“It’s prettier, too,” he said.

  “You’re right. I never thought of it before.”

  We ate at my kitchen table instead of the dining room, so we could keep an eye on the pie. It had to be just right if I were going to beat Renee. I’d set the kitchen timer for five minutes before it should have been done. When it went off, I decided the crust needed at least five, maybe ten more minutes to get the perfect golden shade.

  Caspian brought his chair over to sit in front of the oven, peering in through the glass.

  Stella and the others cleared the table, but Caspian and I remained watching.

  “You know a watched pan never boils, right?” Stella asked, laughing.

  “Mama, we have to be extra careful,” Caspian said. “This is the most important pie of Mr. Moon’s life.”

  I caught Stella’s eye over Caspian’s head. She mouthed the words thank you.

  That was enough for me. Even if Renee beat me, I’d already won.

  I could hardly believe my eyes. The park had been transformed into a holiday movie set. I almost expected one of those Hallmark actresses to walk out from behind the lit-up Christmas tree. The gazebo in the middle of the park had been strung with twinkling fairy lights.

  Thad tugged on my sleeve. “Me want to see.”

  He squealed as I lifted him up and slung him over my shoulders. “Hold on tight, okay?”

  “I will.” The next second he screamed, “Santa. I see Santa.”

  “We’ll go in a minute.” Stella took Soren’s hand. “Atticus, lead the way.”

  The pathway was lined with a variety of booths, each adorned with sparkling lights and fresh sprigs of holly. Looking around, I spotted a hot cocoa stand, and another with mulled wine and cider. Kids sat around a table in a heated tent decorating gingerbread houses. From a cart wafted the scent of grilled sausages in the crisp December air.

  “We need a sausage before this night is over,” I said.

  “For sure,” Caspian said. “I hope they have Dijon mustard.”

  The largest fir in the park had been adorned with lights and handcrafted ornaments. We stopped to admire the way the lights shimmered and danced. “The tree’s decorated with homemade ornaments.” Stella pointed at a red plaid quilted star. “That’s one of Iris’s. After Christmas is over people buy them and the proceeds go to the food bank.”

  We came upon a hot cocoa stand, the air around it misty from the warmth of the brew. Nearby, a group of adults huddled, sipping from mugs, presumably filled with spiced cider or wine.

  Craft booths dotted the scene, including jewelry, knitted hats and gloves, and pottery. Hand-blown glass ornaments glistened under soft lights. A woman who looked like Mrs. Claus worked diligently at a neighboring stall, embroidering names onto velvety red stockings. Another displayed handmade quilts, beautiful designs my mother would have loved. I made a mental note to check them out before the night ended.

  From a crude wooden stage that somehow seemed just right, our high school choir sang "The First Noel." Their voices harmonizing and rising into the night gave me goose bumps. “They sound so good,” I said.

  Stella leaned close, touching my gloved hand with hers. “You’re a sentimental one, aren’t you?”

  “I love Christmas. What can I say?”

  She held my gaze for a moment. “I think it’s wonderful.”

  On the far side of the park, a temporary ice rink hosted rosy-cheeked skaters.

  “May we go?” Atticus asked. He, Caspian, and Rafferty had all brought their skates from home.

  “Not until you tell Santa what you want for Christmas.” Stella pointed at Santa, where fidgety children and their parents waited to see a big guy in a red suit.

  “Come on, boys, let’s do this,” Stella said. “Santa needs to know your wish.”

  “I’m not doing it,” Atticus said.

  “Yes you are,” Stella said. “I want a photo.”

  “How about I get us all something hot to drink while we wait in line,” I suggested.

  “Make mine a hard cider please.” Stella pointed at the mulled wine and cider booth. “Double.”

  “You got it.” I lifted Thad over my head and set him on his feet. “Wait with your Mama. Come on with me,” I said to Atticus. “You can help me carry them all back.”

  “I want to come too,” Caspian said.

  “Yeah, okay.” I took another look at the line. We should have plenty of time to get back before our turn.

