissed by your boyfriend at the tree-lighting ceremony.”

Jen swallowed hard, tried to smile, then glanced at the clock. Three minutes in.

Awesome. These next seven were going to be the longest minutes of her life.


Chapter 5

A Christmas song played over the speakers as Jen hung out on the sidewalk. Shivering in

the night, she watched people filter through Laurie Realty’s door. She’d chosen this spot partially

because Greg and Emily had arrived and were making their rounds inside, but also because she

was waiting for Cooper.

He’d been especially sweet to offer to come with her tonight. There’d been no reason to

do so. But a needling worry threaded through her as she huddled next to the clock mentioned on

the back of Dad’s canvas. Cooper wasn’t good at helping—not without going overboard.

That’s just who he was. The size of his heart was enormous. But she needed this to be a

night of business and nothing else. Needed it to be one friend helping out another, a night they

could use to further their PR work for the festival.

Mostly, she needed that huge heart of his to stay in check.

God, if you’re still listening to me, please grant this wish.

Normally, she wouldn’t worry. It had been a few years, plenty of time for most people to

move on from their first love. But Cooper was different. When he’d fallen, it was hard.

Seriously. She’d seen the ring.

Nestled in its velvet box, super beautiful, glittery and vintage. She’d found it in the glove

compartment while looking for hand sanitizer as he pumped gas—on their way home from

taking her real estate exam.

And she’d panicked. Yes, he was amazing, even if Dad for some reason never liked him.

But engaged at eighteen? Then, what, married at nineteen? She was about to start a career in real

estate, which meant long hours and a crazy schedule. That was no way to spend your newlywed

days.


Even more than that, she needed space to grow. She sensed it in her bones even in the

days leading up to the exam—that if she stayed with Cooper, she’d lean on him for everything.

Growing up with a single parent who taught her to, above all else, pull herself up by her own

bootstraps, Jen had been surprised at how easily she’d slipped into a role of dependency. And

scared at how easily she’d allowed her own opinions, her own life, to slip by the wayside so that

Cooper could get what he wanted.

Not that he’d even been aware of her deferred feelings. If he’d known, things might have

been different. But as it was, he’d been happy and had thought she was, too. Should have talked

to him about it back then, but she’d been too young, too scared out of her gourd, to figure out

how to do that.

It had been easier to walk away under the excuse of needing to climb the career ladder

without distractions.

A gust tossed snowflakes off the clock, smattering her like sugar over a Bundt cake. She

stepped back to brush off her face and hair, and through the frozen crystal swirl, she spotted

Cooper’s figure strolling toward her from across Main Street. She released a pent-up breath.

He looked up from the crosswalk, stocking cap pulled over his dark brown hair and hands

buried in the pockets of his corduroy jacket. Faded jeans. A dimple in his smile as he neared her.

“Hey.”

Jen took a millisecond to find her voice. “Hey. Ready for this?”

“Ready to eat Christmas cookies and sing a carol or two? Oh yeah.”

She grinned. “Great.” Backing up, she bumped into the clock. Oops. Maybe she should

paying attention. “So I stared at this clock every time I passed it today, wondering why it was

written on Dad’s list.”


“Any ideas?”

“Not yet. But what I keep coming back to is that the list was on a painting. Like, maybe

they’re somehow connected.”

They climbed the agency’s steps, edging the railing so another couple could exit the

party. “Did you get a chance to ask your Dad about it?”

“No, I had a terrible radio interview for the festival this morning, which I bombed, and

then we were both in and out of the office the rest of the day, meeting with clients, showing

houses. Didn’t run into him again.” Cooper caught the door and held it open. Jen nodded her

thanks. “Not to mention, he’s been so busy planning this party.”

“Bummer. Sorry your interview bombed.”

Stepping inside, warmth washed over her, and not just from the heater and corner

fireplace going. Out of all that, he’d picked up on her lousy interview. “Thanks. It just reminded

me how much work I have to do to fix Pine Haven’s view of the festival. I don’t get it. This town

lives for events. Why don’t they like this one?”

Removing her hat and scarf, she motioned for Cooper to follow to her office. They wove

through a sea of guests dressed in black, red, and other formal holiday colors.

“Maybe it’s not festive enough,” Cooper said, once they reached her closed door. “Last

year was obviously not the greatest, but even in the years past, it didn’t have nearly the cool

factor as it did when we were teens.”

“Do you think that’s because we were young, though?” Shrugging off her coat, she also

motioned for his.

He promptly unzipped it, revealing an oatmeal Henley underneath. “No. Back then, you

could take a sleigh ride around the block, eat roasted chestnuts, Santa was there for the kids. You


know, all the gimmicky Christmas stuff. People loved that. The turnout was big.” He shrugged as

he handed her his jacket. “It’s kind of dwindled away since then.”

She deposited their winter wear on her desk. “I suppose you’re right.” Everything Cooper

said was true. The festival needed more Christmas spirit.

“Let It Snow” played over the speakers as they slipped back into the lobby. The crowd

congregated in small groups throughout the room, which was thick with the smell of cinnamon

apple cider.

“I spotted the dessert table when we came in.” He wiggled his brows, then set off, Jen

close on his heels.

Cooper blazed a trail around the small groups. As they wove, Jen caught sight of Andi

talking with Greg and Emily, steaming Styrofoam cups in their hands. She needed to talk with

Andi about spicing up the festival—but she could wait a little while.

Soon, she and Cooper were successfully stationed before the refreshments. She selected a

cup of cider and a colorful pretzel rod dipped in almond bark and peppermint shards, hoping to

distract her mind of seeing Greg just now.

It wasn’t that she was still in love with him. Not really. It was the fact that he was living

her dream, living as a testament to Jen’s failure. It was a hard fact to face any time of the year

but especially at Christmas, when everyone sought joy. Where was her joy? Why couldn’t she

muster any and move forward?

“Mm, monster cookies.” Cooper picked one off the top of a carefully-organized stack.

“And look. Even has M&M’s.”

Good old Cooper knew how to lift her spirits. “Yeah, you’ll need your brain food because

we need to pass out fliers tomorrow.”


He stopped chewing. “Was I supposed to make those?”

Her brows shot up. “Cooper, yes! Did I forget to tell you?”

A sparkle emerged in his gaze. “No, I’m just kidding. You told me. It’s already done and

sent to Pine Haven Printing. That’s why I was a little late tonight.”

Jen let out a puff of air, wishing she could disguise her grin—and wipe that smug look off

his face. “You can’t go scaring me like that, mister. I’ve got a lot on my plate right now.”

“Mmm . . .” He closed his eyes as he took another bite. “If it’s a plate of monster cookies,

I think I could help you out.”

“Ah, Jen Laurie. I’ve been looking for you.”

Jen and Cooper turned.

Margaret King stood there in her business slacks and turtleneck, a cup of punch in one

hand. An elderly woman with a flower shop on Main, Margaret had been a Pine Haven staple

since Jen’s grandpa ran Laurie Realty. A long-time member of the Pine Haven City Council,

Margaret was also as traditional as she was uncompromising.

“Did I hear correctly that, as of the other day, you’re in charge of public relations this

year for the Christmas Eve Festival?”

Jen lowered her candied pretzel rod until it was at her side. “Yes, ma’am.”

Margaret lifted her chin. “Well, I heard you on the radio today, and it seems to me you

don’t fully understand what you’re up against.”

Up against?

“The city has received several complaints over the past couple of years from business

owners and others concerning the festival, and in light of last year’s festival, the city council has

come to the conclusion that we need to shut it down.”


“What?” Jen and Cooper said together.

Margaret gave a slight shrug, her grimaced mouth appearing at least a little sorry for Jen

in her situation, while the hard set to her eyes said she wasn’t sorry enough to change her

opinions. “It isn’t accomplishing what it used to, for Pine Haven businesses, for the citizens

themselves. It needs to go.”

Jen couldn’t believe this. She glanced at Cooper before turning her gaze back on

Margaret. “But the festival is only days away. How can you shut it down now?”

“We gave Andi a deadline of the twenty-third, which is our last meeting of the year, in

order to get her ducks in a row. From what we understand, the festival is still a mess.”

“We’ll have it ready,” Jen heard herself say, then thought through her words. Ready by

then? She supposed it’d have to be, as Christmas Eve was the day after, but man, she had a long

road ahead of her.

“There you are.” Jen turned, and Andi slipped in beside Margaret, smiling at them all.

“Jen, I just wanted to thank you again for all you’re doing for the festival. And Cooper, the ad in

the paper today was fantastic. You did great work.”

Cooper returned the smile. “Thanks.”

“I just got done talking with Greg Tuttle and his fiancée, Emily. Ugh, she’s amazing. Did

you know she does graphic design, too?”

Jen felt the color drain from her face. She exchanged a glance with Cooper, who was

quick to answer for them both. “No, can’t say that I did.”

“It’s a pretty cool story,” Andi said, touching Jen’s arm as if she wanted to make sure she

was listening. Not that Andi could be blamed for being insensitive. She knew Greg was an old

boyfriend, but at Jen’s insistence, she also thought his effect on Jen was way in the past. “Emily


worked as a nurse for a long time but did graphic design on the side. She started working for this

non-profit organization that provided medical care in third-world countries, building their

website and stuff. Then she started going on the trips themselves as a nurse. How cool is that?

She lived in somewhere in Africa for like, six months.” She then touched Margaret, apparently

including her in the conversation. “Have you met her, Margaret?”

“Yes, she volunteers at the food shelter my husband runs.”

Of course she did. What would she do next, win the Nobel Peace Prize?

Cooper stepped a little closer to Jen. “Well, we’d better continue our rounds. Hope you

both have a great night.”

“You, too!” Andi shot everyone a smile before bouncing off to another group.

As Cooper placed his hand on Jen’s back, about the guide her in another direction,

Margaret caught Jen’s eye, making her heartbeat falter. “I look forward to your presentation at

the council meeting.”

Jen couldn’t lose the favor of this business owner. Her shop was dead-center on Main,

and her influence was wide-spread. “Mrs. King, how can I prove to you it’s an event worth

keeping? Can we meet sometime in the next few days, before the meeting? I’d really like to hear

your concerns and see if there’s something we can do to address them.”

“Hmm . . .” The woman narrowed her eyes a bit, seeming to think. “Perhaps. I’ll contact

you tomorrow if I think of something.”

It wasn’t a straight yes, but it wasn’t no either. Jen would just have to accept it. “Thank

you. Have a good night.”

She had yet to crack through Margaret’s glass exterior, but she sure hoped she could

soon. She would not lose this festival when she’d committed to saving it.


As Margaret disappeared into the crowd, Jen felt she might crumple on locked knees. But

as she staggered a little, turning around, Cooper caught her arm and tugged her close to his side.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s find someone else to talk to. Get your mind on something else.”

They meandered around the outskirts of the group, back in the direction of her office, and

Andi’s comments about Emily continually played through her mind. Her insides burned. Soon

the burn would travel to the backs of her eyes, and then there’d be no stopping the world from

knowing how seeing Greg and Emily together made her feel.

Suddenly, Cooper’s hand closed around hers.

“Forget them.”

It’s like he’d read her thoughts. “How can I, when it’s all some people want to talk

about?”

Tucking his hand under her arm, he gently moved her toward the front window, currently

without mingling guests. “So my aunt came to visit.”

Trying to change the topic. It was sweet of him, so Jen—releasing a jagged sigh—tried to

play along. “Which one?”

“The only other one I have. My Aunt Betty. She technically lives in Idaho, but I’m pretty

sure that’s just where she keeps her mailbox.” He leaned a shoulder against the glass. “She

travels most of the time. Works through her computer. Coaching clients or something.”

A cheer erupted. Greg and Emily were raising their cups, beaming. Their agent, Marco,

who was back from visiting his mother, announced to the crowd that this lovely couple was

about to become homeowners.

“Jen?”

“What?”


“Don’t look.”

Jen shook her head. “Did I tell you they bought my dream house? My dream house.”

“The one on Pine Cone Drive?”

“Yes! He didn’t even know it existed until I showed it to him.”

Cooper’s warm hand softly cupped her face, bringing her gaze back to meet his. The

brown in his eyes drew her in as he searched for something within her. “I’m sorry. Really. About

all of it. The house. The wedding day.”

Another cheer, but she could hardly hear it.

His thumb whispered over her cheek. “And I’m sorry he was foolish enough to let you

go.”

“And you’re all invited to our wedding.” Greg’s voice rang out. “It’s not just on

Christmas Eve, but also at the festival—right in front of the Christmas Tree!”

No. Jen wrenched her face out of Cooper’s hand. Applause erupted, expanding until the

walls nearly burst at the seams.

“Jen—”

“Not at my Christmas tree, too.”

“Jen.”

She locked eyes on him. “Cooper, they’re getting married in front of the tree!”

“I know. I’m sorry—”

“That was my dream,” she hissed.

“Jen.”

“Not his.”

“Jenny.”


Tears stung her eyes. But her thoughts broke off as Cooper suddenly gathered her in his

arms, his tender lips landing on hers.


Chapter 6

Soft, yet earnest, Cooper’s kiss coaxed Jen to close her eyes and forget the turmoil

around her. It was like warm, rich cinnamon and cocoa, like soft, slow piano music, its melody

cloaking this moment from a harsh blizzard that blew inside her. Calming the wind. Like coming

home.

When he lifted his lips away, and she finally opened her eyes, she still could hardly catch

her breath. The world barely righted itself as the deep well of his gaze receded to normal depth.

To a safe depth, she reminded herself. Where things of the heart didn’t need to be

involved. Didn’t need to be analyzed or discussed.

Except, they might need to discuss this.

Someone cleared his throat, coming up behind her. She felt her dad’s hand on her

shoulder before she saw him coming around her. “Well, that was an interesting display.” He

glanced at her for an explanation before turning an even-more curious look on Cooper. A so-I-

thought-we-got-rid-of-you look that made a defense rise in Jen’s throat.

“Just found a little mistletoe,” Cooper murmured before she could get a word out.

Jen looked up. Sure enough. Mistletoe hung from beneath a row of garland. When was

that put there?

Dad’s stare didn’t waver. “Kind of involved for a little mistletoe, don’t you think?”

Jen’s cheeks burned. Gazes all around them turned to watch. Everyone had seen their

kiss, and side whispers among groups were beginning to emerge.

One gaze in particular—Greg’s. Scrutinizing. Not jealous, but not indifferent either.

She swallowed a groan. “It’s getting late. I’m going to get our coats.”

Dad frowned. “But you just got here.”


“I’m not feeling good.” Which—after this—wasn’t a lie.

Cooper pivoted toward the office. “I’ll get them for you.”

“No, I’m going, too.”

They wedged through a trail of people who had grown unnervingly quiet in the last few

seconds and slipped into her office. She wanted to shut the door and never come out again, but as

that would raise further questions, she simply yanked her coat from Cooper’s outstretched hand

and made her way back through the lobby like a salmon heading upstream.

Caught under mistletoe. Was that all their kiss was, all she meant to him—a chance to

steal a kiss at a party?

Not that she wanted their kiss to mean more than that. They were just colleagues trying to

save the Christmas Eve Festival.

She didn’t stop until she was a block off Main Street, in the direction of her house.

Cooper trailed her the entire way.

“Come on, Jen,” he said for the fifth or sixth time. “Say something.”

Her boots crunched over flattened snow.

“Jen. Stop.”

“Fine.” She whirled to face him, the heat behind her eyes and in her chest giving her spin

extra momentum. “What do you want me to say?”

Pausing a few feet back, Cooper pursed his lips, hands deep in his pockets. Why’d he

have to look so good in that hat with his dark hair sticking out in faint curls around his neck and

ears?

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

“Yeah.” A chill ran through her, so she crossed her arms. He was right. They were barely


even friends again, and that was it. There was no room for kissing in this wobbly relationship.

But then, if she agreed with him, why did his admission sting so much?

She ground her boot toe on the sidewalk beneath her, pushing snow aside. “What was

that anyway?”

“I—I don’t know, except I saw how hearing about Greg and seeing him all night was

upsetting you. All I wanted to do was see you . . . be okay.” Frowning, he shrugged, averted his

attention to a couple of passing vehicles with their lights on. He let out a long breath, evidenced

by the white cloud curling away from him. “I see now how impulsive it was. And not fair to

you.”

Looking away to avoid the emotions stirring inside her, Jen let out her own shaky breath.

“Well, at least let me walk you home,” he said. “Or back to your vehicle.”

“Home. I’ll just walk to work in the morning.”

“Those fliers should be ready by then, by the way.” Cooper fell in step beside her, and

she was thankful for a shift in the subject. “I don’t work until after noon tomorrow, so I can

distribute them to all the Main Street businesses and even some off Main, if you’d like.”

Sweet guy, trying to make up for tonight’s incident. “That’s okay. I can do it.”

“I’ll help. It’s the least I can do.”

“Really, Cooper, it’s fine. I can handle it.”

“Do you know how many fliers you ordered? A ton.”

“Not that many.”

“Jen.” He nudged her with his elbow, and she met his sobering look. “Seriously. I know

you can handle it on your own. But let me help you. Okay? You don’t always have to shoulder

everything.”


But she did, didn’t she? It wasn’t Cooper’s name riding on the success of the festival. It

was hers. It was Dad’s agency’s. And Cooper had helped enough already.

A buzz in her pocket caught her attention. She pulled out her phone. A text from Millie.

And a few more from others, for which she hadn’t felt the notifications.

Millie

What just happened? Are you and Cooper dating? Text me back!

“Uh-oh . . .” Jen’s steps slowed to a stop.

