Cozy Hometown Christmas, page 1
Cozy Hometown Christmas
Meredith Summers
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Also by Meredith Summers
About the Author
Chapter 1
From the second Dorothy Woodward saw George, she fell madly, deeply, and hopelessly in love. His big green eyes seemed to delve deeply into her soul as if he understood her. George was the answer to her prayers, the very thing she needed to get through this lonely Christmas. As they approached her house, decorated with a wreath on the door and candles in the windows, she glanced over at the passenger seat, where George looked back at her adoringly.
Not at an equal level though... George was looking up. From inside a cat carrier. Because George was a cat. A gorgeous brown-and-white Ragdoll with luminescent green eyes, to be exact.
A cat was just what her big, drafty house needed. Dorothy Woodward had lived in this sprawling farm house on the outskirts of Pinecone Falls, Vermont, for as long as she’d been married: thirty-eight happy years with her husband, Charlie, before he’d passed two years ago. Now that December was here, with the snow starting to accumulate on the ground and the sleepy Vermont town waking up for its most active tourist season, it was time to fill the emptiness.
She wanted things to be upbeat and cheery when Kristen, her daughter, arrived home again. Kristen needed a fresh start, even if she would be staying in her childhood home for the time being. Dorothy had no hopes of her remaining in the house past when she found another place nearby to rent, but for now, she would enjoy the company. She would make this house bright again. She would make it a home.
And that started with George. Dorothy lowered the carrier to the ground of the entranceway and unlatched the front gate. “Welcome home, George.”
She’d chosen this cat in particular not only because he was young—the last thing their family needed was to face the mortality of another member—but also because he was curious. He hadn’t hesitated to approach her, and he didn’t hesitate to exit the carrier in favor of his new surroundings. The fluffy fur ball lunged into the open with such abandon that he skidded on the floor, skewing the hallway runner sideways before escaping into the great unknown of the house.
Her children were now grown. Ethan, the oldest, ran the Christmas tree farm that had been in her husband’s family for generations and lived on the other side of the acreage. Although Dorothy had done everything possible to console him after the passing of his wife in a car accident five years prior, it hadn’t been until last year that she had truly understood the yawning hole that was left when a spouse passed.
Of course, Ethan had known and had been invaluable in helping Dorothy through the worst of it. Not that Kristen hadn’t tried, but those initial well-meaning attempts had left Dorothy feeling guilty for causing so much fuss. Sometimes, all she needed was to sit in silence in front of the fireplace with someone nearby. Ethan was good at not interrupting her silences.
But now Kristen was coming home after a nasty breakup with her fiancé (good riddance, Dorothy thought, but she would never say it out loud). The very last thing her daughter needed was an empty, silent, grieving house. Kristen needed life. She needed laughter. She needed to feel like this was the right choice.
And maybe, just maybe, Dorothy needed to feel that way too. It was time to move on.
It would have been perfect if she could have bought the house across the street, Kristen thought as she pulled into the driveway of the house she’d grown up in.
Her mother had mentioned the house was for sale a dozen times when Kristen was planning the wedding that never happened. It was clear that Dorothy was hinting for Kristen and Brian to move to town.
The little white bungalow was cute, and Kristen might have considered it if Brian hadn’t insisted they stay in Chicago. Now, ironically, when Kristen had been unceremoniously dumped six months before the wedding and decided to move home, the house was already sold. Past sold, actually. It looked lived in, with a car in the driveway and lights on inside. It already had a Christmas wreath on the door. Even from a distance, Kristen could tell that it wasn’t one of the ones sold by her family tree farm. The green of the pine needles was the wrong color, obnoxiously vibrant in a way that nature didn’t provide. It was probably artificial.
An artificial wreath on the door across from a Christmas tree farm? These folks might not fit in so well.
Pinecone Falls was all about Christmas. They started attracting tourists in early November and kept up the decorations and holiday events until long after New Year’s Eve. Neighbors had friendly rivalries as to who could put the most Christmas lights on their house. The town held skating parties, decorating events, anything and everything to bring the Christmas spirit to life.
As a kid, Kristen had taken it all for granted. She hadn’t realized that not every town went quite so far at Christmas. Now that she’d been away for almost a decade, she missed that in-your-face Christmas spirit. It was something to look forward to. A reason to be happy. She needed that—and so did her mom.
She turned to her own house, the antique farmhouse with its wraparound porch making her spirits soar. The nastiness of the breakup was finally behind her, and she was turning the corner to happiness. And who wouldn’t be happy in a town that was covered with pristine glittery white snow and smelled of pine and cinnamon?
