Her Holiday Family. Ruth Logan Herne

him. Talk to him. So she did just that on the drive to the Campbell house, happy that no one could see her talking with the big yellow dog, but more glad of his trusting company.

      If nothing else crazy occurred in her life this year, she was determined to get herself a dog. Maybe.

      Beezer yipped softly, as if telling her she didn’t need another dog, she could still share him. If she stayed.

      And there was the crux of the problem. A big part of Tina didn’t want to stay and face past failures anymore.

Chapter Three

      “Hey, Beeze.” Max swung down from the elevated boathouse as Tina rounded the corner of the Campbell house at half past six. He looked sports-channel-commercial-friendly in easy-cut jeans and a long-sleeved Pittsburgh Pirates sweatshirt.

      “Did you keep an eye on things, old fella?” He stooped and ruffled the dog’s neck, rubbing Beeze’s favorite spot beneath the wide collar. “All good?” He looked up at her as he asked the question, and the sight of him, caring for the aging dog, looking all sweet and concerned and amazingly good-looking...

      She took three seconds to put her heart back in normal sinus rhythm mode. “Everything went fine. Dozens of happy customers picking up their tools and buying fixer-upper stuff to get ready for the holidays.” She frowned as Beeze headed for the water, though she knew she had nothing to worry about. Beeze was a country dog and his daily swim was an old habit now. “He’ll smell like wet dog all night.”

      “I’ll put him on the porch. Dad’s gotten sensitive to smells. The chemo, I guess. He says nothing smells right anymore.”

      “Will it get better when he’s done?”

      Max’s expression said he wasn’t sure anything would get better, ever. Seeing that, her heart softened more.

      “Hope so.” Max headed for the house. “Come on in. Beeze will join us once he’s done with his swim.”

      Tina knew that. She’d spent an increasing amount of time at the Campbell house over the past decade. Charlie and Jen were good at taking in strays, and when her family had fallen apart, they’d jumped right in. She’d spent holidays here, preserved food with Jenny during the summer, and when Seth Campbell spotted her café on fire a few weeks back from his house across the road, he’d called 9-1-1 and his parents.

      They’d helped her then.

      She’d help them now. And she’d have done it for no pay, but Charlie wouldn’t hear of it. A true fatherly type, he understood cash was finite in a week-to-week existence, and he insisted on paying her for her time. “You know, if you’re too tired, we can go over this stuff in the morning. I know you’ve had a long day.”

      “Except we could really use the light guy’s take on all this.” Max’s nod toward the door said Charlie’s input was key.

      “Is he up to it?”

      “Let’s ask him.” Max swung the porch door wide and waited while she stepped in. The smell of roast chicken chased away any pale arguments she might have raised about staying for dinner. She used to grab quick food as she prepared orders at the café. She’d never worried about cooking or grocery shopping at home because she ate on the job. Now?

      Truth to tell, she’d been barely eating at all. The realization smacked her upside the head as she crossed to Charlie’s big recliner. “Hey, there. We had a great day today, thanks to Max’s overnight efforts.”

      “Yeah?” Charlie’s smile was a thin portrait of the one they knew so well. Tiredness dogged his eyes. “Max and Earl got all that stuff fixed?”

      “We did. And how about we have you move into the living room, Dad, because when Beeze comes in from the lake, he’s going to smell pretty bad. I’ll leave him outside for a while, but then I’ll tuck him on the porch. If that’s all right.”

      “I can towel him off when he’s done with his swim,” Tina added. “Then he can curl up by the heater. He and I are used to this routine.”

      “Are you now?” Max lobbed an old towel her way from the stack they kept inside the back door. “You’re elected, then. Need a hand, Dad?”

      “I wouldn’t mind one.” Charlie huffed as he pressed his hands against the wide arms of the chair. He pushed down hard, but paused midway to catch his breath.

      Max didn’t fuss, he didn’t act the least bit concerned or surprised, which told her he was skilled at pretense, and that wasn’t something women put in the plus column. She’d had her share of guys who pretended to be happy. Never again. Still, his calm demeanor and strong arm beneath his father’s elbow allowed Charlie the extra support he needed, and Max’s matter-of-fact manner kept the moment drama-free. “Do you want to eat at the table or in the family room? There’s an eight-o’clock game on ESPN.”

      “Who’d you say was playing?”

      Tina sucked a breath. Charlie Campbell knew sports like no other. He loved catching games on TV, and he’d installed a TV in the hardware store so he could catch Pittsburgh throughout both seasons, baseball and football. He’d been celebrating their growing success all year. Before chemotherapy muddled his mind, Charlie would never forget what game was on, who’d scored the most points or who landed on the disabled list.

      But he had.

      He passed a hand across his forehead as he settled into the firm family-room chair. “They said I might forget stuff.”

      “It appears they were right,” Max teased. “But Dad, that’s normal for chemo. And it all comes back later.”

      Charlie stared at Max, stared right at him with a look that said too much, but then he shrugged, playing along. “That’ll be good.”

      Tina’s heart sank. For just a moment, she read the realization in Max’s eyes, his face-off with the grim reality of a new timeline, but then he leaned in, hugged his father and backed off. “I’ll bring you a tray, okay?”

      Charlie’s face paled further, and Tina hadn’t thought that was possible. She touched Max’s arm to draw his attention to “Plan B.” “Or Charlie and I could just sit and talk while you guys eat,” she offered brightly. “I’ll fill him in on store stuff and pick his brain about the festival of lights.”

      “Since I want to be in on that conversation, I bet Mom won’t mind if we hold off supper for a few minutes while we figure this out. Great idea, Tina.”

      His praise warmed her. His expression said he recognized her ploy and approved. It was clear that Charlie didn’t want food, and despite the great smells emanating from Jenny Campbell’s kitchen, Tina didn’t mind waiting. Not if it helped Charlie.

      * * *

      Max set a side chair alongside Tina’s in the family room and took a seat. She pulled a notebook and pen out of her purse. “Charlie, can you give us a quick overview of your normal festival timeline? Max has offered to help, but he hasn’t been here since this tradition started.”

      Ouch. Salt in the wound... Max angled her a look she ignored.

      “I’ve got some notes on my laptop. I’ll have Mom get you the file,” Charlie promised Max, but then added, “Thing is, I go my own way most times, and your mother told me I should write stuff down, but I was stubborn—”

      A distinct cough from the kitchen said Jenny heard and agreed.

      “So some of this I just roll with as it happens.”

      “Tell me those parts, Dad, then I can roll with it in your place.”

      Charlie explained the contracted light display in the park and the circle of lights surrounding the lake supplied by year-round home-owners and lakeshore businesses. A few cottage owners came back in December, too, solely to set up light displays at their summer