Chapter 32
[Lumi]
The day after Christmas I’m exhausted yet invigorated. The holiday could have been a disaster, but with Danny home and the focus of my attention, plus Neve and Isolde present, it was a great day.
Unfortunately, Danny left on the last flight out late last night, and because I didn’t want to be alone, I went to Neve’s cozy cottage for the night.
In the morning, we linger in her bed. Despite my tomboy sister’s interests, her bed is feminine with floral sheets and a light-colored plaid comforter.
“Did you hear about the celebration for Audrey at Making Whoopie?” Neve asks, lying on her back and staring up at the ceiling.
Audrey Nouel is our resident baker and owner of Making Whoopie, famed for their large variations of the Maine delicacy.
Of French descent with soft brown hair and deep, dark eyes, Audrey is petite for someone who makes baked goods.
She was once an in-demand pastry chef in New York.
Two years ago, she decided to make Hideaway Harbor her home, and we once talked about her hopes for a Hallmark romance experience in our fair town, complete with a flannel-wearing, Christmas tree farmer, or something similar.
I’m still waiting for the same grand romance, and I’ve lived here my entire life.
“I haven’t heard.” Then again, I’ve been rather introverted the past few days.
“Jack Lourd hosted a party for Audrey. Invited the entire town to come celebrate her.”
Jack is a lawyer and Hollywood agent who represents the famous rom-com queen, Amanda Willis, among others. Amanda was recently in town, participating in many of our town traditions.
Sounds like Jack might have become Audrey’s hero, even if he is a flatlander.
“It was a real It’s a Wonderful Life moment,” Neve recounts.
“Good,” I genuinely smile. “She deserves it.” I truly am happy for Audrey, as she and I once talked about feeling stuck. Not fulfilling dreams or potential, especially in Hideaway Harbor.
But one thing I love about this town is that we all show up for one another. I’m proud that people came out to celebrate Audrey. She deserves the honor for her hard work and her whoopie pies.
Neve clears her throat, and I turn my head on the pillow, taking in her profile.
“I’m sorry you feel like George Bailey, Lumi.” She turns her head toward me. “Like you’ve been stuck.” Her brows pinch. “You know I don’t understand the desire to leave. I’ve never had anywhere I really wanted to go. And well, I’m not you, full of wanderlust.”
I offer her a soggy smile. “You don’t need to be me. You’re the best you there is.”
Neve’s eyes water. “That’s the thing, though. You’ve always been here for me. For us. Dad. Danny. Isolde and Icelyn. And it’s time for you to go be you.”
She shifts to her side and focuses on my face. “I know you might be questioning that money from Saint, but I want you to take it and run. Spread those wings and finally fly.”
My own eyes fill with tears.
“But also know there’s been nothing wrong with blooming where you’re planted.”
“I know that.”
“You’ve blossomed here in ways you can’t see,” she adds. “Danny’s mom being number one.”
The tears spill free, and I quickly swipe at them.
Make every moment magical.
I tried. I’ve really tried. But now, I have other moments to make.
“Home will always be here for you,” she says, recounting something similar that I said to Danny.
Hideaway Harbor will always be here, but now it’s time for me to leave.
“You’ll always be Anna to my Elsa,” she states, reminding me how much we loved Frozen, a tale about sisterly love above all else.
I chuckle, the tears choking my throat amid the watery laughter. “You remember that I’m the older sister,” I chide, pointing to myself.
“Yeah, but I’m the real ice queen between the two of us.” She sighs. “You’ve always been the romantic one. The brave one.”
“Brave.” I laugh again, the sound defiant.
“You stayed when it would have been so easy to leave,” she whispers.
“There wasn’t anywhere else I’d rather be,” I counter.
“Liar.” She chuckles.
“Okay, a few places.” I roll my eyes. “But you know why I didn’t go before, right?” They needed me. Each and every one of them. And it’s not that they still don’t need me in some capacity, but now is the time for me.
“I love you,” Neve says, her voice quiet and choked, expressing words Neve hardly says.
“I love you, too, snowflake.” Using my dad’s nickname for Neve causes her to wrap her arms around me and hug me tightly for a moment.
But just a minute.
“Okay, now this is just weird,” she says, releasing me and rolling back to her side of the bed to stare at the ceiling again.
I laugh but I cherish the moment. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for my sisters and son, and I know they’d do anything for me in return.
It’s a wonderful life, indeed.
In the stillness and quiet of a day after a holiday, I decide to take a walk through Hideaway Harbor. From my place, I walk down Locke Street to Love Lane and up to Buoy Street, reveling in the calming silence. Reaching Main Street, I pass the closed businesses as I head south toward the harbor.
I smile as I pass The Perfect Package, Hidden Italy, and Love at First Sip. Each location holds a new memory for me. Magical ones from a sensual sensory kit to a spaghetti dinner to hot chocolate appreciation.
For just a moment, I allow my thoughts to turn to Saint. Wondering how his holiday went. If he worked, like he said he would. If he made amends with his father, or if they fought. If he celebrated the day with family or friends, or felt a pinch of loneliness. If he missed me at all.
There was so much I didn’t know about him, and yet so much I didn’t think I needed to know.
He was generous. He fulfilled every wish from the letters to Santa overflow-bag. He was kind, playing along with little Samantha, and even taking the letter from Henry Ashley, a teenager having a tough time at home.
He was kind, helping Neve at Rusty’s, and then paying for the repairs he made on his own car.
He was sweet and thoughtful. From St. Nicholas Day presents to Christmas tree dates, and more.
