Chapter Four – Sarah
Sarah had never expected to see her daughter this happy the day after they’d arrived in Bear Creek. She’d expected a few tears, a possible tantrum… After all, Emmy had left behind everything she’d ever known, including her father.
But here she was at North Peak Pines, laughing with Maisie as they huddled together beneath a tall pine tree, their heads bent close as they discussed the merits of different ornaments.
Teddy was demonstrating what he called “branch testing” by hanging from the lower boughs of a nearby pine and declaring it “super strong” while the girls giggled.
“Ready to chop down your spruce?” Michael asked, those warm eyes on her, which made her stomach flutter in a way she hadn’t felt in years.
If ever. Even when she’d first met and fallen in love with Liam, she’d never felt quite like this. As if they shared an invisible connection.
Was this what people called love at first sight?
No, it must be the cold addling her brain. Or maybe she was simply swept along by the wonderful wintry scene around her.
Sarah bit her lip. “I feel kind of bad about it, actually. It’s so beautiful just growing here.”
“Don’t worry,” Michael said, his voice reassuring. “I plant two for every one I fell. That’s how the tree farm grows.” He gestured toward the hills beyond. “Those saplings up there…next generation.”
“How long has your family been doing this?” she asked, genuinely curious about the man who’d made such an impression on her in such a short time.
Michael’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “My grandfather said forever.” He cracked a grin that made her heart skip. “But he also told me Santa comes every year to inspect the trees to make sure they’re good enough for gifts to sit under them.”
Sarah laughed, the sound surprising her with its lightness. Was she flirting with the tree farmer?
She glanced over at her mother, who was deep in conversation with Daniel about Christmas bakes and the proper consistency of gingerbread. But Sarah caught the way Pat’s eyes darted their way, then quickly back to Daniel…who seemed to be doing the exact same thing.
Heat crept up Sarah’s cheeks. Was she that transparent? Could everyone see how this man affected her?
“We should probably get on with taking the tree down,” she said, tucking a strand of hair back under her beanie. “There must be plenty of other people who need your help in choosing the perfect tree.”
Michael looked around the farm, where other families wandered between the rows. “There are plenty of other people to help,” he said, turning back to her. “And this is an important tree.”
“Because it’s our first real tree,” Sarah said, feeling oddly touched that he understood.
Michael nodded, his expression softening. “But also the first tree you have chosen for Christmas in Bear Creek.” He gave her a mock bow that was somehow both playful and sincere. “I am honored you picked one of mine.”
She smiled shyly, tucking her hands into her coat pockets. He was everything she could want in a man…if she were looking. But she wasn’t.
Okay, maybe she was looking, just a little. But there would be no touching. Absolutely no touching. She’d made that rule for herself the day she’d signed the divorce papers.
Her focus from now on was on Emmy and building a new life for them.
Michael kneeled beside the tree, brushing away snow from the base. “I’ll notch the trunk here,” he explained, showing her exactly where he’d make the cut. “When you set it up in the stand, this is how it’ll sit.”
Sarah nodded, oddly thrilled by the practicality of his explanation. There was something deeply attractive about a man who knew what he was doing and took the time to share that knowledge.
Daniel and Pat wandered over to join them, but then Daniel paused, pulling out his phone. “Excuse me,” he said, thumbing out a quick text.
The children came bounding over, cheeks flushed with excitement.
Michael pulled two bright ribbons from his pocket, tying one around Emmy’s chosen tree and another on the tree the Brooks family had selected.
The kids posed proudly with their tags while Sarah snapped several photos as a lasting memory of their first real Christmas tree. And meeting Michael.
With the photos taken, everyone gathered around as Michael talked the children through safety—where to stand, where not to touch—and then set the first careful cuts.
Sarah held her breath as the spruce gave a soft creak.
It settled exactly where Michael had promised it would, and the kids erupted in cheers.
