Four

The next morning Emmy was running late for work for the first time since she'd opened Mistletoe Antiques. After she and Kieran

went their separate ways the night before, she had difficulty sleeping. All she could think about was her impulsive decision

to hug him, and how amazing it felt to be in his strong arms. She had no idea why she hugged him, just that a simple thank-you

for doing so much work didn't seem adequate. Trouble was, the moment she was in his arms, she didn't want to let go.

Even as she hastily brushed her teeth, she could still feel the softness of his sweater against her cheek, the oaky scent

of his cologne. Sigh.

Emmy put on an ugly Christmas sweater from her extensive collection, white jeans, and her white tennis shoes and rushed downstairs,

then realized she'd forgotten her jacket when she opened the door to the outside. Get it together! Why was she letting a simple, platonic hug turn her upside down? A few flakes of snow floated in the icy air as she pulled her keys out of her purse and went to

unlock the door. Before she could insert the key in the lock, the door flew open and Carina yanked her inside.

"I've been waiting half an hour for you to show up," Carina said, grinning as she shut the door. She turned and faced Emmy.

" Old high school friend, huh? I don't even have current friends as hot as Kieran."

Emmy straightened, trying to get her bearings. "Jeremy is a handsome young man."

Carina paused, a dreamy expression on her face. Then she smirked. "He's cute. But Kieran? Hubba-hubba."

Laughing, Emmy went to the counter. "What?"

"Isn't that what y'all said back in the day?"

"In your grandmother's day, maybe."

The door chimed and Sheryl came in. "Brrr. I want to go back to Cancún already."

Emmy looked at her, surprised, then turned to Sheryl. "What are you doing here? You're not scheduled until tomorrow."

She slumped against the counter, a weary expression on her face. "I came here for a vacation from my vacation. Don't get me

wrong, I love my boys, but I need a little break. So what did I miss while I was gone?"

"You never said your brother was so fine ," Carina said.

Sheryl frowned. "I guess. He's always had the girls chasing after him, that's for sure."

"Including Mom?"

Emmy quickly grabbed her phone and pulled up her Christmas playlist. When she glanced up, she saw Sheryl looking at her with

interest.

"They did go to prom together," Sheryl finally said.

"Really?" Carina leaned her chin on her hand. "Do tell."

"There's nothing to tell, and we have to get to work," Emmy said quickly. She had to shut this conversation down pronto.

Carina held up her hands. "I'm not the one who was late this morning. Did something happen between you and Kieran after we

left?"

"Kieran was here?" Sheryl said, sounding surprised.

"He came last night to help decorate," Carina supplied.

"Oh really . Funny, he didn't mention he was doing that when I texted him yesterday."

"Look, nothing happened," Emmy said, exasperated. "We just said goodbye and he left." She made sure not to mention the hug. They were already jumping to enough conclusions.

Carina turned to Sheryl. "Is he single?"

"Very." She grinned.

"Stop it." Emmy scowled at her friend. "Your brother has never been interested in me."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Carina said. "He sure was watching you last night. With interest ."

A shiver ran down Emmy's spine. He was watching me? "How would you know? You were busy kissing Jeremy every chance you got."

Carina's mouth formed an O. "You saw us?"

"You weren't exactly discreet."

Sheryl slipped off her coat, revealing a black-and-white buffalo plaid flannel shirt. "Wow, I really did miss out on all the

fun."

"There was no fun!" Emmy insisted. At Carina's skeptical glance she added, "I mean, it was fun decorating for Christmas. That's

all."

The door opened and Mrs. Lawson walked in. Saved by a customer. Emmy walked over to her. "Get to work," she muttered to Carina

and Sheryl as she made her way to speak to Mrs. Lawson.

But when she glanced over her shoulder at the two women, they were whispering. Then giggling. Great. Just great.

After Mrs. Lawson left the store with a large bag full of vintage Christmas gifts, Emmy was relieved to see Sheryl speaking

with another customer, and Carina was nowhere in sight. Finally, a reprieve. She circled the purchase amount on the merchant

copy of Mrs. Lawson's receipt and put it in the small box next to the manual cash register. She had made sure to have a credit

card machine. It was impossible to do business without one.

Business was brisk until noon. Emmy was in the café area, sipping on honey tea and looking for estate sales in the Classified

section of the Mistletoe Gazette when Carina appeared. "Go ahead and take your lunch," she said, not looking up from the phone.

