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Their son Sawyer (6 months)
Her book: UNDENIABLE, (Cloverleigh Farms #2)
Frannie Sawyer, 31, married to Declan “Mack” MacAllister
Mack’s daughters Millie (15), Felicity (11), Winnie (8) from previous marriage
Their twins, Audrey and Emmeline (7 months)
Her book: IRRESISTIBLE, (Cloverleigh Farms #1)
If you’re a Cloverleigh Farms fanatic already (welcome back!), you’ve probably read the next generation series, starring Mack’s daughters. This holiday story takes place well BEFORE that series begins. I have no idea what year it is—best I can tell, it is about 3 years AFTER the original series concluded, and I’ve listed everyone’s ages for you above.
I beg you not to do any math.
For those of you new to this world, welcome!
Our current story begins on a snowy Christmas Eve in northern Michigan as the Sawyer clan gathers at the Cloverleigh Farms Inn for their annual holiday party.
It is December 24th, and the clock has just struck six…
MEG SAWYER MCCORMICK
“I can’t go.” I gave up trying to get off the couch and relaxed back into the cushions, although “relaxed” was not really a thing for someone as pregnant as I was. Forty-one weeks, to be exact.
“Sawyer, it’s Christmas.” Noah still called me Sawyer just like he always had when we were friends, despite the fact that we’d been married for a year. “Your family is expecting us. And you need to get out of the house.”
“Then I hope you have a forklift, because without one, I don’t see how I’m going to get on my feet. I can’t evenseemy feet. Am I wearing shoes?”
Noah chuckled. “No. You have to wear snow boots outside because there’s already a ton of snow on the ground, but we can pack your shoes. I’ll get them.”
“Thank you. Just bring my slippers. The fuzzy pink ones.”
He looked confused. “With your nice outfit, you want fuzzy pink slippers?”
“Yes.” I looked down at the black maternity dress I wore. “This isn’t exactly a nice outfit. It’s more like a tent.”
“Only you could make a tent look so good.” Smiling, he glanced at my bare legs. “It’s cold outside. Do you want some socks or something?”
“No. I was going to attempt tights but lost interest. And I’m always hot anyway.” I sighed and put two hands on my stomach, trying to jiggle it. “Why are you still in there? You were supposed to be out by now! We could be enjoying our first Christmas Eve here at home if you’d understood the assignment.”
Laughing as he headed for the stairs, Noah said, “I don’t think shaming him is the right strategy.”
“Then you try, Officer McCormick. I’m sure you have some sort of fancy hostage negotiation tactics.” I glanced over at Noah’s K-9, who was lying on the floor watching me. “It’s not fair, Renzo. I’m a very punctual person. I meet my deadlines. I am a go-getter. Why did the universe give me a lackadaisical baby?”
Renzo cocked his head, like he was considering the question. Then he got up and came over to me, placing one paw on my leg. I pet his head. “You’re a good boy, Renzo. Always do what you’re told. Unlike some people,” I said, aiming the last part at my stomach. In response, the baby gave me a hard kick to the pancreas or some other internal organ. “See? It’s crowded in there! If you just came out, you could stretch those legs all the way.”
But even as I tried to coax the human inside me to make his entrance, my heart quickened with trepidation.
What if I couldn’t do it? What if bringing a life into this world was not on the list of things I was good at? I’d always been a high-achiever, but all those goals I’d achieved in life were within my control. It terrified me to think that the most amazing and important thing I would ever do was this scary, painful, unpredictable event. I couldn’t study or practice my way to expertise.
Thankfully, I trusted my doctor completely. Not only had she delivered over a thousand babies (when I’d requested the exact number, she’d just smiled and said she wasn’t entirely sure, but it was definitely over a hundred per year and she’d been doing this for more than ten years), but she had three kids herself, so I figured she knew what she was doing.
Noah would be right there at my side of course, but he’d promised to remain up by my head—I was a little nervous he wouldn’t look at my lady parts the same way after witnessing the whole birthing process, although he claimed that was total nonsense.
A moment later, he came down the steps carrying my pink slippers and a pair of socks. “Here,” he said, kneeling at my feet. “I’ll help you get these on.”
I watched him maneuver the socks over my swollen feet and push them up toward my knees. “Nice. Nothing says Happy Birthday Jesus like tube socks. Are these yours?”
