“What’s this for then?” he asks, looking down at the plate Callie holds out toward him.
“For you, Douglas,” she says.
He frowns at the plate.
“Jam drops, caramels, and fudge,” Maeve says, picking up our name for her thumbprint cookies.
Douglas’s face softens as he accepts it. “That’s alright, then.”
“Merry Christmas,” Luna says.
Callie clears her throat. “Nollaig Chridheil, Douglas.”
His head snaps toward her, eyes bugging comically wide, which only stretches her grin more. He didn’t expect to hear the Californian speak Gaelic, and her pronunciation is fairly good. Even he can’t really find something to complain about. “Aye, that it is, lass.”
“Do you have dinner plans tomorrow, Douglas?” Maeve asks. She looks at me with a slight lift to her eyebrows, and I can read the question she’s silently sending me. I give her a nod. Douglas is always welcome in my house.
His eyes narrow. “Aye.”
What a load of blether. This man doesn’t have plans, I’m nearly certain of it.
“Well, if that changes, we’d love to have you join us,” Maeve says. “We have more than enough food, and you know Gavin’s table is plenty big.”
“Right you are there, hen,” Douglas says, laughing. He loses his suspicion at once and winks at Callie, who blushes happily.
When we pile back into the cars to head to Rhona’s house, I think Callie is floating.
Granny and Grandadmeet us at Rhona’s house for the rest of the caroling. We gather in front of her porch in our coats, scarves, and hats. When Rhona opens the door, her dark, graying hair left in its natural curly state, she seems overwhelmed by the large group, but not unpleasantly so.
“This is a nice surprise,” she says, smiling kindly.
We immediately sing the songs we’ve practiced, and Violet steps forward with the plate of treats this time.
“Thank you, sweetheart.” Rhona takes the plate with her good hand. Her other one is still in a brace, but she seems to be managing well.
“How are you feeling, Rhona?” Granny asks.
She sets the plate on a table inside, then lifts her braced wrist. “Been better. Rory thinks I should be fully functioning within the next five or six weeks. But Gavin has been immensely helpful with the farm while I’ve been trying to manage.”
“Of course he has,” Grandad says proudly.
“Do you have plans for Christmas dinner?” Maeve asks.
Rhona glances at me quickly before looking at her. “Just me and a game hen. It’ll do me all right, mind.”
“We have more food than we know what to do with. We’d love to have you join us, Rhona.”
How does Maeve feel so comfortable extending invitations to people she’s only just met, and calling them by name to do so? The woman is a force.
Rhona nods softly, her cheeks pinking. In all my years knowing Rhona, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her blush.
“We’ll leave you to it, then. Merry Christmas, Rhona,” I say, taking Callie’s hand and tugging her lightly. I lean down toward her ear as we walk to the car. “Is your mum planning on inviting the entire village to eat with us?”
“Probably just the ones we give plates to, so choose wisely.”
I wasn’t sure I could love this family more, but I think I do.
Rory isn’t homewhen we knock on his door, so we travel to his parents’ house and find him there. I’m glad for it, though, because it means I can help Callie mark another thing from her bucket list. The Stewarts are like a second—third, I suppose, after my grandparents—set of parents to me, and they run a sheep farm. They won’t mind us walking around to the back garden for a minute once we’re through singing.
