Page 42 of Savoring Christmas
Halfway to the back, the dog stopped dead in front of a display of plush animals. One particularly large stuffed cow stared back at her with shiny black eyes. Cannoli inched forward, sniffing its felt nose—only to leap back when it let out a mechanical “Moo!” Mia laughed and bent to give her a reassuring pat. “It’s okay, silly girl. He’s not real.” Cannoli shot the cow one last suspicious glance before trotting ahead, ears still perked just in case it tried anything else.
Mia straightened, smiling as she took in the rest of the store. “It’s like stepping into a child’s version of heaven.”
Logan’s smile softened. “Let’s make sure Patty’s kids get a little slice of heaven this season.”
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“Okay,” Logan said, scanning the shelves. “Now what?”
“I asked Kris but the kids haven’t been to see Santa yet this year,” Mia said.
“We know Benji wants to play baseball,” Logan said. “But I’ll stop at the sporting goods store another day and get him a bat, ball and mitt. I bet we can find him a few surprises though. I’m basically an eight-year-old boy myself, so I’ll know what to choose.”
Mia laughed. “I would’ve guessed thirteen, not eight.”
They started with Molly. Mia’s eyes landed on a beautiful hardcover book set—Anne of Green Gables,Little Women, andThe Secret Garden—bound in jewel-toned covers, and knew instantly Molly would love them.
Logan added a craft kit for making friendship bracelets. “My nieces love these.”
For Benji, Logan gravitated toward the display of model kits—cars, airplanes, and a bright red firetruck. “Something he can build,” he said.
And for Daisy, Mia found a soft rag doll in a blue calico dress, her yarn hair tied in neat bows. Logan grinned and picked up a stuffed dog that looked remarkably like Cannoli, holding it up for comparison. Cannoli tilted her head, sniffed it, and then, deciding it met with her approval, gently mouthed the toy before Logan set it in the basket.
“I talked to Abby about finding a dog for Daisy at one of the local shelters,” Logan said. “But we have to make sure Patty’s okay with it first.”
Mia nodded in agreement. “If she gets the job with Grant Stratton, he may have a rule against dogs.”
“Well, at least she’ll have a stuffed one,” Logan said.
They moved to the bins near the register, filling a small basket with stocking stuffers—peppermint sticks, glittery crayons, a jumble of tiny plastic dinosaurs, and a pair of sparkly barrettes that made Mia smile. Cannoli busied herself by sniffing every bin, tail wagging whenever she found something that smelled faintly of sugar. At one point, she carefully lifted a smallbag of peppermint sticks from the display and trotted a few steps before Mia caught up, laughing. “Okay, fine, you can help pick one.” Mia dropped the bag into the basket and gave her a scratch behind the ears.
By the time they were done, the counter was full.
“Logan, let me help,” Mia said, reaching for her bag.
“No, I’ve got it.” He pulled out his wallet. “No arguments.”
“You don’t have to?—”
“I want to. Let me do this.”
Mia hesitated, then nodded, the protest softening in her chest. He was such a good man. Kind, thoughtful, empathetic. When would the other shoe drop? When would she see the real him? Or was this truly who he was?
Outside, the air felt sharper after the warmth of the shop. The bags rustled softly in Logan’s hands as Cannoli trotted ahead, little sweater bright against the night—proudly carrying the bag of peppermint sticks in her mouth like she had made the most important purchase of the evening.
Logan glanced at her and grinned. “Guess we know who’s in charge of stocking stuffers this year.”
Mia laughed, slipping her hand into the crook of his arm as they headed toward the school.
9
LOGAN
The toy store bags swung lightly from Logan’s hand, their rustle blending with the faint strains of Christmas music coming from the skating rink. They rounded the corner, and the sound changed, sharper now, punctuated by the scrape of blades on ice and bursts of laughter. The temporary rink filled the center of the square, strings of white lights crisscrossing overhead. In the light, skaters of all ages wove in lazy loops, their breath visible in small puffs, cheeks flushed from the cold.
And there, right by the rink rail, he spotted Max, with Charlie and Bianca, their gloved hands linked as they shuffled across the ice.
“Hey, guys!” Max called, spotting them. “Come join us.”
