was his polar opposite, like sunshine bringing light to a cloudy day.
Completely out of character for him, the poetic image didn’t do much for his mood, and he grumbled as he settled in at Julia’s desk and powered up his computer. Hopefully, focusing on work would get his mind off the clash of emotions Hannah’s innocent request had unleashed inside him.
His quick trip to the toy store had turned into more than he’d planned on, and he didn’t like it. Not one bit.
Chapter Two
Julia was hanging stockings on the mantel when she felt a tug on the hem of her sweater. She didn’t recognize the little boy, but he had a shy look about him, so she hunkered down to his level. “May I help you, sir?”
“My friend told me you’re doing ging-a-bread houses,” he answered so quietly she had to strain to hear him.
“Yes, we are.” Noticing his mother hovering nearby, she smiled at the young woman, then at her son. “Every Saturday from two to five, starting next week. Did you want to make one? I can add you to our list.”
His hazel eyes big as saucers, he nodded solemnly. “My name is Colby.”
As he stared at her, Julia got the feeling he wanted to say something else, but she didn’t want to rush him. A timid soul herself, she resented it when people hurried her through a conversation or—worse yet—presumed they knew what she was thinking. So she took her time writing his name on the schedule.
A few seconds later, he rewarded her patience. “Do you have any more of those trucks?”
He pointed to an antique model from Berlin. Part of Julia’s private collection, it was one-of-a-kind and not for sale. Judging by his mother’s panicky look, she’d already guessed that.
Julia eased her mind with a wink, then spoke to her son. “Actually, that’s the last one. I found it at a store in Germany, and I’ve been saving it for someone special. Do you think maybe that’s you?”
“Yes,” he replied, quickly this time. “It’s just like the one my granddad used to drive when he helped build the road out to Schooner Point. He showed me pictures...”
Delighted that he’d opened up to her, Julia listened while Colby relayed some of what his grandfather had told him about working on the road crew. When he was finished, she took a blank snowflake from the basket on the counter. “To get the truck, you need to fill this out for me and hang it on the Gifting Tree. In return, bring in a small gift for someone else to make their Christmas better. Okay?”
He checked with his mom, who looked a little shocked but nodded. While he was occupied filling out his tag, she moved closer to Julia. “How did you do that?” she asked in a hushed tone. “He never talks to anyone outside the family.”
Laughing, Julia patted her arm. “Boys and trucks. Or lizards or snakes, or something like that.”
“How many children do you have?”
The innocent question plucked a painful nerve, but Julia covered it with a smile. “None. I just like kids.”
Glancing around, the young mother leaned in closer. “I have to say, I’ve heard some not very nice things about you since you moved here in the spring. But that truck must’ve been expensive, and you’re very generous to give it to a little boy you don’t even know. I’m glad to find out those folks were wrong.”
Time and again Julia had endured the snap judgments people made about her simply because they assumed she must be snobby and spoiled because she was rich and famous. She’d come to this picturesque village, far removed from the public eye, intending to erase all that and start again. Unfortunately, it was easier said than done.
“Hopefully, once they get to know me, they’ll feel the same way,” she commented as Colby rejoined his mother.
“I know they will. Thanks again.”
As the two of them made their way out, she heard him say, “Mommy, I like that pretty toy lady.”
The sweet comment made her smile, and Julia went to help another customer trying to choose between lawyer Barbie and ballerina Barbie. They were debating which would appeal most to her seven-year-old granddaughter when a frustrated bellow shook the Austrian crystal ornaments dangling from one of the trees.
“What do you mean, cancelled?”
The elderly woman gave Julia a hawkish look. “You have a man back there?”
“No.” Realizing that sounded dishonest, she immediately corrected herself. “Well, yes, but he’s just using my office to get some work done. Excuse me a minute.”
“No rush.” Holding a box in each hand, she looked from one to the other. “I need to think about this.”
“Take your time.” Hurrying to the back, Julia wished she’d installed a door to contain the noise. Since she and a couple of part-time clerks were the only ones who worked in the store, it hadn’t seemed necessary. Until now.
Hoping to avoid a further scene, she kept her voice low as she entered. “Is there a problem back here?”
Clearly aggravated, a scowling Nick waved her off. Pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers, he growled, “I know there’s a storm coming up the coast. That’s why I’m trying to get back to Richmond. Today.” He listened for a few moments, then heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Fine, tomorrow at noon. I don’t care how much more it is—just get me on that flight.”
Clicking his phone off, he tossed it on Julia’s small writing desk in a gesture she presumed was commonplace for him. Irked by his rudeness, she rested a protective hand on one of her prized possessions. “This was handmade for me by an artisan in Tuscany. I’d appreciate you not beating on it because you’re mad.”
“Sorry.” Another deep sigh, and he glowered up at the ceiling, as if that would get his plane back on schedule. He blinked, then did a slow circuit of the high shelves that made it clear he’d just noticed them. “Whoa. That’s a lot of— What are they?”
“Dollhouse miniatures,” she replied, handing his phone back to him. “I’ve been collecting them since I was a little girl.”
There was at least one complete set of every room in a doll’s mansion, down to the real silverware, china and delicate crystal set for twelve on a Chippendale dining table. Four-poster beds, sofas and chairs, electric lamps of all sizes, even three vintage bathrooms—all arranged in vignettes she lovingly dusted once a week.
Glancing around, he came back to her with a puzzled expression. “Where’s the dollhouse?”
“We traveled so much when I was growing up, it didn’t make sense to constantly pack and unpack something that big. I collected small things, so I could always take them with me. Now that I’m settled, I’d love to get a dollhouse but haven’t had the chance yet.”
“No pets with all that moving around, huh?”
“Oh, no, we had lots of pets. My mother loves birds, and we always had a cat or two.” Thinking back through her father’s many assignments, she laughed. “In Australia, we took care of an orphaned koala until it was old enough to go into the reserve.”
“Very cool,” he breathed, and a quick glance told her he meant it. Unfortunately, his next comment ruined the moment. “Y’know, you’d make a great article. Glamorous world traveler bringing Christmas to kids in a small town, something like that. With your connections to famous entertainers, politicians and royalty, your story would be picked up by every media service in the world.”
“My life was on display for years, but I’m done with that,” she informed him crisply as she turned to go. “While you’re in my office, please keep your voice down.”
Unfazed by her scolding, he pointed at her with a shameless wink. “Gotcha.”