Cooper stopped, too. “What?”

Jen scrolled through the texts she’d missed. One from Dad, one from Greg, and one from

Andi.

Dad

We need to talk. You can’t avoid this.

Greg

Hey. Cooper’s a lucky guy. Best wishes.

Andi

How exciting! Greg told me you were dating someone, but I didn’t know it was Cooper! Guess love comes

back when it’s right. Congrats!

“Jen, what is it?”

“Um . . .” Unable to formulate words, she handed her phone over.


Cooper read her screen and groaned. Rubbed his hand down his face, pausing over his

mouth as he read the texts a second time. “Well, that’s fun,” he finally mumbled. “Did I mention

I was sorry?”

#

“Now what are we going to do?

From his seat at the kitchen counter, Cooper warmed his hands around his mug before

connecting his gaze with Jen’s. She’d emptied a packet of cocoa powder into her mug of

steaming water, then stirred as if preparing for a competition. When she stopped, the spoon in

her mug continued to spin on its own.

“Cooper? Did you hear me?” She crossed her arms and leaned a hip against the counter.

“I asked what we’re going to do.”

First time she’d really slowed down since arriving here ten minutes ago. They’d

considered sitting on Jen’s porch to talk through this mess but quickly opted for indoor heating.

She’d immediately boiled water for hot cocoa, even though Cooper had insisted multiple times

she didn’t need to. Seriously, he’d already kissed her without permission and now sat in the

privacy of her home. She didn’t need to be this nice to him.

Though, judging by her taut expression, she might have made the cocoa as a way of

personal distraction more than as an act of hospitality.

She continued to stare at him.

Whoops. “Sorry. I honestly don’t know what to do.”

“Well, we’d better figure it out. Everyone thinks we’re dating, and I’m not sure what to

say. I mean, obviously telling them we’re not, but then how do I explain you kissing me under

the mistletoe like that? Because that definitely wasn’t a mistletoe kiss.”


No, it wasn’t. It was so much better and so much worse at the same time. Holding her

close like that had ignited in him what he’d thought he’d finally laid to rest. And no matter what

he told himself, he couldn’t turn it off.

But for Jen’s sake, he had to try. Because, obviously, the kiss hadn’t affected her in the

same way.

“I can tell them tomorrow it was just me being stupid.”

“Who? Who are you going to tell? Because practically the whole town was there.”

“Not really the whole town . . .”

“Okay, maybe not, but all of the agency’s clients were, and so was my dad.” She covered

her face with her hands. “Oh, this is terrible. It’s like one of those TV movies where they pretend

to be engaged so they can make an ex-boyfriend jealous.”

Terrible. That’s what she’d called kissing him. Awesome confidence booster right there.

But he deflected the blow as best he could by pushing off his barstool and rounding the kitchen

counter toward her.

“Hey, calm down. It’s not like that at all.” He placed his hands on her upper arms,

ignoring that fire within him and focusing on comforting her instead. “I’ll call them all

individually if you want me to. Every last one. Don’t worry about it. I’ll own up to my mistake

and make it right.”

She hesitated, looking as if she wanted to believe him, to take comfort in his promise.

Finally her features began to soften. “Sorry, Cooper. You’re right. I’m probably overreacting.

I’ve been struggling with my dad lately over some stuff, so I think I just panicked.”

He scrunched his brow. “Yeah, you mentioned that last night. What’s up between you

and your dad?”


“Oh, it’s a long story.”

Cooper shrugged. “Well, I have a pretty deep mug of hot cocoa.”

She managed a smile. Then exhaled and plucked the spoon from her mug. “I promised

Dad I’d buy some farmland on the edge of town, but it didn’t go through.” Her cat, Whiskers,

rubbed against her ankle. Same cat she’d had in high school. Hated everybody except her.

“That’s not so bad, is it?” Cooper reached for his mug.

A line drew across Jen’s mouth. “Pine Haven Realty bought it instead. It’s the new

Stagecoach Trail subdivision.”

Understanding sank in, and Cooper lowered his mug. “Gotcha.”

Designed to be a ritzy neighborhood, the investment land would have turned into a big

pay day for Laurie Realty. After the land was zoned into the subdivision, they would have been

able to sell each lot for a grand profit.

“You know, you can try your best but in the end, Jen, you don’t have control over the

seller. If they choose to sell to someone else, that’s not your fault.”

“But if I could have offered a better price or given him a more convincing vision of what

I’d planned to do with the land—”

“It still would have been his choice.” He shrugged, hoping she’d see how she’d done

everything she could. While she didn’t look convinced, she had at least met his eyes. He exhaled

and ran his hand over his mouth. “As long as we’re sharing, I’ll let you in on a secret of my own.

I’m working on my real estate license.”

The shock on her face was a little too evident. “Wow, really? Have you taken the test?”

“No, but I just passed the pre-license exam.”

“That’s great! Congratulations.”


“Thanks.” He surveyed her. “You seem surprised.”

Shaking her head, she lifted her mug. “I just didn’t expect you to like that sort of thing. I

figured you’d stick with art.” She took a long sip, and Cooper downed the last of his hot

chocolate.

“Yeah, I’m not exactly sure how to tell my uncle, yet.”

“You haven’t told him? Why not?”

Cooper glanced behind him as if Uncle Bill was just going to materialize in Jen’s kitchen.

“He’s talked a lot about me taking over the business when he retires in a few years.”

Nodding, Jen thoughtfully took another sip. “I take it the others don’t want it?”

“None of them are interested or available. Megan has her design shop, of course,

Sydney’s working on her chiropractic degree, Gray is . . . somewhere . . . photographing the

world, and Brooke is designing websites in Seattle.” Cooper shrugged. “They’re all busy with

their own businesses, their own lives. I’m the only one left.”

Without a dream.

He silenced the thought as it entered his mind. He had a dream. To be a real estate broker.

Wasn’t that why he was going through all the trouble of earning this license? “I take my test on

the twenty-first.”

“Well, I hope it works out,” she said, cutting into his thoughts. “And when you pass the

exam—which I’m sure you will—maybe we at Laurie Realty could give you a

recommendation.”

Cooper chuckled. “Thanks, but your dad never liked me much, and after tonight, I’d be

lucky to find a job in this town at all.” It was weird how Stuart Laurie hadn’t ever given Cooper

the stamp of approval. The closer Cooper got to Jen, the more protective Stuart became. He


supposed it was just what fathers did sometimes when someone dated their only girl, but there

were times it felt like it went deeper than that. But after what Greg was doing to Jen even a year

after their breakup, Cooper sure wished he could have a second chance to prove how good he

could treat her. The way she deserved to be treated.

His focus angled up to rest on her, absently stirring her spoon in her drink, which was

probably cold by now. Too bad Jen would probably never go for the idea of getting back

together.

Unless . . .

“So, hey, crazy thought. Why don’t we do it like the movies?”

Jen shifted a hip into the counter and set her mug down. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about a way to fix this mess I made tonight. We could date for real.”

A pallor took over her complexion. “Has your hot chocolate gone to your head?”

“No, I’m serious.” His head began to spin with ideas. “I think this could be the solution.

We date during the week of Christmas.”

Like a mother catching her child in the act of mischief, Jen folded her arms over her

middle and cocked her head. “I don’t want to lie to people.”

“Who said anything about lying? We’d be telling the truth. I’ll be your real boyfriend for

six more days. I’ll take you out to eat, we’ll go to each other’s functions, and I’ll be with you at

the festival, especially during Greg’s wedding.” He cocked his head to mirror hers. “Think about

it. You won’t have to find a plus one to the ceremony, and you have a built-in partner for saving

the festival—who actually loves this event just as much as you do. Maybe even more.” He

winked, thankful when it produced a little smile out of his friend, then leaned against the back of

his barstool. “Also, there won’t be any embarrassing story to tell your friends and family.”


Her arms stayed folded, but a bit of resistance seemed to relax out of her shoulders. “And

when Christmas is over . . .?”

“We’ll break up. Mutually. Still friends, no hard feelings.”

Breathing in, Jen looked at the fridge, then down to her hot chocolate. “Cooper, I can’t

ask you to do something like that.”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering.”

“You really think we can pull that off? Date each other until Christmas?”

“Yeah. I do. Unlike most new couples, we’re friends as opposed to complete strangers.

And since we’ve dated each other before, it won’t be all that new.”

“You’d do all that for me?”

“Sure, why not?”

“But why? I was a jerk to you when we broke up before. I’m not girlfriend material.”

“Good thing it’s only six days then.”

At that, she laughed a little.

Cooper’s gaze sobered. “Seriously, Jen. Right now, it doesn’t matter what we were like

when we dated in high school. What matters is that I want to help you. You’ve given me a great

gift in the painting. Please let me repay you.” His crooked grin hitched up a notch. “I’d like to

show Greg what he’s missing.”

It almost looked like tears glistened in her eyes, but then she blinked and any sign of

them was gone. “I don’t deserve this kind of goodwill.”

“Everyone deserves goodwill. Especially at Christmas.” He took her hand in his. “So, do

we have a deal?”

#


All that hot chocolate must’ve gone to her head.

Their shoes crunched over snow as Jen trailed Cooper to the sidewalk. An even deeper

chill had settled into the night air since they were last outside, but now the distraction of her

nerves or emotions or whatever they were kept her from noticing too much.

“Thanks for walking me out, though you really didn’t need to.” Cooper smiled, hair

curling around his ears. “Now I feel like I should walk you back to your door.”

Attempting a grin, she released a nervous, cloudy-white breath. Oh, how she wanted to

believe him—that this arrangement over the Christmas week was a smart one. That she was

doing the right thing by throwing caution to the wind and becoming his girlfriend for six days.

His girlfriend for six days. Yep. She’d gone insane.

“Thanks, but it’s not that far,” she said. “I can manage.”

The houses surrounding them twinkled in lights. She and Dad had put hers up right after

Thanksgiving, before much snow had fallen. This was, of course, at Dad’s insistence.

“You don’t want your yard looking like Ron Higgins’, right?” he’d said. “No matter how

much you don’t want to be in the spirit.”

A compromise was made, and they’d only outlined the roof over the porch. That was

about all she could handle, and Dad seemed satisfied enough.

Now, glancing at Cooper, she realized he was looking at Mr. Higgins’ place, next door.

The loose shutter on his front window, the ice and snow on the sidewalk he never cleared. Not a

light on anywhere, inside or out. Which, as a side note, was a red flag if she got the real estate

job in Denver and needed to sell her house. It wouldn’t be easy with a neighbor like him.

Cooper sidled up beside her, brushing her arms with his. “So, tell me. What’s it like

living next to Ebenezer Scrooge?”


She covered her grin. But then Cooper’s gaze shifted to her house, and she felt the

uneasiness growing in her chest.

“Also . . . I noticed you didn’t decorate either.”

“I decorated.”

“One string of lights doesn’t count as decorating.”

“I beg to differ. I got a box out of the attic and I climbed a ladder and nearly fell off. It

counts.”

“But you don’t even have a tree up.”

“That’s because—” Words escaped her and she shut her mouth. Turned to stare at her

house, too, realizing how gloomy it looked compared to every other house on the block except

Ron’s. Gloomy and lonely. Void of the joy most people found this time of year. Reflecting her

heart so much it scared her.

The warmth of Cooper’s hand enveloped hers. “What did he do to you?”

Gut reaction told her to pull away, to face the cold alone. But the soft leather of his voice

cloaked her like a blanket of fur in front of a fire, and all she wanted to do was close her eyes and

lean into it.

“I just wasn’t enough.”

Enough for him to stay, enough for him to stick by her as she worked out her issues in

becoming the woman she was meant to be. But the knife-edged truth haunted her, echoed deep

through her core. So cutting, she didn’t want to say it aloud to Cooper.

Greg left her because he wasn’t good enough for her.

“At some point, you’ll realize you need someone.”

Cooper’s steadfast grip gently squeezed tighter. “I don’t believe it, you know,” he finally


whispered. “You’re worth ten Christmas trees. A hundred. And a yard so full of lights, they’ll

have to shield their eyes when they come around.”

Jen dared to angle her gaze toward him. “Who’s they?”

“Everybody.” He met her eyes, and she knew without a doubt that he believed every

word.

And how desperately she wanted to believe it, too. To be deserving, to shake away the

shackles of guilt. And just as much, she wanted to look into those brown eyes for a few more

days, where believing in herself was a little easier.

God, please don’t let me hurt him again.


Chapter 7

Sunlight glinted off the snow and wet windshields as Jen waited outside Whispering

Pines Gallery. With an armful of fliers she’d picked up this morning from Pine Haven Printing,

she now breathed in the aroma of winter and listened to the cars driving over slush. That was the

reality of snow. Yes, it had a magical side—the lights, the falling snowflakes, the snuggling by

the fire with a book. But there was also a realistic side—where slush and ice and mud mingled.

Lately, she’d spent so much time living in the slush and ice and mud. Cooper, he lived in

the magic. Maybe some of it would rub off on her this week.

The gallery door opened and Cooper slipped out, wearing a dark jacket that matched his

dark hair. Then he sent her a smile and started for her, sending her heart into a stumbling mess.

He’s only your boyfriend for five days after today. And it’s best this way—you know that.

Don’t get attached.

“Hey.” He reached her. “Ready to conquer Main?”

“I am. Ready to see who wins?”

One of his brows rose, but he looked interested. “Wins?”

“Did I not tell you? The last one to finish has to buy the other lunch.”

“Oh, I see how it is. You think because you bought me a coffee the other night—”

“And M&M’s.”

“And M&M’s, that I should buy you a burger and fries?”

Jen shrugged. “Assuming you lose. Which I’m fully counting on.”

His gaze narrowed, a spark igniting in those brown eyes. Which made this all the more

fun.

She handed him a stack. “Ready?”


“All right, big talker. I’m ready. And I’ll show you what Gunthers are made off.”

Jen sauntered backwards. “And what would that be? Fear and trembling?”

“Ha-ha.” Cooper backed up, too. “Actually, it’s speed and agility.”

Jen noticed the bench before he did. “Watch out for—”

But it was too late. He’d caught his heel on the bench leg and toppled back. Over the

wrought-iron arm and onto the wooden seat. Sneakers in the air and fliers scattering in the

breeze.

A laugh spilled out of Jen as she hastened to help. “Are you okay?” She scooped up a

stack that had fallen near the bench before scurrying after some singletons escaping into the

gutter.

Groaning, Cooper rolled over and picked himself up off the bench in stages. “I’m fine. I

think I only hurt my pride.”

“Well, you might want to rethink your heritage of agility. Speed yes, but not so graceful.”

He laughed, ears a little red. “Okay, smartie. Don’t you have a stack of fliers to deliver?”

“I do. I’d better be on my way.”

They decided Jen would take the east side of Main while Cooper took the west, meeting

at The Little Bake Shop afterward for lunch—a cute little place about a block from here. Jen

often ate there when she needed a warm, inviting place to land. And after her next stop, she

might need that pick-me-up.

She looked up at the sign above Margaret King’s flower shop, Miss M’s Floral, before

taking a deep breath and pushing through the front door.

The chime greeted her, and she wondered if it might be the only welcome she got in here.

But no use worrying over something that hadn’t happened yet. She shook her hair back and away


from her face before approaching the counter.

She needed a win. Oh, how she needed one. Between Margaret’s city council influence,

Cowboy Arnie’s skepticism, Greg and Emily, and her strained relationship with Dad, something

needed to go right. Soon.

This morning had been another moment of tension, when Dad had slipped into her office

and shut the door behind him, displeasure written plainly across his features.

“What’s going on between you and the Gunther boy?” he’d asked.

“Nothing crazy.”

“Nothing crazy? I don’t believe that for a second after seeing you two last night.”

Jen had sighed. “Okay, something. But it’s not a big thing, Dad. Honestly.”

“That makes it sound worse.” He had leveled her a stare that made her squirm, like she

was seven years old again, caught in a lie.

“Cooper and I are just together over the holiday. That’s all.”

“Just the holiday? Jen, what’s going on here?”

“It’s a hard time for some people. We didn’t want to be alone.”

Studying her for much too long, Dad had drummed his fingers on her wall, obviously too

agitated to sit. “I don’t like it. You’re getting too involved with someone for it being such a

temporary thing.”

She’d thought about that, too. Which was why she was going to keep it completely

platonic from here on out. They’d really be more like friends for the holidays. Who’d just

happened to kiss under the mistletoe. A fact she would just ignore and bury in her past.

“I’d feel better if you didn’t see him,” Dad had said. “For your sake. I realize you’re an

adult and can make your own decisions, but honey . . .” He paused as if thinking, hands deep in


his trouser pockets where he fiddled with keys and coins. “I’ve had dealings with the Gunthers in

the past, and nothing good ever came of it. They’re caught up by their whims and make promises

they can’t keep, and are highly emotional. Too much drama, if you ask me, and I’ve witnessed it

firsthand.”

Jen had frowned. “What happened?”

Instead of giving her a straight answer, though, Dad had shook his head. “I just want

something better for you, all right?” Then he’d had an important meeting to get to, so off he

went.

In high school, she’d merely written off Dad’s opinions. She was too naïve and too

smitten. All that mattered to her was the evidence that Cooper was actually anything but trouble.

Not only had he been supportive in her pursuit of selling real estate, and had been not only an

amazing friend but a gentleman boyfriend, he’d introduced her to Christ, and that had been the

greatest gift of all.

