Page 20 of Christmas Treasures

“Hey guys, I’m taking off,” Max said.

“Thanks again for all your help,” Laney said. “I think it was a big success.”

“I agree. But don’t think I’m not onto you, Mrs. Hayes,” he said to Laney.

She feigned innocence. “No idea what you mean. However, would you mind giving Charlie a ride home? She’s in the foyer calling an Uber.”

“Again, I’m onto you, but yes, I’d be happy to.”

He found Charlie staring down at her phone, a puzzled look on her face. There was a slight sway in her posture and warmth in her cheeks.

“You okay?”

She blinked at him. “Yes, but I’m not driving home. I was just trying to figure out how to get an Uber. It’s all that delicious wine.”

“I can drive you home.”

She hesitated. “You don’t mind?”

“Not at all. Consider it a favor to thank you for helping me with Bianca.”

She smiled, tossing her hair behind her shoulders. “That’s a fair trade.”

They hurried out to his car. The temperatures had dropped while they were inside, but the roads were clear of ice. Still, he would drive carefully. As he opened the car door for Charlie, a thought occurred to him. He was all Bianca had left. He had to make sure he was around to take care of her.

After he had her settled, he hustled into the driver’s seat. Soon, they were headed toward Charlie’s place. He had to admit, he was curious about her home. He knew she’d bought the old Wilder place, and he’d heard rumors about aremodel. “What’s this I hear about a greenhouse?” Max asked.

“My pride and joy. Would you like to see it? I have all kinds of good things growing in there.” She grinned, her cheek pressed against the back of her seat as she watched him with soft eyes. “Oh my, I am truly tipsy. I don’t usually drink much. Much. I hope you don’t judge me.”

“I could hardly do that, since I’m the one who kept refilling your wineglass.”

“You know what? It was fun. I actually had a great time.”

“You sound surprised.”

“I am. You have no idea how many times I almost called to cancel.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Me too.”

Her house was down a long gravel driveway. He remembered coming out with his mother one time to deliver food to Mrs. Wilder when she was recovering from surgery, and the road had been full of potholes at that time.

“I’ve been here before. I was probably sixteen,” he said, cutting the engine. “The Wilders lived out here for as long as I could remember.”

Charlie turned to look at him, one hand on the door. “I never met them, but the Realtor said they were moving into assisted living.”

Max nodded. “Yeah, that sounds about right. Their kids were long gone by the time I was in high school—probably fifteen, twenty years ahead of me and my brothers. I came out here with my mom to deliver a casserole when Mrs. Wilder broke her wrist. I remember a lot of doilies.”

“I’ve changed a lot. Gutted everything but kept the integrity of the house. The moment I saw the wraparound porch, I knew I was home.”

“Can’t wait to see inside.”

She shot him a look. One he couldn’t read.

“If I’m invited, that is,” Max said slowly.

“I would love to show you around. I’ve not had much company since I moved in after the remodel.” She giggled, pointing at the front window. “That’s Fig. He’ll be waiting and probably mad. He’s not used to me being gone.”

---