After a minute of silence that turned strained around the edges, Nolan said, “Please don’t be too hard on them. Gramps and my dad. They… they have their reasons for being grinches at this time of year.”
Julie drew her knees up to her chest and balanced the coffee on top of them. “Oh?”
She watched Nolan take a sip from his mug. His throat bobbed as he swallowed. His hair curled on the bottom edges, wet from sweat or melted snow. He still wore his winter jacket, though it was open. He looked ready to run out the door at any minute.
Strangely, she didn’t want him to go. He wasn’t like the rest of his family. She genuinelylikedhim.
He said, “My mom… died of cancer a couple years back over Christmas.”
She dropped her feet to the floor and set the cup down next to them. On impulse, she reached out to touch the back of his bare hand. His skin was surprisingly warm, given how recently he had been outside. When he looked up, their gazes met and held. She didn’t want to move away.
But shouldn’t she?
* * *
Nolan forgotto breathe when Julie touched the back of his hand. Her touch was gentle, almost hesitant, but it pulled him out of his thoughts. It reminded him that there was someone else here aside from him and more to life than grief.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
He nodded. He wanted to turn his hand, to lace his fingers with hers, but he was afraid if he tried that, she would pull away. Her cheeks were already high with color, the pink washing out her freckles.
Looking her in the eye, he found nothing but sympathy in her expression. Maybe because of that, he started to speak, to pour out the poison that had been building in him these past few weeks with the approach of another Christmas.
“Gramps and Dad—they’re still not over it. It’s like they think if they pretend Christmas doesn’t exist, maybe they won’t feel so hurt. But it doesn’t help. They won’t let me put up the decorations she used to love. Dad even destroyed all our Christmas photos from over the years.”
Julie sucked in a breath. “You’re kidding.”
Nolan almost wished he was, even if it was no joking matter. He shook his head. “Mom loved Christmas. It was when she would put the most energy into decorating the house, cooking, baking, everything. She’d sing off-key in the kitchen, with Christmas songs playing in the background.” He smiled at the memory.
Julie tightened her hand on his. The movement reminded him of how close they were, and yet how far away. He wished he had chosen to sit on the couch next to her, instead of keeping the arm of the chair between them like a buffer. He wanted her comfort. He wanted…
Something he shouldn’t want. He pulled away but offered her a smile so she wouldn’t take it personally. “I should get back,” he said and stood. He set down the mug and said, “Thanks for the coffee.”
He’d barely had a sip. But as much as he wanted to stay, he couldn’t. If he did…
No. It was just too dangerous. He knew Julie wasn’t staying in town. He couldn’t get used to her being here, couldn’t turn to her when he needed time away from the stuffy confines of Barrington Lodge. Unlike Gramps and his dad, Nolan was just starting to feel like his old self again after their loss.
The last thing he needed was another broken heart.
Chapter 22
Julie had four days to fully prepare for the Christmas Eve party. She must have glanced at her phone a thousand times today. She’d even spent most of the day in the kitchen, finishing up the party favors while taking advantage of the better cell phone signal in here. Kringle had threatened to derail her progress one too many times, but even now he’d tired of the frenetic energy she expended in boxing the ornaments into neat white cardboard boxes and affixing Christmas stickers as a seal, and then cleaning and pacing the kitchen.
Her phone did not ring.
What if Ned Wheatley didn’t call in time to fix the sink before the party? The inspection wouldn’t go through. All this preparation would have been for nothing.
Worst of all, Gram would be disappointed. All Julie wanted was to make her gram happy this Christmas.
Unable to keep still and having run out of things to do in the kitchen, she retreated upstairs to the attic to fetch down the box of decorations for the tree. She brought them with her into the kitchen and started to sort through them. It gave her something to do.
At the bottom of the bin, she found a photo album. She brushed away strands of tinsel and stray glitter and lifted out the heavy book. She couldn’t help but smile. It was exactly the sort of thing she would expect to find from Gram, who still had family photos sent to her by email printed out and placed in an album for safekeeping.
This particular photo album was old. Built like a binder, it was a lurid green color that might once have been pleasing to the eye before age had faded it. On the front was a simple evergreen tree, with words too faded for Julie to make out. When she opened it, she found dozens of yellowed pictures of Christmas Eve parties past spanning several years.
Twin elves, dressed in striped green-and-white tights and matching green tunics. These were young men, not much older than Julie if that, but she thought, if she squinted, she recognized them. It must be Ned and his brother.
On the opposite page was a picture of a much younger Myrtle. Below that, Julie’s parents. Her grandparents, holding Julie between them in a red Christmas dress. Gosh, had she ever been that young? She turned more pages, smiling at the faces of her aunts, her cousins, and…