The decision to leave Chicago had been fairly easy. Sure, she’d miss her friends there, but she had friends here in Pinecone Falls too, and she never had been a city girl. She’d gone to college there and eventually landed a job as a manager in a high-tech company. Getting romantically involved with her boss had turned out to be a big mistake, so when Brian had dumped her, working for him was out of the question. And since she didn’t have the job to keep her in Chicago, coming home and taking over the reins at the family Christmas tree farm seemed like the best idea.
Besides, she had a longing for home and her mom’s cooking and her famous Christmas cookies that she couldn’t explain. Maybe it was the holiday season or the fact that it was only the second Christmas since her father had died, but somehow, Kristen just knew she belonged back in Pinecone Falls.
She’d spent the past month packing up her Chicago apartment and shipping all of her things to Pinecone Falls ahead of her. Knowing her mom, they were probably already unpacked and neatly in place in her old childhood bedroom. This was going to be an adjustment, and even though she was looking forward to it, in some ways, she was afraid she’d outgrown the person she used to be when she was here. Hopefully, she hadn’t become too “citified” to fit in.
The slam of the hatchback and the chirp of the car locks echoed among the trees. On a road like this, there were usually miles in between houses, but the bungalow had been built for her great-aunt in the 1940s. Her kids had sold off the land, so that parcel no longer belonged to the acreage of the tree farm.
The next house was a quarter mile down the road, so with trees, both cultivated and wild, nestled up against both houses, they were in their own little cocoon of privacy.
She should have bought that bungalow while she could. Too late now.
Then again, when she’d been with Brian, she hadn’t been ready to make a big decision like that. They’d both been stalling on all major decisions, including wedding plans, and she’d thought the stress of impending marriage was getting to them. As it turned out, Brian had had another reason. Her name was Sophie.
But that was all water under the bridge now.
She rolled her shoulders to rid herself of that ugly mortification and crunched across the lawn toward the door. Her boots left their imprint on the pristine crust of snow. She liked being able to make an impression on the world around her. It made her feel as if she was in control.
And she was. She was here to make a fresh start, yes. But she was also here to help her mom and brother with the family business.
The front door was unlocked, as she’d always remembered it being. It squeaked on its hinges as she pushed it inward, opening into a hallway that hadn’t changed since she’d last been here. The same family photos hung on the wall of the hallway. The same grandfather clock ticked away the seconds in the dining room. And the same antique ruby-and-cobalt runner stretched out from the doorway leading down the hall toward the kitchen. The runner was askew, and Kristen bent to straighten it.
It was a good three weeks before Christmas, but her mother had already started decorating. Old Christmas cards (her mom had kept every single card since she’d first been married) were tacked up by their corners on the doorframe leading to the den, and a garland wound around the banister to the stairs. It smelled of fresh pine. The smell of home.
“Mom, I’m here!” Kristen called.
She took another step forward
“Mom, did you get a cat?”
Her mom stepped into the nearest doorway, wearing a flour-streaked Mrs. Claus–themed apron over jeans and a heavy knit sweater. She smiled, the laugh lines around her mouth deepening. When she swiped away a strand of her hair—still mostly her natural brunette but now threaded with silver like tinsel—she left a line of flour on her cheek.
“I did. I thought he’d be a good addition to the family. His name is George.”
Kristen leaned down to pet the cat. He batted at her fingers as if that were his version of a handshake.
“Nice to meet you,” she said.
George returned to batting at her laces.
Kristen looked up to find a soft, fond smile on her mom’s face. Something had eased since the one she’d given Kristen when she’d walked in. She was relieved, maybe. Perhaps she was relieved that Kristen was finally here, or maybe she’d been worried that she wouldn’t like the cat.
With her free hand, Kristen wiped at her cheek. “You have…”
“Oh.” Her mom laughed and scrubbed her cheek with the back of her hand, which only made it worse. “I was working on a batch of sugar cookies. I’m almost done with the dough. If you’d like, you can come in and help decorate, like you used to do when you were small.”
Kristen rolled her eyes. “I’m still small.” Especially compared to the rest of her family. She barely topped five feet, whereas her mother was five foot seven, and her brother was over six feet tall.
“I’ll get the stool so you can reach the counter,” Dorothy said, her blue eyes twinkling.
“Ha ha, very funny.” Kristen toed off her boots, earning an annoyed look from George, as she had to shoo him away. She placed the boots neatly beside the other shoes in the entryway. His entertainment interrupted, George proceeded to turn his back on them and groom his fluffy tail.
