Epilogue
Christmas Day
Ilean against the countertop and peer at Mom’s face, willing her to look at me as her skillful hands work, multitasking through the simmering pots and pans on the stove. Dad avoids my gaze as he busies himself with the coffeemaker.
“Mom? Dad?” I press when they don’t respond. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”
Mom glances up at me, her warm eyes settling on my face. “You lied to us, Ethan, to me and your father.”
The back of my neck burns with the bluntness of her statement, and even my dad turns to look at me sternly, his disappointment fully visible.
“Yes,” I agree, hanging my head in shame. “I did.”
“Both you and Violet,” Dad adds.
Instantly, my head pops up, and I shake it emphatically. “No, this isn’t on her?—”
“It is. You’re both fully grown adults who are accountable for your actions.” Mom returns to her work, and I swallow, waiting. “But I understand why you did it.”
“Do you?” Dad demands. “Because I don’t. We have always told you that you can come to us. When did that ever change?”
“I know how much you depended on me to take over the store—” I argue, but Dad holds up his hand.
“No. You assumed you knew. We’ve only ever wanted you to be happy, Ethan. And if that means opening your Christmas tree farm…” He appears pained by the idea, as if he hasn’t quite gotten his head around it yet.
Mom clears her throat purposefully. “What your father is trying to say is that we will always support you, no matter what. You didn’t need to create this ruse with Violet.”
A mixture of relief and regret overtakes me, my hand resting on the counter as I wait for my admonishment.
“I wish you would have come to us sooner, Ethan. We would have helped you, no matter what. Your dreams are our dreams. You’re our only child.”
A lump forms in my throat, and I exhale. “I’m sorry, Mom.”
“I know you are. But it all worked out, didn’t it?” she chirps. I can see that she’s not holding a grudge—not that I expected my mom would ever do anything like that. But I expected more disapproval than she’s shown so far. Like Dad.
A small silence befalls the kitchen, and my dad walks out to speak with other family members who are there for the holiday. I reach for an abandoned carrot stick, and she catches me out of the corner of her eye.
“Out!” she yips. “You’re banished from the kitchen now!”
“What did I do?” I complain.
“Stop your snacking!” she scolds me. “You’ll ruin your dinner!”
With a wink, I snatch another carrot off the veggie tray and wander into the living room, where Dad is tinkering on the old piano with one of my little cousins, who’s massacring a Christmas carol.
“Oh, night, oh, night deee-vine!” my cousin screeches, and it’s all I can do to keep from putting my hands over my ears. Thankfully, her mother claims her, scooping the little girl off the bench as she eyes me apologetically.
The entire living and dining room is filled to capacity with Bennets from all over Montana, a true family tradition. I don’t know how Mom manages to host these Christmas dinners every year, but she appears to relish in it.
“Where’s Violet?” my older cousin asks, used to seeing my best friend at these events.
No, not my best friend. Not anymore. Violet and I have moved past that stage, and everyone here knows it.
Before I respond, the doorbell chimes, and my dad calls out to me from the front of the house that Violet has arrived.
I weave through the mob of Bennets, nibbling on the charcuterie that my mom has laid out on the Santa-themed board, his pudgy body acting as the pot for all the delectable meats and cheeses.
One of the little ones has located the secret stash of gingerbread cookies in the pantry and recruited her cousins into a corner to inhale the frosted treats before an adult can stop them, but I’m no rat. And I have more important matters to attend to.
Violet has already handed my dad her coat and a bottle of prosecco, a platter of something in her hands as Addison stands uncomfortably behind her with her daughter.
I grin at them, kissing Violet on the cheek, and she blushes at the public display. Her eyes dart toward the room full of people and then toward Addison standing behind her.
“Thanks for the invite,” the server from the Maple Leaf Diner says nervously. “I mean, I should thank your dad, I guess.”
“He’s around here somewhere,” I promise. “Still trying to wrap his mind around the whole Christmas tree farm, probably.”
“Christmas tree farm?” Addison echoes, but I gesture for her to come inside, ignoring the question.
“Come and have some eggnog,” I tell them. “Molly, do you like gingerbread? I know where you can find some.”
The little girl’s face lights up, but she looks at her mother first, who nods slowly.
“Okay… but don’t go nuts, Mol.”
I usher Addison and her daughter into the house as Violet heads to the kitchen to check on my mom, but she’s back out in a minute.
“You should know better than to go in the kitchen when Mom’s cooking,” I tease. “How long have you been coming around here?”
Violet titters. “One of these days, she’s going to let me help.”
She hands Addison a cup of eggnog, and the woman thanks Violet, but as she takes a sip, she looks distinctly uncomfortable. “This is quite a crowd.”