  The three of us took off for the hot cocoa booth. I slipped a five-dollar bill into Atticus’s hand. “Use that to pay. I’m going to grab your mama a cider, and I’ll meet you back here.”

  It only took a few minutes for us to get something for everyone. By then, Stella was almost to the front of the line. She took what appeared to be a grateful slug from her cider.

  Atticus went first. He didn’t exactly sit on Santa’s lap, more perched like someone using a portable potty. I would have loved to know what he asked for. He’d told his mother not to get him anything this year because of finances. Fat chance of that, I’d thought when she told me. I already had some money set aside for gifts.

  Caspian asked for a commercial mixer in red. Rafferty wanted a Lego set he’d seen on television. Soren asked for a tractor. Little Thad asked for a baseball bat.

  “That’s new,” Stella said. “I’ve never heard that.”

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “Santa knows just where to find one.”

  Later, as we walked toward the tent where the winner of the pie contest would soon be announced, I stepped in line with Atticus, letting Stella and the others go ahead. “What’d you ask Santa for?”

  He looked up at me, his eyes sad but sincere. “I asked that Mama have a reason to stop crying herself to sleep every night.”

  I felt a pang as though someone had stabbed me with a dull knife. “I want that too. That’s one for Jesus, though, not Santa.”

  “You pray for my mom?”

  “Every night,” I said. “Every single night.”

  “Then I will too.” Atticus shifted so that our arms touched as we walked into the tent. I took it the way I would have intended, had I been eleven. A hug.

  We stood near the front of the tent, near the table with my half-eaten pie. Besides mine, there were three others. The judges, all of whom I recognized from the bank, sat behind the table looking very serious. There was hardly room to move, as it appeared the entire town had come out for this event.

  “Pie’s serious business around here,” I whispered to Stella.

  “You fit right in,” she said.

  Daniel Stewart, who owned the grocery store, took hold of the microphone. His handlebar mustache seemed to quiver in excitement. “Thanks everyone, for attending tonight’s activities. This year we had an outstanding group of pies. I daresay, the best we’ve ever had.”

  I looked over at my competition. Iris stood with her husband, smiling serenely. Mrs. Van Nuys, wrapped in a plaid shawl and wearing a Santa’s hat over her white hair, stood next to her. When I’d delivered my pie to the judges that morning, she’d been dropping hers as well. I’d taken a quick peek and almost gasped. It was the ugliest crust I’d ever seen—like a patchwork quilt the way she’d pieced the bits of crust together. Or maybe one of those creepy dolls from a horror movie that had its face sewn back together. Didn’t she know how to use a rolling pin? She must have read my mind because she said, “I know it’s ugly, but it’s what inside that counts.”

  “Do you enter every year?” I’d asked, politely.

  She’d lifted her chin and sniffed. “As a matter of fact I do. I never win, which just goes to show people are too concerned with appearance. It’s substance that matters.”

  “Couldn’t agree more,” I’d said.

  Next to her, Renee shifted from one foot to the other, bringing me back to the present. Funnily enough, I didn’t really care if I won. Entering had made me feel like part of the community. Standing with Stella and her boys made me feel as though I was home.

  Renee caught my eye. I gave her a nod and mouthed, “Good luck.”

  She did not return the sentiment.

  “Coming in third place is Iris’s delicious berry pie,” Daniel said. “Well done this year.”

  Which meant it was between Renee and me. There was no way that ugly pie was going to win.

  Caspian slipped his hand into mine. “Pick us, pick us,” I heard him whisper.

  We were an us? My chest expanded. Again, I’d already won.

  “In second place, in an upset this year, Renee,” Daniel. “Congratulations.”

  Me and the ugly pie? Was I being too cocky? Maybe they’d pick hers after all, and then I’d really feel like an idiot.

  “The winner of this year’s pie contest is newcomer Jasper Moon.”

  The crowd exploded with cheers and applause. I don’t know if it was for me or in celebration of perfect Renee’s demise.

  “We did it,” I said to Caspian.

  “I knew it,” he said.