Kristen scooped him up, and he let out a meow of protest. “What are we going to do with you while we bake?”
Her mom turned away to retreat into the kitchen. “Oh, don’t worry about him. I’ll give him a catnip mouse, and he’ll be out of our hair until we’re done.”
Chapter 2
Smash!
Smash!
Smash!
Kristen and Dorothy jerked their attention from the cookie dough to the corner of the room.
George had somehow gotten onto the shelf of Kristen’s great-grandmother’s hutch and was pushing off the collection of vintage salt and pepper shakers one by one.
“Oh no!” Dorothy ran over and scooped up the cat. “Guess I need to get you more toys.” Dorothy found the catnip mouse under the table and tossed it in front of George, who pounced then proceeded to bat it around.
Kristen was already sweeping up the mess.
“Thanks, honey. I wouldn’t want him to cut his paws on that. Hopefully, he won’t make a habit out of that sort of thing.” Dorothy frowned at the cat, who was using his sharp nails to skewer the toy and toss it in the air.
“Let’s hope. Too bad about Gram’s shakers.” Kristen dumped the debris into the wastebasket.
Dorothy looked wistfully at the hutch. “It is, but they do create a lot of clutter. It might be time for me to clean things out, anyway. Maybe George is smarter than we know.”
They returned to the counter, and Kristen used her grandmother’s metal cookie cutters to cut shapes of trees, Santas, snowmen, and snowflakes out of the dough. Even though her mother had newer plastic cookie cutters in more shapes, Kristen loved these old metal ones with the wooden knobs. She put the last batch of cookies in the oven while Dorothy finished sprinkling colored sugar on the ones they’d just frosted.
Kristen turned from the oven and watched the cat. “I wish I had that much energy.”
“Maybe you should try some catnip,” her mom said with a wink.
“Don’t laugh. I just might,” Kristen joked as she started cleaning up. They’d made a mess, with flour all over the counters and floor, six dirty bowls, spatulas and spoons all over the place, and a row of wire racks on which cookies cooled on the old pine table they now used as a kitchen island. Kristen didn’t mind the mess though; it was all part of the Christmas magic.
Dorothy bit into a cookie as she watched her daughter. “It’s good to have you home.”
Kristen turned from putting the last bowl in the sink. Her throat thick, she said, “It’s good to be here.” And she meant it. She’d missed moments like this while she’d been so far away.
Throughout her breakup, when she’d made the decision to come back home, she’d never thought of it as a failure. She’d never thought of Pinecone Falls as second best. It hadn’t had a lot of job opportunities when she’d graduated college, and if she’d wanted a career in management, she knew she had to stay in the city.
But now, things were different. She’d had a career—or at least the start of one—and it wasn’t all she’d thought it would be. With the passing of her father, there was a gap in the family business. Shoes that needed to be filled. What better way to put her management degree and experience to use than by managing her own family business?
George scampered across the floor, the mouse head poking out from between his little fangs. In a graceful move, he jumped from the floor to the sill of the window overlooking the street. George filled up one corner of the large window as he crouched low on his haunches, toy still tucked between his teeth.
Movement across the road caught her eye. The cars were still in the driveway of the bungalow, where they had been when she’d arrived. Now, an older man was decorating the front porch with silver garland. At least this stuff was obviously fake, unlike the wreath that tried to pass as real pine.
The man had white hair combed back from his forehead and seemed to be in relatively good shape for someone who had to be in his sixties. His black winter coat hid most of his torso, but even from this distance, Kristen could see that his shoulders were still straight with pride and maybe some military training in his past.
When her mom joined her at the window, Kristen joked, “Looks like the new neighbor is your age, Mom. Have you gone over to say hi? Is he cute?”
The expression on Dorothy’s face stiffened. It made her look older, with fresh lines carved around her mouth and nose. Was it too soon for Kristen to be joking about her mom reentering the dating pool? She was no good at this sort of thing. Maybe she should have just kept her mouth shut.
“Whatever you’re thinking, Krissy, get it out of your head.”
Kristen wrinkled her nose at the nickname. She’d never liked it, and her mother only used it when she was displeased.
“Sorry. I just thought—”
Her mom turned away from the window as the oven timer went off. “He owns that new Christmas shop in town. The one that sells the artificial trees.”
“What Christmas shop? You didn’t tell me anything about that.”
Dorothy slid the cookie sheet onto the stovetop and started shifting the cooled cookies to make room on the racks for the new batch. “Did you drive through town on your way here? You can’t miss it. It’s called Tinseltown, and it practically lights up the whole street.”