"I will." Carina slid onto the seat across from her. "I have a few more questions, though."

Emmy inwardly groaned and set down the paper. "I assume they aren't about work, right?"

"Correct." She grinned, a playful glint in her eyes. "Just how good of friends were you and Kieran?"

Knowing her daughter wouldn't let the subject go, Emmy said, "We were friendly friends."

"I don't even know what that means." Carina leaned closer. "Did you have a crush on him?"

"No," Emmy mumbled, then winced at the wave of guilt washing over her. She never lied to Carina—not purposefully, anyway—and

here she was telling a big bald-faced one. From her doubtful expression Emmy could tell she didn't believe her.

"Then why did you go to prom with him?"

"He needed a date, and I was available." She quickly explained the circumstances. "He graduated a few weeks later and left

for Ireland a while after. Until the other day I hadn't seen or heard from him in more than two decades. Sheryl would mention

what he was up to occasionally, but that's it."

"You saw him the other day?" Carina's brow lifted. "When? Where?"

"On the way to the post office." She gathered up the newspaper. "There's nothing between me and Kieran. There never will be."

"But—"

"Take your lunch." She hadn't been this stern with her daughter in years, but she was tired of the inquisition.

Carina stood, looking contrite. "Yes, ma'am. Do you want me to get you anything?"

"No, thank you."

After she left, Emmy removed her reading glasses and rubbed her eyes. She was grateful Carina hadn't called her out on her lie, and she wished she could've been honest with her about her crush on Kieran. She knew what her daughter was up to. It had been five years since Josh dumped her, and Carina hadn't brought up the subject of Emmy dating again until lately. Not a full-court press, but just a hint here or a suggestion there that she should wade into the romance pool.

No. Way. She'd had zero luck with men. First there was Kieran, but he didn't count because it was high school. Then there were two

relationships in college that hadn't worked out, and by the time she was thirty-one she had adopted Carina, and her personal

life had gone by the wayside for a while. Then she met Josh and had fallen in love. Looking back, the red flags had been there,

but she'd ignored them. Loneliness undermined common sense. She wasn't going to let that happen again.

As she headed for the front of the store, she heard Sheryl talking, and she assumed it was a customer. But when she looked

up, she stopped.

Kieran.

"Oh hi, Emmy!" Sheryl held a plastic-wrapped brown loaf that resembled one of Maggie's infamous fruitcake loaves.

Emmy wilted a little inside. Every year Maggie gave her fruitcake, and every year she tried it and didn't like it. It seemed

a waste of ingredients, and two years ago Emmy had cut the cake in slices, wrapped them in cling film, and put them in the

café. They stayed there until New Year's. Apparently, none of her customers liked fruitcake either.

"And look who just happened to stop by," Sheryl said, her voice higher and brighter than Emmy had ever heard it.

Kieran turned around and said in his deep, lyrical voice, "Hello, lass."

She put her hand over her stomach. Wig. Wag.

***

Although he had wanted to explore the store some more—and see Emmy again—Kieran hadn't expected it to be so soon, or at Sheryl's

request. Around nine-thirty that morning she had called Mum, and knowing his sister, he figured the conversation would be

long. He'd taken the opportunity to go for a quick run around the neighborhood, even though it was lightly snowing. Like the

rest of Mistletoe, the houses and streets hadn't changed much, and it was very different from Ballyton and other places in

Ireland and Europe. He'd been in Mistletoe less than a week, and he kept expecting the culture shock to hit. Instead, being

back home felt like slipping into a well-worn, comfortable pair of old shoes.

When he got back home, he was surprised when his mother had canceled the day's plans and gave him a list of errands. He wiped

the perspiration off his forehead with the cuff of his sweatshirt as he studied the list.

Pick up milk, eggs, butter, and eggnog from Mistletoe Grocery.

Mail Christmas cards at the Mistletoe Post Office.

Deliver fruitcake to the following people and businesses:

He stopped reading at the last entry on the fruitcake list—Mistletoe Antiques. His heart skipped a beat when he thought of

Emmy, or more accurately, last night's hug.

"I don't mind doin' these things," he said to his mother. Especially seeing Emmy again. "But you and I were supposed to spend

today together."

