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Chapter 1

“Home.” The moment Lindy Carmichael turned down Apple Orchard Lane in Wenatchee, Washington, she re­leased a deep sigh. An immediate sense of familiar warmth and welcome filled her. She had two full weeks off to cel­ebrate Christmas and New Year’s with her family. If ever she needed a break, it was this year. And what a truly ter­rible, awful year it had been.

Three years ago, after working for several small com­panies, Lindy had been hired for her dream job with a marketing and website design company. Her degree in computer science, with a specialty in graphics and visual­ization, plus her work history, was tailor-made for Media Blast. Confident that her creative talent would be a com­pany asset, she’d been sure she’d fit right in. While she loved her job and the opportunity it afforded her, she couldn’t help feeling underappreciated. Just before Lindy left for vacation, she’d submitted a campaign for the Fer­guson Group, one of their largest accounts. This opportu­nity to prove her worth was exactly what she’d been waiting for. If her proposal was chosen, then she would get the recognition she deserved. Lindy had never been a quitter. Her dad had once told her that if she did more than she was paid to do, her hard work would eventually be noticed. With time, she’d be rewarded for what she did. Lindy held on to that philosophy and had given this job her all.

Pushing thoughts of work problems from her mind, she pulled in to the driveway of the home where she’d spent the majority of her life. Twinkling lights lining the edge of the roofline greeted her, along with twin reindeer who stood guard over the snow-covered lawn. A large ev­ergreen wreath with silver and blue bulbs hung on the front door. Home for Christmas. This was exactly what she needed to escape the doldrums that had plagued her over the last six months.

Lindy hadn’t completely exited her car before the front door flew open and her mother and Beau, the family dog, hurried toward her on the freshly shoveled driveway. Her mother’s arms reached for Lindy, while Beau braced his front legs against her thighs, tail wagging, craving her at­tention. With barely enough time to inhale the shockingly cold air, Lindy was pulled inside the warm house by her mother, who then enveloped her in a full-body hug. Beau barked his welcome, running circles around her, yipping his excitement.

“I didn’t think you’d ever get here,” Ellen Carmichael said, helping Lindy off with her coat. “How was the pass? I checked the weather conditions, and it was snowing over Snoqualmie. Did you have any trouble? I worry that you don’t have snow tires . . . I realize you don’t need them liv­ing in Seattle, but it’s a must this side of the mountains.”

“Mom, my goodness, give me a minute to catch my breath,” Lindy said, giggling. Home. To be surrounded by love was what she needed most. The kitchen was warm, and her mother had a batch of freshly baked cookies lined up in rows on the countertop. Baking was an expression of love in Lindy’s family. Her mother started early for the annual Christmas Eve gathering with longtime friends. Each family would leave with an overflowing plate of homemade cookies.

“Did you eat breakfast?” her mother asked her, as she reached for the coffeepot.

“No. I wanted to get on the road as soon as it was day­light.” Traffic over Snoqualmie Pass could be a problem in winter, and it was often closed due to avalanche concerns. Lindy felt the earlier she got out of Seattle and to the other side of the mountain, the better.

“Then sit down and I’ll fry you up—”

Lindy cut her mother off, eyeing the cookies on the countertop. “Coffee and a couple of those thumbprints will carry me until lunchtime.”

Her mother opened the cupboard for a mug, while Lindy helped herself to her favorite Christmas cookies.

Sitting across from her, Lindy smiled at her mother. This was what she’d held in her mind for the last several months while she weathered the storms life had tossed at her. Home and Christmas. This was the perfect combina­tion to help her out of this deep emotional slump.

Her position with Media Blast was only the tip of the proverbial iceberg. Not wanting her mother to fret, Lindy had kept the majority of her various troubles since sum­mer to herself. Nor was she looking to share them the minute she arrived home. Maybe in a few days, after she’d soaked in the serenity of being at home, she would feel inclined to explain.

After sampling the first cookie, Lindy closed her eyes. “I swear I could eat a dozen of these.”

