“Oh, no…”
“Should I go get your toolbox?”
“Yes, please.”
Dawson walked back to the dining room. “Dylan, I know we were supposed to write your letter to Santa, but I have a mess in the kitchen. Can we do it tonight?”
Dylan poked out his lip. “But, I wanted to get it in the mailbox today. What if it doesn’t make it there in time?”
“I don’t mind helping him,” Tina suddenly said.
“You don’t have to do that.”
She smiled. “It would be fun. I mean, as long as Dylan is okay with it?”
Dylan grinned. “Yes!”
Dawson laughed. “Okay, but don’t ask for a Ferrari or anything, okay? I hear Santa is economizing these days.”
“What’s a Ferrari?”
“Nevermind.”
* * *
Tina had never been around kids much. As an only child, she’d never had the experience of being around them, and babysitting had never been her thing.
“And what else do you want?”
“I want an Army set with the little guns too.”
“Are your parents okay with that?”
“It only matters what Santa says I can have, Miss Tina,” he said, rolling his eyes and laughing.
“Right. Okay, what else?”
“A puppy.”
“I don’t think your parents are going to be okay with a puppy running through the inn.”
“If Santa says it’s okay…”
“Point taken. Okay, what else should we add?”
“Do you think it’s okay to add prayers?”
“Prayers?”
“I want to ask Santa to pray for my daddy.”
“Your daddy in the kitchen?”
“No. My first daddy. He died.”
Tina felt her breath catch in her throat. “I heard about that. I’m really sorry, Dylan. You must miss him.”
“Sometimes I do. He liked Christmas a lot. One time, we made cookies. My mom said we’re making cookies this year.”
“You have a great mom, huh?”
“Yep.”
“I’m sorry you lost your first mom and dad, but you have wonderful new ones and that’s great.”
“I didn’t know my first mom, so I don’t really miss her.”
Tina swallowed hard. “Oh. Well, I’m sure Santa will be happy to say a prayer for your first daddy.”
“Okay. Let’s put that in the letter too.”
* * *
Carrie stood in the kitchen, staring at all the ingredients spread across Dixie’s counter.
“All of this is going into the fruitcake?”
“Yes, it is!” Dixie said, pulling out her favorite silicone bakeware.
“Isn’t this overkill?”
“Honey, when you taste it, you’ll know it was worth all this work. Plus, we’re going to take some to the firefighters.”
“Okay, what can I do?”
“Grab that bottle of dark rum from the shelf over there.”
“I already like this better,” Carrie said, laughing.
Dixie loved to hear her laugh because it meant their relationship was getting better and better.
“How’s it going in here, ladies?” Harry asked as he walked into the kitchen to pour himself a cup of coffee.
“We haven’t even gotten started yet,” Dixie said.
“Well, when I get back from my doctor’s appointment, I sure hope you’ll have it ready for a taste testing.”
“We’ll try, Dad,” Carrie said, rolling her eyes.
Harry quickly hurried out the door as Dixie re-focused on making the fruitcakes.
“Now, I’ve already soaked some dried fruit in the rum overnight, so let me get the dish from the refrigerator.”
“You soaked it?”
“It helps break some of the sweetness and gives it a really rich flavor.”
“Huh. Never thought of doing that.”
Dixie smiled. “Decades of cooking experience in this crazy brain of mine.”
“So we put the soaked dried fruit into the batter?”
“Right. And we’ll add some orange zest and orange juice to give it some extra flavor.”
“And these cut up apples?”
“Yep. And some slivered almonds and chocolate chips.”
Carrie laughed. “Sounds like everything you had in the pantry.”
“Pretty much!”
“Want to turn on some Christmas music?”
Dixie smiled. “That would make it perfect!”
Carrie fiddled with her fancy phone and turned on some Christmas music as they worked side by side in the kitchen. Dixie couldn’t remember a time when she’d had so much fun with someone she barely knew.
Just as they were putting the first two fruitcakes into the oven, someone rang the doorbell. Dixie wiped her hands on her red apron and walked to the door.
“Hey, Mom,” William said.
“Hey, sweetie. What’re you doing here?”
“Well, I was hoping you might have some decorations up in the attic that I could use on the boat?”
“I’m sure I do. Come on in!”
William walked into the foyer and immediately stuck his nose in the air. “I smell rum. You’re making fruitcake?”
“Of course!”
“Got any ready?” He asked, hopefully.
She put her hands on his chest. “No, darlin’. Just went in the oven. But, I want you to come meet your new stepsister.”
William followed her into the kitchen. Carrie was busy mixing the rum-soaked fruit with batter, her hair falling out of the messy bun atop her head. One raisin was precariously stuck to her apron.
“Carrie? This is your step-brother, William.”
She smiled. “Nice to meet you. I’m Carrie.”
He shook her hand and then looked at his. “I can see you’ve been helping Mom.”
She laughed. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s nice to meet you. Don’t let her push you around in the kitchen, though.”
“She’s teaching me a lot,” Carrie said, wiping her hands on a cloth.
“Well, I won’t keep y’all. I’m entering my boat in the Christmas boat parade through the marsh. Hoping Mom has some extra decorations in the attic.”
“As you can see, I’ve done plenty of decorating around here, so you are welcome to whatever’s up there, son.”
He leaned down and kissed her head. “Thanks. Let me know when one of those cakes is ready for a taste tester.”
As William walked off, Carrie looked at Dixie. “Hmmm…. Where have we heard that today?”
Chapter Six
Julie sat at the kitchen table, a mound of garland, flowers and other decorations covering the entire tabletop. She was exhausted. Between working full time at the bookstore and helping with the town’s Christmas festival, she felt like she was in over her head. This time of the year was supposed to be about joy and fun, but she was stressed today trying to get it all done.
Dawson had helped where he could, but he was busy helping William, running the inn and building her super secret Christmas present out in the barn. She was having a heck of a time keeping her eyes open, even though it wasn’t nearly bedtime yet. All she wanted to do was curl up under her fluffy blanket, drink some chamomile tea and drift off into a nice, long slumber.