As Michael reset his stance for Daniel’s tree, movement caught Sarah’s eye. Two figures appeared on the path dragging a sled. Michael looked up, surprise evident on his face as he cast a questioning glance at Daniel.
“Mom! Dad!” Michael called, straightening up with a broad smile. “What are you doing here?”
The older couple approached, both bundled in matching red and green plaid scarves. The woman had Michael’s eyes, and the man had his strong jawline and amiable smile.
“Oh, we were just passing and thought we’d pop in to see how things were going,” the woman said, sending Daniel an affectionate smile that made Sarah think it was no accident Michael’s parents were here. “See if you needed a hand.”
Michael’s cheeks flushed pink, and he glanced sideways at Sarah, which kind of gave her the idea he’d had the same thoughts. His parents were the recipients of Daniel’s text.
But why?
Oh, the thought dawned on her. Daniel realized how much time Michael was spending helping them choose their tree and was concerned he might need an extra pair of hands.
“These are my parents,” Michael said to Sarah. “Holly and Noel North.”
“Holly and Noel?” Sarah clasped her hands together. “That’s so cute.”
“Like Christmas had a hand in their meeting, right?” Michael said, echoing her thoughts exactly.
“Oh, it absolutely did,” Holly said with a loving gaze at her husband. “Christmas Eve party, 1982. I was hanging holly, he was dressed as you-know-who for the children.”
“Not subtle, Mom,” Michael groaned, but his eyes were filled with affection.
Sarah felt a warmth spread through her chest that had nothing to do with her layers of winter clothing. There was something about this family that felt so...right. So welcoming. Like they embodied the spirit of Christmas.
“It’s lovely to meet you,” she said, extending her hand to Holly, who ignored it completely and pulled her into a hug instead.
“Any friend of Michael’s is family to us,” Holly said, releasing her with a pat on the shoulder. “And any friend who chooses a North family tree is doubly welcome.”
“We’ve brought hot chocolate,” Noel added, lifting a large thermos from the sled. “And Holly’s famous snowflake cookies.”
Emmy’s eyes went wide. “Snowflake cookies? Real ones?”
“As real as they get,” Holly promised, kneeling to Emmy’s level. “And I hear you’re new to Bear Creek? Well then, you simply must try one. It’s tradition.”
Holly wasted no time transforming a nearby hay bale into an impromptu Christmas picnic, spreading a red plaid blanket across it with practiced ease. “Everyone gather round,” she called, opening the thermos with a puff of fragrant steam. “Best way to celebrate finding the perfect tree.”
Sarah watched as the spread appeared like magic—hot chocolate poured into small paper cups, a bag of cinnamon twists that Holly swore were “just store-bought,” spiced nuts in a red tin, and bright clementines that released their sweet citrus scent as Noel peeled one for Emmy.
“Here you are, dear,” Holly pressed a steaming cup into Sarah’s hands. The warmth seeped through her gloves, welcome against the December chill. “How long are you planning to stay in Bear Creek? Pat mentioned you might be here for a while?”
“I’m not sure yet,” Sarah admitted, cupping the hot chocolate close. “It depends on work, really. And how Emmy settles in.”
“And how is she liking it so far?” Holly asked, her gaze drifting to where Emmy was showing Teddy how to balance a clementine segment on his nose, both children dissolving into giggles when it fell. “Any favorite spots yet?”
“She’s always loved the duck pond. And the library,” Sarah smiled. “Though I think North Peak Pines might take the lead today.”
Holly beamed at that, her eyes crinkling just like Michael’s did. Sarah wondered what it would be like to grow up in a place like this, with traditions that stretched back generations and parents who wore matching Christmas scarves without irony.
Noel came to stand beside them, nodding appreciatively at the tree waiting to be netted.
“That’s a fine spruce you’ve chosen. Good balance.
” He took a sip from his cup. “Reminds me of the year Michael saved the town square tree during that terrible ice storm. Must have been what, five years ago now?”
“Four,” Michael corrected, ducking his head slightly.