Jen tapped her fingernails absently on the floral shop counter now, the corner of her lip

caught between her teeth. She hadn’t been to church since they’d broken up. The close proximity

had been too painful, and now she wondered if maybe she’d become a Christian for the wrong

reasons—for pleasing Cooper instead of God. But now, looking back, the absence of God in her

life was much worse, and she needed to do something about it.

Margaret appeared behind the counter, distracting Jen’s thoughts. The floral shop owner

somehow looked even more severe in her Miss M’s embroidered shirt and jeans. She didn’t

smile at the sight of Jen, but it wasn’t exactly a frown either.

“Jen. How can I help you?”

“I brought you a flier to display for the festival.” Jen posted her biggest smile. “We’re


handing them out to everyone on Main Street—and if you know of anyone else who might like

to display one, then I’d be happy to give you some extras.”

“I won’t be displaying a flier this year.”

Jen’s smile wobbled at the blunt delivery of Margaret’s statement, but the flower shop

owner didn’t bat an eye.

Not that Jen would back down either. She had to meet her friend’s, her town’s, her dad’s

expectations no matter the struggle. This was not the time to fail on another promise.

“That’s fine.” She slipped the fliers back into the crook of her arm. “I won’t take up any

more of your day then. But I’ll probably be back tomorrow to ask you again.”

As she walked back to the door, she heard Margaret’s voice. “Are you dating that

Gunther boy?”

Jen turned. Hugged her fliers. Margaret King had strong values, and everyone knew it.

Which was something to be commended, even if it was a bit intimidating when you worried

about stepping outside of her expectations. Thankfully, Jen didn’t have the temptation to lie to

please her.

“I am.” No doubt, the woman—like everyone else at the party—had seen them under the

mistletoe. But whatever agenda Margaret had behind asking now was a mystery.

And she’d probably win a staring contest if she entered one. Had she blinked at all yet?

“Does he manage the Whispering Pines Gallery?”

“Yes . . .”

Margaret raised her chin a fraction of an inch. “Tomorrow night, my husband and I are

hosting a small get together here at the shop. It’s called Wreaths for Veterans. Join us, and bring

Cooper with you. As a major participant in the festival each year, I’d like to hear what he


thinks.”

Bring Cooper—as a date—to a function where she’d be discussing business. “Sounds like

a plan,” Jen said before retreating for the door. Further mix business with her personal life. She

could do this and not dig herself into a hole, right?

“I’m rather surprised you two are dating.” Margaret’s voice trailed after her, stopped Jen

with her hand on the door.

Slowly, Jen faced the front counter. What was the woman getting at? “Well, we are.”

“Hmm.”

Jen waited but Margaret didn’t continue. She just stood there, stone faced, though

obviously thought something she wasn’t saying. Jen stepped closer, knowing she should leave it

alone yet couldn’t. “Why? Is something wrong?”

Finally, Margaret blinked. Her eyelids shuttered as she stated her opinion as fact. “From

my perspective, having witnessed the whole conflict play out these past thirty years, it surprises

me that you two would end up dating.”

Thirty years? Okay, now she had Jen’s attention. “Tell me, Mrs. King. What exactly do

you know?”

#

“You will not believe what I just learned.”

Standing in line, Cooper shook his head as Jen burst through the door of The Little Bake

Shop. Coffee brewed somewhere in the back, and with fresh bread coming out of their ovens, the

place was really more of a breakfast place, though they did serve soup and sandwiches from

eleven to two. Thus, not surprisingly, there were only three other patrons in the shop, and two of

them were ahead of Cooper in line.


“No,” he replied, “you won’t believe what I just learned. I discovered that I beat you here

and that I win.”

“Well, I have good reason for it.” Pulling off her gloves and scarf, she fell in line beside

him.

“Oh, yeah? And what’s that? Had to stop and buy another pair of boots?”

Jen glanced at the two people ahead of them, and at the woman at the cash register, who

made eye contact with her. Offering a small, polite smile to the woman, Jen leaned in close to

Cooper, and he realized she was serious. He’d really enjoyed their banter this morning, had

fallen into it like a comfortable old habit. But she wasn’t bantering now.

“I had a little chat with Margaret King,” she whispered.

Cooper lowered his voice as well. “What’d she say?”

“Apparently, your aunt and my dad used to date.”

“What?” He made a face, nose scrunched in skepticism. “No way. Aunt Erin?”

“It’s true.”

“I don’t believe it.” He shook his head, but Jen nodded.

“Why would Margaret King lie about that?”

“I—I guess I don’t know. It just seems really bogus.” Aunt Erin and Stuart Laurie?

“Sir,” the lady at the cash register broke in. “You’re next.”

They ordered, Jen paying as promised, and didn’t speak again until they were seated in a

corner booth. Truthfully, Cooper wasn’t really sure what to say. He couldn’t even picture Aunt

Erin and Stuart together. She was quiet, wise. Worked diligently with her hands and served

behind the scenes. If she was at the gallery, her hands were usually deep in clay as she threw

pottery on the wheel in the back. Stuart Laurie was ambitious. A people person. A strong


personality.

Did that have any effect on why Jen’s dad didn’t like him? Cooper rubbed his forehead as

he pondered it. “Well, that beats my news,” he finally said, popping a French fry into his mouth.

“Oh, you actually had something to tell me? What was it?”

“That these fries really hit the spot. Thanks for so graciously buying them.”

She angled him a feigned look of irritation, a tiny grin playing on the corner of her

mouth. Curled something inside him that had better lay dormant, so he cleared his throat and

willed himself to get serious. “I spent time talking with storeowners as I dropped off fliers. And

many of them had the same thing to say, surprisingly.”

“What was it?”

“They wanted their stores to feel more festive from the outside.”

Jen nodded. “Okay, I’ll talk to Andrea at the tourism office and find out who’s in charge

of decorating.”

“Except, that’s what I mean. I don’t think anyone is in charge of decorating anymore. Not

since Sally Fredericks retired and moved to Arizona a few years ago. The city hangs wreaths on

the lamp posts every December, but other than that, any decorating for the festival is left up to

each individual store. And several said they wished the festival committee would add to their

efforts—that it would make their stores feel extra special for that night. More cohesive. Might

increase attendance, boost sales, add to the fun.”

Jen took a bite of her ham sandwich, and Cooper could nearly see the cogs turning in her

mind. “What are you suggesting we do?”

“I’m suggesting that we decorate.”

Silence met him at first. Jen tapped her finger on her lips. “Don’t get me wrong . . . I like


the idea, honestly. But I don’t think we can make it happen. After today, we only have four days

until the festival. And no budget for decorations. Not to mention, no man power to get things

done—besides you and me.”

“I’m sure I could figure something out.” And as the phrase left his mouth, the thought

occurred to him that two days ago, he’d been wary of even joining forces with Jen Laurie—on

anything, let alone festival planning. But today, and after last night and the night before that, he

knew without a doubt this project—and seeing her smile—was important to him.

Sighing, she shook her near-empty cup, sloshing the ice together, and stood. “Maybe so.

It would be great, but I don’t want to let anybody down by offering something I can’t deliver.”

The statement hung over him as he took a bite of his tuna melt and waited for her to fill

her cup with water at the fountain. He knew she’d meant it in light of her missing the land

investment deal, but he couldn’t help but see himself in the statement, too. He wasn’t exactly

offering to run the gallery once Uncle Bill retired, but it was an unspoken agreement that

everyone was well aware of. An agreement on which Cooper couldn’t deliver. But how was he

going to break the news? Should he come out and tell him now—rip off the Band-Aid? Wait

until he located a buyer and had truly passed the license exam? Because why stir up problems if

there wouldn’t be any?

“Okay,” Jen said, sliding back into her seat, “change of subject. “I have your first official

order of business as my boyfriend.”

Man, he liked hearing that word coming from her. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“Come with me to an event Margaret is hosting tomorrow night. Wreaths for Veterans,

she called it. She wants to hear your perspective on the festival, you know, since the gallery has

been heavily involved in the past.”


“Well, I suppose I can. I mean, if I have to, since I am your boyfriend . . .”

Over the table, she gave him a little shove. “Stop.” But she couldn’t hide her grin as she

turned back to her sandwich.

When they’d finished eating, Cooper wadded up his sandwich wrapper and shifted to

stand but stopped when he took notice of Jen’s expression. By the way she stared at her empty

wrapper, he suspected she was somewhere else.

“What’s on your mind, Jenny Elle?”

“I’ve actually enjoyed the last couple of days, and I just want to say I’m sorry I was such

a jerk when I broke up with you. It was sudden and you weren’t prepared for it.” She shrugged as

if trying unsuccessfully to deflect the guilt she obviously toted around.

“Hey.” He waited until she raised her gaze to his. “Don’t worry about it. It’s in the past.”

And when she still didn’t look fully convinced, he reached for her hand. It fit snugly into his as

he ran his thumb over her skin. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad we’re friends again.”

He’d missed her. Oh, how he’d missed her. And that smile she gave him now was all he

needed to feel right in the world.


Chapter 8

What did one wear to a Wreaths for Veterans event anyway?

Was it formal? Relaxed? Jen should’ve asked Margaret what would even take place at the

event, but she’d been too surprised by the news of Dad and Erin Gunther to voice any questions.

So she’d settled for the middle of the road—skinny jeans tucked into boots, a flowing jacket, and

a thick scarf. Hopefully it would be dressy enough to make a good impression.

The fate of the festival counted on winning over Margaret, and Jen needed all the help

she could get. If this council member approved of the festival, then her influence could spread to

the others.

Having arrived early, Jen leaned against the sandstone outside Miss M’s Floral, bobbing

her knees against the sandstone exterior, waiting for Cooper and fighting her nerves.

She glanced toward the gallery for what seemed like the hundredth time, and finally

spotted Cooper making his way down the sidewalk toward her. Pushing the pent-up breath from

her lungs, she straightened up off the side of the building.

Tonight, Cooper had opted for a red flannel shirt over a black tee and dark jeans. He

smiled when he reached her, that dimple working overtime.

“How’s it going?” he asked, opening the door for her.

“Good—are you ready to argue the festival’s case?” she asked before slipping through.

“Yep. Ready.”

Inside, the warmth seeped through her coat and the din of chatter surrounded her.

Sounded like some people had gathered in the back behind the counter, while others stood in the

entry area of the shop, where pre-built floral arrangements dotted the display window and along

the wall. A string of Christmas lights edged the ceiling in, and Jen couldn’t help but wonder if


they’d been there yesterday when she’d stopped by. She’d been so bent on her mission of

handing out fliers that she hadn’t noticed.

A woman at the counter perused a clipboard and seemed to be giving directions to

another person. Jen and Cooper exchanged a glance, then proceeded to the counter.

“Hi,” Cooper said, placing his hands on the counter’s edge. “We’re here for the Wreaths

for Veterans event. Margaret King invited us.”

“Awesome.” The woman asked for their names, dropped her searching gaze to the

clipboard, and used a pen to cross them off the page. “Right this way.”

She motioned for them to follow her into a back room, where she led them to a long table

covered in circular wire frames, wire thread, hot glue, and sprigs of greenery, berries, pine cones,

and winter flowers.

The woman paused at one spot in the middle of the table. “Here’s where you’ll be set up.

Next to Margaret and her husband. The construction will take place for about twenty minutes,

and then the judging will begin.” Then she strode away in quick steps, leaving Cooper and Jen at

the table in front of the supplies.

“Judging?” Cooper sent a look at Jen, who could only shrug. “I didn’t know this was a

contest.”

“Me either.”

“What did Margaret tell you?”

“Just that she was having a Wreaths for Veterans event, and we were invited.”

At that, people began filing into the room, taking their places at the table, or lining up

against the wall to watch. Or perhaps to judge. Jen’s palms began to sweat like they did before

she took a test.


A test. Gasping, she turned to Cooper.

“You took your real estate exam today! How did it go?”

Cooper shook his head. “Actually, I decided to wait until after the holidays to take it.”

He sent her a smile, but she sensed something lurking beneath it that he wasn’t telling

her. “Cooper . . . did you come here instead of going to take your test?” She’d completely

forgotten about the date of his exam when she’d asked him to come with her tonight. The office

that administered the exam was in a neighboring town about half hour away. He might not have

gotten back in time for this event if he’d gone.

He shrugged. “This is important.”

“Not as important as your license.”

“It’s fine, really. This will give me more time to study. I’ve gone plenty of time.”

Jen frowned. She wanted to say more, but a voice beside her interrupted.

“Cooper and Jen,” Margaret said, coming up beside them, her husband in tow. He smiled

at them around his wife. “Glad you could make it.”

Jen had rarely worked with greenery—didn’t have plants in her house, even. But that

didn’t stop her from beaming with confidence. “Thank you for inviting us.”

The woman with the clipboard explained the rules and briefly described how to build and

decorate a wreath. Then she set the timer for twenty minutes, and started a CD player of

Christmas music, and suddenly, Jen and Cooper were up against all the other participants with

the time ticking away.

Cooper met her glance. “Ready to knock ‘em dead?”

“I hope you don’t mean the plants. Pretty much any living green thing I touch dies, so

hopefully that won’t be the case tonight.”


He chuckled and picked up their circular wire frame. “I don’t think it should be a

problem. All this stuff is basically dead anyway, right? I mean, it’s not growing out of the

ground. It’s all trimmed pieces. So, in my mind, you have nothing to lose.”

Thankful for his spin on the topic, Jen set to work, trying to imitate the techniques briefly

displayed by the woman with the clipboard. She glanced at Margaret and knew there was no

chance of winning. Obviously the experienced florist would have the speed and precision to

create a top-quality wreath.

That’s when Cooper nudged her.

“What?”

He motioned to their left. She looked—and could have groaned. Greg and Emily stood

there, putting together their own wreath, too. In matching Santa hats, of course. They sent Jen

and Cooper a little wave as they worked. Cooper smiled with a nod, and Jen offered a polite yet

half-hearted wave in return.

Great. The competition just got tougher.

“So what should we put on this thing?” Cooper asked, a hint of humor in his eyes.

“I don’t know.” Jen couldn’t help but giggle due to nerves. “How about starting with

something big, like these evergreen sprays, and then layering it with something smaller. Like

berries or pine cones.”

Cooper shrugged. “Works for me. Let’s try it.”

They worked awkwardly for a while, and Jen couldn’t help but notice an occasional,

romantic laugh come from the next station over. Ugh. Why were they in a contest to begin with,

and why were they competing directly next to Greg and Emily?

She needed a distraction. She needed to get down to the business she’d come here to


discuss. “So, Mrs. King, I’d love to hear your concerns over the festival . . . if now is an okay

time to share.”

“Sure.” Margaret wrapped wire around a section of their wreath which her husband held

in place. “Last year, clean up time was added to everyone’s schedule after the blackout and fire.

A couple of stores reported items stolen and some stores had damages as people panicked and

caused messes as they tried to leave a blackened store. Not to mention the potential for being

sued over any injuries that could have resulted—thankfully none did.”

Okay. That was a longer list of concerns than Jen had anticipated. Her mind raced to

come up with a response. “I recognize that, Mrs. King, and I share your concerns over these

matters, too.” She hesitated as she thought through her next words. “But while there is always

potential for things to go wrong at public events, I wholeheartedly believe that last year was a

one-time disaster. This year will be so much better.”

Margaret didn’t seem convinced. She turned her focus on Cooper. “And what are your

thoughts? You manage Whispering Pines Gallery. How has the festival affected you in recent

years?”

Cooper glanced at Jen before answering, and for an instant, she wondered whether or not

he’d say something positive. He’d always claimed to be for the festival, but the unfortunate

incidents last year had certainly hurt the gallery.

“We’ve had years of ups and downs,” he began. “But honestly, I think it’s less important

to focus on how well the gallery does or how it’s affected by the festival. Instead, we should

discuss how the gallery—and any of the shops—have an amazing opportunity to use the festival

to affect the town positively. It’s a chance we have to share God’s goodness with people.

Fellowship. A time to make every person feel special, feel wanted. For me, that’s what


Christmas is about—and how well the gallery does is secondary to that.”

He finished speaking, but all Jen could do was stare at him. At the man he was

continually shaping into, and the man she realized she greatly admired. The man who, despite

hardship, remembered what Christmas was about.

Feeling emboldened, Jen shifted her attention to Margaret. “May I ask you something?

You decorate for Christmas, and you obviously have a heart for serving others. So why are you

wanting to end the festival?”

At first, the woman hesitated. “I appreciate Cooper’s sentiments about Christmas, and I

agree it’s an opportunity to share God with the town . . . but I don’t think it’s doing that. It

doesn’t infuse this town with the spirit of Christmas like it should. First of all, it’s not a good

night of the year—a night that people should be home with their families—and it focuses on

making money rather than giving back.” Margaret eyed her overtop her glasses. “Not that it’s

made any of our shops much money in the past few years either.”

“Did you receive the list of suggested deals and giveaways we sent to each business? It

should have arrived today with your mail.” Jen stuck a sprig into the wreath. “We wanted to

ensure vendor satisfaction by not enforcing discounts, but instead, offering creative ideas to

make each shop a fun, festive destination for the customer.”

Margaret folded her arms. “I received it. It is an improvement on last year, I’ll give you

that. But what about giving back?”

Could Jen add a donation portion to the festival? There really wasn’t time to contact local

charities, nor get the town notified of this new development. But Margaret seemed adamant.

“What about the soup kitchen?” Cooper said beside her. “You said your husband owns

the soup kitchen. We could do a canned food drive or some other food-related charity.”


At first, Margaret didn’t answer, but her slight nod and arched brow showed her interest.

Her husband peered around her, also appearing as if he liked the idea.