“It’s all Ethan’s family,” Violet explains, eying my cousins, uncles, and aunts. My pulse quickens, like I’ve just been delivered a cue from the universe.
“No,” I say loudly, attracting the attention of everyone in earshot. “They’re not just my family.” The din around us quiets, but I keep my voice up, ensuring that everyone is listening. “They’re your family, too. They always have been. We always have been.”
Violet flushes lightly and smiles. “I know,” she replies quietly. “I’ve always been very welcome here.”
My hand slips into my pocket, and my palm closes around the heirloom ring inside. “No, Violet. I mean, literally, they are your family.”
I fall to one knee, taking her hand as her jaw slacks in shock. “Ethan!” she gasps.
“You have been a part of my life for as long as I can remember, Violet Whitaker, and when I’m not around you, I feel like I’m missing a limb. I never want to spend a day without you.”
Tears flood Violet’s eyes, and she closes them, a stray tear sliding down her cheek.
“Will you be my wife?” I whisper.
“Yes,” she breathes back, and my family cheers in approval, although there are some confused murmurings, as some still believe we were engaged all along. I slide my grandmother’s gold ring on her finger, and we embrace tightly, sealing our engagement with a long, sweet kiss.
When we part, we’re encompassed by well-wishers.
“I suppose this is an official welcome to the family,” my dad tells Violet, embracing her as she sniffles. “But we all know that’s just a silly formality.”
“I’m blessed to be a part of your family, Mr. Bennet,” she tells him honestly.
“You really should call me Dad… assuming this is real this time,” Dad tells her, raising an eyebrow skeptically.
“It’s real, Dad,” I groan, rolling my eyes. “And so is the Christmas tree farm.”
“I know,” he chuckles, clapping me on the back. “I’m happy for both of you. Cheers!”
He raises his glass and allows the next group of cousins through. By the time we’re finished with all the kind sentiments, we’re both exhausted, stealing a private moment with Violet behind the stairs.
“Your dad is taking the news about the Christmas tree farm really well,” Violet comments, subtly toying with the ring on her finger. “I thought he’d be worse than this.”
“Yes, he is. He says he got complaints all the time about the store running out of trees. One of my cousins has agreed to come and run Bennet’s Hardware when he and Mom retire.”
Violet and I share radiant smiles. I’ve been to the parcel of land several times since the sale has been in the works. Since it has been on the market for so long, the old owners are eager to let it go, the paperwork ready to be signed after the holidays. If all goes according to plan, we’ll start work in the new year, but it’s exactly what I envisioned. I’m eager to see what the future has in store for us.
Addison gazes through the mob of people for her daughter. “I don’t think Molly is coming back,” she says with a small laugh. “She might belong to you now.”
“I’m okay with that,” Violet laughs. “She’s an absolute doll.”
“Thank you again for letting us come,” Addison says, her embarrassment clear, and I want to put her at ease, but I hardly know what to say as I glance at my new fiancée. My real fiancée.
“I know what it’s like to be alone on Christmas,” Violet confesses to the server. “We’re glad to have you. Plus, you’re our favorite server, Addy.”
“It’s just really nice not to serve for once,” she admits, taking a sip of her eggnog. “And things are only going to get busier around here.”
We stare at her curiously. “Why?” I prompt when she adds nothing.
“There are some bigwigs coming into town, apparently,” Addison replies, shrugging. “Developers or something? That’s what the owner of the Maple Leaf said, anyway.”
Again, Violet and I look at one another. “Developers?” I repeat, the single word giving me a shiver of apprehension.
“I don’t know. I think that’s what the owner said. Oh, excuse me. Molly really is making me nervous now. I should go find her and see what she’s up to.”
She wanders off to find her daughter, leaving me and Violet alone. “Developers?” she says, and I pull her against me, kissing the top of her head.
“Who can blame them?” I ask. “Spruce Crossing is the most beautiful place in the world to live. It makes sense that they would have their eye on it.”
Violet tips her head back and peers at me speculatively. “We’re blessed, living here,” she murmurs, and I nod.
“You’ve got that right.” I grin at her.
“I’m going to love living on a Christmas tree farm.”
I smile sweetly. “Are you sure you want to be a Christmas tree farmer? I’d never make you give up your career.”
“I know exactly what I want,” she says. “A new business, a new house, a new marriage, a new life. What about you?”
“The most important thing to me is that you’re by my side.” I brush my thumb along her jawline.
“That sounds perfect to me,” she agrees, snuggling into my chest as my mom yells out from the dining room.
“Dinner time! Help yourselves and fix your own plates!”
Reluctantly, we untangle ourselves and head into the other room to join my family—our family. Just like we have so many times before.
Loving Spruce Crossing? Discover Addison’s Christmas miracle.
Three Hearts for Christmas