Her Holiday Family. Ruth Herne Logan

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      “Thank you, Tina. I’d appreciate it.”

      He was playing nice

      His generosity rankled Tina more. After seeing investigators comb through the cold morning rubble of her beloved business, discussing her family’s casual disregard for each other was more unwelcome than usual. But Max would know nothing about that, because Campbells looked out for one another.

      She took care of a handful of customers while Max built a Christmas lights display case in their seasonal corner. Once he had it firmly in place, she helped stock the wide range of holiday lighting kits.

      “Doesn’t it seem early to be putting out Christmas stuff?”

      Tina gaped at him, then laughed. “You’ve been in the army too long. The stores start shelving Christmas items as soon as their back-to-school displays are depleted. By mid-September, most places are stocked, lit up and ready to roll with holiday sales.”

      “And Thanksgiving gets lost in the shuffle.” Max’s lament surprised her, because it was a feeling they shared.

      “I love Thanksgiving,” she admitted. “I love the simplicity, the warmth, the food. Of course, I’m Italian, why wouldn’t I love the food?” The look she sent him made him smile, but his grin turned to understanding when she added, “The whole idea of an entire country, praying their thanks to God, regardless of faith. I just love it.”

      “You know, it’s funny.” Max eased a hip onto the sales counter as he grabbed a bottle of water. “When you’re in the field on holidays, most of the guys seem to feel the loss of Thanksgiving more than any other.”

      “More than Christmas?”

      “Yeah. I might be wrong.” He shrugged, thinking. “Most soldiers get stuff at Christmas. Even the ones who don’t have family are hooked up with agencies that send care packages to deployed soldiers. But on Thanksgiving, there’s nothing but memories of what was. What could have been. What might be again. If you make it back. Maybe it was just me.” He stood, stretched and tossed his bottle into the recycling tote. “But I don’t think so.”

      She’d never thought of it that way. She’d helped on Wounded Warrior projects, she’d arranged pickups for the Vietnam Veterans thrift shops, but she’d never thought about how lonely Thanksgiving must be when you’re thousands of miles away from anything American. “Hey, if you need to catch some sleep, head home. I’ve got this. Earl will be here in an hour and we’ll be all set.”

      “I’ll leave once Earl’s here,” Max answered. He rolled his shoulders, stretched once more, and she did her best to ignore the amazing muscle definition formed by long years in the armed services. He moved to the front of the store. “I’m going to use the Cat to level the parking-lot stone. I can see where the water’s been puddling, and that won’t get any better once the snow hits.”

      “Good.”

      “And when I come back in, can you give me the lowdown on this festival thing we talked about yesterday? There’s not much time left, and I work better with a plan in my head.”

      “From the looks of that back room, you do pretty well without a plan, too.” She didn’t say how she’d dreaded facing disappointed customers today, their expected equipment lying unfixed in the back room.

      He shot her a grin over his shoulder. “Let’s see if they work before giving me too much credit.”

      “You tested them, right?”

      He ignored her question and kept on walking. Was he laughing? At her?

      She finished the Christmas lights display as a customer arrived to pick up one of the newly fixed lawn mowers. When they wheeled their repaired machine out the back door, she felt a stab of pride. It might not be a big deal that Chuck Beadle was going to be able to give his yard a last mowing it didn’t really need, but it was important that their efforts to maintain Charlie and Jenny’s business as he fought his battle with cancer were successful. And without Max, it wouldn’t have happened, so she needed to give credit where credit was due.

      Her cell phone signaled an incoming call. She pulled it out, saw the realty office number and picked up quickly. “Myra, good morning.”

      “Hey, good morning to you, Tina! I’m emailing you a short list of potential sites for your café if you’re still thinking of Spencerport as your go-to place.”

      “I am,” she replied. “That or Brockport.” She’d done her homework and these Erie Canal locations in Western New York had lots of potential. “They both have proximity to the expressway, and they’re on main-feeder corridor to other towns. What I want is a west-side-of-the-road location and a drive-through for those a.m. customers.”

      “Did you have a drive-through in Kirkwood?” Myra asked.

      “I was lakefront, so no, I didn’t. And we’re a destination spot, not a commuter town, so it’s a different configuration.”

      “Won’t you miss the water?”

      Miss the water?

      Yeah, absolutely. But if she wasn’t willing to sacrifice something to change things up, nothing would ever happen, and that option didn’t cut it anymore. The time for change was here. Now. “Not if I have a view of the canal,” she promised. “Or at least proximity to it so folks can grab a cuppa, head for the canal walkway and stroll along the banks watching the boats. Those villages are a walker’s dream, so no. I won’t miss the water.”

      It was an outright lie. She knew it, and she was pretty sure Myra’s silence said she recognized Tina’s resignation, but was kind enough not to call her on it.

      Tina loved the water. She loved taking her little boat out on calm summer days. Dropping a line just off the docks outside the Kirkwood Lodge where perch and bass gathered in the heat of summer. She’d caught her share of fish that way, a sweet respite from work. Private time, time to think. And pray. And dream.

      But her dreams were gone now. Ruined.

      She promised Myra she’d look at the property listings in the email and get back to her. Another customer walked in, then another, and pretty soon she was too busy to think about smoldering dreams and ruined hopes. She’d promised herself she’d never get mired in the past again. She meant to keep that promise.

      * * *

      “I brought Beezer in to keep you company,” Jenny Campbell announced as she came through the back door of the shop a little later. “And I’m going to drag Max home to catch some sleep. I think that’s a good trade, don’t you, Tina?”

      “Leave the dog and take Max?” Tina sent Max a look that said she approved fully. “I think I’m getting the better end of this deal.”

      “Hey, Beeze.” As Tina moved their way, Max squatted low and gave the aging golden retriever a long belly rub the dog loved. “You missing the action, old boy?”

      “He is.” Jenny tipped a mock frown down to the beloved pet. “I reminded him that his master is sick and good dogs stay by their master’s side.”

      “They do in books,” Tina agreed. “But Beeze was raised in town. He likes to СКАЧАТЬ