“We could set up a table here in the flower shop, so people can learn about the soup

kitchen. Hopefully the information will inspire them to volunteer,” Cooper continued. “I’m sure

we can brainstorm more ideas as well. Something interactive, getting people more involved with

the kitchen. Invested in it.” His brown eyes sparked with purpose. “Because you’re right—the

season is about giving, and the festival should reflect that. What do you say, Mr. and Mrs. King?

Are you open to the festival if we put a major focus on the soup kitchen?”

“I believe so,” Mr. King piped up.

Then he and his wife glanced at each other before Margaret turned back to Cooper.

“We’d still want to hear your presentation at the council meeting . . . but we’d be open to

considering the idea.”

Jen could have leapt for joy. Could have shouted to the heavens. Instead, she forced

herself to simply smile. “That’s great news, Mrs. King. Great news.”

Greg and Emily won the contest. But Jen didn’t care.

As she left the shop, Cooper beside her, she felt as if she floated. His ability to come up

with ideas when all she could do was clam up had amazed her over and over tonight. And a new

admiration for him had taken root within her.


Chapter 9

“I don’t know how you talked me into this, Gunther.”

Cooper lowered his paintbrush and glanced down at Jen beneath his ladder. She looked

every bit the way he remembered her from high school, ponytail keeping her hair off her face,

and sneakers poking out from worn jeans. Except for paint. There was a lot more paint.

“Relax. You’re killing it.”

“You’re not wrong,” she mumbled while making a defeated attempt at brushing more red

paint across Santa’s belly. “I do so much better behind the scenes than in the middle of the

action.”

He disguised a laugh with a cough and went back to sketching out the top of a Christmas

tree along the glass display window. “Just be thankful we found enough helpers to make this job

ten times faster.”

“Oh, believe me, I am. I’m surprised how fast you got this put together.”

“Well, it wasn’t all me. An artist in the gallery teaches painting at the college, so he

helped me track down some of his students who hadn’t left town for the holidays. And Megan

used to sub at the high school, so she knows the art teacher there. I guess his seniors made an

assignment out of it.”

Shifting on his ladder, he turned his gaze over Main Street. The sidewalks in front of each

business were lined with youth, armed with brushes and window paint in cans and markers. Each

display window was getting a holiday-themed facelift for the festival, and suddenly, the street

didn’t feel so barren.

Cooper smiled. Business owners had been right about needing something extra—and this

was it. Not only the art itself, but the sense of community the event was building. Curious


passersby were pausing to ask the kids what they were doing, and shop owners had drifted

outside to take a look.

All except Margaret. She’d begrudgingly allowed them to paint her window, but she’d

made herself scarce throughout the project. So far, she hadn’t said anything more about last

night’s event, nor if her feelings about the festival had changed. But her behavior regarding the

window certainly filled Cooper with doubt.

Once he finished his sketch, he stepped down each rung of the ladder, aware of how close

he and Jen had been working the past hour. And keenly attuned to how much he’d missed it.

Not to mention, how stupid he was acting. Yes, they were dating for the holiday. But just

for the holiday. And who knew what would become of them after December 25? Would they

even continue to be friends or would it all fade away?

Of all the choices he’d made in life, this certainly wasn’t his wisest.

Crouching down to select a few paint markers from a box, he knelt entirely too close to

Jen’s faded jeans. She moved over a bit to give him room, but in order for the distance to be

adequate, she’d probably have to go stand on the moon.

Time for a distraction. “Did you find out anything more about the list?”

Jen dabbed more red paint on Santa, causing his too-skinny arm to thicken too much—

like he had clothing bunched up in his sleeve. “On the back of the painting?”

“Yeah.”

“No, but I wish I had. In all of the chaos surrounding—well, the status of our

relationship—I completely forgot to ask Dad about it.” A faint blush crossed her cheeks, though

she quickly recovered. “Do you think it has something to do with your aunt?”

Cooper raised his brows. “Why? Because of the love note? But I thought you said it was


to your mom.”

“Well, I thought so, too, until the other day. Now I’m not so sure.”

A chime from his phone diverted his thoughts. Abandoning his brush on the top of the

ladder, he fished the phone from his pocket to read the text.

Aunt Erin

I’m stopping by the gallery for a few things but then going home to start supper. You’ll be there tonight,

right?

Cooper

Miss our annual pre-Christmas dinner? No way. Of course I’ll be there.

Aunt Erin

Good. And just so you know, I’m making extra food. And setting one more place at the table.

Cooper

Okay . . . why? Who’s coming over?

Aunt Erin

Aren’t you bringing Jen?

He glanced at Jen, who was hunched over her artwork, grumbling to herself about how

horrible the jolly old guy looked. He smiled.

Cooper

I plan on it.

He shoved his phone into his pocket and crossed his arms. “Okay, well, I think that about

does it. I’m going to call it quits for the day and wrap everybody up.” He nudged Jen’s arm.

“Your Santa looks fine. I’m sure The Baby Boutique will like it.”


“Maybe we can pretend one of their kids painted this.” The Stevensons had about seven

or eight little ones. “If not, they can hang a big Christmas-patterned curtain over it.” She stepped

back from the artwork. “Should we leave some soap with them? Or a scraper? However you get

this stuff off.”

Cooper wrapped her in a side hug and squeezed. “Whatever, Jenny Elle. He seriously

looks fine. Anyway, I have something to ask you.” Swallowing, he suddenly felt a little like a

junior asking a girl to prom. “Would you come to my family’s dinner tonight?”

Her brows rose. “Oh, um . . .”

“It’s nothing fancy,” he hastened to continue. “Just the Gunthers eating a little early-

Christmas dinner. Aunt Erin thought you’d want to come, and I liked the idea, too.” He

shrugged, hoping it would lighten the mood. “You know, since you’re my girlfriend and all.”

If he wasn’t mistaken, that soft blush coated her cheeks again, just for an instant. “Sure, I

don’t have any other plans. I’d enjoy a little turkey—or whatever you guys like to have for

Christmas.”

“Oh, there’ll be lots of turkey.”

“And your aunt’s famous pecan pie?”

“I’m assuming so. I don’t think we have any events where that pie isn’t present. It’s

practically a member of the family.”

Jen laughed. “All right, then. It’s a date.”

Something swelled in Cooper’s chest. “It’s a date.”

But then she touched his arm, and he realized her shoulders had grown rigid, that his arm

was still around her. He slipped it away, hopefully not in a too-awkward manner.

Scrunching her nose, Jen watched him. “Are you sure it’s okay for me to be there?”


He narrowed his gaze. “Sure it is. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Because I’m not sure they’ve forgiven me for when we broke up.”

And judging by the wounded look in her eyes, she still hadn’t forgiven herself either.

“Jen, I told you before. It doesn’t matter what happened in high school. And if you’re worried

about how my family feels, then prove to them how you’re the same awesome person you were

back then.” He bore his stare into hers. “We’re together through this. Okay?”

But no matter how he willed her to understand, he still sensed the pulling away. Her

resistance to togetherness. Her clinging to independence. As if it were better to brave the world

alone than to be supported by someone.

He had no idea how to get through to her.

Putting aside the concern, Cooper helped Jen put the finishing touches on their window.

It was nearing three o’clock, so the high school instructor had rounded up his art class in order to

make it back to the school before dismissal. Most of the college students had finished their

artwork and had headed home, too, leaving only a window or two that Cooper would need to do

on his own tomorrow morning before work. Not too shabby.

He settled on a time with Jen to pick her up for dinner, then carried his big cardboard box

and a few plastic sacks of supplies back to the gallery.

Maybe it didn’t matter that she kept pulling away from him. They’d had that issue when

they’d dated before. She’d need his help, or would at least ask for it, but then end up making

excuses as she struggled to do things on her own. Push and pull. Winding him in and out, like a

yo-yo, and now he saw how hard it had been on his heart. He didn’t deserve to be strung along.

So regardless of how real his feelings for her were—still, after all that—he’d better keep

his head in the game this time around. And remember that this arrangement was only going to


last a few more days, to get them both through Christmas.

Propping his box between his hip and the gallery’s display window, he pulled open the

door and managed to wedge through, then shuffled toward the counter.

“What is this doing here?”

Cooper stopped. Over the top of his box, he spotted Aunt Erin standing in the doorway of

the backroom, holding up Jen’s painting while the color drained from her cheeks.

Watching her expression, it took Cooper a moment to answer. “It’s for the festival.”

“Where did you find it?”

“Jen brought it in.”

Aunt Erin dropped her focus to the painting. Her brows drew together, and her frown

deepened. “I don’t think this should go in the show.”

Cooper slipped the box onto the counter. “It’s not going in the auction or anything. We’re

just borrowing it as a showstopper for Christmas Eve.”

“No, I mean, we shouldn’t display it at all.”

Her conclusive tone caught him off guard. Aunt Erin, the quiet artist who preferred to dig

into clay than make gallery decisions.

Wait—the painting. Margaret King’s story about Stuart and Aunt Erin. Were they

actually connected as Jen had suspected?

Cooper’s gaze narrowed. “Are you okay?”

#

Jitters filled her as Jen looked out the window at Cooper’s car parking outside her house.

That fresh-baked cookie smell coming from the plate on the entryway table enticed her to relax

even as the site of Cooper coming up her front walk tipped her stomach upside-down. She wasn’t


sure she was ready for this, but there wasn’t a whole lot she could do about that now.

She was also rattled because of the message she’d just found on her phone a few minutes

ago.

The real estate office in Denver wanted her to call in for a phone interview.

She had to decide what to do and whether or not to tell Cooper about it. But now wasn’t

the time. The doorbell rang, so she took a deep breath and opened it.

Cooper smiled, his gaze warming Jen even as the cold air snaked in around him. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Already dressed in her coat, she simply had to pick up the paper plate of cookies

she’d put together twenty minutes ago. “I made your favorite. Plenty of monster cookies to go

around.”

“Um . . . if those are for the entire Gunther family, then I guarantee there aren’t plenty.”

He winked, shutting her front door after she stepped through. “Gunthers kind of love their

cookies.”

“That’s why I made them.”

“That was very thoughtful.”

When they reached his car, Cooper opened the passenger door and Jen slipped in. As she

pulled the seatbelt over her torso, a text sounded from her purse. Settling the cookie plate in her

lap, she reached for it with her free hand.

Dad

I received an email from Margaret King today. Must not have had your contact information. Her interest

seems better than before but I’m not sure she’s entirely convinced. Yet.

As she read the text, another one popped in below it.


Dad

I’m proud of your hard work. Tell you what—let’s make this interesting. Stay focused on the festival, pull

it off without a hitch, and I’ll make you the managing broker.

Jen’s heart skipped.

“What’s up?” Shutting his door, Cooper shifted in his seat and clicked his seatbelt. Then

promptly reached over and pulled a cookie out from under the cling wrap.

She was too in shock to care. “Look at what my dad sent me.”

Holding the phone up for him to read, she found herself holding her breath until he

finished.

“Wow.” He met her eyes with a spark in his own. “That’s awesome, Jen.

Congratulations.”

She harrumphed, dropping her phone into her purse. “Don’t congratulate me yet. We still

have two days before the festival. And for all we know, the city council might still shut us down

tomorrow, no matter the amount of work we’ve put in.”

“It’ll work out.” He pulled away from the curb. “I can feel it.”

That familiar knot tightened in her chest, and the entirety of her to-do list played through

her mind. “How can you be so sure? How can you place so much trust on a feeling?”

“Jen, it’s the way I’m built. You look at facts, I look at feeling. Together, we make the

perfect pair.”

“But feelings can’t be trusted.” She’d said it faster than she’d meant to. Before she could

carefully select her words, they were out in the open, filling the space between them along with

the Christmas music playing over the radio. Which she craved to turn off, except she knew


Cooper’s radio was not to be touched.

It was ironic, this awkward tension intermixed with “Rockin’ Around the Christmas

Tree.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ve never been good at trusting my instincts. I lead with my

head.” The heart was too dangerous. It had the potential to take someone somewhere scary,

somewhere misleading. The heart often let people down and took people on a wild journey to a

destination they never actually wanted to reach.

Cooper didn’t reply. Only turned left—and suddenly Jen realized they weren’t heading

toward Whispering Pines Canyon. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”


Chapter 10

“Nicely played, my friend.”

Biting back a grin, Cooper pulled into a parking spot at the city park. “I just thought you

might enjoy a little detour on the way to supper.”

Jen had stared out the passenger window from the moment they pulled away from her

house. Now she sent him a knowing grin. “Do we have time for this?”

“Aunt Erin was still finishing up some stuff when I left. I’m guessing we’ve got a few

minutes.” He put the car in Park. “Care to take a quick walk?”

Silver moonlight splashed over the snow as he and Jen crossed the parking lot to the

sidewalk lining the road. The road that led to the covered bridge. Down here at Pine Haven’s city

park, the trees were thick on the park’s outskirts, making you feel like you were slowly stepping

into another world.

“I haven’t been down here in ages.” Jen’s voice came hushed, and Cooper could almost

see her committing each park bench, each historic outbuilding, each mature tree to memory. Or

maybe reliving old memories from years ago. Then she sighed, seeming to shed all that weight

she normally carried around.

That was Pine Haven. It had a way of coaxing you in, inviting you to breathe deeply—

“Okay, Cooper, so why are you leaving the family business?”

—Unless the person you were with kept you on your toes.

“What made you think of that?”

“I know it’s a very random thing to bring up, but I’ve been wondering about it ever since

you told me.” The sleeve of Jen’s coat brushed against his. “I mean, you’re good at art. You

made some amazing fliers and ads for the festival, and you pulled together the window-painting


project like it was nothing. And the art auction always looks amazing, as does the gallery year

round.”

“Well, I mean, you can like art but work in a different field.”

“Sure.” She looked like she wanted to say more along that vein but decided against it.

“Okay, then what about real estate?”

“What about real estate?”

“Why that career? If the sky’s the limit, then what has you so interested in that one?”

He thought a moment. “When we were studying together for yours, I found it interesting.

And I want to give people a do-over.”

“What do you mean?”

His chest tightened with the memories. “A home is a place where you should feel your

best. A soft place to land, or however the saying goes. Buying a house and moving in—that gives

people a chance to start fresh, and I want to provide that for them.”

Moving closer, Jen tucked her arm into his, like she understood the deeper undercurrents

of his words. And without warning, Cooper’s breath hitched in his throat. That feeling of home?

That’s what he felt with Jen. The soft landing, the fresh beginning. Birthday parties. Summer

picnics. Christmases with children bouncing on their bed at four AM to open presents. A home

he never wanted to leave.

But he wasn’t allowed to feel that way.

So he had to do something to curb his thoughts. “You will never believe—”

“So, I just wanted you to know—”

They each released a small, nervous laugh.

“Sorry.” He’d planned on telling her during their car ride home, but now was fine, too. “I


was just going to say that the person who dated your dad wasn’t my aunt . . . well, it was my aunt

but not Aunt Erin.”

Jen stood straighter, unlinking their arms. “Really?”

“Yeah, it was my Aunt Betty. The one I said is in town for Christmas. She’s wild, but

awesome. Have you met her?”

“Briefly, I think, at your graduation party.”

Oh yeah, she’d popped into town for the day, then left again for an Alaskan cruise. “Well,

anyway, Aunt Erin found your painting in the backroom. She didn’t know a lot of details about

the relationship, but since she was already with my Uncle Bill by then, she’d witnessed the

breakup.” He shrugged. “I guess it’s like, the one thing in life Aunt Betty kept to herself.”

“Same with my dad. I had no idea he’d ever loved anyone but my mom.” She shook her

head. “You think you know someone.”

Cooper angled a glance her direction. Crossing her arms, her breath white, she shivered

deeper into her coat. Ah, forget his inhibitions. The gal was cold. He slipped his arm around her

shoulders. She sent him a smile, which was enough encouragement for him to settle in.

The covered bridge was just ahead. Someone working for the city had blown the

sidewalk clear of drifts, though a thin layer of snow remained, causing it to squeak beneath their

feet. Their breath intermingled as they walked, and her long blond hair hung free in front of her

shoulders, looking silky-soft to the touch.

“I don’t think I was only referring to my dad just now,” she confessed, continuing to stare

straight ahead.

It allowed Cooper to study her profile. “I know.”


“I just thought he’d never leave me, you know? Greg. I just thought—” Her voice faded

away, and Cooper let the silence filter around them as they approached the covered bridge.

The structure stood over a bend in Pine Haven Creek, nestled into a thick gathering of

impressive pines, decked out for Christmas with a massive evergreen wreath at the center of its

peak. Shrouded in shadows down here in a valley, the temperature cooled further, and the snow

deepened. This spread always collected more snow than anywhere else and remained untouched,

save for occasional tracks by rabbits and deer.

Neither spoke. Cooper couldn’t find the words. All he could do was soak in the calm,

bask in the private beauty that was this Christmas week’s snowfall.

“It’s pretty out here,” Jen said, her voice hushed.

“God sure has a way of making things amazing.”

“He does.”

Cooper glanced at her. “Legend has it that this bridge is supposed to bring you luck. I

don’t really believe in luck, but in blessings.” He shrugged. “Not sure how a bridge brings

blessings, but you know—that’s how legends go.”

Exhaling, Jen scanned the scene. “So what do you suppose my dad and your aunt would

have liked about this place? Enough for it to make a love list, I mean.”

“Something romantic, I guess. A special memory or milestone,” he said. “Maybe where

they met. First kiss. First place they said, ‘I love you’ . . .”

