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That was all hers… part of her life that she’d built brick by brick over the years. And no amount of outside interference could threaten that unless she allowed it to.

“You know what?” she said, finishing the last spoonful of her chowder with a smile. “I think this is going to be a really good day after all.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

A hearty lunch at Maplewood Tavern had been exactly what Nicole was craving after a morning spent untangling Christmas lights that had somehow managed to knot themselves into tighter and tighter messes despite her every attempt to get them undone.

She and Henry had an hour’s break until their next appointment, so she’d scurried off to the tavern in search of a warm meal, picking a corner booth that gave her a perfect view of the tavern’s cozy interior. She loved how rustic and welcoming it was, with its exposed brick walls decorated with vintage photographs of Fir Tree Grove’s history and the soft glow of Edison bulb fixtures that cast everything in a warm, nostalgic light.

Today’s special had been a Southern-themed menu, and it had felt exactly right considering that she’d decided to work on knitting her daughter’s Christmas gift while she had lunch. One of her favorite memories was a trip to New Orleans with Amy years ago, and she felt like it was a sign as she ordered a shrimp Po’Boy and fries, with a side of tomato bisque.

The sandwich itself was incredible, the closest she could get to the real thing without actually going back down south. The roll was perfectly toasted and crisp, the shrimp fried crunchy without too much batter and just the right amount of seasoning, and there were so many of them that the sandwich was overflowing, shrimp spilling out onto her pile of shoestring fries. The remoulade tasted authentic and creamy, with just enough spice to heat things up, and the lettuce and tomatoes were clearly local and fresh. It was exactly the kind of comfort food that she’d needed today to bolster her for their next appointment out in the cold.

As she took a mouthful of the creamy tomato soup, she glanced at the glass display case in front of the counter that housed an array of homemade pies. The chocolate peppermint pie in particular had been calling to her since the moment she walked in. It was filled with glistening dark chocolate topped with fluffy white peaks of whipped topping, and a sprinkle of crushed candy canes. She was definitely going to have to save room for a slice before she left.

Partway through her meal, she took out her knitting, setting it in her lap as she sipped her water and enjoyed the crackle of the fireplace on the other side of the room. She was working on a pair of gloves for Amy, in a soft dove-gray merino wool that should go with everything and help keep her hands warm in the rainy British cold.

She’d always loved knitting. It was meditative, almost, giving her something to do with her hands and quiet her mind. Ironically, the Christmas light installations gave her a similar feeling, something she would never have imagined before taking the job. But she loved creating something beautiful and functional that could bring others joy, and when she thought about it, the Christmas lights were also exactly that.

As she worked, she found herself thinking about her conversation with Henry, the way he’d opened up about his wife and the loneliness that had become a part of the holiday season for him now. It was sad, she thought, that he had to spend so many Christmases alone without her, especially considering how much holiday joy he brought to others. It really wasn’t fair.

She thought she had some understanding of what it was like to be lonely during the holiday season now, just the first inkling of it with her daughter overseas and her divorce pending and being in a completely new place. She couldn’t imagine what it must be like to have lost someone that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with, when you were happy, or what it must be like to be alone after that, having had them taken away.

There were so many little things that she’d taken for granted, having a house with family in it, that she was just now realizing left a void. Once upon a time, of course, things with Carl had been good, and she missed that—having someone who knew all her quirks and loved them, who she had inside jokes with and who shared the responsibilities of running a house and raising a child, helping each other find joy in it even when it was hard.

That had all changed for her, but it probably hadn’t changed for Henry, she guessed. And he was living with that absence without having chosen it. The thought made her heart ache for him.

As if on cue, the bell above the tavern’s entrance chimed, and Nicole looked up from her knitting to see Henry stepping through the door. He paused just inside the entrance, scanning the room, and when he saw her, she thought she saw his face brighten for just a second before settling back into its usual calm expression. She felt an odd flutter in her chest at the sight of him, and quickly pushed it down. There was no place in her life for that right now, and hadn’t she just been thinking about his late wife and how sad it all was?