“But you won’t. I have lunch planned.”

Only then did Lindy notice the simmering pot on the stove. “Did you make pasta e fagioli?” The soup, made with cannellini and kidney beans and small pasta simmer­ing in a rich tomato broth, was a family tradition.

“With sourdough buns,” her mother added. The starter had been handed down from her father’s grandfather, who’d once lived in Alaska. He claimed it came from an old Klondike miner and had been kept alive since the 1890s. Lindy knew her parents had shared it with various family and friends. For as long as she could remember, Lindy’s father had made sourdough pancakes every Sun­day morning for breakfast. On special occasions, her mother baked the buns, using a recipe that had been passed down from her grandmother.

“Mom,” Lindy said and groaned, “you’re going to spoil me.”

“That’s exactly what I intend to do. It’s been far too long since you’ve been home.”

“I was here for the Fourth of July,” she reminded her. She’d come home shortly after getting her own apartment, and just before she’d learned the terrible truth about . . . She stopped her thoughts, refusing to let them drift toward even more unpleasantness.

“Yes, and that was months ago. It isn’t like we’re a thousand miles apart. Seattle is barely three hours away in traffic.”

“I know, I know, but I moved, remember, and then there was this project for work that demanded nearly every weekend. But it was worth it, because I earned two weeks off to spend the holidays with you, Dad, Chad, Ashley, and Peter.” Her younger brother had married his high school sweetheart and worked at the apple warehouse in supply-chain management. Within a year, Ashley and Chad had presented her parents with an amazing grand­son. Lindy was crazy about four-year-old Peter. They con­nected every week through FaceTime, and she mailed him gifts so often, Chad had to ask her to resist. Ashley was currently pregnant with a little girl they had decided to name Grace. She was due to arrive the first week of March.

When Lindy finished her coffee and cookies, she un­loaded her car and brought her suitcase into her bedroom. Standing in the doorway to the familiar room, she found it exactly as it’d been when she’d left for college. She sat on the edge of her bed and looked around, remembering how carefree life had been when she was a teenager.

A poster of the Jonas Brothers was tacked to one wall. Her pom-poms from dance team were tucked against the corner of the bulletin board, and the corsage she’d worn to her senior prom was pinned to the board.

Home.

Peace washed over her, as she wrapped all that was fa­miliar around her like a heated blanket.

“Lunch will be ready soon,” her mother called from the kitchen, soon after Lindy had unpacked. She tucked the few wrapped gifts she’d brought with her under the Christmas tree that adorned the living room, in front of the picture window that looked out over Apple Orchard Lane.

“I’ll be right there.” After admiring the tree, Lindy joined her mother, who had already dished up two steam­ing bowls of soup. The breadbasket sat in the middle of the table, along with a butter dish.

After a simple grace, Lindy lifted her spoon. “I dreamed about this soup. It never tastes the same when I make it, and I follow the recipe to the letter. Somehow it always tastes better when you cook it.”

“That’s because it’s made with love.”

Lindy wanted to discount this extra ingredient that her mother insisted made the difference. How could she, though, when there didn’t seem to be any other explana­tion?

Her mother waited until Lindy had finished her lunch before she paused, her eyes serious. Looking directly at Lindy, she said, “I’m waiting.”

“Waiting for what?” Lindy asked.

“Waiting for you to tell me what’s going on with you, and please don’t try to brush this off. You’d best tell me before—”

“Mom . . . there’s nothing.”

With narrowed eyes, her mother waved her index finger like a clock’s pendulum. “Lindy Rose, I’m your mother. No one knows you better than me. I’ve suspected for quite some time you’re unhappy. Now spill.”

Lindy was afraid that once she started, she might not be able to stop.

“It’s more than work, isn’t it?”

Her mother did know her. “Yes,” Lindy confirmed. “There’s more to the story of my split with Brian.” Lindy had told her parents they’d broken up, but she hadn’t gone into the details. She couldn’t. It was too painful then, and only a little less so now.

