“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know what he likes?”
Amanda smiled wryly. Leave it to her mother to question the relationship. “He likes Christmas sweaters. Tacky ones.”
Her mother patted her arm. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” She kissed her on her cheek and disappeared out the door.
Amanda returned to the kitchen and went back to her baking. She didn’t like lying to her family about Tate, but her pride was still holding the truth hostage.
She wondered if he was enjoying his time with her dad. She hoped Alex had put a moratorium on tormenting him.
Her grandmother appeared in the doorway. She walked slowly with her cane into the kitchen. Her knee always gave her trouble.
“Here, Grandma, let me help you.” She took her grandmother’s arm and helped her to a small table with two chairs. It overlooked the front hill. “See you’ve got your sweater on,” she teased and gave it a gentle tug.
“Oh, yes. Your mom had it ready for me shortly after Thanksgiving. Come to think of it, I think she gave it to me on Thanksgiving.” She chuckled. “Think today is important to her?”
“Pretty sure it’s up there with birthdays, anniversaries, weddings, and new grandbabies.” Amanda handed her a spoon with a dollop of batter. “Can you try this for me?”
Her grandmother popped the spoon into her mouth. “Perfect. Just the right amount of eggnog. Brenda puts way too much in her batches.”
“Brenda knows the secret ingredient already? She’s not even a Turner yet. Wow, Mom is really relaxing the rules.” She grabbed the rolling pin and began rolling out the white dough. “She even told Tate this morning, but I thought that was only because he guessed it.”
“Well, here we are. Another Christmas.” Her grandmother peered out the window. “You know, your grandfather proposed to me during Christmas dinner.”
Amanda picked up a cookie cutter in the shape of a snowman and massaged it into the soft dough, pressing the cutter with her fingertips. She had heard this story many times, but it never got old. She also loved when her grandmother went all nostalgic and talked about her grandfather.
“He had just come home from the war on account of his injured leg. That day didn’t start out so well, and I thought it was going to be the worst Christmas ever. Before your grandfather left, he asked me to look after his dog, Charlie. His parents were much older than mine, and he felt that the pup would be better off with my family.”
“My dad, your great grandfather, loved that collie from day one. They were inseparable. They would spend hours outside doing farm chores or sitting on the back porch. Well, that Christmas, we had the worst weather. Your grandfather had been gone over a year. The infamous blizzard of ’40 blew in on Christmas Eve and continued throughout most of Christmas day.
She peered out the window. Amanda followed her gaze to the snowy lawn. It would be another white Christmas—though, thankfully, not a blizzard.
Amanda’s grandmother continued. “Oh, heavens, what a storm that was. Well, on Christmas Eve morning, Charlie stood at the back door and started barking something fierce. He was such a quiet dog. We couldn’t figure out what the devil had wound him up.”
My brother opened the back door to see what all the commotion was about, and . . . bam!” She slapped her hands together. “The dog took off down the front lawn and into the woods.”
“Oh, no! Grandpa’s dog ran away. I always forget this part. Did he come back?” She continued to meticulously cut out cookie dough using an assortment of holiday cookie cutters.
“We searched for him all morning. No sign whatsoever. We thought he was lost in the woods and would freeze to death. I didn’t know what I was going to tell your grandfather.”
“Poor Charlie.”
“By dinner time, the snow had subsided but still no dog. None of us were in the mood to celebrate. I remember saying a short prayer at dinner, asking God to bring your grandfather and Charlie safely home to us.”
Amanda took a seat across from her grandmother and propped up one elbow, resting her chin in her hand. She knew the ending but played along. “That’s awful about Charlie, but you must have been so worried that you might never see Grandpa again.”
“Oh, I was. When he first went overseas, I didn’t doubt for a second that he would come home. But as the war continued, well, you start to lose faith. I would go weeks without a letter. Communication back then was not as good as it is today. No e-mail.” She snickered.
“Can’t imagine a life without e-mail. So what happened?” Amanda stood up, went back to the kitchen island and began to dunk the cutouts into the cold and thick eggnog mixture. The final touch to her mother’s secret sugar cookies. She knew the happy ending was coming.
“Shortly after we started eating, we heard a loud bark followed by people singing outside. My dad opened the front door and there stood our neighbors on our lawn singing Christmas carols. I looked out and by golly, in the middle of the small crowd was your grandfather carrying a four foot Christmas tree. Next to him was Charlie!”
Amanda smiled. Here it was. She knew what happened next as if she had been there and personally witnessed it.
“He was my present that year. He set the tree in the snow, grabbed my hand, and got down on one knee.”
“Grandma, that is such a sweet story. How did they find Charlie again?”
“The day that he left, that dog knew your grandfather was coming home. We just knew it. I think animals have a sense about these things. When he took off, he headed for your grandfather’s house, which was about five miles away. Charlie was waiting for him on the front porch steps when he and his parents arrived home from the train station.
“That’s right. I remember that part. I just love that your love story is the foundation of our family business.”
“The holidays were so special to us that we wanted to make our living doing something that would let us experience the magic of Christmas the entire year.”
Amanda sighed. “I hope my love story someday is as sweet as yours.” She gathered the dirty mixing bowls and brought them over to the sink.
“What do you mean? Aren’t you in love now with that handsome man you brought home?”
“Yes. I . . . um . . . I guess I am,” she stammered. “Tate’s great. We’re great. I just mean . . . Let’s just say I don’t think Christmas dinner this year is going to have the same storybook ending for us that it did for Grandpa and you.” She placed the two cookie sheets in the oven and set the timer. “We’re way too practical, and Tate’s not much of a romantic.”
“Nonsense, dear. You just need to open your beautiful, green eyes and have a little faith in the one you chose for you.”
CHAPTER TEN
Tate left the two-story red brick nursing home and headed for Jack’s truck. They had just delivered a tree for the facility’s annual Christmas Eve party. Tate chuckled. He had personal invitations to attend from at least ten silver-haired women who had watched him bring in the tree.
He took a deep breath, inhaling the frigid air. Being in Upstate New York brought back so many memories of his father before he died. Then three years later, his mother passed away. He instinctively reached into his coat pocket, feeling around for his lucky charm. He’d need it today.
“Oh, that’s right. I gave it to Amanda,” he said out loud. He wondered how her morning was going. It had only been two hours, but he already missed her. He wanted to tell her everything. He’d start with his past and end with how much he cared for her.
He glanced up at the rolling, snow-covered hills. It felt like another lifetime since he had been here last. He hadn’t had the courage to return and face those painful memories. Until now.