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As for Reggie, he’d spoken the truth when he’d pointed out to Dena that their relationship had happened a couple of lifetimes ago. Sure, he’d been crazy about her, and back then, he’d fantasized about them spending the rest of their lives together, but so what? They’d been young and in love and now they were neither. Working with her on the charity project would be no big deal. It might even be fun to get to know each other again.

As for risking his heart, he knew that wasn’t going to happen. Not counting Reggie, he had incredibly bad taste when it came to women. If he only had to worry about himself, he might take a chance, but there was more on the line. And in his world, Harrison was the only thing that mattered.

Chapter Three

While the rest of the planet barreled forward, wanting to know what the future would bring, Wishing Tree, Washington, was more content to meander. There was plenty of high-speed internet to be had and a burgeoning high-tech area on the outskirts of town. The new outlet mall was a big hit, and there was talk that several of the state’s larger wineries were thinking of putting in a tasting room, but at its heart, Wishing Tree was only ever what it had always been. Homey, family-friendly, and completely and totally Christmas-centric.

The north-south streets celebrated all things holiday. There were names like Jolly Drive and Reindeer Avenue. The east-west streets were all named after trees. Noble and Spruce, even Mountain Hemlock Highway. Instead of a traditional town square, there was The Wreath—a circular area where all important events took place. Parades (and there were several) began and ended there. The tree lighting took place in The Wreath. The town’s Advent calendar had a place there. Stores circled The Wreath, and if a retail space became available, there was always a sizeable waiting list of businesses wanting the prime location.

As Reggie drove slowly along the familiar streets, she felt an easing of a tension she hadn’t noticed until now. Being back was right, she told herself. Seattle was great and she loved her life there, but coming home to Wishing Tree, especially for Christmas, was pretty wonderful, too.

Her parents lived in one of the older neighborhoods. The brick houses sat on oversized lots. Wide porches offered lots of space for holiday decorations. Right now there were plenty of scarecrows and turkeys in front lawns. The Friday after Thanksgiving, all that would change as the town appeared to flip a switch and begin what was, for them, the best season of all, with the Lighting of the Trees.

From the back seat, Belle began to whine, as if she recognized where they were and couldn’t wait to see her grandparents. Reggie noticed the absence of snowmen in the decorating. Town rules—no snowmen until the first snowfall. And the definition of snowfall was very specific, at least in Wishing Tree. It had to snow steadily for at least fifteen minutes, at the end of which the ground had to be lightly dusted. If that happened, the first snowfall was declared. Horns sounded and everyone headed for The Wreath to celebrate.

The first snow was incredibly late this year, Reggie thought, taking in brown, bare lawns. With a little luck, she would still be around when it happened. After all, Wishing Tree had had a white Christmas every year of its existence. There was no reason to think this year would be any different.

She pulled up in front of the familiar two-story brick house. There were big windows and a wide porch. She and Dena had grown up in this house. She knew which stairs creaked when she was trying to sneak out and exactly how long she could shower before the hot water ran out. She knew the sound of rain on the roof in her upstairs bedroom and which part of the basement was comfortable to work in and which part creeped her out.

The front door opened and her parents rushed out. Belle nearly went through the window in her eagerness to get outside and greet them. Reggie hurried around and let out her dog. Belle burst forth with all the joy her giant body could contain, rushing toward two of her favorite people in the world.

“Who’s a beautiful girl?” Reggie’s mom said, holding her arms open wide. Reggie’s father got between them, taking the brunt of Belle’s body blow as she slammed into them before circling, barking and whining, wiggling with happiness and drenching them with kisses.

Reggie watched her parents, trying to see if anything had changed since they’d visited her in Seattle a few months before. Her dad had a few more gray hairs around his temple. Leigh, her mom, would never let that happen to her own hair. She visited her stylist regularly for a cut and a little root touch-up. Her medium brown hair was the same color it had always been—the same color Reggie had inherited, along with her mother’s brown eyes.

Reggie joined her parents, moving more sedately. Her dad held her tight. “How was the drive?” he asked, before passing her off to her mother for another hug.

“Good. Easy. We stopped for burgers.”

Leigh cupped Belle’s huge head in her hands. “Did your mom get you a burger because you’re a good girl?”

Belle’s long tail whipped back and forth, stopping suddenly when a sharp bark filled the air. Reggie saw Burt, her dad’s twenty-two-pound dachshund, run out of the house toward them. Belle immediately slipped behind Reggie, her tail tucked between her legs.

“You really need to learn to handle him,” Reggie said before bending over and greeting Burt. “Hey, big guy.”

Burt wiggled with happiness as she patted him, before glaring at Belle and giving a low growl. Belle retreated further.

Leigh put her arm around Belle. “Just stand up to him. He’s not as brave as he seems. Show him who’s boss, pretty girl. That’s all it’s going to take.”

Good advice, Reggie thought. Sadly, Belle had not yet mastered more than a few words of the English language and couldn’t understand much beyond the tone of the message. The finer details, and the advice, were lost on her.

Her mom shepherded the dogs inside while Reggie and her dad took care of the luggage. The suitcases went upstairs into Reggie’s old room, and the dog food was stored in the kitchen pantry. Last, Reggie carried her laptop and Gizmo’s vacuum downstairs into the basement rec-room-slash-craft-room-slash-spare-office.

She set them on the long worktable, noting there were sample wedding invitations spread out, along with a printed guest list. It seemed her parents really were serious about renewing their vows and having a big party to celebrate.

She went back to the main level, noting there were a few changes from her last visit. The hardwood floors had been refinished and the walls painted. There was a new stove in the kitchen—a nice six-burner model replacing the one that had been older than her.

The living room furniture—used for guests—was as pristine as always. It was pretty much the only place pets weren’t allowed. In the family room, however, the big sectional and two recliners were worn from use but still comfortable. She thought maybe the TV was a little bigger than the last time she’d visited, but otherwise, all was as she remembered. Including Burt nipping at Belle’s ankles and the Great Dane yelping before jumping on the sofa, where she stood trembling, her expression one of outrage and fear.

“Oh, Belle,” Reggie said, settling next to her dog. “You have got to grow a spine. Seriously, your daily poop weighs as much as he does.”

“There’s a thought,” her father said, leaning over the back of the sofa and kissing the top of her head. “It’s good to have you back, kid.”

“It’s good to be back.”

“I need to get to the shop.”

Leigh walked out of the kitchen. “Dinner’s at six thirty, Vince. Not six forty or six forty-five.”