"We've got tomorrow. And the next day." She walked over to the freezer side of her fridge and took out six frozen loaves of

fruitcake and placed them on the table. "Go get your shower," Mum said, shooing him out of the kitchen. "And wear something

nice."

He looked over his shoulder. "You want me to dress up?"

"Um, no." Her eyes shifted to the left. "Just be presentable."

"I'm always presentable."

"Now that you cut off all that hair, you are." She smiled and shoved him through the doorway.

Kieran was certain something was up, but he went upstairs to his old room to get ready.

She was far too eager for him to get started on the list of nonurgent errands. And Sheryl had seemed overly excited when he

had arrived at the shop a few minutes ago. "I'm so happy to see you!" she practically squealed, giving him a big hug.

"You too." He embraced her.

"Where's that fruitcake?" she said, moving out of his arms.

He handed her the loaf. "This is for you? You hate fruitcake more than I do."

But Sheryl wasn't looking at him, and he could tell she wasn't paying attention to his words. Her gaze was on the back of

the store. "The boys have been asking for Nana's fruitcake ever since we got back from our trip. Oh hi, Emmy!"

He turned, his pulse thumping when he saw her. Whatever Sheryl was saying didn't register as he let his gaze linger on Emmy.

She was dressed in holiday colors again, wearing a hideous Christmas sweater that somehow looked good on her, jeans, and white

tennis shoes. Her bangs were pulled back by gold reading glasses, a complement to her lovely green eyes. He thought he said

hello to her, but he wasn't sure. She seemed to become prettier each time he saw her.

Sheryl tapped him on the shoulder. "Have you had lunch?"

"Not yet—"

"Neither has Emmy." She grinned, motioning to the door. "Why don't you two go together?"

He glanced at his sister, catching the sly glimmer in her eyes. Then he looked at Emmy, who seemed unsure about having lunch with him. Ouch.

"You usually eat after Carina gets back," Emmy said.

"We're slow right now." Sheryl held up the loaf again. "I'll snack on this while you're gone."

"I thought that was for the boys," Kieran said, arching a brow.

"They can't eat all of it."

He almost laughed. Her kids could eat a loaf each if she'd let them, and if they'd liked fruitcake. Which they didn't. First

his mother was acting strange, now his sister. He glanced at Emmy again, and just when he realized what was going on, Sheryl

was shoving them out the shop.

"Have fun!" she said, shutting the door behind them.

Kieran and Emmy faced each other. He held up his hands, palms out. "She asked me to drop off the fruitcake. That's all, I

promise."

"I know." She crossed her arms, hugging herself. "I'm just glad it was for the kids and not me."

He couldn't help but chuckle. "Not a fan of fruitcake?"

"No, but don't tell Maggie. I don't want to hurt her feelings."

"Mum's the word." He did a zipping gesture across his mouth. The snow had stopped about an hour ago, and none of it had stuck

to the ground. It was still cold outside, about two degrees Celsius, he guessed. "Mum's had me running all over town this

morning. I am feeling a little peckish."

She nodded but didn't say anything else. It was clear Emmy was growing chilled and didn't seem all that keen to be with him.

He tried not to take it personally. He was the one on vacation, not her. She didn't have time for his mother and sister's

matchmaking foolishness.

"I've got some vegetable soup in the Crock-Pot upstairs," she said. "You can, um, join me if you want."

Of course he wanted to, but he didn't like that she was obligated to offer him lunch. "I think I know what Sheryl's up to."

"Oh, I know what she's up to." Emmy half chuckled. "She's not being subtle, is she?"

"Not a'tall." He moved closer to her. "We don't have to eat togeth—"

"C'mon," she said, motioning for him to follow. She opened the door, and they headed upstairs.

When he entered the apartment, he was hit with the delicious scent of vegetable soup and a whole lot of Christmas décor. The

living space was small, warm, and cozy, with a dove-gray love seat and leather recliner situated in the middle of the room

around an oval wooden coffee table. A modest tree loaded with vintage ornaments was in the corner, and the dining area was

separated from the kitchen by a bar with three stools in front.

"Nice place," he said, taking off his coat.

"Thanks." She entered the kitchen. "We're plumb out of castles around here."

He chuckled. "A pity, that. The Ozarks could use a few palaces among the mountains." A coatrack was near the door, and he

hung his coat on it and looked around the room again. There were several pictures on the wall, mostly of a school-aged Carina.

