The Christmas Baby Surprise. Shirley Jump

kitchen, her tail wagging, while she watched the exchange between the humans with curiosity in her brown eyes.

      “I’m mainly a plumber, but I know how to do just about anything. That’s what comes from buying my own fixer-upper twenty years ago.” He grinned. “I’m still working on it two decades later. The carpenter’s always the one who doesn’t get time to build his own furniture.”

      “I bet that drives your wife crazy,” Carol said.

      “Would if I had one,” Martin said. “But my Sarah passed away, going on ten years now.”

      “I’m so sorry,” Carol said. “Listen, we were just having lunch. Could I get you something to eat, and we can talk about the repairs? I’ve got leftover meat loaf in the fridge if you want a meat loaf sandwich.”

      Martin’s grin widened. “I haven’t had one of those for years and years. But I hate to put you out. I’m sure you’re busy.”

      Carol giggled. Actually giggled. “Oh, it’s no trouble at all. You sit, and I’ll fix the sandwich.”

      Emily had finished her salad and rose to put her plate in the sink. “Nice to meet you, Martin,” she said to the handyman, then turned to Carol. “I’m going to go back to work for a little bit.”

      “Okay,” Carol said. “Be sure to get out and enjoy this bright sunshine, too. It’s an absolutely gorgeous fall day.”

      Emily glanced out the window. “You know, that sounds like a great idea. I think I’ll take a notebook and head down to the dock.”

      “Sounds like a perfect way to spend an afternoon,” Carol said.

      Martin and Carol started talking about the repairs needed at the inn. Their conversation flowed easily, with a little undercurrent of interest on both sides.

      A few minutes later, Emily threw on a thick sweatshirt, then grabbed a notebook and a pen and headed outside. Cole’s rental car was nowhere to be seen. A part of her hoped he’d done what he always did—hired someone to do what needed to be done so he could go back to work. Whenever she had something on the honey-do list, Cole would pick up the phone and solve the problem. There were times when she wanted to yell at him that she didn’t want hired help. She wanted her husband to be the one to hang the pictures, move the sofa, trim the old maple tree in the backyard. Because that meant he would be home for more than a few minutes, and she’d feel like they were in this life together, not two trains running on parallel tracks that slowly diverged in opposite directions.

      The lake’s water glistened under the bright sun, as if diamonds had been sprinkled across the smooth, lightly rippled surface. The same wooden bench she remembered sat at the end of the dock, weathered and gray. She sat down, drew her feet up to her chest and leaned against the armrest. The sun warmed her face and shoulders, and soon Emily was immersed in her ideas. She scribbled all over the notepad, plot twists and character details flowing as fast as her pen could put the words on the page.

      It was as if a waterfall had been held back too long, she realized. Maybe that’s what it was—all those years of trying to be Cole’s wife, putting everything she wanted to do to the side so that she could keep the perfect house and the perfect life, then be the perfect wife at banquets and dinners and parties. Her self had disappeared somewhere among the gossip-filled brunches with the other wives, the afternoons spent playing another round of golf while Cole networked. She’d forgotten the ambitions she’d had when she graduated, the dreams she was going to pursue. But now here, finally, she was doing it. Taking Melissa’s advice and living her life before it was too late.

      “Enjoying the day?”

      Cole’s voice jerked her to attention. Her pen skittered across the page. “You scared me.”

      “Sorry. You were so lost in what you were doing there, I guess you didn’t hear me clomping down the dock.”

      “You never clomp, Cole.” She chuckled. “You’re a little too refined for that.”

      “Oh, are you saying I’ve gotten soft in my days behind a desk?”

      The word soft made her glance over at his trim body, still muscular and strong, thanks to frequent gym workouts. He’d put a thick black leather jacket over the T-shirt and jeans, giving him an almost...dangerous air. The day she’d met him, he’d been wearing a leather jacket much like this one. In an instant, she was back in time, standing on a sidewalk and apologizing for running into Cole because she’d had her nose buried in a book, reading while she’d walked to class. He’d told her she should never apologize for a good story, and as he helped her pick up her schoolbooks, they’d started talking, and it felt like they hadn’t stopped talking for a solid month. By the holiday break, she was in love with him and by the end of the school year, Cole had proposed. All because she’d seen the leather jacket and thought he was sexy, and she’d been intrigued by a man who looked like a biker but talked like a scholar.

      What was she doing? Getting distracted by the man she no longer wanted?

      “Mind if I share the seat?” he asked. “Grab a little break?”

      “Sure.” She turned, put her feet on the dock and moved to make room on the bench for him. As soon as she did, she regretted the decision. The bench was small, and Cole was so close, it would only take a breath of movement for her thigh to be touching his.

      “I got you something when I was in town,” he said, and handed her a small brown bag.

      “What’s this?”

      He waved at the bag. “Open it and see.”

      She peeked inside the bag. A shiny wrapper with a familiar logo winked back at her. “You got me my favorite snack cakes?”

      “Thought you might be craving them.”

      For a second, she thought he knew she was pregnant, and she panicked. Then Cole chuckled. “If I remember right, you were always craving those things. I think we cleaned out the campus cafeteria on a weekly basis. What’d you use to say?” He leaned back, thinking. “There’s always a reason—”

      “To celebrate with cake.” She took the package out of the bag. “Of course, that’s what I said when I had the metabolism of a twenty-year-old.”

      Cole reached up, as if he was going to brush away the bangs on her forehead, but withdrew without touching her. She swallowed the bitter taste of disappointment. “You’re still as beautiful now as the day I met you, Emily.”

      She got to her feet. “Cole—”

      He reached for her hand. When Cole touched her, electricity sizzled in Emily’s veins, and her heart caught. “I’m not saying anything other than that you’re beautiful, Emily. No reason to run.”

      It did look ridiculous to hurry off the dock just because Cole had complimented her. She retook her seat. “Let’s just keep this friendly, okay?”

      “Sure.” If he was disappointed, he didn’t show it. He propped his feet on the railing in front of him, leaned back on the bench and tilted his face to the sun, eyes closed.

      It was as if all the years of stress and long hours melted away. Cole looked younger, happier, more peaceful than she had seen him in a long time. Maybe working on the inn was doing him some good. For years, she’d worried about him having a heart attack at work because he worked too much, ate at odd hours and had more stress on his shoulders than anyone she knew.

      “I met Martin,” she said, unwrapping the snack cake and taking a bite. It was heaven on her palate. “Did you hire him to do all the work around here?”

      “Nope. Just to help on the things I’m not good at. I figure I’ll stay a few more days.” He opened his eyes and turned to look at her. “If that’s okay with you.”

      How could she say no? He was helping Carol, and Carol desperately needed help if she was going to keep the inn running. Plus, Cole looked so relaxed, so happy, something Emily had rarely