Chapter 14
Cinnamon and rosemary filled the cottage as Tara pulled cookie sheets from the oven, the scent of warm gingerbread joining the production line of holiday baking already underway.
Christmas music drifted from the kitchen radio while multiple batches of cookies cooled on wire racks covering every available counter space.
The tree they’d decorated weeks ago stood in the corner, twinkling with familiar ornaments.
“Sam, can you help me roll these?” Tara asked, glancing toward the girl who sat at the kitchen island, carefully piping icing designs onto sugar cookies shaped like snowflakes and stars.
Sam looked up, her green eyes still holding that wariness Tara had come to recognize, though it had softened since she’d moved into the vintage camper. “These?” Sam gestured to a bowl of dough waiting to be shaped into snickerdoodles.
“Perfect.” Tara smiled, dusting her hands with flour. Through the kitchen window, snow began to dust the lake’s surface.
Ryan emerged from the pantry carrying bags of powdered sugar, Angus, Bella, and Daisy trailing hopefully behind him.
“Christina said she needs more for the frosting.” He set the supplies on the counter, and the dogs immediately sat with perfect posture, eyes fixed on the cookie crumbs scattered across the workspace.
“Those three have no shame,” Christina laughed from her spot at the stove, where she was stirring a pot of homemade hot chocolate. She’d been quieter than usual lately, and Tara had noticed her picking at her food. “Angus, you literally just had breakfast.”
The cottage felt different with Sam here, Tara realized as she watched the girl carefully add a delicate swirl of blue icing to a star-shaped cookie.
More complete somehow. Ryan had been right to bring her home that day when he’d found her behind the laundromat.
The fierce independence that had initially worried Tara now seemed like armor being slowly set aside.
Ally appeared in the doorway, wiping her hands on a flour-dusted apron and surveying the controlled chaos of their baking marathon.
She’d been subdued since returning from New York, and while Tara’s maternal instincts wanted to push for details, she’d learned to let her daughter process things in her own time.
“The fudge is finally setting up,” she announced. “And Sam, your camper looks absolutely adorable with that garland you made. Those blue velvet bows are the perfect touch.”
Sam’s cheeks flushed pink at the compliment, and she ducked her head shyly. “I just gathered some branches from around the property. Thought it needed something festive.”
“It’s lovely,” Tara agreed, glancing out the window toward the camper, which was indeed decorated with fresh greenery and blue bows that complemented its vintage blue and white exterior. “Very artistic.”
“Check the storage cabinet in the garage for more ribbon,” Tara replied to Ally’s earlier question, watching as Sam finished piping a delicate star and set down her bag.
“I’m going to grab a root beer,” Sam said, standing and stretching. “Anyone else want anything?”
Emily stretched out on the sofa. “I’d love a ginger ale.”
As Sam moved toward the refrigerator, something fluttered from her jacket pocket to the kitchen floor. Ally bent to pick it up, examining the small piece of cardstock.
“Where did you get one of Mrs. Collier’s old postcards?” Ally asked, smiling as she held up the vintage postcard with its distinctive painted scene of a mountain lake.
Sam froze, her hand on the refrigerator handle, that familiar guardedness flickering across her features. “You know who painted it?”
“Mrs. Collier,” Ally said, studying the delicate brushwork. “Dora Collier, the artist. She and I paint together. She’s an elderly woman, though you’d never know it. She lives in town, painted postcards like this years ago. This style, lots of detail, soft colors, it’s definitely hers.”
The color drained from Sam’s face. “Mrs. Collier?”
“Yes,” Ally confirmed. “She lives on Maple Street, in the blue house with white trim. She’s been here for decades.” Ally paused, choosing her words with care. “If she painted that postcard, there might be a reason it found its way to you.”
Sam set down the drink with trembling fingers, and Bella immediately moved closer, pressing against her legs. The music from the radio seemed suddenly too loud, the cheerful holiday melody at odds with the tension in the room.
“You think she might...” Sam’s voice was barely a whisper. “You think she might know something about my family?”
Tara’s heart clenched at the hope and fear warring in the girl’s expression. She moved to sit on the arm of Ryan’s chair, close enough to offer comfort without crowding. “There’s only one way to find out.”
Ryan leaned forward, his face serious. “Do you want me to come with you? When you go to see her?”