Two graduation pictures took pride of place, and he assumed one was from high school and the other university. Then he saw

a collage on the opposite wall filled with candid pictures of Emmy and Carina, along with a few with Emmy's parents.

Not a single one with a man, other than Emmy's father.

Emmy set two bowls on the four-seater table in the dining room. "Do you take crackers with your soup?"

"Please."

Moments later they were seated with a package of crackers between them and glasses of ice water near the bowls. They took a moment to pray over the meal; then he picked up his spoon. "This looks great," he said.

"I don't know what I'd do without my Crock-Pot." She crumbled a few crackers into her bowl. "I use it several times a week.

Just toss in some ingredients, and when I get home from work, it's done."

He noticed there were more pictures on the dining room wall. Again, of Carina. "You must be proud of her," he said, nodding

toward one of the two of them grinning in front of her store, a Grand Opening banner above them.

She glanced at the pictures, then back at him. "I suppose you have some questions."

"I am curious."

"Most everyone is when they first meet us." Emmy stirred her soup. "About twelve years after high school I went to work at

Beacon Middle School as a teacher's aide. It's about half an hour from Mistletoe. Carina was in foster care at the time, and

it was an awful situation. When I met her, I wanted to help her. I had to help her."

She didn't go into any detail, but from her shadowed expression he could tell that Carina had been in a tragic situation.

"I became a foster parent and took her in. She was eleven, and I adopted her when she was twelve."

"Wow," he said. "That had to be difficult."

"It was, especially at first. It's not easy being a single parent. And Carina was a preteen, so there was a big adjustment

period. I am proud of what she's overcome and the young woman she is now. I couldn't run the store without her."

"That's amazing, Emmy," he said. "Raising a daughter, running your own business. You've done well for yourself."

"So have you. You're the only person I know who owns a castle."

"Owned," he corrected. And while he had traveled many miles and seen many things, plus had a full bank account ready to be invested, he realized he had little else to show for himself. No wife, no children, no permanent connections other than his mother and sister. For years that was how he wanted his life. He had the freedom to do what he wanted—to live for himself.

He watched Emmy as she ate a spoonful of the piping hot soup filled with carrots, celery, potatoes, onions, and seasonings.

A warm, restful feeling came over him, one he hadn't experienced in a long time. Sharing a simple meal with Emmy Banks, surrounded

by her obvious love for her daughter—not to mention Christmas décor—he felt grounded. And it was satisfying.

She looked at him. "Is the soup okay?"

"Perfect." He dipped in his spoon, and for the rest of the meal he answered more of her questions about Ireland and the UK,

her eyes wide with curiosity. When they were finished and he helped her clear the table, he asked, "Have you ever thought

about travelin'?"

"Every once in a while." She turned on the faucet and put the bowls in the sink. "I've got a lot of responsibility here, though.

But I have to admit... it would be nice to get away." She turned to him. "Maybe someday. Right now I'm working toward buying

the building next door."

"Do you plan to open another business?"

"Sort of."

He listened as she told him her idea to put a café in the space. "Sounds brilliant," he said. "When will you start?"

She shrugged, her mouth tugging into a frown. "It's a pipe dream right now. I can't afford it, thanks to a bad decision."

"Well, runnin' a business isn't easy. Mistakes happen."

"This was a personal mistake." Glancing at her watch, her brows lifted. "I didn't realize what time it is. I've got to get

downstairs."

"I didn't mean to keep you, lass."

She turned off the tap and dried her hands. "You didn't. I enjoyed the conversation."

"Me too." He enjoyed everything. And while he had to wonder what she meant by "a bad personal decision," it wasn't his business.

They quickly went to the front door, and he grabbed his jacket. As he opened the door for her, he happened to look up at the

green sprig hanging above the doorway. "More mistletoe?"

Her cheeks flushed and she averted her gaze. "I... uh... don't have too many visitors. Actually, you've been the first

one in months. I think mistletoe is pretty, that's all." She moved past him and ran down the stairs.

Kieran knew she was in a hurry to get back to the store, and she was practically flying down the staircase. He looked at the

mistletoe again. Was she afraid he would try to kiss her?

It would be so easy to.

He closed the door. No worries there. She'd made it plain that she only thought of him as a friend. No, more like an acquaintance.

His mother and Sheryl would have to face the reality that there was nothing between him and Emmy.

I need to face that too.