Below the bridge, the crash of the creek against rocks was often a lulling sound, though

right now, it only filled Cooper with another chill. And thoughts of their own first kiss and first

shared ‘I love you’. It wasn’t here, but it had been winter, had been outside. It was a sweet

memory he shouldn’t revisit. As simply as he could, he took his arm off Jen’s shoulder and stuck


his hand in his pocket, allowing the hollowness of this space swallow him up. Focus, man. Stay

focused.

“But who knows?” He nudged some snow with his shoe, then studied the empty road

ribboning through the bridge. “It’s not something with an obvious story for us to piece together.

You know, like a fancy restaurant or a jewelry store.”

“Has your aunt ever mentioned this place?”

“Not to me.”

She huffed.

Yep. That’s how he felt, too. They’d found a dead end.

Pretty as it was, they decided to head for the car. In order to drive toward Whispering

Pines Canyon from here, Cooper would need to drive by list location #2—the old church.

Silence filled their space as he drove, though he couldn’t quite tell if it was comfortable

or awkward. Suspended somewhere between. Jen was likely as lost in her thoughts as he was.

About Aunt Betty and Stuart. About the festival. About their Christmas arrangement.

After a few turns, the old church on Serenity Drive—aptly named Serenity Church—

came into view. Moonlight shown off the narrow steeple, the old stain-glassed windows

reflecting a glow from inside. Looked like it belonged in one of those Christmas TV movies Jen

had mentioned the other day. And honestly, the charm pressed into him, permeating him with a

sense of peace.

“I forgot this church was on the way.” Jen stared at the historic structure through the

passenger window. “I’m surprised, actually, that a church was on the list. My dad has never been

interested in going to one, that I know of.”

Cooper slowed the car until he was parked by the curb. He was about to ask her what


level of interest she had in church when she suddenly pointed out the front.

“Look, carolers.”

Jen lowered her window, so Cooper did the same. The soft sound of singing drifted from

across the street. Four carolers stood on the walk before a house, donned as if they’d stepped

straight out of a Dickens novel. “O Come All Ye Faithful,” lifted from the group in a sweet yet

haunting melody.

“Do you care if we listen for a minute?” he asked.

“Sure, I guess.”

The carolers finished their hymn and segued immediately into “The First Noel”, with one

of their sopranos arching over the rest in a lulling descant. Cooper lowered his gaze. Drank in the

music. Prayed for the peace he felt in that moment to last forever, and for the singing in heaven

to sound something like this.

Jen cleared her throat. “Okay, we can go now.”

Cooper shifted, met her gaze. Her mouth had drawn tight and her shoulders had gone

rigid. Instead of saying anything, he only nodded and put the car in Drive.

Sometimes Christmas was hard.

Streetlamps cast them into intermittent spotlights as they drove toward the canyon. No

doubt Aunt Erin’s food was ready by now, and they’d be late. Cooper had originally thought

taking this detour would lift Jen’s spirits, but now he wasn’t so sure he’d succeeded.

“I guess I just knew how I wanted life to be. And it’s nothing like that.”

Jen’s murmured thought struck a chord in him as well. “Me either. What were you

expecting?”


“The usual stuff. I thought I’d be getting married last Christmas, not breaking up. Maybe

have a baby on the way by now. Be busy in my career, selling all the lots up in Stagecoach Trail.

I know those things all sound cliché, but that’s what I wanted. That’s what I thought I had.” Jen

shrugged, obviously deflecting the sentiment and trying to act strong. “Anyway, kind of puts a

damper on the holiday this year. I’m just not in the mood to celebrate.”

Then shaking her head, she lightly ran her hand down Cooper’s arm. “Sorry, I’m talking

way too much about my tragic life story. Let’s talk about something else.”

Probably a good idea. He glanced down at her hand, lingering on his sleeve. Probably

would be good if she moved it back to her lap, too.

Man, he was in hot water. He wasn’t ready to break up with her in three days. But even

more than that, he didn’t want to be in love with someone who was still in love with someone

else—which was exactly the trap he’d found himself in.


Chapter 11

The more Jen tried to imagine her dad and Cooper’s Aunt Betty having special memories

around town, the more confused she became. Why had he written those locations on a painting?

And maybe more importantly, what had turned the relationship sour, so that he still kept the

painting but stuck it in his attic, collecting dust? What did it all mean?

On the radio, “Up on the Housetop” faded into “The First Noel,” and the Gunther house,

folded into the trees, came into view. Lights glowed from each main-floor window, and a new

set of butterflies overtook Jen’s stomach.

Could she do this? Suddenly it was real—she was about to have dinner with Cooper and

his family in their home. A place where she used to feel welcome, with people who used to care

about her.

But that was all before she’d ended things with Cooper the first time.

It was one thing to see Megan or Bill or Erin in passing downtown. It was entirely

another to be trapped sitting with them around the dining table. Trapped probably wasn’t the best

word. She liked them, and if her past with Cooper didn’t look like it did, then she’d be eager to

have a meal with his family. But it was hard to feel excited when anything was possible this go

around.

“So, I’ve been thinking.” Cooper pulled up in front of the house. “Aunt Erin doesn’t think

we should put the painting in the show. And since now we know there’s some sort of history

surrounding the painting—or at least, around Aunt Betty and your dad—I kind of agree with

her.”

“I was thinking the same thing. Only problem is that we already put it in the paper. The

spread runs tomorrow.”


“And it’s too late to cancel the ad?”

“Yeah, unfortunately.”

Cringing, Cooper shrugged. “Well, we’ll just have to roll with it, I guess. I don’t think I

listed it as a showcase piece, so maybe no one will notice it isn’t actually in the show.”

“Right.” She gave him a wry smile. “Let’s hope so.”

He must have noticed her unease, because he reached over his gear shifter and took her

hand. “Don’t worry about it, okay? Focus instead on knocking everyone’s socks off at the city

council meeting tomorrow night.”

“Ugh. I’d rather worry about the gallery display not matching the ad.”

Cooper chuckled. “Well, I’ll be there at the council meeting. With bells on. You won’t

have to do it alone.”

Jen squeezed his hand in return, but the unease grew within her stomach. The truth was,

she was grateful yet also concerned. Because his help was growing too overreaching, just as

she’d been afraid it would. Handing out the fliers, coordinating the window art, taking the detour

to see their list locations, listening to the carolers as if it would somehow lift her spirits—even

the kiss under the mistletoe had been an act of service. All with great intentions, sure. But none

of it was needed. This wasn’t his battle, and again he was trying to swoop in and save the day.

Just like when they’d dated before.

“I hope you have a big appetite tonight.” Cooper opened his car door. “You’re going to

need it. Aunt Erin really outdid herself.”

Jen tried to smile. “Good,” she said, hoping it sounded enthusiastic enough.

While she fiddled with her seatbelt and purse, Cooper rounded the vehicle. When he

opened her door, moonlight caught the soft swoop of his dark hair and the angle of his cheek and


jawline. He smiled. And suddenly Jen had to fight feelings of wanting to kiss him like he’d

kissed her the other night.

She busied herself with her purse. “Thanks.” She slid out and stared up at the house.

Come on, feet. Time to move.

They didn’t.

Ugh. “Oh, why did you invite me?” She whipped her head toward him. Why’d she say it

out loud? “I mean . . .”

“Just think of it as payback for inviting me to your dinner event.” He winked, then guided

her toward the door. “Also, you’re my girlfriend, remember? And this is what couples do. Go to

each other’s holiday get togethers with family.”

Warmth permeated through her, even though his gentle touch on her back was separated

by layers of glove, heavy coat, and sweater. Yet, at the same time, his words echoed around her

as they made their way to the house. His girlfriend. Yes. That’s what she was.

For now. And she’d better remember that.

But if she wasn’t mistaken, the depth in his voice made it sound a whole lot more

permanent than that.

She needed to tell him about Denver. She’d tried to, while they were in the park, but after

he told her about Dad and his Aunt Betty, she figured her news could wait a bit. After all, it was

just an interview and not a job offer, and if she became managing broker in Dad’s agency, she

wouldn’t need the Denver job at all. But judging by the way Cooper was acting, the way he

seemed to be growing more attached, she needed to break the news sooner rather than later. She

couldn’t bear hurting him again.

“Cooper—”


The front door opened. “You made it, finally.” Megan crossed her arms and leaned

against the doorframe, crossing one ankle over the other. “I was just telling Mom we should call

in a search team.” Her eyebrows wiggled over a knowing grin. Though, Jen couldn’t help but

wonder if there was a hint of irritation buried beneath her tease.

“We got sidetracked listening to some carolers.” Cooper paused by the porch steps,

allowing Jen to ascend first before he followed her.

“Carolers?” Megan backed out of the doorway. “Okay, well, anyway, supper is ready and

on the table. Come on in.”

They left their shoes on an indoor welcome mat before shuffling across the entry way tile.

When Jen’s stockings hit hardwood, the smell of turkey and potatoes and everything else

amazing flooded her senses. The house was aglow with a golden light that felt almost magical,

and the spread along their twelve-seating table looked like it came straight off of a design blog.

“Hello, hello.” The woman she presumed to be Aunt Betty left her post cutting a fruit

salad, circling the island with her arms outstretched. “Welcome. Jen, I presume?” She gathered

Jen in a hug, her long hand-dyed skirt billowing around both of them. She smelled of warm

cinnamon, and her bangles jingled together as she released Jen and gently cupped her face. “So. I

hear you’re a Laurie.”

“Y-Yes, ma’am.”

“Is Stuart your . . .”

“Dad, yeah.” She offered a tender smile. “I’m his daughter.”

“She works as a real estate agent in his agency,” Erin cut in as she placed a huge,

steaming bowl of mashed potatoes on a trivet on the table. “She’s quite successful.”

“I’m sure she is. Following in her dad’s footsteps.”


Betty smiled sadly, and Jen retraced her words, looking for the bitter sarcasm that so

often accompanied a broken heart. But what she found instead was something—genuine. A

flicker that said she was truly happy for Dad and his accomplishments. What was their story?

Betty whisked herself back to the kitchen island. “I tell ya, at the blazing speed that man

was going, Stuart Laurie was destined for greatness. No way around it.” She leveled a kind look

at Jen as she lifted her knife. “And I bet the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

“Well, I don’t—”

“It’s true. She’s working hard, doing great things.” Cooper came alongside her, smiling,

and Jen’s heart ached all the more. Why did he have to be so great? Why did he draw her in

when everything else told her she needed to focus, to keep her distance?

#

After supper, Jen insisted on helping with the dishes. It was the least she could do. So

while the Gunthers split up to gather supplies for decorating their tree, Jen found comfort in the

solitude and soapsuds.

Dinner had surprisingly gone better than she’d expected. The festival had been a major

topic of discussion, and everyone seemed convinced that the city council wouldn’t cancel it. But

Jen wasn’t so sure. She’d only know after presenting at the meeting tomorrow night.

Just then, Betty entered the kitchen and sidled up beside Jen at the sink. “That meal was

fabulous, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, it was. My dad doesn’t cook much, so if we do any festive meals, it falls to me.

And my cooking skills certainly leave a lot to be desired.”

Betty giggled. “And how is your father doing? I heard a few years ago about your

mother, and I’m so sorry for your loss.”


“Thank you. She passed away when I was really young, but I know it’s been hard on my

dad.” As the absence of a mother had been on her. “But he’s been doing well enough, I suppose.”

“Did he ever remarry?”

“No.” Jen searched the woman’s intent gaze, but again didn’t find any ulterior motive

shining through. Like she actually wanted to know that Dad was okay. “He always told me he

doesn’t fall in love that easy.”

At that, Betty’s smile appeared. “That I believe.”

Jen glanced behind her. Megan and Erin had settled in the living room, while Cooper

followed Bill out to the garage to fetch Christmas ornaments. She wasn’t sure if it was the best

time to bring this up, but nothing better would likely come along.

“Have you ever married, Betty?”

“Oh no. Not me.” Betty waved the idea away. “I never could settle down in one place,

and that made it pretty difficult to find a man.” A contemplative look crossed her eyes for an

instant as she regarded Jen, as if making a split decision over whether to share more. “Did you

know your dad and I were an item once?”

“I just found out.”

“That man was something else.” Shaking her head, Betty chuckled to herself and put her

arm around Jen’s shoulder for a brief but heartfelt hug. “I never knew another like him.”

“What happened?”

“Well, honey, it just wasn’t meant to be.” She picked up a washrag from the sink’s center

divider and ran it along the granite counter. “I guess I wanted it more than he did. I don’t know.”

“You mean getting married?”

“Married, children, a life together. The whole nine yards, honey.” She scooped crumbs


into her hand. “I was young and naïve. Impulsive. I told him to pick between me and his father’s

agency.”

Understanding took root. “So Dad picked the agency.”

“I never should have done that, but you live and learn. It was only after we broke up that

I realized he was the only one I ever would’ve considered settling down for.” She shrugged,

rinsed the rag, and spread it on the sink divider. “But, by then, it was too late. He’d made his

choice, and like the true wanderer I was, I left Pine Haven.”

The agency was Dad’s life. He’d practically spent every waking moment there all Jen’s

life. When she was young, she’d gone with him. Played secretary when it was after hours and his

had gone home. It’s where she walked after school and watched Saturday morning cartoons. In

those days, he even let her ride along when he showed a house. Becoming immersed in the

process had fueled her love for real estate early on. It wasn’t a normal life for a kid, but for the

most part, she enjoyed it. Although, there were certain times when she longed to have a dad who

didn’t work so often.

To think he’d had the choice of giving all that up for a woman he loved—and hadn’t

done it.

Betty reached for the towel hanging on the dishwasher handle. “I’m sure that was way

more information than you wanted.”

Jen snapped out of her daze. “No, it wasn’t too much. Thank you for sharing with me.”

The door to the garage opened and Cooper’s laugh poured in, followed by clomping

boots and the shuffle of cardboard boxes.

“We’d better join everybody,” Betty said. But before Jen could pivot toward the living

room, Betty grabbed her hands and squeezed. “Even though I never worked things out with your


dad, I can see in you that his life has been very full.” She beamed. “I wish you both every

happiness.”

Jen couldn’t help but throw her arms around the woman. “You, too, Betty. Cooper’s

pretty lucky to have you as an aunt.”

“Blessed, honey.” Betty winked. “I don’t believe in luck.”

Blessed. That’s what Cooper had said at the bridge—and it once again reminded her of

how deeply faith ran in this family. How Dad had never bothered with church, and how she’d

grasped hold of that faith when Cooper introduced it to her.

And how easily she’d let it go when life got too busy, too hard.

Would God be willing to take her back and give her a second chance? She knew He said

He would, but she’d messed up so many times. And surely it wouldn’t be her last. Would He be

willing to put up with her failings?

As Jen followed Betty into the living room, she caught sight of Cooper, pulling artificial

tree limbs from a long, narrow box while his uncle set up the metal trunk. Megan and Erin had

set to work opening the boxes of ornaments and pulling out the ones on top. Some store bought,

some obviously homemade. They cooed over their favorites, sharing a memory or two of how

the ornament came to be.

Laughter spread through the room as Megan teased Cooper about an ornament he’d made

in elementary school. He shot something back in return, which made her laugh harder.

Cooper selected an artificial branch and began unfolding the wire needles. He must’ve

noticed how Jen hung back, because he caught her eye and motioned for her to join them. When

she crouched down beside him, he leaned closer. “We would’ve had the tree up by now, but

we’ve been so busy with the auction, we just haven’t gotten to it yet. And, just for the record,


Meg’s popsicle reindeer ornament is way worse than mine.”

Jen smiled. “I’m sure it is.” Reaching around him, she selected the next-sized branch and

unfolded it before slipping it into its intended slot on the trunk. Cooper stepped in beside her and

slipped in his, their eyes meeting overtop the plastic evergreen needles with a hearth fire as warm

as the one fanning to life in her chest.

This. This is what Christmas was supposed to feel like. Like love and laughter and

family. And all of it was within her grasp if only she’d take the reins. An ex-fiancé shouldn’t

stand in the way of that feeling.

Before Cooper could step away, Jen reached for his hand between the branches. “Hey,”

she said, her gaze colliding with his. “Thank you for inviting me.”

He squeezed her hand, rubbing his thumb along her skin. “No problem.”

His hand lingered in hers for a moment longer before he gently broke the connection so

he could grab another branch. Stepping back, watching the Gunthers assemble their tree branch

by branch, laugh by laugh, Jen couldn’t help but wonder if a Christmas like this could somehow

exist for her.


Chapter 12

Jen

Hey. I think I want a tree up after all. Are you still up for decorating one?

Dad

Tonight too early?

A grin slid onto Jen’s mouth. She quickly tapped out a reply.

Jen

Yeah. I’m doing something now, but tomorrow after the city council meeting, I’m all for it.

Dad

Okay, deal.

“You have a great family, Cooper,” she said, zipping her phone inside her purse. “I hope

you know that.”

Street lamps lit his face and corduroy sleeves in intervals as he turned the steering wheel.

“Believe me, I do. They’re awesome.” He pulled up in front of her house and parked along the

curb, leaving the car running for warmth. He’d turned the radio down to a soft murmur—though,

for the first time this season, she might not have minded Christmas songs so much.

Seeing the Gunthers had given her a glimpse of how Christmas should be—communion

among family. And she’d been denying Dad—and herself—a chance to experience that

togetherness. Tomorrow, she would change that.

On the way home from dinner, Jen had relayed Betty’s story, and then they had

brainstormed how the painting might fit into the puzzle. The best they had come up with was that

Dad had planned to give it to Betty as a gift, but then they broke up before it happened. That


would explain why he’d buried it in his attic, but it didn’t explain the location list on the painting

or even how Erin Gunther knew the painting existed.

