him, to say the least. Nick strolled over to the tree, figuring it shouldn’t be too hard to hold up his end of the bargain. He’d pick one, buy the gift and then get to work. But as he surveyed the tags, his plans quickly got derailed.
“A stuffed puppy,” one read, “because Mommy says we can’t buy food for a real one.”
“A collar with a name tag for my kitten,” another said, “because she’s my best friend, and I don’t want her to get lost.”
One in particular caught his eye because he recognized his niece Hannah’s writing from the artwork plastering the front of his sister’s fridge. Taking it from the branch, he read the misspelled request. “Ples brng uncl nik hom to liv. Momy and grama mis him.”
Not Grampa, though. Even four-year-old Hannah had picked up on the rift in the family, Nick thought as he showed the tag to Julia. “Did you see this one?”
“Yes. Lainie and Todd brought the kids in Wednesday morning to wish me a Happy Thanksgiving.”
“Hannah just met me,” he protested. “Why would she wish for me to come home?”
Julia tilted her head at him with a sympathetic expression. “She’s a sweet little girl, and she wants to make her family happy.”
“Well, I’m not staying.” Crushing the cut-out snowflake in his fist, he jammed it into the pocket of his coat. Although he couldn’t fulfill his niece’s request, he didn’t want her to be disappointed on Christmas Day. “You should have her make another tag so she gets something else.”
“You could compromise by staying a few more days,” Julia suggested while she wired holly berries into one of the display wreaths. “Let her get to know you and vice versa. You might even enjoy yourself.”
She didn’t seem to be listening to him, so Nick was fairly certain he’d never be able to make this kind woman see his point of view. Out of long-standing habit, he went with bravado. “That’s not gonna happen. I have a business to get back to.”
She pressed her perfectly curved lips into a disapproving line but didn’t say anything more on the subject. Ending the argument had been Nick’s intent, but he had to admit her quick surrender was a letdown. Not that it mattered, of course. He’d just been hoping she’d give him more of a challenge.
“You can set yourself up in my office.” She pointed to a burgundy velvet curtain held aside by gold tassels. “It’s back through there.”
“Thanks, but I need to buy a toy first.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Flicking her hand, she set a gold charm bracelet jingling like a set of sleigh bells. “I know you’re anxious to get out of town, so I won’t hold you up.”
He wasn’t crazy about choosing a gift for some rug rat he didn’t even know, so Nick was thrilled to be let off the hook so easily. He hurried toward the back of the store before she could change her mind. As he pulled his laptop from its case, Nick was disturbed to find he was still rattled by Hannah’s Christmas wish. She was so young, he was sure his sister hadn’t filled her in on the darker side of the McHenry family history. It was hard for grown-ups to handle, and he wouldn’t wish it on a child.
He was objective and logical by nature. Ideal for a reporter, those qualities also served him well in his personal relationships. He kept people—including his family—at arm’s length because he’d learned that was the best way to get through life unscathed. Since they’d just met, Julia didn’t know that, and even if he managed to find a way to explain, she wouldn’t understand. Open and gracious, she was his polar opposite, like sunshine bringing light to a cloudy day.
Completely out of character for him, the poetic image didn’t do much for his mood, and he grumbled as he settled in at Julia’s desk and powered up his computer. Hopefully, focusing on work would get his mind off the clash of emotions Hannah’s innocent request had unleashed inside him.
His quick trip to the toy store had turned into more than he’d planned on, and he didn’t like it. Not one bit.
Chapter Two
Julia was hanging stockings on the mantel when she felt a tug on the hem of her sweater. She didn’t recognize the little boy, but he had a shy look about him, so she hunkered down to his level. “May I help you, sir?”
“My friend told me you’re doing ging-a-bread houses,” he answered so quietly she had to strain to hear him.
“Yes, we are.” Noticing his mother hovering nearby, she smiled at the young woman, then at her son. “Every Saturday from two to five, starting next week. Did you want to make one? I can add you to our list.”
His hazel eyes big as saucers, he nodded solemnly. “My name is Colby.”
As he stared at her, Julia got the feeling he wanted to say something else, but she didn’t want to rush him. A timid soul herself, she resented it when people hurried her through a conversation or—worse yet—presumed they knew what she was thinking. So she took her time writing his name on the schedule.
A few seconds later, he rewarded her patience. “Do you have any more of those trucks?”
He pointed to an antique model from Berlin. Part of Julia’s private collection, it was one-of-a-kind and not for sale. Judging by his mother’s panicky look, she’d already guessed that.
Julia eased her mind with a wink, then spoke to her son. “Actually, that’s the last one. I found it at a store in Germany, and I’ve been saving it for someone special. Do you think maybe that’s you?”
“Yes,” he replied, quickly this time. “It’s just like the one my granddad used to drive when he helped build the road out to Schooner Point. He showed me pictures...”
Delighted that he’d opened up to her, Julia listened while Colby relayed some of what his grandfather had told him about working on the road crew. When he was finished, she took a blank snowflake from the basket on the counter. “To get the truck, you need to fill this out for me and hang it on the Gifting Tree. In return, bring in a small gift for someone else to make their Christmas better. Okay?”
He checked with his mom, who looked a little shocked but nodded. While he was occupied filling out his tag, she moved closer to Julia. “How did you do that?” she asked in a hushed tone. “He never talks to anyone outside the family.”
Laughing, Julia patted her arm. “Boys and trucks. Or lizards or snakes, or something like that.”
“How many children do you have?”
The innocent question plucked a painful nerve, but Julia covered it with a smile. “None. I just like kids.”
Glancing around, the young mother leaned in closer. “I have to say, I’ve heard some not very nice things about you since you moved here in the spring. But that truck must’ve been expensive, and you’re very generous to give it to a little boy you don’t even know. I’m glad to find out those folks were wrong.”
Time and again Julia had endured the snap judgments people made about her simply because they assumed she must be snobby and spoiled because she was rich and famous. She’d come to this picturesque village, far removed from the public eye, intending to erase all that and start