He’d made this holiday better than it would have been if I wallowed in Danny’s absence, which didn’t turn out to be an absence after all.
My heart is full. Full from Saint.
As I continue down Main Street, I head near the post office, although I don’t have to work this week. An entire week to myself. The thought alone is refreshing, and I inhale the crisp winter air, full of the scent of snow.
I chuckle when I recall Saint’s surprised expression when I mentioned I could smell snow. Like he didn’t believe such a thing, just like I didn’t believe in Santa—
My thoughts come to an abrupt halt as a tall, buff man exits a forest green sports car parked near the corner by the post office.
My breath catches, and I blink twice to clear my vision, as if he cannot really be standing there, but a mirage. My mind is playing a trick on me. I’ve heard of peri-menopausal fog, but this might be upper level.
With wide eyes, I take in the dark jeans, heavy boots, and a deep green puffer coat, plus that trim silver beard and hair.
As I’m frozen in place on the sidewalk, he approaches me, slipping his hands into his pockets. His eyes look weary with thin strips of purple beneath each of them. He looks exhausted.
I clear my throat, but it still sounds watery and thick when I say, “Can’t park your car there, Mister.” I exaggerate the accent to dismiss the -r in park, car, and mister as I point toward the tow zone sign.
He glances over his shoulder at the sign and smirks. Then he exhales and hangs his head a second.
“I got your Christmas present,” I finally state. “It was too much.” The amount was overly generous, and I considered ripping up the check, like Neve thought I might. I didn’t need a handout, but Neve’s comments talked me off the ledge, reminding me it was a gift with a purpose.
Saint’s head lifts, and he takes another step closer to me.
“In all the holiday movies we watched, the guy always stays in the small town after meeting the girl.” He pulls a hand free from his pockets and waves toward me. “Or the girl stays.”
The comment reminds me of one tale about a big city land agent who came to town to steal some property and ended up falling in love with the landowner.
Only, I’m not that girl. I don’t want to stay here. Not every second of every day, although Danny’s visit and Neve’s words this morning are a reminder that Hideaway Harbor is home, and my door is always unlocked.
“I can’t stay,” he states, hammering home what I already know. “I don’t own a dog, but I do have lots of flannel.”
Despite the abrupt jab to my heart about how he can’t stay, I smile soggily at the reminder that every holiday movie has a dog and a man with too much flannel.
“I also have a reindeer farm. And a toy company that has me traveling all over the world.”
My head tilts, uncertain what his point is with these reminders that he won’t stay, although the reindeer farm is new information.
“North Pole Toys,” he states, clarifying the name he never offered before. He stands straighter, holding up his head. “My name is Astan Saint Santos. And I am—”
I press my mitten-covered fingers to his lips.
He closes his eyes, cups my hand at his mouth, and kisses it, mitten and all. The heat of his breath seeps through the thick covering before he lowers my hand while continuing to hold onto it.
“It doesn’t matter who you are,” I eventually say, watching his dark eyes smolder. “Or what you do. Or where you live.”
North.
“I want you to know all my truths,” he admits. “Who I am.”
Do I need to know if he’s some legendary person? Maybe he is.
“I know what I need to know about your character. You’re dedicated to family. You’re committed to your company. You love to laugh and snuggle, and you are as sexy as candy cane martinis.”
His cheeks turn from rosy-cold to red-hot.
“And you care about me. And you’re here.”
I pause at the end of my ramble.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, tilting my head. If he can’t stay, why is he back?
“I’d like to propose a new ending to those Christmas romances.”
My eyes start to burn, tears filling them despite my attempts to stop the flow. It’s been quite the day of tears.
“First,” he begins, squeezing my hand in his. “No ending. Only beginnings.”
He releases my hand and cups my face with both of his. His palms are warm, and I close my eyes, savoring the heat of his hands on me again.
“Look at me, snowheart,” he whispers. “My heart.”
I blink my eyes open, as a tear leaks out.
“I love you, Lumi,” he adds.
A sob escapes me at the earnestness in his voice.
“And I’d like to take you around the world.”
“Saint,” I choke, because he’s already given me the gift. The means and the voucher.
“Then, I’d like to take you home. My home.”
“North,” I clarify.
“North.” He glances to the side, a second. “It’s complicated to get there, but it’s—” I cover his mouth again.
“You’ve traveled the world and seen lots of places. And I’ve done lots of research on places I want to visit.” Sometimes video tours and travel guides can reveal all the mysteries of a location. “So, let’s leave this one place a total surprise. For me.”
Saint slowly smiles as I remove my hand from his lips. “Is that a yes to adventures with me?”
“Make everyday moments magical, right?” I counter.
“So, that’s a yes?” He looks vulnerable but hopeful, as his lips curve higher on one side.
“You promise there will be flannel?”
With that, he laughs, hearty and deep, and tugs me into his arms, and I close my eyes, inhaling his peppermint and chocolate scent.
“I love you, too,” I say, pulling back to look up at him. His smile is wild and bright, and his eyes dance.
He wants to travel the world with me.
He wants to share adventures.
He wants to take me to his hometown eventually.
However, right now, the only place I want to be with him is my home.
Tipping up on my toes, he meets me halfway, and right here on Main Street, like the perfect wrap on a holiday rom-com, he kisses me.
When we separate, he tugs me beneath his arm, and we both glance toward the town square, where Skippy, the town Saint Bernard is watching us, before he trots off in the opposite direction.
Saint and I both laugh.
There was a dog in our romantic tale after all.