Unless the painting was Betty’s. But then that wouldn’t explain the locations written in

Dad’s handwriting, nor why it was hidden in his attic.

Jen sighed. So confusing. Tomorrow, she would ask him about it.

The car idled beneath her seat. “Thanks for the ride. I had a really good time tonight.”

“Me too.” The shadows cast by the street lamp darkened his face, so his brown eyed-stare

filtered deeply through her.

And she was reminded. Reminded that she was treading through dangerous territory.

Reminded that this thing between them was temporary and had to remain so if she wanted to be

right with Dad on Christmas and learn to listen to herself, to realize whatever it was she truly

wanted and to honor that.

She reached for her car door handle and pulled, and the inside light flicked on. “Well,

goodnight.”

“Wait, I’ll walk you to the door.”

“Oh, really, it’s fine, I—”

His door shut behind him and then he was heading around the car.

Watching him approach the passenger side and open her door further, his smile warm and

tranquil, she felt her heart tugging. Okay, he could walk her to the door. One last time.

A fresh frosting of snow coated the sidewalk just enough to cover her previous footprints.

Trailing beside him, Jen folded her arms across her chest. Cooper’s gaze connected with hers and

again, he smiled, that dimple hinting at his deepening affection for her, and she returned it with a

tight-lipped smile before stepping up onto the porch.


“So,” he said, ascending her porch, too, “what time do you want to meet tomorrow before

the meeting? I jotted down some bullet points this week that might be helpful. We could go over

them ahead of time, like maybe over supper somewhere.”

Jen fiddled with the cord on her purse, slung across her chest. “Actually, I think it would

be good if I did this one by myself.”

“Well, it’s no trouble. I’ve got some good arguments, if I do say so myself, and I

wouldn’t mind another meal with you.” His shoulder rested against the post holding up her roof,

his playful eyes glittering.

Of course he wouldn’t mind. And that was the problem.

Jen forced down her desire to accept, modifying her position until she was next to her

front door. “Thanks for the offer, but really, you’ve helped enough.”

The air seemed to still as his brows shifted down and his eyes registered change. “This is

a big deal, you know—going in front of the city council—”

“And I can do it on my own.” She hated the finality in her tone and the confusion etching

into his features. “Cooper, you did a fantastic job with what I hired you to do, above and beyond.

I can take it from here.”

He shrugged. “Well, I know you can, but—”

“I’m fine with presenting on my own, okay? And if I fail, I fail.” Except she wouldn’t.

Not this time. She wouldn’t let Dad down.

“Okay, sorry. Got it. You’re prepared to deal with whichever outcome, even if you lose

and they vote to cancel the festival.”

Something about his statement caused her pulse to spike. “Yes, Cooper, I’m a big girl.”

Backing up, she ignored the niggling doubt inside her. “I don’t need you to be Superman and win


all my battles for me.”

“You can’t be Superwoman, Jen . . .”

Huffing, Cooper shoved his hands deep in his jacket pockets and squared his back on the

post. “Wow, okay. Where is this coming from?”

She straightened her own shoulders. “From me. It’s time I stand on my own feet.”

Unnerving quiet moved between them, Cooper’s face conflicted as he glanced at the

road, then at the porch floor. She knew she should wait and give him a moment to process and

respond, but the silence was too strangling for her to endure.

“It’s time for me to be a woman people can depend on.”

Hurt stained his eyes. He straightened and cleared his throat. “Are we breaking up?”

Stupid tears. Why were they stinging her eyes right now? “Well, it was going to happen

in two days anyway. Besides, my dad—”

“—doesn’t have anything to do with this.”

Her brows rose. “Excuse me?”

“Look, Jen.” Cooper pushed off the post, walking toward her. “I respect that you’re close

to your dad, that you want to fix your relationship with him. You should—especially when he’s

your only family. But you’ve gotta make your own decisions, follow your own heart. He’ll learn

to live with it, or he won’t. That’s on him.”

His words carved into her, striking places she’d rather not explore. “Right, okay, like

you’re one to talk about following your own heart.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I know you have some noble reasons for selling houses, and that’s awesome,

but you’ve loved art for as long as I’ve known you. The gallery is like your second home. But


you can’t even tell your family that you dream of leaving the art world. Is a career in real estate

really what you want?”

“Of course it is.” Cooper dragged his gaze out to the street and back, snapping his

tormented gaze to hers. “Come on. Give me a break here, okay? It’s not easy telling your family

something like this.”

“But you even skipped the test. It makes me question if you want it.”

“Jen, putting off the test for one month doesn’t mean I don’t want it.”

“It very well could mean that, Cooper. I think it means you’re still searching for

happiness and that deep down, you know you’re not going to find it in this career change.

Because if you knew you would, you would’ve taken the test.”

“What does this have to do with anything anyway?” His voice darkened. “I thought we

were discussing the city council meeting.”

“We were. I was simply trying to explain that we’ve accomplished all we can together. I

appreciate all you’ve done, but working together any longer will only complicate things. And I

can’t let that happen.”

“No—”

“Please, Cooper.” She covered her eyes, holding back a shaky breath. “Don’t make this

any harder than it needs to be.” She was trying her best to ease into this break up so they’d have

a chance to salvage their friendship. What was he doing, making things worse, refusing to let the

arrangement end? “We agreed we’d end things after a week, but it clearly looks like this thing

has already run its course.”

“Jen, we still have two days.”

Suddenly, she was eighteen again and starting her career, leaving him behind while she


chased her dreams. Him not understanding, and her at the end of herself trying to explain. This

wasn’t how this conversation was supposed to go.

Not knowing what else to do, she reached up to touch his cheek, its warmth reaching her

fingers even through her glove. She’d try one more time. “Cooper . . . you’ve helped me

tremendously this week, with the festival and with forgetting my loneliness at Christmastime.

But now it’s time to end our partnership and go back to being friends. Okay?” She searched his

face, willing him to believe her. “Besides that, it’s not selfish to help yourself.”

He was quiet, though the deepening brown in his eyes told her she’d struck a nerve.

Beneath her touch, his jaw muscles began to work over clenched teeth.

She let her hand drop. “This thing between us? It got way out of hand. It was supposed to

be an arrangement. A simple, temporary arrangement where we go to each other’s functions and

that’s it. Nothing more.”

The surety of his stance and granite stare twisted her stomach into a hopeless knot. “Too

late. It went beyond that for me. I want this to be more than temporary.”

Jen stared at Cooper, her breath hitching in her chest. “Well, we can’t.”

“Why—”

“Cooper.” How could she make him see? What could she possibly say to make him

understand that things needed to be over between them? “I know about the ring.”

He frowned. “What?”

“The engagement ring, when we were eighteen.” She swallowed, bolstering her stance. “I

found it in your glove compartment on our way home from my exam, and I just need you to

know I can’t go through that again.” He was too important to her, and what if she messed this

up?


Understanding dawned. “Jen, let me explain.”

“You don’t have to. You were just caught up in the excitement of the relationship, and

that’s okay. It’s in the past. But this time, I have to keep my head and my feelings in check.”

As he took a breath to reply, his phone chimed in his jacket pocket.

Silence followed, and they nearly froze.

Another chime.

Jen motioned to his pocket. “Answer it.”

“No, I can’t.”

“Cooper, just answer it. It’s okay.”

Scowling, he dug for the device. Jen waited as he checked the texts.

When he finished reading, he backed up a step, pressed a few buttons and lifted the phone

to his ear. “It’s Megan,” he told her.

Pivoting away, he seemed to tighten his shoulders. After several seconds, Megan’s voice

faintly reached Jen’s ears, though she couldn’t make out what was being said. He grunted, then

toed the crusty snow gathering under the porch railing. “Hey, it’s me. Call me back.” He hung up

and stuck his phone in his pocket.

She bit her lip, watching his stance grow shifty. “Everything okay?”

“I think something’s wrong.” Turning, he rubbed a hand over his mouth. “She texted that

something happened but now she isn’t answering.”

Worry flickered through her. “Then you’d better go.”

Cooper hesitated for a moment, then approached her and brought his hands up to her

face. He traced her jawline with surprisingly warm fingertips until they threaded into her hair, his

dark eyes swallowing hers. Her breath caught, her hands finding his Henley beneath his unzipped


jacket, and she braced herself from buckling at the knees.

And then he kissed her. Tenderly, then fully—knocking the air from her lungs, causing

her grip to tighten on his shirt.

Slowly, he broke the kiss, keeping his forehead pressed to hers while their breaths laced

together. She couldn’t open her eyes. With the jagged sound of his breathing and his hands still

at the nape of her neck, she feared she’d kiss him all over again if she looked at his face.

So much for keeping her head.

“I have to go,” he finally said, his voice low and thick. Though it took him a moment to

move, lift his forehead off hers.

She met his stare, heated and stricken, a sheen there she hadn’t seen before. Slowly, he

shook his head. “That ring was my mom’s. I’d just received access to it by the terms of her will,

and I was taking it home from the bank.”

“Oh, Cooper—”

“And if you can’t be with me for whatever reason, then fine. Okay. But I’m not selfish,

and I don’t struggle with it. I take care of myself plenty.”

She fought back tears. He tugged his hands free and backed up, allowing a frigid breeze

to spiral around her. “Say what you will, Jen Laurie, but as long as you’re trying to please

someone else, you’ll always try to be someone you’re not. Life will be too much for you until

you realize you’re already enough as you are.”

He headed for the porch steps but turned back. “And I was never caught up in our

relationship. I’ve loved you from the moment I helped you with your locker combination, and

I’ve never stopped. If you missed that, then you were more wrapped up in your own pursuits

than I thought.”


He backed off her porch, then stalked to his car.

Fumbling with her keys, Jen worked to unlock the door nearly as hard as she worked at

keeping her sobs at bay. When she finally barreled through the door, she shut it behind her,

leaned her head against the wooden surface, and covered her face with her hands. And let the

tears fall.

What had she been thinking, playing at this relationship? It wasn’t fair to her—it wasn’t

fair to him. She’d been in too deep and there’d been no way out that wouldn’t hurt.

The problem with Christmas was that it was scary. People opened their hearts over the

holidays, but what happened to hearts when they opened?

They could be shattered.

And this fledgling friendship she’d re-built with Cooper? It had been too precious to ruin

a second time. Yet she’d crushed it anyway.


Chapter 13

He’d left Jen’s porch for this?

Next time Megan cried wolf, writing a seemingly urgent text in all caps, then accidentally

not answering her phone because she’d forgotten it was on silent, he wasn’t going to come.

But nevertheless, here he was, standing at the gallery counter with her, his heart still

beaten up from ten minutes ago.

“I only stopped by on my way home to borrow some pieces for the festival display in my

shop,” Megan said now. “But then I found this. I thought it looked familiar when I pulled it out

of the back, but I didn’t make the connection until a few minutes before I texted you.”

Cooper stared at the two canvases side by side. One from Jen and the other from the

depths of the gallery’s back room.

Megan had stuck the two paintings together before Cooper had walked through the door,

and now, he could totally see the resemblance. Definitely created to be together.

“Two halves of one scene. That’s crazy.” He crossed his arms. “One must’ve belonged to

each of them.” The winter setting sprawled across each one, and on the far side of the right

one—the one Megan had just discovered—had a picturesque church, its steeple and windows

aglow.

The little old church on Serenity Drive.

And in the foreground, the clock. Clear as day. Snow sweetly swirling around its base.

Which meant—

Cooper stepped closer and combed his gaze over both canvases. There. Back hidden in

the evergreens of the left painting, before a backdrop of serpentine hills, the covered bridge. Had

been there all along, and they’d never noticed it.


The painting was representational of Pine Haven. No wonder it had a magic all its own.

Reaching out, he touched the corner of one canvas, where the clock stood, the globby

paint rough under his fingers. Too bad he couldn’t enjoy this discovery more.

“Okay, spill.”

Megan folded her arms and leaned a hip against the counter. Cooper kept his focus on the

artwork. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do. You’re completely different now than when I saw you an hour ago. What

are you thinking about?”

“I’m thinking about how there’s no signature.” So the artist was still a mystery.

“Yeah, I noticed that, too, but don’t change the subject.” Relaxing her shoulders, she

tipped her head to one side, probably trying to catch his gaze. “What happened, Coop?”

He shrugged. “We just broke up. Like, ten minutes ago.”

Frowning, Megan rounded the counter to be closer to him. “After a week? How is that

possible? You guys seemed crazy about each other earlier tonight.”

He faced his cousin, her cinnamon hair piled on her head in a messy bun, a look of

confusion on her face as she waited for an explanation. Toeing the base of the counter, he dug his

hands into his pockets. “So, we had a plan. I kissed her at a party to help her save face in front of

her ex-fiancé . . . and in order to help her save face from that, we decided to date for the week.”

He shrugged again. “It was going to end Christmas Day anyway. I guess she decided that was

too long.”

Cooper waited for Megan to start laughing, to crack a joke about the absurdity of his

situation, to shake her head and look at him with disbelief. But when she remained quiet, he

glanced up.


Tears misted in her eyes.

Blinking like she’d come to, Megan gave a sheepish laugh and wiped her eyes. “I

would’ve given anything to have saved face during John’s wedding.”

John. Megan’s old boyfriend whose proposal she’d turned down. And who’d married her

best friend, Lyndee, not too long after. Cooper would never forget the hollow look Megan

carried for months afterwards. Even though she’d been the one to end things, she still seemed

crushed. He’d never found out if she regretted saying no, or if it was just the fact that every

breakup hurts.

Reaching out, Megan gave his shoulder a gentle pat. “You just had to help her with those

advertisements.”

A grin twitched on his mouth. There was the joke. “I couldn’t help it. When you love

someone . . .”

You give her everything. Your time, your help, your support. Your jokes, your

friendship, your reputation. Your life. That’s how he felt about Jen. And it killed him that she

didn’t feel the same way. Or worse, that she did feel it but was too wrapped up in trying to prove

she was enough to realize she was already his everything.

“Don’t beat yourself up too hard. It was an unconventional way of helping, yes—but

you’re a good friend, Coop.”

He huffed. “I don’t know. Good friends probably keep to the friend zone.”

Keep focused, he’d told himself. Don’t get carried away with letting Jen back into a

portion of his life.

Right. Whatever that looked like, this was opposite of that.

“Well, whatever the case is, she’s missing out on one of the best.”


Megan’s sentiment should have made him feel better. But it only managed to stoke the

embers of guilt inside him.

“Hey, I need to tell you something.” He cleared his throat. “I’m not sure I want to inherit

the gallery.”

She raised her brows. “Oh. Really?”

Not the reaction he’d expected. “You aren’t upset?”

She bobbed her shoulders, crossing her arms. “No, just confused, I guess. I thought you

loved it here.”

“I do . . . but I want my own thing, you know? Everyone has their thing. All of you

branched out to do what you wanted. But I never had that sense of this-is-what-you-should-do-

with-your-life. At risk of sounding cheesy, I want my own story.”

“It’s not cheesy. I think it’s normal to want something that’s uniquely yours. And believe

me, just because we’ve all branched out doesn’t mean we don’t have moments of doubt and

reevaluation, too.” She laughed softly. “I know I’m not sure what I’m doing half the time.” Then

she half-turned so she faced him, tucking her hair behind one ear before leaning an elbow on the

counter. “Cooper, you do know you’re one of the family, right? Like, we know you’re our

cousin, technically, but we see you as a brother?”

“Sure.”

“Seriously. Sydney’s adopted, too, and we don’t see her any different either. Being

adopted doesn’t make you a second-class Gunther. I mean, I see it in the way you act around us.

Always going the extra mile, not because you truly want to but because you feel like you owe us

or something. I mean, you don’t even park inside the garage. That says something, right?”

Second-class. Why did that strike him so deeply? Was that what he believed? “Yeah, but


with Sydney, at least you parents chose her. Life made their decision about me.”

Megan squinted. “Is that the real reason you don’t want the gallery? Because you don’t

feel worthy of it?”

He looked around the space—the golden, hardwood floors and the crisp, white walls. The

familiar, creaking sounds of the old building and the smells of coffee and cookies he’d come to

expect when walking in here every day. He knew the books inside and out and each artist’s

backstory. If he were suddenly the owner tomorrow, he knew exactly how to keep it running.

But what if Megan was right? What if he thought he deserved something else?

Something—less?

Just then, the bell over the door rang. Oops, hadn’t locked it. Who would stop by the

gallery this late at night? Cooper spun. “I’m sorry, we’re after hours—oh, hey, Aunt Betty. What

are you doing here?”

Aunt Betty paused, her focus zeroed in on a spot between Cooper and Megan.

“Hey,” she said, her voice distracted. “I decided on a spontaneous little run for ice cream

when I saw the light on.” Slowly, Aunt Betty approached them, mouth slightly agape. Her gaze

on the paintings. “Oh, wow.” Drawing her hands over her mouth, she looked between the two of

them. “Where did you get these?”

“Found one in the back and one in Stuart Gunther’s attic.” Cooper found himself

shuffling a bit, like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have. “We didn’t know they

were yours until the other day.”

She touched the one Megan had found in the back. “What do you know?”

Cooper relayed the information, careful to keep to the facts and leave his predictions out

of it. Aunt Betty’s movements were slow and fluid, nearly frozen—so opposite of how she


usually moved. Furrowing her brow, pressing her mouth into a line, she swept her gaze over the

two canvases as, surely, memories swept across her mind.

“I painted these for Stu as a Christmas present one year. I put my heart and soul in them.

