Page 63 of A South Hill Christmas Keepsake
“Hang tight. I’ll go start your car and scrape the windows. Get some coffee. It will only take a minute.
“You are a good man. You don’t have to fuss over me, just make that girl’s morning something worth remembering.”
“That’s my intent.” He gave Winnie a quick hug. “But you first. Thanks for letting me use your kitchen.” He didn’t give her a half-second to argue, zipping out the door with his jacket in his hand, pulling it on as he ran to her car. It didn’t take long, and the defroster was starting to defrost the frost left behind by the scraper when he ran back inside.
He stomped his feet on the mat. “Whew. It’ll take your breath away. Thanks again for helping me surprise her.”
“I’d do just about anything to see my niece happy, especially with you.”
He watched Winnie drive off and then sat at the kitchen table wondering how long Hannah Leigh might sleep. He’d hoped the smell of fresh biscuits would wake her.
When Hannah Leigh padded into the kitchen a few minutes later, wrapped in one of Winnie’s shawls, she stopped short.
Someone had set the bistro table in the breakfast nook for two. A red and green plaid tablecloth, two steaming mugs, a plate of biscuits dripping with butter, and candles flickering in mismatched brass holders.
Nate lifted a mug toward her. “Merry Christmas. Coffee?”
Warmth spread through her chest. “You cooked?”
“Technically, yes. But honestly, Winnie supervised from a safe distance.”
“That she allowed you to bake in her kitchen is a Christmas miracle in itself.”
“Guess I’m full of surprises, and aunt-approved.”
She slid into a chair, still smiling. “I can’t believe you went to all this trouble.”
He sat across from her. “I wanted our first Christmas morning to feel like something worth remembering.”
She tore a biscuit in half, steam curling between them. “You’re going to ruin me for cereal.”
“That’s the plan.”
They lingered long after the food cooled, trading stories about past holidays and childhood mischief. The city sheen she wore so easily had melted away, and Nate saw the heartof her, the girl who’d always belonged here, even when she didn’t realize it.
After he cleared the dishes, he reached beneath the table and set a small gift bag in front of her. “For you.”
She untied the string and unwrapped a leather notebook,New Chaptersembossed in gold across the cover. Her fingers traced the words. “Nate…”
“I figured you’d know what to do with blank pages,” he said, his voice steady, certain. “Fill them with whatever comes next.”
He didn’t have to put it into words. Hannah Leigh was the next chapter he hadn’t known he’d been waiting to write. He was ready to roll up his sleeves and build out not only her dream office, but a future with her in it.
Her smile trembled. “It’s perfect.”
He exhaled. “Good. I almost went with socks.”
Her giggle eased the ache in his chest. She slipped away for a moment and came back with a narrow green box. Inside lay a silver whistle, tarnished from age, but still shining.
“Okay, it’s not new,” she blurted. “I found it at the antiques shop next to Lundy Layne. The owner said it had belonged to the high school coach here back in the sixties. Apparently, they had a winning team.”
“Wait. Coach Rockwell was one of the best coaches around. This belonged to him?”
“It did. I thought maybe it should belong to a coach again.”
He lifted it and gave a gentle blow. The simple note rang bright and sure through the quiet kitchen. “It’s the best gift I’ve ever received. Thank you.”
They didn’t speak after that. They didn’t need to. A pleasant quiet filled the space between them.
