Page 88 of Christmas at Valentine Inn

She bit her lip. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s from you, so I’m going to love it.”

She smiled and walked off. I assumed Cruz would be arriving at any moment. She was looking forward to the winter formal this weekend with him.

Rory was next in line. “Happy birthday, Stepmommy dearest.”

“Thank you.”

He looked down at his shoes. “I got you something too. I used the money from shoveling snow last weekend.”

Oh. I threw a hand over my heart. “Rory, I’m so touched. I know you wanted to save that for your PlayStation.”

“Yeah, well ... you know ... some things are more important.”

I grabbed him and gave him the biggest hug. “I love you, kiddo,” my voice cracked. I couldn’t believe he would do that for me.

He sank into me, as if he needed me as much as I needed him—and his sister. “I know you do,” he said quietly. “It means a lot.” He untangled himself from me and went in the same direction as Bridgette.

I knew these big emotions were hard for them, and trust wasn’t going to come easy, but we were working on it. I mean, Rory hadn’t even asked Drake if he could meet his hot costar, Avriel. It meant a lot to me that he didn’t need a reason to “pretend” this was real. Itwasall real.

Patrick and I shared a knowing look. A hopeful look. Sadly, I couldn’t keep gazing at him.

Everyone seemed to want to wish me a happy birthday; even Ophelia and Marcus offered me tepid wishes. Meaning they mumbled “Happy birthday” before they made a beeline to the “adult” punch bowl. Great, I was making them drink.

George was the last one to me. He shuffled over, and I pulled out a chair, taking a seat next to him. His wrinkled and curled hands took my own. “Dear one, you are simply radiant tonight. Happy birthday.”

“Thank you, George. For everything.” How could I not thank him for Patrick?

“Daisy’s mission isn’t complete yet.”

I quirked a brow. “What mission is that?” And should I be concerned his dead wife was assigning him tasks?

George offered me a crooked grin before reaching inside his corduroy blazer and pulling out a lovely choker pearl necklace.

I gasped, recognizing it. I’d seen it often in Daisy and George’s wedding photos. Daisy had worn it around her slender neck on that day. She’d looked so lovely in her pink wedding dress. Charlotte had worn the same dress to the Valentine’s Day ball we’d held earlier this year; it was an inn tradition.

“She wants you to have these.” The pearls dangled from his fingers.

I shook my head, so overcome with emotion that he would even offer me such a gift. “I can’t. Those are special.”

“Exactly, and you should wear them on your special day, coming up on Christmas Eve.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. He knew very well it wasn’t my day. That day was all about Charlotte.

My reaction did not faze him. “Every bride needs pearls to wear on her wedding day. Consider this the something old.”

“George,” I sighed, “you know—”

“Yes, Iknow,” he said mystically. “Please take them. Daisy and I would be so honored.”

Yet, I still hesitated. To accept such a gift almost seemed wrong. It was like he was giving me a part of his life.

When I didn’t take them, George gently pressed them into my hands. “They were meant to be yours.”

My eyes filled with tears. “George, are you sure?” I delicately held the shimmering pearls with a gold clasp, feeling like I held the most precious jewels on earth.

“The love between you and Patrick will keep the love Daisy and I shared alive. And someday, your love will be immortalized when you pass these down to your daughter.” He nodded toward Bridgette, who was running her hands through her gorgeous hair and hanging on every word Cruz said. Would she truly ever consider herself to be my daughter? I loved the thought of it.

---