  Stella beamed at me. Other than Caspian, the boys were jumping around like happy puppies. I looked down again at my little helper and my heart stopped. His eyes were streaming with tears.

  I dropped to my knees. “Buddy, what’s wrong?”

  “I’m so happy and sad at the same time,” Caspian said. “It’s so confusing. Making that pie was the best day of my life.”

  I pulled him to my chest and held him tight. “It was a really good day, and we’ll have a whole bunch more of them, okay?”

  “Don’t leave us, Mr. Moon.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  I glanced up at his mother, who was also crying. She placed a hand on my shoulder, smiling through her tears. “Don’t leave us, Mr. Moon.”

  I kept an arm around Caspian as I straightened and leaned close to Stella. “Wherever you are, I’ll be. As long as you let me.”

  16

  Stella

  By the time Christmas Eve rolled around, Jasper and I had completed our business plan and secured a loan, along with a new mortgage with a lower interest rate. I’d sold most of the cattle and used that to pay off some debt. As soon as the snow thawed, Jasper said, we’d start building the cabins. To keep costs low, Jasper and Randy had agreed to do as much of the work as they could. There was the problem of what to serve our guests for meals yet to be figured out. Building a commercial kitchen that would pass code was another whole challenge to tackle. Jasper kept assuring me all along the way that it would all come together.

  “It better,” I said, thinking of the large sum of money he’d put into the investment.

  Jasper had spent so many evenings and meals with us by then the boys treated him as family. He was great with them, too. There were piggyback rides and sledding adventures and baking during those cold days of December.

  My infatuation with Jasper had not lessened. As the days wore on, I wanted him more and more. But he had yet to kiss me or even act as if he wanted to. Every night when we said goodbye, we gave each other a quick hug but that was it.

  Did he like me? I had no idea.

  When I ran it by Iris, she only rolled her eyes and said, “You can’t really be that dumb, can you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The man spends every evening over here. Plus, I see the way he looks at you. He’s waiting until he thinks you’re ready.”

  Would he ever think so? Would I be?

  The kind of pain Rex caused the boys and me had repercussions that would taint the rest of our lives. Would Jasper Moon lessen our pain? He certainly had so far.

  Christmas Eve we had lasagna for dinner, which Jasper had said was a tradition at his house growing up. It was a big hit, as was the pecan pie and ice cream for dessert. Caspian was by his side the whole day, chattering away about this and that. I’d never heard him talk that much. It made my mama heart really happy.

  Jasper’s mother, Elaine, had arrived a few days before Christmas. I’d expected her to be older or at least look her age. Instead, this glamorous, slender blonde walked into my kitchen. When I commented upon her youthful appearance, she patted my hand. “I had Jasper when I was only eighteen.”

  “Like me,” I said.

  “That’s right. The good news is, at some point these rascals will leave you be and you can get a little rest.”

  I poured us both glasses of wine, and we toasted in the warmth of my kitchen, the noise of the boys and Jasper in an epic snowball fight a background.

  “How come you never remarried?” I asked.

  “You mean married. You have to be married once to add the 're-' on there.”

  “Right. Sorry.”

  “I never met the right man, to be honest. He had to be near perfect if he were to be around my son. And, spoiler alert, there are no perfect men. So here I am at forty-eight still single.” She smiled mischievously. “That said, I have been seeing someone.”

  “Is it serious?” I asked.

  “I think so. He’s divorced with grown daughters, so the timing’s good.”

  “How did you meet?”

  “We both arrived at a party on the same night—standing outside our friends' apartment, ringing the doorbell like a couple of dummies. Our friend wasn’t home, prompting our conclusion that we had come on the wrong night. Instead, he took me out to dinner and we’ve been dating ever since. But I don’t know…he’s a wealthy businessman and I’m just plain old me. All my career, I’m worked for men like him. As an assistant, mind you. I watched them all leave every night to head home to their families and I would think, why couldn’t that have happened to me?”

  “Firstly, you’re not plain,” I said. “You’re absolutely gorgeous. Your son told me once that it didn’t matter what compliments someone else gave you, only that we believe in our own beauty. Our own worth, for that matter.”