I wasn’t good at saying the right thing, so I showed him in a painting how he made me feel. They

include our favorite places around town. Our first kiss at the bridge, where we met at the clock,

and the church his grandfather built.”

“Wait, Stuart’s grandfather built that church?” Cooper thought the man had never been

interested in faith.

“Yes, back when Pine Haven first began.” She shook her head, seeming to remember

back, then played with the bangles on her wrist. “Anyway, when I gave him that ultimatum—me

or the realty—he never actually answered me. He simply left half of this painting on my porch.

No note, no explanation. I assumed it was a goodbye present, so I dumped it here and left town.

Probably too impulsive of me.”

“But there is a note attached,” Megan cut in.

Cooper and Aunt Betty looked at her. “There was?” she said.

Megan picked up the painting and turned it over. “See? Right here. Wedged between the

canvas and stretch bars.” She held it near Aunt Betty so she could see. “I was looking for a

signature, and then got interested in how it was stretched, and found this note inside.” She pulled

out a little folded sheet of paper. “I didn’t want to open it. It felt like prying into your life.”

Cooper shot his cousin a look. “Were you thinking of mentioning that detail at some

point?

“We just hadn’t gotten there yet.”

Aunt Betty accepted the note and unfolded it. In an instant, she inhaled a small gasp and


then her eyes filled with tears. Cooper exchanged a glance with Megan. “Aunt Betty?”

But the woman was already heading out the door, the folded slip of paper spiraling to the

floor like a propeller seed falling from a maple tree. The bell jangled as she left and forged her

way down the street.

Megan picked up the paper and opened it. She read it, let out a little “oh, man,” and then

handed it to Cooper.

“What is it?” He opened the note and read.

I’ll go anywhere with you. Meet me at the clock if you still feel the same way. –S

“Whoa.” This was getting crazy.

“Are you going to tell her?”

Trapping his imagination back, Cooper glanced at Megan. “What?”

“A lot has happened tonight. Are you going to mention any of it to Jen?”

Jen. The last person he felt like facing right now, though she had every right to know this

news. News he wished he could tell her with enthusiasm, with the camaraderie they’d shared

over the past several days.

But anything with Jen now would be hard.

“Yeah, I’ll let her know.”

He slipped out his phone to text her to come down to the gallery.

#

“Hey, have you contacted Cooper yet?”

In the depths of Pine Haven City Hall, Jen fidgeted in her folding chair while Megan

waited for an answer a few chairs away, offering a friendly—though telling—smile. She knew

about last night’s breakup. And Jen wasn’t exactly sure how to curb the conversation to


something else.

“No, not yet. It’s been a busy day.” Which wasn’t a lie. She’d spent the day preparing her

notes. Cooper had sent her a few texts today, trying to get a hold of her. But he’d prefaced them

by assuring that nothing with Megan had really been wrong, so Jen had allowed her concerns for

tonight’s presentation to take precedence over replying.

Now she knew her notecards backwards and forwards, and all she could do now was pray

for a positive response—even though all that prep still left her feeling unsettled.

“Well, you should talk to him,” Megan said gently. “Aunt Betty suddenly left town

today.”

“Before Christmas?”

“Yeah.” Megan looked like she wanted to say more but stopped.

Mayor Bidwell’s voice came through the microphone, calling the meeting into session.

Megan mouthed, “Just call him,” before settling into her seat.

Frowning, Jen tried settling in too, though the hard metal back of the folding chair didn’t

make it easy.

As were many of Pine Haven’s downtown buildings, the City Hall was historic, faced

with sandstone, and on the National Registry. The members of the council, all ten of them, were

seated up front while five or six rows of folding chairs sat opposite them, a microphone stand

and Mayor Bidwell dividing the two.

He presided as all the members of the city council voted to include two new people to the

Volunteer Fire Department, but Jen found it hard to focus.

“Are you ready?” Dad whispered beside her.

Ugh. If only it was over already so she wouldn’t have to worry. Frankly, she’d be happy


when January finally came. “I think so.”

“You think so? Or you know so?” Dad leaned over and winked—probably intended to be

encouraging—then glanced at the small crowd that had gathered.

Usually these meetings were very sparse, with only the necessary folks in attendance. But

today’s turnout was much larger. Apparently people were curious about what would happen to

the Christmas Eve Festival.

For the billionth time, Jen placed a hand over her middle, begging the butterflies to cease.

“Hate to break it to you, Dad, but there’s no guarantee of anything. I could have prepared for six

months, but that doesn’t mean they’ll accept my offer.”

“I’m fine with presenting on my own, okay? And if I fail, I fail.”

That’s what she’d said to Cooper. But the deep-inside, aching voice that kept needling

through her well-constructed beliefs told her she might be lying. That Cooper was probably right.

That she wouldn’t be fine with it at all.

So she’d better not fail.

Cooper had texted her last night and several times today, but after the first few, she’d

stopped reading them. Just like Megan said, he’d wanted to discuss something important. But

honestly, right now, it hurt too much to face him, muddle through explaining her actions again,

and try to keep her heart in check. She’d had enough on her mind today with the council meeting

tonight.

And actually, the ring had plagued her thoughts as well. It had been his mother’s!

Shaking her head, Jen closed her eyes and could have kicked herself. Again. It hadn’t been for

her, yet she’d jumped to that conclusion because of how all-in Cooper always acted. When she’d

thought he was going to propose, he’d simply been taking home his mother’s ring from the


safety deposit box. How could she have been so impulsive in ending their relationship?

Okay, she knew why. Because marriage or no marriage, she hadn’t been ready for the

commitment. Hadn’t been good at spreading her wings and being her own person. In fact, was

she any better at that now?

Just then, she caught sight of Andi a couple of rows ahead of her. The Downtown Pine

Haven Association President gave her a bright smile and a thumbs-up. Jen’s returned smile was

wobblier than she wanted it to be, but at least she hadn’t fainted yet. She could sell houses until

the cows came home, but apparently radio interviews and public speaking weren’t her forte.

Speaking of radio, Cowboy Arnie and a couple of techies had set up a little table off to

the side, recording the council meeting for the first time ever. And seriously, why wasn’t Andi

giving this presentation to the council? Yes, Jen was doing public relations, but Andi was

president.

Oh well. The biggest difficulty of the night was that she’d already looked over her

shoulder enough times to make the people behind her squirm—but still, no Cooper at the door.

Not that she could blame him. She had told him she could do this on her own. It was

impractical to expect him to ride in on a white horse after she’d told him to stay away.

Then again, Cooper was sometimes impractical. And suddenly, she realized how much

she longed for his support.

“Next on the agenda we have real estate broker Jen Laurie, speaking on behalf of the

Downtown Pine Haven Association, presenting their reasons for wanting to keep the Christmas

Eve Festival in place this year.” Mayor Bidwell stepped aside from the microphone and gave her

a tight-lipped smile. “Ms. Laurie?”

When did her hands get so sweaty? Shoulders rigid, she stood and inched her way out of


the half-filled row to the center aisle.

“You’ve got it, kiddo.” Dad’s whispered encouragement buoyed her at least until she

reached the microphone and turned around to face the crowd.

Every eye was fixated on her. Why, oh why, had she agreed to do PR work for the

festival? Arguing her case, convincing people to change their minds—that wasn’t her thing. Case

in point: the Stagecoach Trail development. What would make this occasion any different?

The notes crinkled in her trembling fingers. “Good evening, Mayor Bidwell, and

members of the Pine Haven City Council, and all of our guests tonight.”

Her voice sounded wooden, rehearsed. She swallowed. Come on, get it together.

Everyone in favor of the festival was counting on her. And people like Cowboy Arnie and

Margaret King stared her down from atop their noses. No matter what, she had to prove that

Christmas was a thing worth celebrating in this town.

A thing she suddenly yearned to believe herself.

One more glance at the door. Still no Cooper.

Squaring her shoulders, Jen focused on her notes and the crowd, and took a deep breath.

And began.


Chapter 14

“Okay, we’ll start at the top and work our way down.” Dad gathered the loop of lights in

one hand. In the other, he held one end up to the treetop and securely tucked it into the back of

the artificial branches. Totally in the zone, he waded around the tree base, placing the light string

as he went. “Here, Jenny.”

Behind the tree, up next to the window in her living room, he handed her the loop so she

could continue placing lights from her side. How he could enjoy lighting a tree right now was

beyond her.

They’d voted to cancel the festival.

The truth continued to bludgeon her as the night went on, from the moment the council

voted to when Dad followed her home, ready to put up the tree. On the lonely drive through

town, with his headlights following her, colorful Christmas lights twinkled from every other

house, and people were out front dressed in scarves and hats. Jen couldn’t help but feel like she’d

failed them. Failed the entire town.

The decision had been swayed by the fact that too many tired business owners didn’t

believe the effort to stay open was worth it, especially on Christmas Eve when they were missing

time at home with family. And there was last year’s disaster still fresh in everyone’s mind. No

one had been willing to sit and brainstorm a way to fix it all.

Being near the top, it didn’t take long to pass off the loop to Dad again. He caught her

eye as he accepted it. “So, I’ve been thinking. What would you say to going to church together

on Sunday?”

She looked up from branch she’d been straightening. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Dad looped the tree, working the cord deeper into the shadows in some places


and closer to the branches’ ends in others. She kept expecting him to waver, to doubt that he’d

said the right thing, but he didn’t. “I’ve been having a lot of questions lately, and so I picked up

one of those spiritual books, you know, by one of those authors you like.” He nodded to himself,

then wedged behind the tree for the handoff. “Made a lot of sense.”

“That’s great.” Jen reached for the loop of lights and was snagged by the look in Dad’s

eyes. Not scared or sad or even guilty, really—but matter of fact and convicted.

“My grandparents were religious but my parents weren’t really. I think, to some degree,

I’ve always known I need Jesus in my life, and as I get older, I’m realizing I should do

something about it. I’ve spent too long trying to get ahead in life. Climbing the career ladder.”

Regret etched his features. “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be, kiddo. There’s a lot of fulfillment in

having a career you love, but it’s not deep fulfillment that really lasts.”

His words plucked at her own soul. “I’m starting to realize that myself, Dad.”

Stepping back, he surveyed the work done so far. “Years ago, I threw myself into my

work because I lost your mother. But it was no way to raise you. I should’ve gotten you involved

in other types of activities. Ballet or piano lessons or something. All you experienced was the

office, and I’m afraid I made you into too much of a worker bee.”

“No, Dad. You taught me the importance of a strong work ethic. Of being independent

and decisive.”

Pursing his lips, he seemed to run over her explanation. “Those things are good in some

cases. But there comes a time where they can cross a line.” He placed his hand on the back of her

neck, squeezing it affectionately. “I just hope you always keep your work ethic and

independence in its proper place. Everyone needs something. And that’s okay.”

Greg’s words echoed through her. “You can’t be Superwoman, Jen. At some point, you’ll


realize you need someone.”

Cooper had always been there when she’d needed him.

“Dad? I have something to tell you.”

“Shoot.”

“That time you allowed me to clean out your attic? While I was up there, I found a

painting.”

His hand stilled on her neck.

“Through a little investigating, we figured out it has something to do with you and

Cooper’s aunt, Betty Gunther.” She watched his face, but he remained expressionless as he

began hanging the lights again. Was he indifferent or just trying to keep his cards close? “It’s a

beautiful piece.”

“I suppose that Gunther boy dragged you into exploring it?”

“No, it was my idea at first.” She was the reason the painting even came down to the

gallery in the first place. “Then we worked on it together.”

He let his hand fall before turning to open a box of ornaments.

“Please don’t be mad,” she said. “I didn’t know it had sentimental value when I took it

down to the gallery. They needed something for the festival showing, and I needed Cooper’s

help with advertisements. It seemed like a fair trade at the time.”

“You gave it to the gallery?”

“No, no. Once we realized it had history, we took it off the wall. It did make one

advertisement, but don’t worry. We’re not putting it in the show.” She rubbed at her sweater

sleeve, sudden realization crushing her. “Actually, there won’t even be a show now.”

Because there was no festival.


They’d have an auction weeks from now, but due to the off-season timing, interest would

be meager at best.

When she looked at Dad, his gaze held a degree of sympathy, yet also a flicker of can-do,

entrepreneurial spirit. “Chin up, hun. You win some, you lose some. After this, a new

opportunity will come along. You’ll see.”

She shook her head. Bending, she plugged in the lights, hoping to force back the tears

before she stood up. But they refused to stay hidden now. Covering her face, she groaned.

“When will I stop ruining everything?”

“What are you talking about, ruining everything?” Gently, Dad lifted her hands off her

teary eyes.

“The development, the festival, my relationship with Greg, and now Cooper—”

“Hold up, honey.” Dad shook his head, seeming to take in her words. “I think you and I

need to have a little talk. How about some hot chocolate?”

“But the tree—”

“It can wait.”

Dad led the way to the kitchen and with Jen’s help, located everything in her cupboards

in order to create hot chocolate. Dad’s hot chocolate. He said the secret ingredient was a father’s

love, which must’ve been true, because it was so much better than anything she’d ever been able

to make.

Soon, they were seated at the bar where she and Cooper had met days earlier and

invented their relationship arrangement. Now Dad, with hands warming around a white mug,

looked at her with a faraway expression that told her he was pondering all of life. “Now, what’s

this about ruining everything?”


“I’ve been incapable of making things go right.”

“Well, in Greg’s case, I think things did go the way they should, since he’s not the man

for you,” Dad said with a shrug. “And yes, it’s sad to lose the festival, but we’ll figure out

something new. It’s like when you don’t sell a house. There’s always another one that will match

the buyer’s expectations. Might take some time and some hunting, but there always is one.” He

set he cup down on the bar and eyed her. “But what’s this about Cooper?”

Cooper. “I ended things with him last night.” And she definitely didn’t feel like putting

up a tree right now—a vat of ice cream and p.j.’s sounded more her speed. But truthfully, it was

nice to spend time with Dad. They hadn’t done this kind of thing in a while. “I guess you’re

probably happy about that.”

“Can’t say that I’m not.”

“Why is that anyway? What do you have against the Gunthers?”

“They’re just so—flighty. You know what I mean, right? Dreamers. You can’t depend on

them.”

She watched Dad a moment, gauging the hurt he seemed to have buried from years ago.

Hurt that had transformed into bitterness. “I think she’s changed since then.”

His gaze flicked to hers—and held it there for a moment before dropping it. Then he

huffed and busied himself with another sip of hot chocolate. “Maybe.”

“Cooper’s not that way, either, you know,” she continued.

“Not what way?”

“Flighty. Caught up in his whims.” Her heart ached at exploring his character. “He’s

steadfast. Passionate, yes, and a dreamer. But very loyal.”

“I’m sorry for your loss then.” He went back to downing the last of his mug, then paused


and glanced at Jen a second time. “If he’s such a great guy, why’d you break up?”

“Because it was fake to begin with.”

“Didn’t seem like it.”

“Well, it ran its course.”

“Jen . . .” Coming around the tree, Dad frowned at her. “I get this feeling you’re not

being honest with me.”

“Dad, it shouldn’t matter to you, right?” She stuck her half-finished mug in the sink.

“You don’t even like him.” It was part of the reason she’d broken up with Cooper.

“Sure, but a dad never likes the guys his daughter brings home.”

“See, there you go. A good enough reason for me to stay single.”

“Jenny, come on.” Dad tilted his head to catch her eye. “Tell me the real reason.”

The invitation to be truthful caused a whole new wave of emotion to rise within her. “I

didn’t want to hurt him again. Which is exactly what I did. I thought ending things early would

give us a chance to fix our friendship and stay that way, but it was too late. We were already in

too deep.” She barreled through her explanation, not even caring how awkward it normally was

to discuss feelings with her dad. “Sometimes I just feel so—broken.”

“We all feel broken sometimes. The trick is to get repaired and keep moving forward.”

She shrugged. “But how?” Her life had already gone so far off track from what she

thought it would be like by now.

Even though his mug was empty, Dad held onto it, resting his forearms on the counter.

“Listen, Jenny. I don’t get a whole lot of things right in this life. And if I hadn’t learned

resiliency, I’d always think I was a failure. That’s what you have to do. Build your resiliency. Be

ready to accept help from others. Try your best when you have control but be willing to let go of


the things that aren’t up to you. That doesn’t make you incapable. It makes you well-balanced.

And also brings you peace.” Dad bobbed his shoulders once. “And, I read in that book about

forgiveness, that bitterness can eat you from the inside out if you don’t offer it to others. That’s

what I need to do with Betty. And that’s what you need to do with yourself.”

With their hot chocolate gone, they went back to work on the tree, and all the while,

Dad’s words rotated in Jen’s mind—as did Cooper’s from the other night.

“As long as you’re trying to please someone else, you’ll always try to be someone you’re

not. Life will be too much for you until you realize you’re already enough as you are.”

Could they be right about her? Had she been too wrapped up in performance, in the

success of the Christmas festival, and ultimately, in the success of her life? If she were honest,

the evidence pointed to it. She’d tried so hard to be her own person, to make something of

herself, that she’d lost perspective and left behind the things she loved most.

Cooper.

It hadn’t been freedom to break their relationship—he’d been the partnership she

ultimately needed to spread her wings. He’d seen her inner worth regardless of her capabilities.

And she suspected God did, too. Maybe Dad was right. She should figure out how to see herself

that way, too.


Chapter 15

Cooper had known the weather lady called for snow. But she certainly hadn’t said this

much.

Leaning a shoulder against his aunt and uncle’s living room window, a mere puzzle piece

in an entire wall mosaic of windows, Cooper stared at the thick blanket of snow coating the trees

and drifting up to the house.

