Author: Robyn Carr

The girl wrapped her arms around her father’s waist and hid her face in his chest. “I’ll be here for the party,” she said. “But you don’t have to come, Dad. I’ll understand.”

“I want to come,” he said, his eyes on Carrie. He held out his hand to her and their fingers locked together. “It takes moments like this for a man to recognize how fortunate he is to be blessed with good friends.”

Mackenzie smiled and glanced over her shoulder at Madame Frederick.

“What did I tell you?” the older woman said, smiling just as broadly. “The crystal ball sees all.”

“It didn’t help me decide which mutual fund to invest in,” Arnold reminded her. “And it didn’t help me pick the winning lottery numbers, either. You can take that crystal ball of yours and store it in a pile of cow manure.”

“I told you it wouldn’t help you for personal gain,” Madame Frederick said with more than a hint of defensiveness.

“What good is that silly thing if it doesn’t make your friends rich?”

“It serves its purpose,” Philip surprised everyone by responding. He slid his arm around his daughter’s shoulders. “Now, I’d say we’ve had enough excitement for one evening, wouldn’t you?”

Mackenzie nodded. “Night, everyone.”

“Good night,” Arnold called.

“Sleep well,” Madame Frederick sang out.

“Good night, sweetie. You stop by and visit me tomorrow, you hear?” Maria said.

“I will,” Mackenzie promised.

Carrie left with Philip and his daughter. “I’m baking cookies for the party in the morning,” she said when the elevator reached her floor.

“Do you need any help?” Mackenzie asked eagerly. “You won’t have to worry about eggshells getting in the dough this time.”

“I’d love it if you came by.”

Content that all was well, Carrie entered her apartment and got ready for bed. As she slipped on her nightgown, the phone rang. It was Philip.

“I know I was with you less than ten minutes ago, but I wanted to thank you.”

“For what? I didn’t do anything.” She’d shared his helplessness in searching for Mackenzie, his frustration and anger.

“You helped me find my daughter—in more ways than one.”

“No, your love for her did that.”

“I was wrong about your friends.”

She’d wondered how long it would take him to admit that.

“They’re as terrific as you are.” He paused. “Not spending time with her mother was a big blow to Mackenzie. She was devastated when Laura put her off once again. I don’t know what Madame Frederick really said, but it was obviously what Mackenzie needed to hear. For all her strangeness, Madame has good instincts about people.”

“You’re a fast learner.”

Philip’s amusement echoed over the phone line. “Don’t kid yourself. I was with the slow reading group in first grade. I’m not exactly a speed demon when it comes to relationships, either. My marriage is a prime example.”

“You’ll come to the Christmas party?”

“With bells on.” He chuckled. “The thing is, I’ll probably fit right in.”

Epilogue

Six months later

“This is the most exciting day of my life!” Mackenzie declared, waltzing around the small dressing room in her slender full-length pale green dress. A wreath of spring flowers adorned her head. “You’re actually going to be my stepmother, just like Madame Frederick said.”

Only Carrie and Mackenzie were still in the room, as Carrie made her final preparations.

“It’s an exciting day for me, too.” Carrie pressed her hands against her stomach to calm her jittery nerves. The church was full of family and friends, waiting for her to make her appearance. Jason, dressed in a tuxedo, would soon escort her down the aisle. Her step-aunts, Christy and Taylor, were also in her wedding party, and so were her two closest friends from college. Gene was Philip’s best man.

“Dad was so cute this morning,” Mackenzie said, laughing. “I thought he was going to throw up his breakfast. He’s so much in love he can hardly eat.”

Carrie closed her eyes. She hadn’t even attempted breakfast, and applauded Philip for making the effort. As for being in love, she was crazy about him and Mackenzie. This day was a dream come true, worthy of the finest fairy tale.

“Madame Frederick, Maria and Arnold are here, and lots of people from the office,” Mackenzie said, peering out at the church. “I didn’t think that many people knew my dad.” Gracefully she waltzed her way around Carrie. “You’re going to be the most beautiful bride ever. That’s what Dad said, and he’s right.”

“Thank you, sweetie.”

“It’s extra-special that you’re letting me be in the wedding party. Not everyone would do that. My first wedding,” she said, and her eyes held a dreamy, faraway look.

“You’re a good friend, Mackenzie.”

“You probably wouldn’t be marrying my dad if it wasn’t for me,” Mackenzie reminded her in a low voice. “But then, Madame Frederick’s the one who gave me the idea, so I guess I should give her the credit.”

“Remember what I told you about Madame Frederick and her crystal ball.”

“I remember. It’s just that you and Dad really do seem perfect for each other. Madame Frederick couldn’t have known that.”

“I’m pleased you think so.”

“If I were to pick someone to be my mother, I’d choose you.” Her eyes grew dark. “My dad needs you almost as much as I do. You’re perfect for both of us. I’d rather spend time with you than anyone, except for Les Williams.” She sighed deeply. “But then, Les doesn’t know I’m alive.”

“Don’t be so sure of that.”

“Are you two ready?” Jason called from outside the dressing room.

