Her Holiday Family. Ruth Logan Herne

stopped Tina Martinelli in her tracks as she stepped through the back door of Campbell’s Hardware Store late Sunday morning. “I’ll do whatever you need, Dad. I’m here to stay.”

      Max Campbell was here? In Kirkwood Lake?

      Max Campbell, her teenage crush. The Campbell son who’d enlisted in the army and had never looked back. Max Campbell, the to-die-for, dark-haired, brown-eyed, adopted Latino son who’d broken countless hearts back in the day? The guy who used to hang out at her neighbor’s house, until Pete Sawyer and his girlfriend lost their lives in a tragic late-night boating accident.

      She’d never seen Max at the Sawyers’ again. Not to visit Pete’s parents. Not to offer Pete’s little sister, Sherrie, a hug. Abnormally quiet became the new normal.

      No more Max, no more Pete, no more parties.

      A lot had changed on one warm, dark summer’s night.

      The wooden back door of Campbell’s Hardware swung shut before she could stop it, the friendly squeak announcing her arrival. She did a very feminine mental reassessment before moving forward.

       Hair?

      Typical elfin crazy.

       Nails?

      Short and stubby, perfect for a hardware clerk, but not for coming face-to-face with Max Campbell over a decade later.

       Makeup?

      She hadn’t bothered with any. She’d spent her early morning testing a new recipe, something she hoped to use in the not-too-distant future.

      “Tina? That you?” The forced heartiness of Charlie Campbell’s voice said she had little choice but to move forward, so that’s what she did.

      “I’m here, Charlie.” She strode into the store, shoulders back, chin high, when what she wanted was a thirty-minute makeover. Why hadn’t she worn her favorite jeans, the ones that made her feel young, jazzed and totally able to handle whatever life handed out?

       Because you were coming to work in a hardware store, and who wears their best jeans to work in a hardware store?

      The two men turned in tandem.

      Her heart stopped when she locked eyes with Max.

      She set it right back to beating with a stern internal warning because, despite Max’s short, dark hair and dangerously attractive good looks, the guy had left his adoptive family when he’d finished college and hadn’t come back since. And that was plain wrong.

      “Tina, you remember our son Max, don’t you?” Pride strengthened Charlie’s voice, while the effects of his ongoing chemotherapy showed the reality of his current battle with pancreatic cancer. “He’s a captain now, but he’s come back home for a while.”

      “For good, Dad.” Max’s gaze offered assurance tinged with regret, but life taught Tina that assurances often meant little and ended badly. Around Kirkwood Lake the proof was in the pudding, as Jenny Campbell liked to say. And Max had a lot of proving to do.

      She stepped forward and extended her hand, wishing her skin was smoother, her nails prettier, her—

      He wrapped her hand in a broad, warm clasp, sure and strong but gentle, too.

      And then he did the unthinkable.

      He noticed her.

      His gaze sharpened. His eyes widened. He gripped his other hand around the first, embracing her hand with both of his. “This is little Tina? Little Tina Martinelli? For real?”

      The blush started somewhere around her toes and climbed quickly.

       Little Tina.

      That’s what she’d been to him, an awestruck kid stargazing as the wretchedly good-looking youngest Campbell brother broke hearts across the lakeside villages. Max wasn’t what you’d call a bad boy...

      But no one accused him of being all that good, either.

      “It’s me.” She flashed him a smile, hoping her Italian skin softened the blush, but the frankness of Charlie’s grin said it hadn’t come close. “I—”

      “It’s good to see you, Tina.”

      Warmth. Honesty. Integrity.

      His tone and words professed all three, so maybe the army had done him good, but she’d locked down her teenage crush a long time back. Over. Done. Finished. “You, too.”

      Did he hold her hand a moment too long?

      Of course not, he was just being nice.

      But when she pulled her hand away, a tiny glint in his eye set her heart beating faster.

      Clearly she needed a pacemaker, because she wasn’t about to let Max Campbell’s inviting smile and good looks tempt her from her newly planned road. Life had offered an unwelcome detour less than four weeks ago, when her popular café burned to the ground on a windswept October night. She’d watched the flames devour ten years of hard work and sacrifice, everything gone in two short hours. It made her heart ache to think how quickly things could change.

      “You’re working here, Tina?” Max angled his head slightly, and his appreciative look said this was an interesting—and nice—turn of events.

      “Tina came on board to help when I got sick,” Charlie explained. He indicated the waterfront southwest of them with a thrust of his chin. “She had the nicest little café right over there in Sol Rigby’s old mechanics shop. Put a lot of time and money into that place, a bunch of years. Her coffee shop became one of those places folks love to stop at, but it caught fire a few weeks back. The local volunteers did their best to save it, but the sharp north wind and the fire’s head start was too much. So Tina’s helping us out while we’re waiting for the dust to settle with my treatments.”

      Concern darkened Max’s gaze as he turned her way, as if the loss of her beloved business mattered, as if she mattered.

       Don’t look like that, Max.

       Don’t look like you care that my hopes and dreams went up in smoke. That despite how I invested every penny and ounce of energy into building that business, it evaporated in one crazy, flame-filled night. You’re not the caring type, remember? When life turns tragic, you tend to disappear. And I’ve had enough of that to last a lifetime.

      Tears pricked her eyes.

      She’d been doing better these past few weeks. She could walk past the burned-out building and not shed a tear. Oh, she shed some mental ones each time, but she hadn’t cried for real since that first week, when rain or a puff of wind sent the smell of burned-out wood wafting through the village.

      “Tina, I’m so sorry.” He looked like he wanted to say more, but stopped himself. He appraised her, then stepped back. “You don’t mind teaching me stuff, do you? I’m pretty good with a grappling hook or an all-terrain vehicle on caterpillar treads. Put a semiautomatic in my hands and I’m on my game.” He made a G.I. Joe–type motion and stance, ready to stand guard for truth, justice and the American way. “But Dad’s new computerized cash registers?” He made a face of fear, and the fact that he steered the conversation away from her pain meant he recognized the emotion and cared.

      Sure he cares. Like you’re a kid sister who just broke her favorite toy. Get hold of yourself, will you? “I’ll be glad to show you whatever you need, Max.” She shifted her gaze left. “Charlie, are you staying today?”

      “Naw.” Frustration marred Charlie’s normal smile. “The treatments are catching up with me. When Max showed up at the house yesterday and said he was here to run the store for as long as we need him, well, I’ll tell you.” Charlie slapped a hand on his youngest son’s back. “It was a gift from God. I’d just told Jenny we needed someone here to help you and Earl, with the holidays coming up and all. And while I hate that your pretty little