Sam looked around the kitchen at all of them, this makeshift family that had taken her in without question. and for a moment, her walls seemed to crack wider. “I...” She swallowed hard. “I don’t know if I’m ready.”
“That’s okay,” Tara said firmly. “There’s no rush. Mrs. Collier isn’t going anywhere, and neither are we.”
The timer for another batch of cookies chimed, and Christina hurried to the oven. “Snickerdoodles are done!” she called, and the moment of tension eased.
Christina stood and stretched, walking to the window to check on the snow while her hot chocolate finished heating. “It’s so pretty when you don’t have to go anywhere. Think we’ll have a white Christmas?”
“Wouldn’t that be perfect?” Tara murmured, joining her daughter at the window. The lake was barely visible through the swirling snow, and lights were beginning to twinkle across the water.
Her phone buzzed against the kitchen counter. A text from Will.
Heading home early. Roads getting slick. See you soon. Love you.
The message made her smile. Even after all these months, she sometimes couldn’t believe this was her life, surrounded by her children, watching snow fall on the lake, planning for Christmas in this place that had become home.
As they returned to their baking stations, arranging finished cookies on festive platters, Tara noticed Sam had picked up her piping bag again but was staring at it thoughtfully.
“You know,” Tara said casually, “Mrs. Collier is probably one of the kindest people in this town. If she does know something about your family, she’d want to help.”
Sam nodded without looking up, and Tara could practically see the wheels turning in the girl’s mind. Change was never easy, especially when you’d learned to expect disappointment. But sometimes the most beautiful things in life required taking risks.
* * *
Evan stared at his phone, reading the email for the third time.
The screen glowed in the bedroom he and Emily were using while staying with his mom, and he could hear the Christmas chaos in full swing down the hall.
Laughter, Christmas music, the smell of fudge, and the timer chiming for what sounded like the tenth batch of cookies.
Dear Mr. Singleton,
We are pleased to offer you the position of Vice President of Customer Relations at Mountain View Regional Hospital...
He scrolled to the salary information and felt his eyebrows rise. Not Seattle money, but fair for this area, and the benefits package was actually better than his previous job.
Thirty minutes each way through the mountain roads. No more two-hour traffic jams, no more missing dinner, no more feeling like a stranger in his own home.
“Evan?” Emily called from down the hall. “Can you come help? We’re running out of counter space!”
He stood and walked toward the kitchen, phone still in hand, relief and excitement coursing through him.
After turning down the Seattle position, knowing the constant travel would have meant the eventual end of his marriage, he’d wondered if he’d made a mistake.
But this was so much better, he got what he wanted, and his wife was happy here in Blueberry Hill.
Sure, he had to drive an hour for all the amenities he was used to, but now that he had a job he could be proud of, he didn’t care.
The kitchen was a disaster. Ally was in the pantry.
His mom was pulling cookies from the oven, Sam was carefully piping icing designs, Ryan was measuring powdered sugar, and Christina was stirring hot chocolate at the stove.
Emily stood in front of the island, arranging finished cookies on festive platters.
“You look like someone who just won the lottery,” Emily said, glancing up at him with a smile. “Good news?”
Everyone paused what they were doing, turning to look at him expectantly.
“I got the hospital job,” he said, holding up his phone. “VP of Customer Relations. They want me to start after New Year’s.”
The kitchen erupted in cheers and congratulations. Tara immediately pulled him into a flour-dusted hug, and Ryan clapped him on the back.
“Thirty-minute commute,” he said, wrapping his arm around Emily. “Normal hours. I’ll be home for dinner every night.”
“And weekends?” Emily asked.
“All ours,” he said, placing his hand over hers on her belly. “I can teach our girl to fish on the lake.”
Emily laughed. “She might prefer painting, like her aunt.”
“Then I’ll learn to paint.” He kissed her forehead, surrounded by his family, flour dusting the air and Christmas music playing. “I can’t believe it’s all worked out.”
“I can,” Emily said firmly. “This is where we’re supposed to be. I’ve known it since the day we got here.”
Six months ago, his marriage had been hanging by a thread, his job had been draining him, and he’d felt like he was drowning. Now, standing in this warm kitchen full of laughter and love, he understood what people meant when they talked about Christmas miracles.
Sometimes you had to lose everything to find what you really needed.