  “He’s wise, my son.”

  “I spent more than a decade with someone who never said anything remotely kind to me. Jasper, on the other hand, seems to have an endless supply.”

  She peered over at me, a question in her eyes. She wanted to ask me something else. Something personal. Most likely about the nature of my relationship with her son. However, she must have decided against it because she returned to chopping carrots for the salad.

  If she’d have asked, “Do you like my son?” I would have replied yes.

  We attended the Christmas Eve services at church, singing carols with the rest of the congregation and hearing the story so familiar to all of us of Jesus’s birth. Elaine had decided to stay in and get a good night’s rest, so it was just my brood and Jasper. By the time we got home, the boys were exhausted and fell into their beds.

  When I came downstairs, Jasper had his coat on. This was ridiculous. I was going to have to be blunt.

  “I want you to stay,” I said. “And I want you to kiss me.”

  His mouth dropped open, and then he grinned. “I would like to kiss you as well. And I would like to stay. Possibly forever.”

  He pulled me to him without bothering to take off his coat and kissed me hard, like a man who had been starved for exactly what I could give him.

  By the time we pulled away, we were both breathless.

  “I better stop now, or we could get into big trouble,” he said.

  “Maybe I like trouble.”

  He drew back to look into my eyes. “I don’t know if you’re ready, and I respect your decision either way. However, I need you to know something. When you’re ready, I’m going to put everything I have into winning your heart. I’m in love with you. I’m in love with your boys too. I could be a partner. A good one. And a good dad.”

  “Are you sure?” Right now my heart was pounding twice as hard as it usually did. “I have all these kids and I’m probably going to lose this ranch and I have no job skills and nowhere to go.”

  “I’m a lonely bank manager who likes to bake and spend time with his cat. I don’t own the right kind of boots. I know nothing about raising children. Or horses. Or chickens. And you have someplace to go. Me. You could come to me. And I could learn about how to be a Montana man.”

  A lump in my throat prevented me from speaking for a moment. “What if I were to say I like you just the way you are, boots or not?”

  “Then I would say I’m one lucky man.” He pulled something from his pocket. A second later, I realized it was mistletoe. “I brought this just in case I got up my nerve.” He lifted it over my head.

  “Well, I wouldn’t want to shun tradition.”

  We kissed under that mistletoe and for the first time in a long time, I felt as though I was home.

  17

  Jasper

  In the spring, we finished building six cabins, all with bathrooms and fireplaces. We wanted to have a dwelling for every type of guest, thus we constructed them for a specific guest in mind. For example, a honeymoon couple would more likely book a suite with all the comforts of a fine hotel. A family would need bunk beds and a slightly bigger bathroom. Stella had insisted on that, already anticipating the tired mothers who would come to have a break and a rest from real life. All of which meant that the family cabins had a full tub decked out with bubble bath and body lotion.

  Our honeymoon cabin included two rocking chairs set before the fire and a queen bed with a layers of cozy blankets and feather-filled pillows. The tub was meant for two—also equipped with the necessary oils and soaps. For a family of four, we had bunk beds and pullout couches, depending on the size of the family. Sometimes we had groups of women for a girls' weekend, and they required bunk beds and sometimes the entire fleet of our cabins. By June we were fully booked until the new year.

  Stella had wanted a casual, cozy look for the interiors. We'd bought the quilt makers’ entire inventory last year, knowing that we'd need them for our cabins. As the quilts for our anchor points, Stella chose paint colors and accessories for each cabin.

  We'd also built a small restaurant on the property. Although the decor wasn't fancy, we'd found an excellent young chef who surprised us with his talent. We served a fixed menu, other than adjustments for allergies, which kept planning and execution simple. Stella did most of the serving, with the boys and me as busboys. Soon, if we kept turning a profit, I was going to propose hiring a waitress. I wanted Stella to myself at night. Life was short. We wouldn’t have many years before the boys were all grown and leaving us for lives of their own.