Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 100853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
“Are those oranges?” I asked. I could smell them, fragrant and sweet, but the skin looked darker than I would have expected. “Did you bake a bunch of oranges?”
“I dried them,” Finn said. He set the tray down and gingerly transferred the oven-hot oranges to a dish, picking one up and knocking his knuckles against the side with a low, hollow thump. “They’ve already made their way through one batch.” He lifted his chin to the box sitting at the end of the kitchen island.
I looked in to see it half full of oranges studded with cloves, tied with red ribbons. “You guys are making pomanders?” I asked. “I haven’t seen these in an age, except in the gift shop in town and at the Inn.”
“Miss Martha remembered having them when you guys were kids,” Paige said. “She mentioned them to Nicky, and we all thought it sounded like fun.”
“Can I help?” I asked, sliding into the chair next to Paige.
Her smile was blinding. “Of course. Here, watch what Nicky’s doing.”
I watched as the first grader carefully applied tape in lines around the orange.
“That’s where the ribbon goes,” he said. “You have to put the tape on first, or you put the cloves in the wrong place and then the ribbon won’t stay.”
“Makes sense,” I said. “I’m impressed.” I watched the kids work for a minute. “How many of these things have you guys made?”
“A lot,” Thatcher said. “I’m covering this one in cloves.”
“I don’t think you can use that many,” his younger brother August said, looking at the pile of fragrant cloves in front of Thatcher doubtfully.
“Want to bet?” Thatcher challenged.
I caught Paige’s grin. Part of why she was so good with the kids was that she genuinely loved being with them. The more time I spent watching her work, the more I understood why. They were good kids. And hanging out with Paige, watching her craft beside them as she gently guided them—helping cut ribbon, sort cloves—I looked at the kids and thought I wouldn’t mind having one. Maybe more than one. I might actually be able to figure out how to be a good father. I had examples all around me now. And if I ended up with a kid as cool as these three were, and if they had a mom like Paige…
“What are you thinking about with that smile on your face?” Paige asked me in a low murmur, leaning in close.
“You.” I dipped my head to sneak a kiss. “And the future,” I added, after I pulled my lips away.
“This is going to be a good Christmas,” she said.
“It really is,” I agreed.
Savannah found us an hour later, just as we were tying up the last of the pomanders.
“Who wants to help me decorate?” With a shriek, the kids evaporated, sneakers pounding down the hall. Savannah laughed. “I wasn’t expecting any help—not after I roped them into putting up pine boughs everywhere the other day. I’m amazed you got them to sit still for this long,” she said to Paige.
“It accomplished two goals,” Paige replied with a grin. “We got all the pomanders made, and they’ll hide from the rest of us all day in fear of more crafts. It’s a win/win.”
“Before I start setting these all around the house,” Savannah said, hefting the box on her hip, “I have something to show you, Ford. Do you have a minute?”
“Sure,” I said, curious. I reached for Paige’s hand, and she followed along.
“I’ve been working on something,” Savannah said as we climbed the stairs. “I should have done it a long time ago.”
As we reached the top, she turned toward the family wing. My sister Parker stood at the end of the hall, beaming at me. “I feel like we’ve been waiting forever,” she said. “This way.”
I slowed when I saw where she was heading: the door to my old suite. But she passed it and stopped at the rooms that had been Griffen’s. When our father had thrown Griffen out of Heartstone all those years ago, he’d had the rooms emptied and everything painted white, as if he could erase Griffen’s imprint on the Manor. No one had touched it since.
Parker stopped, her hand on the door. “I found a lot of things when I was working on the cottage and the gatehouse that I thought would be perfect for you. You seemed adamant about not using your old rooms. But we talked to Griffen and—”
Parker opened the door to the room and stepped inside. Savannah, Paige, and I followed.
I knew Parker had been redoing the most outdated areas of Heartstone Manor, but I hadn’t thought she was working in the family wing. She’d completely redone the empty suite, painting the walls a deep forest green, the trim a warm cream. The combination was both crisp and welcoming. The view of the back gardens and the mountains beyond looked like a painting. Savannah had set up half the main space as a sitting room with a long leather couch, armchairs with ottomans, and a huge flat-screen against the wall. The other side of the main room had a desk big enough to really use, with a matching cabinet that I imagined could hold a printer and office supplies. I crossed the room and opened the antique corner cabinet to see a snack and beverage station stocked with a mini-fridge, kettle, coffee, and baskets of cookies and the chips she knew were my favorite.