The Mills & Boon Christmas Wishes Collection. Maisey Yates

backwards wave.

      Timothy grabbed my arm. “Wait,” he said. “A few of the old gang are getting together next week. They’d love to see you. Micah will be there.”

      “Umm, yeah…” I said distractedly as Scarlett, the girl with the most angelic cherubic face, stood behind her father dragging her index finger along her throat. Was she warning me to say no? What was that! I had zero clue about children, but it did intimidate me. She who could handle the worst Bridezillas was scared of a five-year-old!

      Tim, oblivious to my hesitation, said, “So it’s a date! See you at Shakin’ Shack. Micah knows the details.” He bent to kiss my cheek as I mumbled about confirming closer to the day.

      They walked away hand in hand as Scarlett turned once more to glare at me. What had I just agreed to?

      Really, though, it would be good to see the gang again. Over time, we’d lost contact, but I often thought about them. Would I be the only one who was still trying to make sense of her life? Timothy radiated a cool, calm vibe like he was exactly where he was meant to be, and I was his polar opposite, fumbling with making basic conversation. The collected Manhattanite in me had vanished and was replaced with the former version of myself. Imagine if they knew I’d been fired and shunned in New York. Would they secretly think I deserved it for being ambitious when I left Evergreen? Only to return home, tail between my legs, buying the lodge on a whim, and claiming I’d make it something great?

      With a deep, steadying breath I gave myself a pep talk, and tried to quash any crisis of confidence. Further ahead, Kai was leaning against the wall, his arms folded across his chest, like he was in contemplation.

      “There you are.”

      Kai had one leg against the wall, soft sunlight making him sleepy-eyed. “Sorry, I had to take that call. It was about another job. Looks like it’ll be Christmas in San Francisco for me.”

      San Francisco… the other side of the country. My heart dropped at knowing Kai wouldn’t be around for the renovation of the chapel or the chalets. I felt a pang of sorrow that he’d be elsewhere, and for Christmas Day too. I always knew he’d be leaving, but a part of me wanted to host a Christmas Day party for the staff who were away from family and make it special. And Kai had become part of the Cedarwood family – that was why I particularly wanted him to be here.

      “Who was that guy?” he asked.

      “Oh…” I waved him away. “Just an old friend.”

      Kai raised a sardonic brow. “Cute kids.”

      I laughed. “Yeah, cute. Let’s go to the hardware store. I need to find Imelda.” Angst sat heavy in my belly and I had the overwhelming sensation I’d let life pass me by while trying to reach the unattainable in my career. Was I doing it again, setting myself up for failure? What would I have left this time if Cedarwood didn’t work out?

      Kai put his hands on my shoulders. “Breathe. Your shoulders are up around your ears.”

      I wriggled from his grasp, but he held me firm. “Take a deep breath, and count to five…” Kai was often mystical, like some kind of surfer yogi, and I just didn’t understand it. How would holding my breath for five seconds achieve anything? Even being rewarded by staring into the ocean blue of his calming gaze wasn’t enough to make me believe.

      “I’m fine, Kai. Really. I’ll count to ten later to make up for it. Let’s go.”

      With one of his penetrating looks he said, “Clio, seriously, you hold so much stress in your body, it’s toxic. Just chill for five seconds.”

      I willed my eyes not to roll, but he was so sure it would fix everything I didn’t have the heart to ignore him again. “Fine. One, two, threefourfive. There. I’m cured.” I grabbed his hand and dragged him across the road, surprised to feel a tingle racing up my arm from his touch. Kai had the sort of hands that were made for holding, I guess. Strong, warm hands.

      Walter, Imelda’s son, was standing by the cash register, spooling a ream of escaped receipt paper.

      “Well, hello, Clio. Would have recognized you anywhere after Mom’s description of you – Carrie Bradshaw hair indeed. Though don’t tell anyone I know who Carrie Bradshaw is – I’d never live it down.” Walter had a ruddy complexion and deep-set eyes, just like his father. He wore a checked shirt and suspenders, which somehow suited him, being holed up in a hardware store, which was ripe with the scent of old motor oil and dust.

      I winked. “Your secret is safe with me. Is Imelda here?” Even though they claimed they’d retired years ago, Imelda was often found here according to Micah. He said she couldn’t quite let go of her working life. Edgar tinkered around with tools as well, and swept up the workshop, their days too long without something to keep their heads and hands busy.

      “Mom’s out back in the office.” He jerked his thumb in that direction. “Says she had to tidy up some paperwork, even though my wife does it these days.” He shrugged. “What she means is, she’s double-checking the figures because she can’t grasp that anyone else could do it right. Who am I to argue?” There was no malice in his voice, just deep-seated admiration.

      “They need to find a hobby, maybe?” I smiled and then dropped my voice. “While I’ve got you, can I ask a favor?”

      He nodded.

      “I want to do a slide show of photos that we can play before the speeches. Set to music, maybe songs they’ve loved over the years? A photo montage of their love through each decade.”

      Walter grinned. “Now you’re talking! Mom and Dad would love that.”

      “But let’s keep it between us?”

      “Your secret is safe with me.” He repeated my earlier sentiment.

      I smiled. “Can you get hold of some photos without them knowing?”

      Walter thumbed his chin. “It wasn’t long ago that Dad had all his photos scanned and saved in the cloud – that was a fun day explaining what the cloud was. How about I copy the photos onto a USB and you can choose which suit?”

      “That’d be perfect. And what about music? Any chance you can take a flick through their albums and let me know what stands out, what songs you remember hearing?”

      At that he rolled his eyes dramatically. “I wouldn’t even have to look. Dad serenaded Mom with Percy Sledge’s When a Man Loves a Woman at their wedding, and then every year since, but Dad can’t sing a jot, and he’s so out of tune it’s actually painful to hear. Mom seems to like it, though.”

      I let out a burble of laughter, imagining Edgar warbling to Imelda in spite of being tone deaf. “Gosh, they’re adorable. OK, so that can be the first song, and can you email me the titles of any others that mean something to them?”

      “Sure.” His face broke into a huge grin, making the resemblance between him and Edgar more obvious. “They’re really excited about the party, Clio. And what you’re doing will thrill them, it really will. I can sneak over to their house this afternoon for a recon mission and send it all to you.”

      Kai wandered over, his basket full of pipes and tubes and God knows what.

      “I’ll leave you to it,” I said, grinning at the huge smile on his face. Men and hardware stores! Even the surfer yogi wasn’t immune. “I’m going to have a quick chat with Imelda and then I’ll meet you at Puft later?” Kai nodded as they fell into serious conversation about amps of drills and which battery had the longest life.

      Imelda’s office was meticulously tidy, with stacks of yellowing paperwork in neat straight piles and a scented candle flickering on the table.

      “Hello, pretty girl!” Her face crinkled into a smile. “What’s been happening at the lodge?”

      I detailed the progress we’d made and where I was at in terms of the preparations. “What about a dance, Imelda? I know you’re