“You were rather vague about the reasons.”

With cause. A majority of what happened were things she’d prefer to keep to herself.

“Did it have to do with you getting that apartment?”

Apparently, her parents were good at reading between the lines. Lindy nodded. It was that and so much more.

“I remember in July that you mentioned your relation­ship with Brian had changed. It was not long afterward that you decided to go your separate ways.”

Shortly after she returned to Seattle Lindy had learned the truth about Brian and Celeste, and it had devastated her.

“You cared for him. Right?”

“Yeah.” Lindy had. Deeply. Early in their relationship, she could see them marrying and building a life together, once she’d achieved her career goals. She enjoyed his com­pany, but as time progressed, she could see Brian wasn’t ready for marriage, and, for that matter, neither was she. Marriage was a huge commitment.

“Are you sorry the two of you broke up?”

“Definitely not,” she said emphatically.

Her mother’s eyebrows rose close to her hairline. “Your reaction tells me there’s a whole lot more going on that you haven’t mentioned.”

Lindy’s shoulders slumped slightly. She hadn’t intended to get into this quite so soon. Now, with her mother prob­ing for answers, Lindy felt like she didn’t have a choice. She might as well get it over with. Learning what Celeste, her onetime best friend, and Brian had done wasn’t some­thing she relished telling her mother.

Her mother paused as she waited for Lindy to con­tinue. Lindy knew her mother intended to give her time until she was comfortable enough to explain.

“When the lease on Celeste’s and my apartment was close to being up,” Lindy said, after several pain-filled mo­ments, “we knew it was time for us each to get our own place.”

Lindy’s heart actually hurt as she relayed the events of the summer.

“Celeste was working in Edmonds. That meant she had nearly an hour commute through the heavy Seattle traffic. It made sense for her to look for an apartment closer to her job. Apartments in Seattle are at a premium, but I found one pretty easily.” It was in an older com­plex, and a friend who was moving had told her about it. Lindy quickly snapped it up. “Celeste wasn’t so lucky. It took us weeks to find a place she could afford. She saw one she liked that was out of her price range and went for it. I figured she was better at budgeting than I real­ized.”

Her mother continued to listen, not asking a lot of questions, which Lindy appreciated.

“We made plans to move, vowing to stay in touch no matter what.” They’d been roommates and best friends since their college days, and had met during their fresh­man year. It would be the first time they’d lived apart since they were eighteen.

In retrospect, Lindy should have known something was wrong.

“Celeste signed a lease on an apartment she couldn’t afford?”

Lindy nodded, avoiding eye contact.

“How did she manage that?”

“She got a roommate,” Lindy said.

“For a one-bedroom unit?”

Lindy glanced up. “She’d met a guy.”

“I didn’t know Celeste was in a serious relationship.”

“I didn’t, either.” That was the crux of it. Lindy had been oblivious to what was happening between her best friend and Brian.

Her mother frowned. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“Her roommate is Brian. The two of them had been going apartment hunting behind my back for weeks. I was stupidly blind, trusting them both.”

“No!” Her mother gasped. “Brian moved in with Ce­leste?”

Even though she’d learned the truth months ago, a sick feeling churned in Lindy’s stomach.

“Well, that weasel.”

“That’s not the worst of it. Earlier, when Celeste and I decided it was time for us to find our own spaces, Brian had suggested the two of us move in together. I turned him down. I wasn’t ready for that kind of commitment. Then, all of a sudden, he called and canceled several dates we’d made. I thought it was his passive-aggressive way of getting back at me for refusing to share the apartment.”

“He’s a jerk, Lindy. A real jerk.”

Her mother’s words were tame compared to how Lindy thought of her ex-boyfriend’s actions. “Shortly after we moved out of the apartment, I stopped off to see about helping Celeste unpack. I hadn’t heard from her since the move and knew she was working long hours and could probably use the help. I’d sent her a couple of text mes­sages that she hadn’t responded to, and I was concerned. Imagine my surprise when I arrived and Brian answered the door.”