No telling what it looked like in town. Or, for that matter, what it looked like through

Whispering Pines Canyon. Probably impassible by car or truck—for days.

Just as well, since the festival had been cancelled anyway. Where would that leave the

auction?

And Jen. She was probably beside herself with frustration, feeling like a failure over

things that weren’t her fault. It killed him that he couldn’t help her—couldn’t make things right.

He glanced down at the canvas he’d brought up from downstairs, the one he’d spent

hours painting last night in the privacy of his room instead of going to the city council hearing. It

wasn’t like he didn’t want to go. But he’d gotten the picture that Jen needed space. So space he

gave.

Sifting through all that Jen and Megan had both told him in the past two days, he’d

poured his soul into this piece of art—and tapped into a life source he thought he’d lost long ago.

Which made him all the more confused about what to do with his life.

“Oh, I didn’t realize anyone would be up so early.”

Cooper turned. Aunt Betty tossed him a sleepy smile, dressed in her satin fuchsia wrap

overtop floral pajama pants and shirt. Her short, curly bob was wild from rolling out of bed, but

had a fun whimsy to it all the same.


“Hey—what are you doing here?”

“Eh. I realized when I got to my connecting flight in Minneapolis that I was being a

coward. So I turned around and flew back. Then rented a car to get out here so your aunt

wouldn’t have to come get me.” She glanced outside and did a double take. “Hoo-boy, and it

looks like I got here just in time. Look at that storm.”

“I wondered if you left because of the note. I’m sorry for dredging up pain.”

“Don’t be.” She took a bag of coffee down from the upper cabinet in the kitchen, then the

bag of filters. “Now that it’s happened, I’m actually glad it did. Because I have closure.”

Comfortable silence stretched between them as the coffee brewed. As the earthy aroma

soaked into the air, Cooper selected a mug off the tree on the counter and took a seat at the table

where Aunt Betty had already placed the creamer and a plate of pre-made scones she must’ve

brought home last night.

“The family business was in Stuart’s blood. He lived and breathed real estate since we

were in middle school.” She pulled a hot pad out of a drawer before slipping the steaming coffee

pot out of its resting place. “At the time, I just knew I’d have to choose between him or seeing

the world, something I’d always wanted to do.” Taking a seat beside Cooper, she poured her

coffee before passing the pot. Then she shook her head. “I just can’t believe he’d really

considered traveling with me and giving up everything. Looks like if I’d only found the note,

things could be a whole lot different now.”

She seemed to have more to say, so Cooper stayed quiet and poured his coffee and

creamer.

“I had this friend.” She ran her thumb along the mug handle. “Avery. He had it in his

mind that Stu was bad news. He said I should travel if I wanted to travel. I shouldn’t wait around,


give up my own dream to be stifled by someone else’s. Well, eventually, I listened.” She

cringed. “Didn’t know Avery was going to follow me and try to make a move, now that Stuart

was out of the picture.”

“Yikes. So much for sound advice.” Cooper brought his mug to his lips.

“Yes, I was quite naïve. Stuart tried warning me about Avery’s character, but I insisted he

was just a friend.” She shrugged, her demeanor proving her thoughts were a thousand miles

away, back to another time. “Live and learn.”

Cooper tentatively searched his aunt’s gaze. “Do you ever have regrets?”

“Oh, yes. Tons.” She leaned her elbows on the table, leveling with him. “But really, who

doesn’t?”

He nodded. “Sure, I suppose.”

“The key is to move forward. Keep aligning yourself with who God made you to be.

We’re not perfect—we’ll stray from time to time. But aligning yourself with Christ and the

person he created you to be—that’s worth continually striving for.” She took a slow sip,

squinting out the window as if in thought. “You know, I’m glad things worked out how they did.

If I’d married, I’d have wanted it to be to a Christian, and Stu had never been interesting in going

to church with me. Honestly, I think travelling would have worn on him a little, over time. He

was so business-oriented.”

Suddenly, she noticed Cooper’s painting on the other end of the table.

“Oh, what a lovely piece. Did you paint that?”

“I did. Thank you.”

“Are you putting it in the auction?”

“I am. I needed another piece since yours is too special to sell.” He gave her a grin, which


she returned.

“I’m so glad to see you loving art. Embracing the gifts God gave you.”

He wasn’t so sure about that. Cooper dropped his focus into his mug. “I don’t know. I

feel lost in it sometimes. Not sure if that’s where I’m supposed to be or if it’s somewhere else.”

“Well, looking somewhere else is fine, as long as you understand why you’re searching.

And what you’re searching for. Take it from me. I’ve run from far too many things in my life,

searching for something that would satisfy me. But leaving all you love in order to chase that

sense of fulfillment—really isn’t fulfillment. And nothing outside of ourselves is ever going to

satisfy for long. Not a job, not family, and certainly not the perfect Christmas Eve Festival.” She

shot him a wink. “Your faith and obedience to God’s will is the only way you’ll find that

satisfaction.”

She reached out and patted Cooper’s leg. “Cooper, regrets are natural. Everyone has

them, and if you’re afraid of making a mistake, then you’ll sit in indecision for the rest of your

life. And what kind of life is that?” Her fingers tightened around his knee. “Go out and make

mistakes. Then make some awesome decisions too. You have to offer yourself grace and

recognize the hugeness of God love.”

“Thanks, Aunt Betty.”

Just then, Uncle Bill wandered into the kitchen, took one sleepy look outside, and started

to chuckle. “Well, festival cancellation or not, we’re going to have to postpone the auction

anyway. Simply can’t have it during a blizzard.”

Wind and tiny blades of snow crystals whipped at the window.

“I wish it were different,” Cooper offered.

“We’ll reschedule.”


“Sure—I just hope buyers show. We’ve worked so hard for this.”

“Coop, you’re forgetting what kind of God we serve. He’ll take care of us. He’s always

provided.” Uncle Bill reached for a second scone. “These are awesome, Betty. Thanks for

bringing them.”

Cooper sat back against his chair and let everything wash over him again. Wow. Two

people whose situations would have been hard for some just rolled with it because of their faith.

Not to say that nothing was ever difficult. But the way they held fast to God’s supremacy.

Cooper wanted to be that way, too.

What they said was true—aligning himself with God’s purpose, never doubting the kind

of God He was. And what Jen had said about him needing to listen to his own needs too and not

just to the needs of others.

He really had been acting like a second-class citizen in his own home.

If he actually looked back over the years, their love for him was plain as day. Had never

wavered.

And nothing he could do—or not do—would change that.

“Uncle Bill,” he began. “I need to say something. I took the real estate pre-licensing test.

And I passed. All I have left is the actual exam, and then I’ll have my license. For a while now,

I’ve been thinking about selling real estate instead of taking over the gallery.”

Cooper braced himself for a lecture he fully expected. But Uncle Bill didn’t even blink.

“I know, son.”

“You do?”

“It became pretty evident after a while. We got a couple of ads in the mail here and there.

And you left it on your screen once at work.”


Cooper’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to act sneaky so long. I was just hoping

to make this auction a good one and maybe find a buyer first before telling you.”

Uncle Bill’s eyes sparkled. “It’s fine. Was a bit of a shock at first, but you know what?

I’ve loved the gallery, and sure I’d love to keep it in the family, but when my time is up, God

will take care of things. Either another buyer will come along or it’ll become another store

entirely. I’ve come to peace with that idea.”

Come to peace with that idea, with knowing that everything would work out because God

was in control. If only Cooper could rest in that truth, too. Needing something to do with his

hands, he reached for a scone. “Okay, but I’m still not sure what I’m going to do.”

“I get it. It’s a big decision. I’m sorry if I pressured you too much.”

“No, it’s not that. I just—” Cooper paused. He was going to say that he just wanted to

choose the right path, that he warred with himself over picking his dream or family obligation.

And then he remembered what Jen had said about him struggling to help himself because

he was too busy helping others.

“It’s fine, Uncle Bill,” Cooper amended, then brought his mug to his lips, downing the

last of his coffee.

Was it actually possible he helped others so much that he’d blinded himself to his own

wants and needs? If that were the case, his path forward should be clear now. He should follow

God’s leading into real estate and cut loose the guilt he’d been carrying around about leaving the

gallery.

Except—why did God’s leading suddenly feel so fuzzy? Was it possible that He hadn’t

intended to lead Cooper into real estate at all?

“I think it means you’re still searching for happiness and that deep down, you know


you’re not going to find it in this career change.”

He certainly had a lot to think about. And pray over.

A gust of wind lunged at the nearby windows. Judging by the weather, he likely had

ample time to figure it all out.


Chapter 16

Twinkle lights swooped from one end of the community center to the other. “Deck the

Halls” leapt from the stereo and the air smelled rich and sweet from chestnuts roasting in the

building’s oven. Christmas had been a week ago, and there was no huge tree like there was in the

town square, but apparently people didn’t mind celebrating the holiday again. Turns out, they’d

missed having the festival more than they thought they would. At least, that’s what several had

told Cooper on their way inside.

So far, the solution seemed to be a hit. Everyone had pitched in. The event was partially

sponsored by the gallery, though other eager businesses around town made up the difference.

Megan’s shop supplied a lot of the décor, some of the local bakeries donated food, and a constant

loop of Christmas tunes off the internet instead of a band kept the cost and equipment

manageable.

The Pine Haven City Council may have put the kibosh on a city-approved event, but

everyone, including council members who were present, seemed to enjoy the privately-run

venue. Even Margaret and her husband appeared to be having a good time.

Cooper, while asking business owners for support a few days ago, had even located one

who owned a horse-drawn sleigh. Perfect for taking rides down to the covered bridge and back

for a very minimal ticket price.

Uncle Bill roamed the activity center dressed as Santa, which kids loved even though

Christmas was over, and Aunt Erin oversaw a couple of craft tables for the children. In a few

minutes, the art auction would begin in the same location.

Everything was perfect. Had surprisingly gone off without a hitch.

Everything except one thing.


“What if she doesn’t come?” Megan came up beside him, elf hat askew on her head.

She’d been helping her mom with the crafts, and Cooper would bet more glitter had ended up on

her felt elf vest than on the kids’ ornaments.

“She will.” At the door, Cooper shook hands with a couple, welcoming them inside,

before turning to his cousin. “And if she doesn’t, then I know for sure where she stands.”

Laughing, she rolled her eyes. “You’re a hopeless romantic, Coop. Admit it.”

“Hey, it’s not just me. You’re a little bit of a romantic, too.”

“Eh.” She shrugged, hands in back pockets, but her telling eyes gave her away.

Another family wondered in, so Cooper shook their hands. As he did, he couldn’t help

but peek outside. The sleigh pulled up and a family slipped out of it while a long line of people

waiting their turns.

But no sign of Jen.

Actually, no sign of Aunt Betty or Stuart Laurie either. Odd. Was there something going

on that he didn’t know about?

When his texts before the blizzard had been answered, he’d decided to leave Jen be for

the holiday—minus one text on December twenty-fifth wishing her a merry Christmas.

Sometimes she needed space to clear her head. He could respect that. He now realized that,

occasionally, helping her meant not helping her.

Then he’d called her office a couple of days ago, only to find out she was out of town but

would be back in the office today.

So, he followed through with his plan of leaving the gift and prayed she’d follow through

on her end.

“And,” Megan said, “why isn’t the tree in the middle lit?”


“We have to have a tree-lighting ceremony, don’t we?”

Megan laughed. “Sure, I guess.” She glanced at her phone. “Hey, the auction is about to

start. We’d better get in there.” Megan nudged his arm. “By the way, I haven’t told you yet, but

I’m really proud of you. You’ve really stepped up your game this holiday season. Can’t wait to

see how next year turns out.”

Cooper returned the nudge. “Thanks. Go on in. I’ll be along soon.”

As people made their way into the second room where the auction was taking place,

Cooper drifted to the middle of the main room. He heard the bidding starting as he surveyed the

ten-foot artificial tree they’d brought from home to act as the party’s centerpiece. They’d

wrapped a bunch of empty boxes to look like presents, placing them under the tree. As an extra

activity, thought up by Aunt Betty, they’d announced a winter clothing drive, asking partygoers

to bring along a donation wrapped in a box with an age and gender written on the outside. All of

those were under the tree as well, and now it overflowed to the outskirts, piled high enough to

nearly mask the lower half of the tree.

The sight made Cooper’s chest swell. Hopefully, it would be a tradition they carried on

for years to come.

“Skipping out on the auction?”

The sweet, familiar voice made his heart lurch as he turned. Jen stood three feet away,

looking extra cute with her long hair twisted up in a knot. Her cheeks glowed pink to match the

scarf around her slender neck, and he suspected it wasn’t just from the chill outside. She hugged

his painting close to her middle, a playfully-smug grin dancing on her mouth. One he wanted to

kiss away.

“Well, I told someone I’d meet her here,” he said, nodding to the tree. “It’s not exactly


the town square, but I’d hoped it would do.”

“Oh, I see. As per the instructions I found on the back of this painting left on my

doorstep.”

“Instructions? I thought it more of a love note, if I do say so myself.”

She turned over the canvas so the inscription was face-up. His words were scrawled

across the top.

A new arrangement . . . I’d rather build a life with you than save a festival any day. Meet

me at the tree if you feel the same.

“Why, so it is.” Jen raised her gaze to connect with his, warm and soft—until a spark

appeared there. “If you hadn’t included an invitation to this party, I might have gone to the

wrong location.”

“Good thing I included it then.” He shifted to face her more fully. “Where were you this

week?”

“I had an interview in Denver.” She shook her head. “But it just didn’t feel right. I’m

needed here.” As she stepped closer, she wiggled her brows. “Do you know where your Aunt

Betty is right now?”

“No, but I was just wondering that.”

“With my dad. I guess they met up, talked things over, and things are going well. Get

this—he’s retiring so they can elope and travel together.”

“What? When did this happen?” He just saw her this morning and she hadn’t said

anything.

Jen laughed, the sweetest sound Cooper had heard all day. “I don’t know, but they fell

fast and hard.”


Just like he had for Jen. He ran his hand along her elbow. “What does that mean for his

business?”

Her eyes lit, and her smile grew. “He’s handing it over to me.”

“Wow, Jenny Elle! You’re really moving up in the world.”

Again she laughed. If he could just make her happy every day for the rest of his life, he’d

be satisfied.

When her laugh faded away, she dropped her focus to the painting in her arms. “Did you

paint this?”

“I did.”

“It’s beautiful.” She eyed him. “Does this mean you’re not giving up on art?”

It was his turn to smile. “I realized the gallery is where I belong. Where I feel most like

the person God made me to be.”

“And I’m realizing I need more of God in my life. And other people.” She stepped closer.

“We weren’t made to be entirely independent. We’re made for partnership.”

Music to his ears. “Well, I have a partnership I’d like to propose to you.”

“Okay, let’s hear it.”

“I’ll paint something for each of your new homeowners. Like a housewarming gift you

give them as a thank you.”

She beamed. “I love that idea. Then you can still welcome people into their new homes

where they can start new memories.”

Gently, he took the painting from her hands and propped it against the gifts, maintaining

eye contact. “I have another proposal for you, too.”

She inhaled slow and long, the color deepening in her eyes. “I’d hoped you would.”


From his pocket, he pulled out Mom’s ring box and took a knee. Heart pounding faster

than a drum line, he cracked the box. “I know our agreement was only supposed to last a week,

and I know I wasn’t supposed to fall in love again. But I couldn’t help it. All this stuff we’ve

been doing every day, walking through the park, decorating Christmas trees, snacking on coffee

and M&M’s—it’s not supposed to end after a week. This is how our life is supposed to be

forever.” He took a deep, shuttered breath. “Jennifer Elle Laurie, I’m still in love with you.

There’s no other way to say it. I want every Christmas with you until my time on earth is done.

Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

Jen watched him with hands over her mouth, tears glinting in her eyes.

“I know it’s the wrong time to propose,” he said, “since you’re dream is to get married on

Christmas Eve in front of the town square tree. Unless you want a long engagement, we could

figure something out—”

She dropped her hands. “We could marry in June on a beach for all I care, Cooper

Gunther, as long as I’m marrying you.”

He stood and she threw her arms around his neck, squeezing the life out of him. He

returned the fervor, thanking God for this driven, sensitive woman.

“I want every Christmas with you, too,” she whispered in his ear, slightly pulling away so

she could look into his eyes. “On one condition.”

Cooper tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, brushing her cheek with his thumb.

“Name it.”

“We light this Christmas tree before we kiss.”

His grin inched up his mouth. “Exactly my plan, Jenny Elle. It’s like you read my

thoughts.”


He bent and found the cord snaking up the tree stand. “Ready?” he said. “Three . . . two .

. . one . . .”

Then he flipped the switch, sending the entire tree aglow, the colorful illumination

billowing out from the tree, kissing each gift and the elegant lines of Jen’s face.

Jealous of the lights getting to her first, Cooper cupped his hands around her jawline and

kissed her full and long and without reservation.

This time, no mistletoe needed.

Thank you for reading!

If you liked a copy of this book, please

drop me a line at [email protected]!

If you’d like to read another book by me

(same feel-good charm, but this time,

set in the Old West), check out my historical romance, Last Chance Wife.

https://www.amazon.com/Last-Chance-Wife-Inspired-Historical/dp/1335369694/

God bless, and have a happy New Year!

https://www.amazon.com/Last-Chance-Wife-Inspired-Historical/dp/1335369694/

the christmas arrangement by janette foreman 1 · mirror before climbing out. if greg’s agent,...

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