caught on the gold plaque engraved with three letters above their doorbell. He’d been curious about it ever since it had gone up last week.
“Hey, Phil,” he called, catching her unlocking the door. “What does FGI stand for?”
“It’s who we are,” she called back. “Fairy Godmothers, Incorporated.”
His forehead furrowed. As near as he’d been able to figure out, he’d thought they were in some sort of mortgage business. “Fairy Godmothers? Don’t they have something to do with pumpkins?”
“And helping dreams come true.” With a charming smile, she disappeared inside.
Mentally shaking his head, he strode toward his truck at the curb in front of his office. He had no idea how anyone over the age of ten could possibly believe in fairy tales, happily ever afters or that other impossibility that Rory had once imagined, Christmas magic. As for dreams, they died by the thousands every day. Reality simply wore them down, if it didn’t kill them outright. He knew. He’d spent years in the emotional limbo that remained after his vision of his future had turned to ash. But he’d glimpsed those dreams again, and what Phil had said about possibilities now gave him pause.
She’d said Rory had to let go of a mind-set that focused on what she had been looking for and what she needed now. She’d had to be open-minded enough to see what would be possible living in a place she’d have never considered, rather than writing it off as not what she’d had in mind.
He certainly hadn’t considered any sort of personal relationship with her when they’d first met. But one had evolved in spite of him. To see the possibilities in it, he’d need to get past the defenses he’d spent years honing before he could be open to what those possibilities were.
Part of the problem there was that he had no desire to give her a chance to push him any farther away.
The other part would be getting Rory to see past whatever it was holding her back from him to see their potential, too.
Rory had hoped for snow. For Tyler’s sake, because that was what he’d said he wanted for Christmas. But Christmas morning had dawned with a gray sky that promised little beyond more rain.
Until a week ago, every other time she’d asked him what he wanted Santa to bring, all he’d wanted was a big tree. The day after Erik had left, he’d told her he’d changed his mind. Since he already had the tree, what he wanted Santa to bring was Erik.
She’d explained that Erik would be with his parents for Christmas, so Santa wouldn’t be able to bring him. Though decidedly let down by that bit of news, he’d decided later that he wanted snow.
All he seemed to want as far as a gift was concerned were things beyond her power to give him.
Without any sort of hint for something that Santa could bring down the chimney, she, being Santa’s helper, had left him a mini kick scooter that he could ride between the counters in the store while she worked to get it ready. He’d been excited when he’d come downstairs a couple of hours ago to see it by the tree. He’d been tickled to see that Santa had eaten all but a few crumbs of the cookies they’d left out for him, and awed and delighted by the small tuft of faux-fur trim that appeared to have snagged on one of the fireplace stones when the jolly old guy had departed.
What had truly thrilled him, though, had been discovering the present from Erik among the others from her and her parents beneath the lit and glittering branches. It had been delivered yesterday with a note asking her to please put it under the tree for him to find Christmas morning. Except for the “Thanks” he’d scrawled at the bottom, that was all the note had said.
Tyler had declared the huge pop-up book about sailboats his “very favorite” and gone through every page with her while they sat on the sofa.
It had been only two days since Erik had left her standing in the kitchen feeling as if the world was falling out from under her all over again. Two long nights of missing him more than she’d thought humanly possible. The man was a rock. A truly decent guy. And while she suspected he was fiercely loyal to those he cared about, he held back from needing anyone himself—from needing her, anyway—in the way she now knew she needed him. It wasn’t about survival. She could survive on her own. It was about the need to share, and he had worked his way into her life and into her heart as if he was simply meant to be there.
That had only happened with one other man.
Too unsettled to stay still any longer, she left Tyler with his book and cleaned up the bright paper wrappings and ribbons from the carpet.
She had no idea how to repair the damage done to their relationship. He was her mentor. He’d become her confidant. His voice had been one of experience and his advice had been invaluable where other situations were concerned. She just didn’t know how to ask what she could possibly do to make things right between them when he was part of the problem, even though she’d picked up the phone a dozen times to try. He had no responsibility to her beyond the agreement he’d made with her benefactor, and now even that part of their relationship had been jeopardized.
The two-tone chime of a bell startled her from her painful thoughts. She’d only heard the chime ring twice before: the first morning she’d met Edie, when the woman had stopped by to welcome her to the neighborhood, and two days ago when Talia had brought the twins over to play. Erik had explained that the service bell was used for after-hours deliveries. A few of the locals obviously used it as a doorbell to save themselves from having to walk around back.
Thinking it might be one of the neighbors she and Tyler had delivered Christmas cookies to yesterday, she headed through the store and opened its front door.
No one was there.
Stepping out, the cold breeze tugging at her hair, her glance caught on a small package on the weathered plank boards.
The little gold box was tied with a red bow.
Now conscious of the dark truck in the parking lot, her heart beating a little too fast, she picked it up.
The neat print on the back of the gold tag read “I want you to find it again.”
She knew exactly what it was. It meant the inexplicable feeling of magic she’d told Erik she’d once known every Christmas. The feeling of everything being right in her world. He knew it was the feeling she’d wanted her son to know and something she’d given up hope of ever experiencing again herself.
Yet that sense was what she felt now as she lifted the lid on the box to find a glittery little life preserver on a thin gold cord.
She had the feeling he was only letting her know he’d help her stay afloat with the business. And that was huge. But the way he’d done it had her closing the box and holding it with both hands to her heart.
It was only then that she looked to where Erik unfolded his arms and stepped away from his driver’s side door.
Gravel crunched beneath his hiking boots as he moved past the bits of storm debris still strewn over the wet grass. Dark plaid flannel hung open over a navy Henley shirt, his broad shoulders looking impossibly wide as he climbed the steps and stopped in front of her.
He hadn’t been at all sure what to expect when he’d left the box for her.