“Oh, Lindy, I’m so sorry.”

Lindy had no intention of discounting the betrayal she’d felt in that moment. It was bad enough that Brian had cheated on her with Celeste, but for her best friend to go behind her back this way was even worse.

Heartache from a broken romance was something she’d experienced before. Johnny Bemis had broken her heart when she was in high school. Her friends had rallied around her, and she’d gotten over him quickly.

This was different. To lose her best friend, her confi­dant, the one person in Seattle who supported and be­lieved in her, was a double hit. She missed Celeste’s company far more than she did Brian’s. Even now, it was hard to believe Celeste would betray and deceive her this way. So much for the friends’ code of honor.

“It stinks,” Lindy said. “The thing is, Mom, I’m a com­plete romantic failure.” Saying it aloud made it seem all the more real.

“Don’t say that.”

“How can I not? Mardelle and Nate are engaged and have already adopted a dog they named Oscar. She asked me to be a bridesmaid in her wedding this summer. And Mardelle isn’t the only one of my college friends who is in a committed relationship.”

“I know what Celeste and Brian did hurts.”

“No kidding.” She hadn’t meant to blurt out all this drama the instant she walked in the front door. Lindy had hoped to put all this behind her and enjoy the holidays with her family. The less she thought about Brian and Ce­leste, the better all around.

“I’m sorry you had to go through this.” Her mother’s gentle sympathy helped ease the ache in her heart.

“Thank you, Mom. While my head knows that, my heart is having a hard time accepting it.”

“I can understand that.”

Her mother was right. Still, Lindy found it hard to be­lieve. “It’s my own fault. I made the mistake of checking Celeste’s page on Facebook last night, and while I was spending my weekends alone, the two of them were skiing on White Pass and attending a Seahawks football game. What hurts most is those are the very activities Brian and I did last winter. I’m such a loser.”

“You most certainly aren’t a loser, Lindy Rose Carmi­chael.”

“I lost my boyfriend and my best friend. Losing Brian isn’t so bad, but Celeste? I have lots of friends, but Celeste and I were so close. We shared everything. I just didn’t expect to have to share my boyfriend.”

“The two of them deserve each other,” her mother said.

Lindy expected her mother to champion her.

“As far as I’m concerned, Brian isn’t half the man we thought he was,” her mother continued. “It’s painful for you now . . . I remember . . .” She paused.

“You remember what?”

Her mother’s eyes darkened with sadness. “I remember how I felt when your birth father walked out on me . . . It seemed as if the entire world had collapsed around me. As soon as he learned I was pregnant with you, he took off for the hills. He couldn’t get away fast enough.”

“Oh, Mom,” Lindy whispered. Looking at it from her mother’s point of view, Lindy had gotten off lucky.

Scooting back her chair, Ellen gestured for Lindy to re­main where she was. “There’s something I want to show you.”

“Show me?”

“Something that will make you feel better.”

While that sounded promising, Lindy wasn’t sure any­thing her mother had to show her would lift her spirits from this funk.

Her mother disappeared and returned a few minutes later. With a big smile, she handed Lindy a child-size shoe box.

“What’s that?” she asked, genuinely puzzled, not knowing what to expect.

Her mother’s face glowed with excitement. “I went through some of those boxes I packed away in the garage years ago and found this. I’ve been saving it to show you. These, my precious daughter, are your letters to Santa.”

“While they might amuse me, Mom, I doubt they will do anything to take away this ache in my heart.”

“I think you might be surprised,” her mother insisted. “Now, open it up and read the first letter.”

Lindy couldn’t imagine anything she’d written back when she’d believed in Santa had the power to influence her life now.

“Trust me,” her mother whispered. “Read the one on the top. You wrote it when you were five.”

“This is silly.” Still, she couldn’t help being curious.

“Don’t be so sure,” her mother said, with a twinkle in her eye.

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