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We sit in silence together for a few minutes, each of us just watching the rotating pattern of tree lights—blue, green, white, red.
“What about you?” I end up asking a while later. “What’s your favorite holiday memory? I know you said things are more nontraditional, but there has to be something you can look back on and say…that was the best Christmas or the best Easter or the best Arbor Day.”
Jackson chuckles lightly but then goes quiet for a long time. So long, I wonder if maybe he’s fallen asleep.
“Someday, when I look back on all the holidays of my life,” he says, looking over at me, “I’ll remember the one when I spent a few weeks in a tiny town in the mountains. I’ll think to myself, the best holiday I’ve ever had was the night I sat under the tree lights drinking hot chocolate with Abby Fuller.”
The small smile on my face falls away as surprise ripples through my body.
I assumed he’d tell me about traveling to a gorgeous hideaway in Aspen or spending his Christmas in the Caribbean. Something fantastic and fun and light.
I could never have guessed he’d share something as…unexpected as that. Something so honest. So vulnerable.
“I don’t know. Maybe I shouldn’t be saying something like that, especially when I promised your brother I’d be here for the business and only the business.” He shakes his head. “But there is just something about you that feels different. Makes me want to reconsider…everything.”
I swallow, tucking my leg against my body and wrapping my arms around my knee.
Jackson leans closer so our faces are just inches apart.
He stays there for what feels like forever, his eyes tracking between mine, then looking down at my lips. One hand comes up to the side of my face, and he leans in.
But instead of my mouth, I feel him press his lips against my forehead.
“Merry Christmas, Abby,” he whispers.
Then he pulls back to look at me one more time before he gets up, puts his mug in the sink, and heads back upstairs.
chapter eight
Jackson
I stare out the window, drinking a warm cup of coffee mixed with just a bit of cream, as Abby and Rusty exchange gifts behind me. The two of them have been at it all morning, and it makes me smile.
Rusty explained to me yesterday that they give each other dozens of smaller gifts every year. The rule is that the gifts can’t be more than ten dollars each, and they can only spend a total of two hundred dollars. Whatever else happens is up to them.
It’s really a pretty cute system, and it’s obvious they’ve been doing it for a while, considering the fact that each of them have been slowly buying gifts all year long. Just one of the many unique ways they’ve learned to be their own family.
“And this one is for Jackson.”
I widen my eyes and turn around, surprised to hear that I’ve gotten a gift.
“What?”
Abby is looking up at me expectantly with her arm outstretched, a small box in her hand.
I glance at Rusty. “Did you have anything to do with this?”
He shakes his head. “Nope. Have no idea what’s going on.”
Setting my coffee down on the kitchen island, I accept the box from Abby and slowly begin to open the carefully wrapped present. It’s solid white, barely larger than a phone, and when I slide the top off, I’m quite surprised at what I find inside.
Lifting the small rectangle out, I examine the words.
Cedar Cider Brewery and Pub, Jackson Page, Owner
It’s a nametag made of wood, with the words burned in.
“I doubt you’ll ever wear it,” she says. “And maybe you already have a hundred things like that. But…I don’t know. It seems like doing something like opening a brewery needs some sort of acknowledgment.”
