Page 33 of Christmas Treasures

“I’m fine,” he said, his voice just a little rougher than usual. “This is a lot.”

“You’re doing very well keeping it together, under the circumstances.” Ivy placed the tiny stuffed tuxedo cat against the sunflower-patterned pillow.

Charlie smoothed the quilt one last time. “You should get her a real cat.”

Ivy laughed. “Let’s give him a chance to get used to a girl before adding a rude cat to the mix.”

“Not all cats are rude,” Charlie said, sounding offended.

Max looked at both women. “Thanks, you guys. Really. Your support means so much to me.”

Charlie’s eyes met his. “It’s all going to be all right.”

From her mouth to God’s ears.

8

CHARLIE

Charlie woke before her alarm, the soft gray light of morning spilling through her bedroom window. For a moment, she just lay there, still wrapped in her quilt, Fig stretched across her legs like a furry, judgmental anchor. She sat up slowly, brushing a hand through her hair. Fig gave an offended grunt and flopped onto his side, claiming more territory on the bed.

“I know. I’m nervous too.” She had tossed and turned before falling asleep around midnight.

She padded into the kitchen and made herself a coffee.

Was it a mistake to join Max today? She’d have figured he’d want his mother with him, but he’d asked her. So what could she do but agree?

Anyway, there was no backing out now. She’d promised Max she would accompany him, and she was not someone to go back on her word. No matter how scary an eight-year-old seemed.

After showering, she pulled on soft jeans, boots, and a cream-colored sweater. She blew out her hair and took extracare with her makeup. She wanted to be comfortable but also look nice. For Max.

No, no, no.Why had that thought popped into her head?

Her phone buzzed on the counter with a text from Max.

Leaving in five minutes. You still in?

Charlie stared at it for a moment, then tapped out a reply.

Nervous but ready.

Me too.

“Hold down the fort, okay?” she said to Fig. “If you’re good, you will get to meet a little girl who loves kitties.”

Fig blinked once. Unimpressed but loyal.

Charlie locked the door behind her and stepped into the cold December morning just as Max stopped in front of the house.

Her breath caught at the sight of him leaning over the steering wheel of his SUV. He looked fantastic in a blue sweater, with his hair still damp from the shower.

If only she could stop fantasizing about kissing him again. Maybe she could focus on something more important. Like a little girl forced to come to a strange land. This was not about her. Not today. She would do whatever she could to comfort a child who had lost too much. She, of all people, was the one to do it.

Max merged onto the highway,Christmas music playing softly from the radio. Charlie relaxed into her seat, her nerves settling as she watched the landscape blur by—frosted fields, clusters of evergreens, farms she’d started to recognize as familiar landmarks.

Ahead, a cheerful sign came into view, painted red and gold: Martin’s Christmas Tree Farm. A row of neatly planted Christmas trees stretched along the road, some were tied tocar roofs, others illuminated by twinkling lights strung along the split-rail fence. Families wandered among the trees, bundled against the cold, mugs of steaming drinks in hand.

Max glanced sideways at her. “Have you been to Martin’s yet? My family gets a tree from there every year. Mom has a cookie decorating party every year. It’s in a few days, actually. I thought maybe we could take Bianca. She could meet her new cousins and my family. Or do you think that’s too much?”

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