Chapter 5
Francesca stood on the wooden ladder in The Lonely Pen, stretching to hang the last of the twinkling fairy lights along the top shelf of the mystery section.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she secured the strand, still fighting the lingering anxiety that surfaced whenever she was alone in the store.
“Need a hand with that?” The deep voice from below made her start, nearly toppling the ladder.
Sheriff Bo Cooper stood at the base, hands raised in apology. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s fine,” she said, though her racing heart suggested otherwise. “Just jumpy these days.”
Bo nodded, understanding in his eyes. He’d been the one to help her after Trevor’s harassment had escalated, the one who’d taken her statement and made sure the restraining order was properly filed.
“I brought coffee,” he said, holding up two paper cups from Lettuce Eat. “Peppermint mocha. Figured you could use the fuel for all this decorating.”
Francesca climbed down carefully, accepting the cup with a genuine smile. “My hero. This place is taking forever to decorate.”
To him, the bookstore already looked like something out of a holiday movie.
Miniature Christmas trees adorned with tiny book ornaments sat on display tables, while paper snowflakes hung from the ceiling.
The front window featured an elaborate scene of book characters celebrating the holidays, something she’d spent three evenings creating.
“It looks amazing,” Bo said, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Best storefront on Main Street, if you ask me.”
“You’re just saying that because I gave you first dibs on the new Jack Reacher novel,” she teased, sipping her coffee.
“Maybe.” His smile was warm, reassuring. “But it really does look great.”
She moved to the counter, pulling out a box of silver and blue ornaments. “I still need to decorate the main tree. Want to help? Unless you’re on duty...”
“Just finished my shift, actually.” Bo shrugged off his jacket, revealing a flannel shirt underneath.
Without the uniform, he looked different, more approachable, less like the authority figure who had protected her and more like.
.. just a man. A seriously good-looking, kind, steady man with gentle eyes.
They worked in comfortable silence for a while, music playing in the background as Bo hung ornaments on the higher branches while she arranged the lower ones.
When their hands accidentally brushed reaching for the same decoration, a flutter went through her, and this time it wasn’t fear, but excitement at what might be.
“Town tree lighting is this Saturday,” Bo mentioned casually. “First Saturday of December, earlier than some places, but folks here like to enjoy the lights longer.”
“I know. It’s my second Christmas in Blueberry Hill,” she reminded him.
“Right.” He looked almost embarrassed. “I was actually wondering if you might want to go together. To the lighting, I mean.”
Francesca paused, a silver snowflake ornament dangling from her fingers.
She’d been so focused on rebuilding her life after Trevor, on regaining her independence, that she hadn’t considered dating.
But Bo wasn’t Trevor. He’d never pushed, never pressed, just quietly shown up with coffee or stopped by to check in.
“I’d like that,” she said finally, surprised by how much she meant it, and the vain part of her was glad she’d worn her embroidered jeans and black sweater and boots. She’d even put makeup on and had taken the time to blow out her hair today.
Bo’s smile was worth any lingering doubts. “Great. It’s a date, then.”
The word ‘date’ hung between them, fragile and promising. With a gulp, she nodded, turning back to the tree to hide the blush spreading across her cheeks.
---
Emily shifted uncomfortably on the couch, trying to find a position that didn’t make her back ache or her swollen ankles throb. At seven months pregnant, comfort was becoming an increasingly distant memory, she practically lived in black leggings and oversized sweaters and sweatshirts.
“You doing okay?” Her husband appeared in the doorway, carrying a mug of herbal tea with honey in it.
“Just trying to get comfortable,” she said, accepting the tea gratefully. “Which is basically impossible at this point.”
He sat beside her, pulling her feet into his lap to massage them through her red fuzzy socks. “Any word from your mom about Christmas?”
Talk about a sore subject. She sighed, blowing on her tea. “She says she’s too busy with her new boyfriend and his family in Spain. She’ll try to come for the birth in February, but...” She shrugged, the familiar disappointment settling in her chest.
“Her loss,” Evan said firmly. “We’ve got plenty of family here.”
Emily nodded, watching the water on the lake. When she’d first arrived in Blueberry Hill, pregnant and alone, she’d been worried that her marriage was over, that Evan would never change. It seemed like he had, or was at least trying, but she knew he wasn’t happy.
“What are you thinking about?” He asked, his thumbs working a particularly tight knot in her arch.
Not going there, she thought, and said instead, “Just how different this Christmas is from last year.”
“Are you happy here, Em?” He ran a hand through his light brown hair as he watched her face.
“Yes.” Emily reached for his hand, squeezing it. “Are you?”
The baby kicked then, saving him from answering as he placed his palm on her rounded belly to feel the movement.
“We should get ready for the tree lighting,” he said, checking his watch.
---
The town square shimmered with expectation as twilight surrendered to evening.
Fat snowflakes twirled through the air, catching in the glow of old-fashioned streetlamps and settling on woolen hats like delicate lace doilies.
