Wait a minute. How did his dad know the cat’s name? He must have talked to the woman across the street. Kristen’s mom. Hopefully, she wouldn’t mind him ringing the bell. Since he had her cat under his arm, he was hoping for a pleasant reception.
A woman in her early sixties opened the door. She took one look at George, and her eyes widened.
“Oh my. What has he been up to?” She had a pleasant smile and a youthful demeanor, and Mason liked her right away.
“He was just visiting us across the street. My dad said he belonged to you.”
“George! Naughty boy.” She reached out for the cat, and her eyes drifted across the street.
Mason could have sworn she gave a little nod. He turned around and saw the curtain in the living room window moving. Had his father been watching?
But he didn’t have time to wonder too much about that, because the woman was pulling him inside. “Thank you so much for bringing him over. Please do come in. I just finished making some chocolate chip cookies. Would you have one and some hot cocoa?”
“Umm… sure.” The old farmhouse was welcoming and pleasant. It was steeped in family heirlooms. From the old threadbare rug to the pine hatch with its chipping paint, this was a home that had been lovingly lived in for generations.
“I’m Dorothy Woodward, by the way.” The woman, still holding the cat, led him down the hallway.
“Mason Hale.”
They followed the smell of fresh-baked cookies into the kitchen. The first thing Mason noticed was that Kristen wasn’t there. He was a little disappointed about that, but since the cookies smelled so good, his visit wouldn’t be a total loss. Plus he was happy to meet Dorothy, seeing as she was his father’s neighbor.
They sat at an old pine table with a plate loaded with chocolate chip and decorated sugar cookies and steaming mugs of hot cocoa. The hot cocoa even had marshmallows in it. Mason picked a chocolate chip cookie first. It was warm and gooey. Sitting there brought him back to the days when he was a kid and his mom would give him a snack after he’d been playing on a snowy day.
George busied himself batting around a catnip mouse.
The back door to the kitchen opened, letting in a waft of cold air. Kristen stepped in, stomping the snow from her boots. “Ethan says—” She glanced up, the sight of him at the table causing her to stop in mid-sentence. “Oh, hi.”
“Hi. Your cat was on my porch, and I brought him back over.” Mason hoped that didn’t sound as lame to Kristen as it had to him.
Kristen’s eyes drifted to George. “Oh. Thanks.”
Dorothy had already set another mug of cocoa down at the table. She gestured for Kristen to sit. “You must be freezing after being out there. Have some cocoa to warm you up.”
Kristen look as if she wasn’t sure if she wanted to sit, but she did.
She took a cookie and smiled at Mason. His heart did a little flip, and he bit off the head of the snowman-shaped cookie he’d just grabbed. The cookies were delicious, slightly vanilla and loaded with so much sugar they didn’t even need the thick coating of icing or the colored sugar crystals that crunched beneath his teeth.
They chewed in awkward silence for a few minutes while Mason tried to think up something clever to say. All he came up with was “Your decorations look really great.”
“Thank you.” Dorothy waved her hand around the room. “A lot of them are antiques from my husband’s ancestors.”
“They’re wonderful. My dad has some replicas in his store, but there’s nothing like the real original antiques,” Mason said.
Oops. Maybe he shouldn’t have mentioned the store. Did Dorothy and Kristen see it as competition? Dorothy didn’t look upset, but Kristen had a funny look on her face. He hoped it wasn’t the mention of Tinseltown that made her look that way. Last night at the skating pond, she hadn’t seemed that upset about his father’s store. In fact, he felt they’d bonded just a little. Had he ruined it?
It didn’t really matter. He couldn’t pursue a bond with Kristen Woodward because he didn’t live in town, and it would be really bad to start something up with the woman who lived across the street from his dad when nothing could come of it.
“How long has your family been here?” Mason gestured toward the house.
“Oh, gosh, over a hundred years. My husband’s great-grandparents started the tree farm,” Dorothy said proudly. “They actually used to own more land, but some was sold off over the generations. We always kept the acreage that grows the trees. Trees are a big part of the Woodward family.”
“There’s nothing like a real tree.” Mason wanted to be diplomatic. “My dad has the artificial ones, but I imagine he won’t sell too many of those. Still, I hope you think his ornaments and lights are a good complement to your gorgeous evergreens.”
Dorothy nodded. “I agree. Maybe we could do some marketing promotions together.”
Kristen frowned. “Aren’t promotions my department?”
Dorothy laughed, and Mason relaxed. He was glad Dorothy was considering working together. It was important for his dad to get along with the Woodwards, and any joint promotions would be good for his business.
