Page 46 of Savoring Christmas
Logan smiled as he watched Mia take it all in—the big red barn trimmed in lights, the farmhouse porch wrapped in garland and bows, lanterns flickering on each step.
“Okay, this is officially the most charming place I’ve ever seen.” Mia pulled her hat down tighter over her ears.
“This was always one of my favorite Christmas traditions,” Logan said. “Even when we were teenagers and too cool to admit it.”
Mia clasped her gloved hands. “This is so exciting. I’ve never gotten a real tree before. We always had a fake tree in the city.”
“One must never utter the words ‘fake tree’ in my family.” He offered her his hand, and they walked toward the cabin. Cannoli trotted ahead, ears flopping with every step, until she reached the porch steps and gave an impatient bark as if to say, “Hurry up already.”
Inside, the cabin glowed with warmth and smelled of candy canes. A crackling fire blazed in the stone hearth, and shelves brimmed with glittering ornaments, hand-carved reindeer, rustic wreaths, and glass baubles in every color imaginable. Cannoli sniffed her way along the lower shelves, pausing to nose a basket of felt squirrels before Logan gently steered her toward safer territory.
Mia wandered slowly through the space, picking up a delicate ceramic snowflake and a gingerbread-scented candle.He watched her carefully, storing away every smile, every laugh to think about later.
“Look at this one.” Mia held up a miniature rolling pin. “I love it.”
He took it from her and examined it, grinning. “We have to have it.” His eyes drifted to a nearby display of chef-themed ornaments—tiny copper pots, little wooden spoons, and a perfect miniature whisk that caught the firelight. “And maybe that whole section too.”
Mia laughed, reaching for a small ornament shaped like a chef’s hat. “This is dangerous. I’m going to want them all.”
They picked out a handful of other ornaments—a bird’s nest with pearl eggs, silver bells, miniature vintage trucks carrying Christmas trees, little ice skates tied with velvet ribbons—and then stepped back into the night air. Cannoli pranced between them, the tip of her nose dusted with snow.
“Ready to find the perfect tree?” Logan asked.
“Oh yes. Let’s do it.”
Her excitement was infectious, and he found himself grinning as they wandered the rows under twinkle lights, the air filled with the scent of pine and distant laughter. Cannoli trotted ahead, occasionally diving under a low branch only to pop out the other side with a shower of snowflakes clinging to her sweater.
Mia walked slowly, her eyes scanning every trunk, every branch. “Too short. Too tall. That one looks like it had a rough childhood.”
He chuckled. “Poor thing.”
“It has to be just right.”
At last, they found it—a tall, full Fraser fir with strong branches and a graceful shape.
“This is the one.” She stepped forward to touch a branch.
Logan stepped back to admire her choice—a perfect seven-footer with full, symmetrical branches. “I agree. It’s perfect.”
Mia nodded, running her hand along the soft needles. “Our first tree together.”
“I hope there will be many more.”
“Do you mean that?” Mia asked.
“More than I could ever say.”
He flagged down one of the farm workers, who tagged their tree and promised to have it netted and ready within minutes. Cannoli supervised the process from the sidelines, tail wagging like a metronome, before leading the way back toward the car.
Later, once everything was loaded, Mia stood with her back to him, head tilted up toward the stars.
“These last few weeks have been so much fun,” Mia said. “Thank you for helping me find my Christmas cheer.”
“Thank you for helping me to find mine,” Logan said.
She slid her arms around his waist, resting her cheek against his chest. “I never expected this.”
“Neither did I,” he murmured into her hair. “But I’m so grateful.”
