A Caldwell Christmas (Suitor’s Crossing: The Caldwells #6)

PROLOGUE

DONALD CALDWELL (GRAMPS)

The heat emanating from the electric fireplace warms my toes as Greta cuddles closer to me on the sofa.

Nothing beats the crackle of real flames and the smell of ash in the air, but I can’t complain too much about the artificial fire. Not when my girl is snuggled into my side.

“Have you heard from Kennedy and Wyatt today?” Greta asks, her head tipping back to meet my eyes.

“Not yet. They’re probably settling in after the long flight.”

My granddaughter was surprised by her husband with a trip to Vienna in honor of their fifth anniversary. Wyatt has been planning the vacation for months—sorting out their travel and arranging for Soren and Diana to babysit their three-year-old son, Tristan. One of my adorable great-grandbabies.

Our family is full of little tykes these days.

Thinking about the changes in my grandchildren’s lives over the past five years brings a smile to my face.

Kennedy used to be so shy.

Kept to herself.

Until a pen pal mishap with a soldier overseas.

Sherry still hasn’t forgiven Kennedy—or the rest of the family—for how things went down back then, even though it was her son’s fault for fumbling Kennedy in the first place.

If he hadn’t been such a jerk, there wouldn’t have been an opening for his commanding officer to steal my granddaughter’s heart.

“You’re probably right.” Greta sighs and settles her head back on my chest. “I can’t believe they’ve been together for five years already. Time sure does fly.”

“Especially when you’re with the one you love,” I say, pressing a kiss to her crown.

“Hopefully, Tristan isn’t giving Soren and Diana too much trouble. I know Wyatt was wary of letting them babysit over Beth and Beckett. They’ve got a lot on their plate with Sara Beth and Rachel.”

My eldest grandson certainly has a full life.

A few years ago, it was just Soren and his daughter, Sara Beth. But Sara Beth’s bunny faked an injury, and one visit to the veterinarian later, Diana crashed into their lives.

She’s loosened up my formerly grumpy grandson, and I couldn’t be happier with the change in him. Or the little girl they added to their family—another great-grandchild to add to my roster of loved ones.

“They can handle it. Besides, it’s easier for Soren to watch a toddler than Beckett. His schedule at the firehouse means Beth would be alone most of the time trying to wrangle the kid.”

“Don’t underestimate Beth.” Greta pats my stomach in reproach.

Chuckling, I cover her hand with mine. “I’m not. I have all the faith in the world in that girl, but two is better than one. Plus, Soren and Diana have Sara Beth as backup.”

“Sixteen years old. It was only yesterday that she was ten years old gushing about Whiskers.”

“And now her focus is on friends and boys.” There have been several times when her dad has ranted about the foibles of teenage boys as if he’s forgotten he used to be one of them.

Though Soren was never as bad as Beckett.

He was the troublemaker of the group. As different as night and day from his twin, Ezra, and their youngest brother, Griffen.

Which reminds me…

“How was your call with Heidi earlier? She and Griff are still coming for Christmas, right?”

“Of course. They did a combination Thanksgiving and Christmas celebration with her parents, since the three of them will be spending the holiday in Suitor’s Crossing rather than Guardian Valley.”

Greta’s excitement is palpable, energy vibrating through her body.

When Heidi first arrived in town, she started volunteering at the senior center, and almost immediately, Greta took her under her wing. It soon became obvious that Heidi was interested in my quiet grandson, which was when Greta and I cooked up a scheme to get the two together.

One that worked perfectly, considering they’re married with a two-year-old girl named Joy, after Heidi’s grandmother.

“It’ll be good to have the entire family together again,” I say, glancing out the window when a rogue branch cracks against the glass. Wind buffets the side of the apartment we share at Golden Living, a senior community in Suitor’s Crossing, and I can tell we’re in for a cold December.

“Maybe we can have that magazine photographer take a family photo for us,” Greta suggests. “Our last group shot is missing the twins.”

Ezra and Lauren’s twin babies weren’t born yet, though she’d been heavily pregnant for the Christmas photo last year.

“I think family portraits are a little below a national magazine photographer’s paygrade.”

“Nonsense. He’s here to document Ezra and Lauren’s lives, and we’re a part of it.”

I know better than to argue with her logic, and hell, Greta has a way of getting what she wants. It wouldn’t surprise me if she sweet-talked the photographer into a side project.

“Yes, dear,” I tease, squeezing her closer. “One thing is for sure. This Christmas will be one to remember.”