1225 Christmas Tree Lane. Debbie Macomber

wanted to come for Christmas,” Bailey answered, as if that was all the explanation required.

      “Did he give you any particular reason?” she asked suspiciously.

      Sophie shook her head. “None that he mentioned.” That wasn’t too helpful; still, Beth persisted. “But why this year?”

      Bailey shrugged. “Don’t know. All I can tell you is that he said he missed us and asked if he could join us for Christmas. We couldn’t say no. You wouldn’t want us to, would you, Mom?”

      “Of course not.” Beth looked from one daughter to the other. “He didn’t say anything more than that? You’re sure?”

      “Positive.” Both girls widened their eyes, expressions innocent as could be.

      Convinced there was more to this sudden desire to be with them—and remembering Grace’s suggestion that the girls might be more involved than they were letting on—Beth hesitated. She wanted to probe deeper but really needed to get to work. As it was, she’d lingered with her daughters well into Jeff’s lunch hour.

      “You’ll be okay without me?” Beth asked, abandoning all inquiries for the moment.

      “Mom, it isn’t like we’re six years old!”

      “I know, I know, it’s just that I hate leaving you so soon after you got here.”

      “Go,” Bailey said, ushering her toward the door. “We’ll be fine. We’ll unpack our suitcases and put It’s a Wonderful Life in the DVD player.”

      “I want to watch it, too,” Beth protested. It was their favorite Christmas movie.

      “Okay, we’ll hold off until tonight. Now go.”

      Walking out the door, Beth blew them a kiss, the same way she had every time she left for work when they were youngsters.

      The second the door closed, Bailey turned to her sister. “Do you think Mom suspects anything?” “I’m not sure….”

      “I told you we needed to get our story straight before we saw her!”

      “I didn’t think she’d drill us with questions the instant we walked in the door. Just remember, this whole idea was yours,” Sophie reminded her.

      “But you agreed! Dad’s miserable without Mom, and Mom needs Dad whether she’s willing to admit it or not.”

      “Well, she’s not willing to admit it, not yet,” Sophie said. She rinsed out the soup pan and placed it in the dishwasher. “I never really understood why they got divorced,” she mused.

      “Yeah.” Bailey was wiping off the kitchen counter. “It didn’t make any sense.”

      “When they told us I thought they were joking. Some joke, huh?”

      “Could there be anyone else involved?” Bailey asked, growing introspective. “Mom mentioned that vet again. Ted something.”

      “Ted Reynolds. She hasn’t dated in ages, but she seems to like him. He could be trouble.”

      Bailey frowned. “The problem with Mom is that she’s living inside an … an emotional cocoon.” She nodded, pleased with that description. “She’s consumed by this tree farm so she doesn’t have to think about Dad or the divorce or anything else.”

      “Who made you the expert?” Sophie muttered.

      Bailey ignored the sarcasm. “I took this really great psychology class, and I recognized what Mom’s been doing for the past few years. We’ve got to shake her up, make her realize the divorce was a terrible mistake.”

      “It’s not just the tree farm, it’s those darn puppies,” Sophie lamented. “With puppies constantly showing up on Mom’s porch, she can focus all her attention on them. She spends a lot of time training her dogs for those canine therapy programs—”

      “And being the unofficial rescue facility,” Bailey threw in.

      Sophie nodded. “And now there’s this Ted guy. Getting Mom and Dad together isn’t going to be as easy as you think.”

      “What did you tell Dad?” Bailey asked.

      Sophie slouched into a chair and stared at her sister. “Just that it’s important to Mom that we all spend Christmas together.”

      “Did he ask why?”

      “Not really. He said he didn’t have any fixed plans for Christmas, and if Mom wanted him to come he would.”

      “What are we going to tell them when they discover we arranged this?”

      “What we should’ve said when they told us they were getting divorced. This is stupid. They should’ve tried harder.”

      “They just grew apart, that’s all, but if they’d made an effort they could’ve gotten close again, right?” “Right.”

      “Marriage takes work,” Bailey said, feeling wise. The research for her recent psych essay on “Family in the New Millennium” had made that very clear to her.

      “I just don’t want them to be upset with us,” Sophie said, worried.

      “They can’t. It’s Christmas. We brought them together … okay, under false pretenses, but they can’t be mad because we’re only doing what’s best for them.”

      “Amen. Sing it, sister.”

      “We’ll sing it in two-part harmony.”

      “Dad gets here when?”

      “Tomorrow afternoon.”

      “Perfect.” Sophie held up two crossed fingers. “I believe. I believe.”

      “So do I,” Bailey echoed. This was going to be the most wonderful Christmas of their lives and it didn’t have a single thing to do with the wrapped packages under the tree. It was because of the gift they intended to give their parents.

      And each other.

      The snow had stopped falling, and the grounds were so pristine and lovely, they could’ve been on a book cover. Or a Christmas card. The evergreens were daubed with snow, giving them a flocked look that was more beautiful than anything Beth could reproduce with the sticky artificial stuff her crew applied to the more elaborately decorated trees in the shop.

      “We’re back,” Bruce Peyton said as he approached Beth. “And this time, we’re definitely going home with a tree.”

      His pregnant wife, Rachel, looked so much better than she had two weeks ago. Beth had learned later that Rachel was hospitalized with food poisoning that same evening. Bruce’s teenage daughter, Jolene, was with them today, as she’d been before.

      “Are all the best trees taken?” the girl asked, her eyes wide with concern.

      She had a point. The trees closer to the house had been thinned out, but there were still a number of excellent spruces and firs in the far lot. “Not to worry,” she assured Jolene. “I always save the best for last.” She handed the girl a cup of warm cocoa. “If you’d like, I’ll have my foreman take you to the back twenty in the ATV and you can see for yourself.”

      “Really?”

      “Really,” Beth confirmed. She led them over to Jeff, made introductions and gave him Jolene’s request.

      The ATVs were built for two, so Jeff took one and Jolene climbed on behind him. Bruce took the second vehicle. Rachel looked at the hard seat, then eyed the dirt road speculatively.

      “I think I’ll stay here and visit with Beth while you two choose the tree.”

      “You can’t,” Jolene said loudly. “You have to help pick out the tree. That’s the most fun part.”

      “I’m