Holiday Homecoming. Jean C. Gordon

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      “No.” At their house growing up, the tree had appeared Christmas Eve after they’d gone to bed. When he was older, he’d assumed Mom picked them up at a discount somewhere on her way home after she’d finished her Christmas Eve shift at the diner.

      “They have the best hot chocolate with mint. Free with every tree. Don’t tell Mom and Dad, but that’s really why I got up early on a Saturday morning to come.”

      “Okay.” He wasn’t sure what all the excitement about hot chocolate was. His plan had been to get in and out as fast as possible.

      Claire waved as they tromped toward a building the size of a large shed that looked like a miniature log cabin. Both of her parents, along with her brother Paul and Natalie, were standing in front.

      “You should probably go ahead without me. I don’t want to horn in on what sounds like a family tradition.”

      “Since when?” Claire laughed. “You used to be at the house so much, Mom called you her middle son.”

      “That was back in high school.” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his ski jacket, fighting the old feeling of being an outsider that he’d thought he’d shed when he’d left Paradox Lake for college.

      “Come on. It’ll be a lot more fun with us than by yourself.”

      He walked over to the building with her. Fun wasn’t exactly what he’d been expecting.

      “Hey, look who I found in the parking lot,” Claire said.

      Almost in unison, Natalie’s parents and brother gave him an enthusiastic greeting. Even Natalie smiled.

      “I’m picking up a tree for the parsonage,” he said. Lame. Why else would he be at a Christmas tree farm?

      “For the open house.” Terry nodded. “Where are you putting it? In the living room or the dining room? With the high ceilings at the parsonage, you’ll want a tall tree.”

      Connor hadn’t thought about the best place to put it. He just wanted to get the job out of way. “Last year, Jared and Becca put the tree in the living room.”

      “That’s probably best,” she said. “You’ll have the buffet set up in the dining room.”

      The ladies will have the buffet set up. He was trying to stay as much out of the event as he could, putting his efforts where they belonged—on his Christmas church services and the pageant.

      “The girls can help you.” Terry’s eyes twinkled with mischief, just as Natalie’s used to. “They’re both almost as good at picking out the right tree as I am. I’m going to wait here.” She tapped her walker. “No hiking the hills for the perfect tree for me.”

      “I’ll stay and keep you company,” Natalie said. “Four people are enough to cut two trees.”

      Even though he’d been looking for an out minutes ago, hearing Natalie say the same thing sharpened already painful memories.

      “And miss the fun? No way. Go ahead,” Terry urged. “I’m fine here with my hot chocolate.”

      Natalie opened her mouth and closed it.

      “The taller trees are in the back,” Natalie’s father, John, said. “That’s where we’re headed.”

      Connor fell in step with Natalie’s brother at the opposite side of their little group. “How’s it going, Paul?”

      “Not bad.” Paul glanced at his father, who was talking with the girls. “I talked Dad into getting in on the deal supplying milk for the new yogurt plant. Andie’s husband, Rob, is in, too.”

      “Great.” Connor knew how much Paul was working on making his partnership with his dad more of a partnership.

      “And with Natalie here and Marc and his family coming Christmas Eve, we’ll all be home except Renee.”

      Connor caught a note of sadness when Paul said his twin’s name. “Are you going to be able to use Skype to talk with her?”

      “Yep, we’re planning to Christmas morning.”

      “Here we are. Take your pick,” John said when they’d reached the far end of the farm.

      “Natalie, why don’t you help Connor? It’ll give you two time to catch up,” Claire said. “I’ll make sure these two guys don’t go overboard on tall.” She motioned to her dad and brother.

      Connor glanced at Natalie. She quickly turned the grimace her sister’s words had caused into a facsimile of a smile. He crushed an ice ball from one of the trees that had fallen in his path. Her stifled displeasure affected him far more than it should. What did he care if she didn’t want to come with him? She had no hold on him. He was over her, had been for years.

      * * *

      “Sorry about that,” Natalie said as soon as her family was out of hearing range. From his expression, Connor might be even less happy about her family throwing them together than she was apprehensive about it. Not that she blamed him.

      “I’m used to it,” he said. “People are always trying to match me up with single women.”

      And that’s all she was, one more potential match pushed at him. She shivered despite having bundled up for the weather. Had any of those matches worked? She hadn’t heard he was seeing anyone. Unjustified jealousy shot through her. She shook it off. Any chance she’d had of being anything to Connor, even friends, had died five years ago when she’d chosen her career over his proposal. They’d been so young. She felt decades older and knew now that it hadn’t had to be an either/or.

      “What kind of tree are you looking for, long or short needle?” she asked.

      “You’re the expert.”

      The lopsided grin that had replaced his frown went straight to her heart. How many times had she succumbed to that grin and agreed to watch the movie he wanted to see or eat out at his favorite restaurant or help him clean his apartment?

      “Well, the short-needled trees tend to hold their needles longer. But if you like the looks of a longer needle...”

      He touched the sleeve of her navy peacoat. “It’s okay. I was teasing. I know you’re as uncomfortable as I am.”

      Uncomfortable. He sounded so clinical. And she was being oversensitive. Connor was handing her the olive branch she should be giving him, the branch she didn’t even know how to offer him. Memories flooded her head. Them in the parking lot of the big-box store near her apartment in Syracuse looking at the meager selection of trees left for sale. They’d chosen a long-needled white pine that had started shedding its needles before they’d even set it up. Her making him laugh with stories of tree mishaps she remembered from her childhood as they decorated the tree.

      She nodded, afraid that if she spoke, she’d give away emotions she didn’t want Connor to see, that he probably wouldn’t want to see.

      “Since the tree will have to make it through СКАЧАТЬ