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Trace regarded her with amusement. “Oh? Is he in town?”
“No, but we do like to dream,” she said, as Donna coughed to cover her laughter.
Trace leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Liar,” he said softly.
“I think I’ll go chat with my husband and tell him about your offer,” Donna said. She grinned at Trace. “Nice to see you again. Merry Christmas.”
“You, too,” he said.
When Donna had gone in search of her husband, Savannah lifted her gaze to meet Trace’s. “I think the party’s a success. Thank you for talking me into it.”
“It’s been fun,” he said, as if that surprised him just a little. “Mae’s introduced me around before, but this is the first chance I’ve had to really talk to some of the locals. They’re good people, and they really are delighted that you’re reopening the inn. Not only has this place been a boon to the economy, its history and charm provide something that the chain hotels can’t. I didn’t realize that in its heyday, Holiday Retreat employed several full-time people on staff and that the dining room was open to the public for dinner. Is that part of your plan, as well?”
“Eventually,” Savannah said. “I’m going to have to take things slowly, so that I don’t get overextended financially. Once all the rooms are ready for paying guests, then I can start thinking about whether to offer more than breakfast. I can cope with making eggs or French toast—I’m not so sure I could handle gourmet dinners. And I know I can’t afford any help yet.”
“Your spaghetti was pretty good,” he said.
She frowned at him. “Somehow I doubt that’s up to the standard the guests would expect. Remind me and I’ll show you some of the old menus. Mae stopped doing the dinners about ten years ago, when it got to be too much for her, but she saved all the records. Since she left the file right where she knew I’d find it first thing, I’m sure she was hoping that I’d open the dining room again in the evenings.”
The rest of the party passed in a blur. Soon guests were putting on coats, thanking Savannah for having them over and leaving for the Christmas Eve services planned by the local churches. When the last guest had departed, Hannah found Savannah and Trace standing on the front porch.
“Mom, this was the best. I must have met everybody in my class at school. I can’t wait to start after New Year’s. And there’s going to be an ice-skating party in a couple of days and I’m invited. Isn’t that totally awesome?”
“Totally,” Savannah agreed.
Trace grinned. “Then you’re back to being happy about living in Vermont?”
“Absolutely,” Hannah said. “Can we go to church now?”
Trace glanced at Savannah. “What about it? Are you too tired?”
“I’m tired, but exhilarated. Besides, going to Christmas Eve services was always part of the tradition. I’ll grab my coat.”
Trace drove into town, which was teeming with many of the same families who had just left Holiday Retreat. They were all walking toward the various churches within blocks of the town square. Bells were ringing in the clear, crisp air.
As they entered the same little white chapel Savannah had attended with her family so many years ago, the scent of burning candles, the banks of red poinsettias by the altar, the swell of organ music, all combined to carry her back to another time. A wave of nostalgia washed over her.
How had she let moments like this slip away? As a child, she’d had no choice, but she could have insisted on coming back as an adult, even if she’d had to leave Rob behind to sulk in Florida. His mood had always been sullen around the holidays anyway. What would it have mattered if it got a little worse because she was sharing an experience like this with their daughter?
Ah, well, those days were behind her. She glanced at Hannah and saw the wonder in her eyes as the choir began to sing “O, Holy Night.” Trace slipped his hand around hers as the familiar notes soared through the tiny, crowded church.
Savannah’s eyes filled with tears at the beauty of the moment. Trace regarded her with such a concerned expression that she forced a watery smile. “Merry Christmas,” she murmured.
“Merry Christmas, angel.”
Hannah heard the murmured exchange and beamed at both of them. “Merry Christmas, Mom. Merry Christmas, Trace. I don’t care if we don’t have presents. This is the best holiday ever.”
Gazing into Trace’s eyes, Savannah couldn’t help but agree with her daughter. It was definitely the best one ever.
CHAPTER NINE
Savannah was hearing bells. Convinced it was a dream, she rolled over and burrowed farther under the covers.
“Mom! Mom! You’ve got to see this! Hurry!” Hannah shouted, shaking Savannah.
Groaning, Savannah cracked one eye to stare at her daughter. “This had better be good.” She and Trace had sat up talking until well past midnight, and if she wasn’t mistaken, the clock on her bedside table said it was barely seven. Even if it was Christmas morning, she had counted on at least another hour’s sleep, especially since Hannah wasn’t expecting Santa’s arrival.
“It’s not just good,” Hannah said, clearly undaunted by her testy tone, “it’s fantastic. Come on, Mom. Hurry. I’m going to wake up Trace.”