Henry looked uncertain for a moment, as if he wasn’t sure whether he should interrupt her lunch, but then he seemed to make a decision and walked over to her booth.

“I hope you don’t mind the interruption,” he said as he approached. “Our appointment got pushed back another thirty minutes, and I started thinking about how you said you were going to grab lunch here. Started sounding pretty good.”

“Of course not,” Nicole said, gesturing to the seat across from her. “Please, sit. I was just enjoying this amazing sandwich and working on a little project.” She held up the gloves with a small laugh. “Just a little Christmas present for my daughter.”

Henry slid into the booth, his eyes immediately drawn to the knitting in her hands. “That’s beautiful work,” he said, leaning forward slightly to get a better look at the intricate pattern she was creating. “That must have taken a lot of practice.”

Nicole felt a pleased warmth spread through her chest at the compliment. “Thank you. It’s just a hobby, really, but I find it relaxing. Amy’s doing a foreign exchange program in England, and I wanted to send her something warm and handmade for Christmas.”

“She’s lucky to have such a caring mother,” Henry said with a smile, and something in his tone made Nicole look up to meet his eyes. There was a wistfulness in his expression that made her wonder if he was thinking about his wife, and she had the urge to ask if they’d had children, but it felt a bit too personal. And after all, if they had, wouldn’t he have mentioned it already?

“It’s funny,” Nicole said, carefully navigating around what she sensed might be a sensitive topic, “I always liked doing this before. But I never felt like I had enough time for it. I was always keeping up with work and everyone else’s schedules. Now I have a lot more time, and it’s nice, really. Having more time to figure out what makes me really happy.”

Henry nodded thoughtfully. “Sometimes it takes a major change to help us see what we’re capable of,” he said. “You’ve certainly surprised me with how quickly you’ve taken to the Christmas light installations. I wouldn’t have guessed that someone with your background would enjoy climbing ladders and working with electrical systems.”

Nicole laughed, thinking back to her first day on the job when she had shown up in a business suit, completely unprepared for the physical reality of what the work would entail. “I think I’ve surprised myself more than anyone else,” she admitted. “But there’s something really satisfying about creating something beautiful with your hands, whether it’s stringing lights on a house or knitting a pair of gloves. I’m honestly enjoying it more than anything I was doing in my old job.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, Nicole returning her attention to her knitting while Henry perused the menu. She was working on a particularly tricky section of the pattern when Henry spoke again, his voice carrying a note of excitement that made her look up.

“You know,” he said, “there’s a holiday market that happens every year in the town square. Local artisans and crafters set up booths to sell their handmade goods. Your knitting would be a perfect addition to something like that.”

Nicole felt her heart skip a beat at the suggestion. The idea of having her own booth at a craft market, of sharing her work and maybe even making some money from her hobby, was both exciting and scary all at once. She’d thought about doing something like that in the past, but there had never been enough time, and Carl had often told her when she’d brought it up that no one was going to buy a middle-aged woman’s hats and gloves.

She was starting over, right? Nicole chewed her lower lip, thinking. Wasn’t this the time to prove her ex-husband wrong, and do a crazy thing that she’d been thinking about for years? “Do you really think so?” she asked, trying to keep the excitement out of her voice. “I mean, I’m just a beginner compared to people who do this professionally.”

“I think you’re selling yourself short,” Henry said firmly. “You’re clearly good at it, and there’s always a market for handmade items, especially around Christmas. People appreciate the time and care that goes into creating something by hand.”

“Is it too late to secure a booth?” Nicole asked, her mind already racing with possibilities. She thought about the bin of finished scarves and hats she had in her room at the B&B, tucked away with the rest of her knitting things. She’d wondered if it was silly to bring them along with her when she’d packed for her trip, but she hadn’t wanted to leave them in the storage unit. Now, it seemed like it might have been a serendipitous decision to bring them along, rather than a foolishly sentimental one. Maybe they weren’t as amateurish as she had assumed.