The enormous pine at the center of the square stood dark and regal, waiting for its moment to shine, while strands of unlit bulbs draped between branches like sleeping fireflies.
Emily shifted in the folding chair Evan had insisted on bringing, grateful for his thoughtfulness.
Her lower back ached constantly, and standing for any length of time left her ankles swollen to twice their normal size.
She adjusted her scarf, tucking it more securely around her neck against the cold.
“Comfortable?” Evan asked, hovering beside her like a nervous hummingbird.
“As comfortable as a beached whale can be,” she replied with a small smile, rubbing her rounded belly. The baby gave a forceful kick in response, as if protesting the comparison.
The scent of the newly cut tree mingled with cinnamon, hot chocolate, and woodsmoke from the huge barbecue pit where the local EMS volunteers cooked barbecue chicken to help raise money for a new ambulance.
Carolers in Victorian-inspired costumes wandered through the crowd, their harmonies rising and falling with the breeze.
Kids darted between adults, their laughter bright in the cold air, while volunteers from Lettuce Eat passed out steaming cups of cider and cocoa topped with mountains of whipped cream and candy cane sprinkles.
Mary from Spilled Milk strode over, her bright red hair peeking out from beneath a knitted hat adorned with tiny bells that jingled with each step.
“Emily, honey! Look at you, about ready to pop!” She patted Emily’s stomach without asking, something Emily had reluctantly grown accustomed to since showing, even though she despised when people touched her without asking. “February, right? Boy or girl?”
“Girl,” Emily answered, placing her hand protectively over the spot where her daughter had just kicked. “And yes, February 14th is the due date.”
“A Valentine’s baby! How precious,” Mary cooed, then turned to Evan. “And how about you, daddy? Found a job in our little slice of heaven yet?”
Emily felt Evan tense beside her, his smile tightening at the corners. Before he could answer, she jumped in. “We’re just focusing on the baby right now.”
Mary smiled at them. “Well, you two enjoy the lighting!” She jingled away toward her next victim.
Evan squeezed Emily’s shoulder in silent thanks.
She covered his hand with hers, understanding the weight of what remained unspoken between them.
He wasn’t happy here. The small-town pace, the lack of career opportunities, the constant questions about his plans.
But she was finding the community she’d always craved, the family connections she wanted for their daughter.
“You didn’t have to deflect for me,” he murmured, crouching beside her chair.
“I know.” She met his eyes, seeing the conflict there. “But tonight’s about the tree lighting, not job hunting.”
Around them, the family had gathered in a loose constellation. Tara and Will stood nearby, arms linked. Christina and Ryan were talking to Dane, who owned the local brewery. Ally and Colton were chatting with Francesca and Bo, their laughter visible in puffs of frosty air.
Emily frowned as she watched Christina, noticing how she wrapped her arms around herself, her face flushed with what looked like fever.
Poor thing probably had the flu that was going around.
She’d ask her mother-in-law if anyone else was under the weather.
In no way did she want to be sick and pregnant.
Mayor Jenkins stepped up to the microphone, his round face red with cold and good cheer. “Welcome, everyone, to Blueberry Hill’s annual tree lighting! As tradition dictates, we gather on the first Saturday of December because—”
“Life’s too short not to enjoy Christmas lights as long as possible!” the crowd finished in unison, followed by laughter and applause.
The countdown began, voices rising in excitement. Emily felt Evan move behind her chair, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders, the scent of his cologne soothing as he leaned down to kiss her cheek. “I love you.”
“Ten! Nine! Eight!”
“I love you, too.” She leaned back, feeling the solid warmth of him, grateful for his presence despite knowing he’d rather be elsewhere. The baby kicked again, as if joining the countdown.
“Seven! Six! Five!”
Whatever their differences, whatever challenges lay ahead, they had made it this far.
“Four! Three! Two!”
She reached up to squeeze his hand, her wedding band catching the light from a nearby lamppost.
“ONE!”
The massive tree burst into light, thousands of bulbs illuminating all at once, turning the night to day. The crowd gasped collectively, then erupted into cheers and applause. The local choir began singing “O Christmas Tree,” their voices rising clear and sweet in the cold night air.
Tears filled her eyes as she blinked, her hormones kicking into overdrive. In that moment, Emily allowed herself to hope that Evan might eventually see Blueberry Hill as she did. Not as a step backward, but as the perfect place to build their future. To raise a family, and she wanted a big family.
The carolers moved through the crowd, now singing “Silent Night,” and most of the townspeople joined in, their voices creating a warm cloud of sound.
“It’s beautiful,” she murmured, tilting her head back to look up at her husband.
“It is,” he agreed, but she caught the wistfulness in his tone. She knew he was thinking of Seattle, of skyscrapers and opportunity, of the life they’d left behind.
The baby kicked again, stronger this time, and Emily smiled. No matter what happened with Evan’s job search or their future plans, tonight was perfect. Their daughter’s first Christmas celebration, even if she was still tucked safely inside, experiencing it all through her mother’s heartbeat.