“The weight of the ice was bending branches to breaking,” Noel continued. “Michael climbed up there in the middle of the night with ropes and supports. Soaked through and freezing, but he wouldn’t come down until he’d shaken the ice off every branch.”
Sarah glanced at Michael, who seemed both embarrassed and pleased by his father’s story. “You saved the town Christmas tree?”
“It wasn’t that dramatic,” Michael shrugged.
“He was out there for three hours in freezing rain,” Noel insisted proudly. “He saved Christmas.”
“It was nothing,” Michael said.
“You kind of did. So take the compliment.” Daniel laughed. “I told you it’s a parent’s prerogative to be proud of their kids.”
“I didn’t want the tree to fall down and hurt someone,” Michael said, with a glance at Sarah.
“You are a real town hero,” Sarah teased.
Sarah caught Daniel and Holly exchanging a tiny, satisfied look. The kind of look that instantly implied this was a case of classic small-town matchmaking. She felt her cheeks warm despite the cold air, and she laughed, both flattered and a little flustered by their transparent efforts.
“My turn to chop,” Daniel announced, breaking the moment as he picked up the axe. The kids gathered at a safe distance to watch, cheering as Daniel’s tree came down with a soft whoosh and a puff of displaced snow.
“We should make something for the stumps,” Maisie declared. “To say thank you to the trees.”
Emmy’s face lit up. “Like a star! We could use twigs!”
The children immediately set to work, gathering small twigs and arranging them into a crude but recognizable star shape on Sarah’s family’s tree stump.
“Look, Mom!” Emmy called. “The tree knows we’re thankful.”
“It’s perfect,” Sarah said, meaning it completely. Not just the star. But the whole morning, from the tree choosing to meeting Daniel and his children, and then Michael’s mom and dad. Not to mention the hot chocolate and sweet treats.
And Michael. He was the highlight of the morning. A man who threatened to restore her faith in men. Faith Liam had shaken harder than Michael had shaken the town tree to remove the ice.
Michael and his father worked in easy tandem to prepare both trees for transport, netting them efficiently with a practiced rhythm that spoke of years of shared work.
Sarah found herself fascinated by how few words passed between them.
They communicated with just a nod here, a gesture there, yet they moved in perfect coordination, handling the branches with surprising gentleness for such strong hands.
As the adults packed up their impromptu picnic, Holly appeared at Sarah’s side with a small bundle.
“For later,” she said, tucking a spare packet of marshmallows and two cinnamon sticks into Sarah’s tote bag.
“In case of hot chocolate emergencies, while you decorate your tree. And tell Emmy there’s a wreath-making afternoon next week at the Wreath Barn if she’d like to learn how to tie bows.
Children make the prettiest wreaths. They don’t overthink it. ”
“That’s very kind of you,” Sarah said, touched by the thoughtfulness.
Michael approached after securing the last of the netting, checking the straps on her tree with careful attention. “We can walk your tree down to the car now if you’re ready,” he said. “It’s a bit heavy, but I’ve got it.”
“Thank you,” Sarah said, pulling on her gloves. She turned to the group, suddenly reluctant to leave this circle of warmth. “Thank you all. This has been...really special.”
With a final round of hugs and promises to see each other soon—which, in a town the size of Bear Creek, seemed inevitable—Sarah fell in behind Michael as he carried her tree toward the parking area.
His boot prints made perfect stepping stones in the snow, and she followed them automatically, heart light, hands warm in her gloves.
As she walked, she pictured the tree in her mother’s bay window, strung with lights, Emmy’s ballerina ornament spinning slowly from a branch. And maybe, just maybe, Michael would stop by to see it.
“So,” Michael called over his shoulder as they approached her mother’s car, “about that website redesign. When would be a good time to talk about it?”
“I could come by tomorrow,” Sarah offered, surprised by her own eagerness. “If that works for you.”
“Tomorrow’s perfect,” he replied, and the way he said it made Sarah think he wasn’t just talking about website design.
But much, much more.