you’re interested.”
Louise was Randy’s wife, who ran the mill with him. “That would be great,” Clare said, not sure how he’d found out about Daisy’s house. “I’m on my way to town now.”
“The good doctor will be there?”
She nodded without comment. Randy chatted with Owen as they walked up to the parking lot. He grabbed live evergreen boughs from the bed of the truck and put them into her trunk. Clare smiled. “They smell heavenly, don’t they?”
That obviously hadn’t occurred to him. She thanked him, and he wished her luck with the decorating. Once in the car, Owen immediately resumed pressing his case for ice-skating. To add to the cards on his side, when they arrived on South Main, Aidan and Tyler Sloan were skipping up the sidewalk with their father, all three carrying ice skates. The boys eagerly invited Owen to join them.
“I have a pair of skates for him in the trunk, but he’s never used them,” Clare explained. “I haven’t checked them out yet.”
But Logan Farrell came out of the house. “I can take a look at them and make sure they’re in decent shape. What do you think, Clare? Would that be all right with you?”
She nodded, trying to ignore the tightness in her stomach as she popped the trunk to her car.
Brandon Sloan, a strong, competent-looking man, eyed her as if he could tell what she was thinking. “I’ll stick close to Owen.”
“He’s only skated a few times and always indoors.”
“Nothing like your first time skating outdoors. It’s not a lake or a pond. Even if the ice cracks, nothing will happen.”
“He’s excited,” Clare said. “It’s easy to get ahead of yourself when you’re excited. He needs to pay attention to the other skaters.”
“I won’t let him get bowled over,” Brandon said, cuffing Owen on the shoulder. “Right, kiddo?”
Owen giggled. “What’s bowled over?”
“Flattened.” Brandon grinned at Clare, matter-of-fact. “Helps to be clear with kids.”
She appreciated his nonchalance but couldn’t shake her concern. “There’s also hypothermia—”
Logan eased in next to her. “It’s not that cold today. He’ll work up a head of steam.”
“It’ll be fine,” Brandon added. “Relax, okay?”
Clare breathed, tried to smile. “Thank you.”
Logan grabbed the skates and took Owen onto the porch to try them on and make sure they were okay.
Aidan and Tyler were clearly getting restless. “Two more minutes,” their father told them, turning back to Clare. “Dylan McCaffrey will be out on the ice this morning. He was a professional hockey player. He’s had stitches a few times, but he still has all his teeth.”
“Hockey players wear helmets and play in indoor rinks with walls.”
Brandon rested back on his heels. “You’re getting yourself spooled up, aren’t you, Clare?”
“I am. Sorry.” She gave a small laugh. “Owen’s had so much new to deal with—with the move. New home, new school, new friends. And six isn’t five. He’s getting more independent. I don’t want to suffocate him but he’s still so young.”
“She’s in mama-bear mode,” Logan said, walking down the porch steps with Owen trotting happily next to him, ice skates in hand.
“Got it,” Brandon said with a grin.
“The skates are fine,” Logan added.
Clare knelt in front of her son. “Now, Owen, you can go skating with your friends, but you have to listen to Brandon. Understand?”
“Yes, Mom.”
“Aidan and Tyler have more experience skating than you do. That’s okay. You don’t have to keep up with them. You’ll learn. Be patient with yourself.”
Logan adjusted Owen’s hat. “Best way to learn to skate better is to get out on the ice and go for it. Have fun.”
Owen smiled up at him. “Thanks, Logan.”
Already he was Logan, not Dr. Farrell? Clare kept her mouth shut as Brandon collected the three boys and headed across South Main to the common. She breathed deeply, her mind racing with possibilities of what could happen. Hurt feelings, the two more experienced boys running off and leaving Owen because he couldn’t keep up, kids teasing him because he was the inexperienced skater—the new kid in town who didn’t know anything.
Hypothermia. Stitches. Concussion. Broken bones.
“Clare.”
She dragged herself out of her thoughts and gave another small laugh to cover for herself. “Mind wandering. Thank you for helping with the skates.”
“Not a problem.”
She remembered the boughs from the Frosts and returned to her trunk. “I don’t know what we’ll do with them, but they smell nice, don’t they?”
“Sure do,” Logan said, grabbing most of them.
She gathered the rest and followed him inside through the front door and down a center hall to a cozy kitchen with white-painted cabinets. They set the evergreens on the table.
He brushed off his arms. “I think I got spruce needles down my neck.”
Clare laughed. “Me, too. At least we’re not allergic. I mean—I assume you’re not if you carried...”
“I’m not allergic.”
She glanced around the kitchen, its cabinets and countertops worn but serviceable. The gas stove looked fairly new—within the past decade, anyway. Windows by the table and over the sink looked out on the backyard, covered in light snow. She imagined it in spring, with flowers, green grass and shade trees.
Logan stood next to her at a window. “Gran gave up keeping bird feeders. She had a bad fall hanging a feeder a few years ago. She doesn’t give up easily, but she didn’t want birds counting on her if she couldn’t get out there in the snow.”
“She’ll enjoy the bird feeders at Rivendell, then.”
“I’m sure she will. She’ll have Grace Webster to instruct her.”
“I understand that Grace is the Knights Bridge resident bird expert.”
“That’s what I hear.” He nodded to the evergreens on the table. “Any plans for what to do with them?”
“I figure ideas will emerge as we get into the decorating. I assume we’re only decorating outside. No point decorating inside if no one will be here.”
“I did tell Gran I’d light a candle on Christmas Eve. I suppose I could delegate it, or drive straight back to Boston.”
“Have you ever spent Christmas in Knights Bridge?”
“When my sister and I were kids. Grandpa would take us out on the tractor on the Farrell farm to cut a Christmas tree.”
“You must have great memories.”
“I’d give anything to cut a tree with him now. I don’t care if I’m in my thirties.”
“I gather from everything I’ve heard about him that your grandfather was something. I can see for myself your grandmother still is. Shall we get started?”
His eyes steadied on her. “What about your grandparents, Clare?”
“All four are still with us. My paternal grandparents retired to South Carolina and love it, and my maternal grandparents live in Amherst with my parents. We have roots in the area. My family on my mother’s side settled