Carrie drew in a breath. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Mackenzie handed her the bouquet and Carrie opened the door. Jason was working his black tie back and forth in an effort to loosen it. He stopped in midaction and his jaw sagged.

“You…you look lovely.”

“Don’t act so surprised,” Carrie teased.

“You look so much like your mother on our wedding day, it’s hard to believe. I can’t get over it….”

Mackenzie threw her a smile and hurried to join the wedding party for the procession down the aisle.

“Be happy,” Jason said, his voice suspiciously low. He tucked her hand in the crook of his arm.

When Carrie glanced his way, she noticed a sheen of tears in his eyes.

“You’ll always be my daughter,” he murmured, fidgeting with his tie again. “I couldn’t be prouder of you than I am right this minute.”

“Thanks, Dad,” she whispered.

They stood at the back of the church and waited for their cue, which came when Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March” began. Carrie took a step forward. Toward Philip. Toward love. Toward their life together.

THE PERFECT HOLIDAY

Sherryl Woods

Dear Friends,

Christmas is one of my very favorite times of the year. Any time I’m asked to write a story about this season of joy and great hope, I’m eager to do it. “The Perfect Holiday” was written a few years ago, and I’m absolutely delighted it’s going to find a whole new audience in the company of two of my favorite authors, Debbie Macomber and Robyn Carr.

For many years now I’ve spent my own holidays in Miami, which doesn’t exactly fit the image of an ideal holiday setting. Yes, for you doubters, we do have Christmas here, but it’s definitely not the white Christmas of my dreams. So where better to set a Christmas story than an inn in Vermont? Add in the workaholic owner of a toy factory who’s never really learned how to play and a single mom struggling to get back on her feet. Then stir in a bit of matchmaking by a doting aunt—from beyond the grave, no less—and you have the makings of a very romantic holiday…the perfect holiday, in fact.

I hope you’ll enjoy spending time with Savannah and Trace this holiday season, and that your own holidays will be touched by magic, as well.

Merry Christmas to all!

One

“Mom, it’s snowing,” Hannah shouted from the living room.

Savannah heard the pounding of her daughter’s footsteps on the wood floors, then the eight-year-old skidded to a stop in front of her, eyes shining.

“Can I go outside? Please?” Hannah begged. “This is so cool. I’ve never seen snow before.”

“I know,” Savannah told her, amused despite herself. “We don’t get a lot of snow in Florida.”

“Wait till my friends back home hear we’re going to have a white Christmas. It is so awesome. I am sooo glad we moved to Vermont.”

Though she could understand her daughter’s excited reaction to her first snowfall, from Savannah’s perspective the snow was anything but a blessing. Since her arrival a couple of days ago, she’d discovered that the furnace at Holiday Retreat wasn’t reliable. The wind had a nasty way of sneaking in through all sorts of unexpected cracks in the insulation, and the roof—well, the best she could say about that was that it hadn’t fallen in on their heads…yet. With the weight of a foot of damp snow on it, who knew what could happen?

It had been three weeks since the call had come from the attorney informing her that she was a beneficiary of her aunt Mae’s estate. The bittersweet news had come the day before Thanksgiving, and for the first time since her divorce the year before, Savannah had thought she finally had something for which to be thankful besides her feisty, incredible daughter. Now that she’d seen the inn, she was beginning to wonder if this wasn’t just another of Fate’s cruel jokes.

Holiday Retreat had been in the family for generations. Built in the early 1800s as a home for a wealthy ancestor, the huge, gracious house in the heart of Vermont ski country had become an inn when the family had fallen on hard times. Savannah could still remember coming here as a child and thinking it was like a Christmas fantasy, with the lights on the eaves and in the branches of the evergreens outside, a fire blazing in the living room and the aroma of banana-nut bread and cookies drifting from the kitchen. The tree, which they cut down themselves and decorated on Christmas Eve, always scraped the twelve-foot ceiling.

Aunt Mae—Savannah’s great-aunt actually—had been in her prime then. A hearty fifty-something, she came from sturdy New England stock. She had bustled through the house making everyone in the family feel welcome, fixing elaborate meals effortlessly and singing carols boisterously, if a bit tunelessly. It was the one time of the year when there were no paying guests at the inn—just aunts and uncles and cousins all gathered for holiday festivities. To an only child like Savannah, the atmosphere had seemed magical.

If the house had been in a state of disrepair then and if the furniture had been shabby, she hadn’t noticed it. Now it promised to be one of the world’s worst money pits.

“Mom, did you hear me?” Hannah said again. “I said it’s snowing.”

“I heard,” Savannah said glumly.

Hannah’s blue eyes were alight with excitement. “Isn’t it great?”

Savannah tried to work up some enthusiasm to match her daughter’s, but all she could think about was the probability that too much snow would make the sagging roof plummet down on top of their heads as they slept. Still, she forced a smile.

“There’s nothing like a white Christmas,” she agreed.

“Can we get a tree and make hot chocolate and sing carols like you used to do when you were a kid?” Hannah pleaded. “Then it won’t matter if we don’t have any presents.”