Page 27 of Terms and Traditions

Nash

At precisely 6:28 the next morning, I parked on the curb in front of a single-story craftsman-style bungalow. Even in the predawn shadows, it held a charm, with its buttery-yellow colour, cream trim, and shutters. Just the sort of sunshiny house I’d expect Stephanie to live in. The girls—or probably Ben—had hung white Christmas lights along the roofline, adding to the character of the house.

It hadn’t snowed too hard overnight, so the driveway was still mostly clear. I noticed the snow shovel on the porch and made quick work of clearing the thin layer just in case it froze or rained and turned to slush. I didn’t know what Liz’s plans were for the holidays, but shoveling was the last thing she needed to worry about.

I’d just finished the driveway and was starting on the porch stairs when the front door flew open, revealing a very casual Stephanie. I usually only saw her in business or church attire. Jeans occasionally when we hung out together with friends. But now she was in maroon joggers and a black oversized hoodie with the Marine logo on it. Huh… That’s right, her oldest brother was a Marine, currently stationed in San Diego. He and Stephanie were close, I knew that. The only sibling she was close to. And I was positive the hoodie looked way better on her than it ever had on him. Move on, Nash, it’s a hoodie. Her tousled black curls looked like she’d just popped out of bed—and it was adorable. I could definitely get used to seeing her like this every morning, if she’d let me.

“What are you doing?” Stephanie hissed, flicking on the porch light and nearly blinding me.

I grinned brightly. “Good morning to you, too.”

She grunted and crossed her arms, clearly trying to look fierce, but she had more resemblance to a puffed-up kitten than a menacing porcupine with her puffy eyes still half shut.

I chuckled to myself at the mental image. “Just making sure Liz didn’t have to worry about ice or slush,” I said simply. “Where’s your luggage? I’ll load up.”

“I can get it,” she offered, relaxing her stance. “And thanks for doing the driveway. It’s one less thing for Ben to insist on taking care of.”

“Not a problem. Is this it?” I asked, stepping into her entryway and draping a garment bag over my arm before I hefted up the two medium-sized matching navy suitcases.

“Is it too much?” she called after me.

I laughed. “You worry too much. Two suitcases is nothing. Got anything else?”

“Just my purse and the cookie tins.”

“Bring your purse, and I’ll grab the cookies.” I popped the trunk of my Wrangler and Tetris-ed the luggage inside between my case and the garment bag holding my suit. When I got back to the door, Stephanie already had her boots on and her purse slung over her shoulder. “This it?” I asked, motioning to the two large clear plastic containers filled to the brim with assorted cookies.

“Yeah. I think.” She blew out a breath. “Sorry if—”

“Ah, ah,” I cut in. “No more apologies, okay?” I softened my tone. “For this to work, you need to be comfortable around me. You’re a strong and competent woman, Steph. Just breathe. You’re all good.”

Her deep exhale tugged at a protective feeling in my chest. Yeah, I couldn’t have been too far off about the anxiety. I wasn’t used to seeing the unsure side of Stephanie Addams. At work, she was always so organized and in control. But as I took in her leisure wear, sleepy expression, and the dark circles under her eyes in a noticeable absence of her usual makeup, she looked… softer and more vulnerable than I’d ever seen her. There was never a doubt in my mind about Stephanie’s strength—but I could get used to seeing her like this, even if she needed to apologize every few minutes. Lord, help me to help her feel comfortable in her own skin. Even if this thing between us doesn’t work… help her find her bravery so she doesn’t feel the need to be so small.

A yawning Liz materialized in the foyer, wrapped in a fuzzy blanket, her hair in a messy topknot. After waving to me, she hugged Stephanie long and hard before handing over a small white envelope. “For Christmas morning.” She yawned again. “I forgot to sneak it in the suitcase with the other gifts.”

Stephanie laughed. “You’re the best. Thank you. Yours are under the tree.”

“Thanks. You have everything?” Liz asked, readjusting the blanket around her shoulders. “You got the food? Your dress? The gifts?”

“Yes. Yes.” Then Stephanie jolted. “Wait, I forgot—” What she forgot was lost as she shuffled down the hall, disappearing into a room on the right side.

“Step in,” Liz invited. “No sense heating the outside.”

I chuckled and kicked the snow off my shoes before stepping into the entryway and shutting the door. “My grandmother used to say that.”

“Used to?”

“She passed when I was in college.” I stiffened slightly, surprised that information had just dropped out of me so willingly. Especially because Liz and I weren’t exactly close. Friends, sure. But… she had that effect on people, I guess. As a teacher to young impressionable minds, I was sure she was a master of ferreting out information. Probably good at keeping it, too.

Liz’s face pinched with sympathy, but before she could say anything, a landscape photograph in a distressed wood frame caught my eye on the entryway wall.

“Wow,” I breathed, leaning in to examine it. “Where is this?”

Liz paused beside me. “Glacier National. Steph has a good eye. It was the last trip us girls took all together right before Juliet and Myles’s wedding a bit over a year ago.”

“Steph’s a photographer?”

Liz nodded. “A good one, too. But she rarely does it anymore. Just the occasional shoot, like she did for Ben and me for our engagement.”