I shouldn’t worry though—they seemed to have extra energy for it now that they’d had a big chat with Nick and Elle. They’d caught Elle at the airport before her flight, and they’d all finally come clean about what had been going on. All this time, Nick and Elle had been worried that their parents had been figuring out if they should move again, when the truth was, they’d been loving life in Alpine Peaks and had only been asking all those questions because this time, they really thought they should all stay. Pete and Jess knew they had the option of signing a long-term lease for the business here and had been trying to make sure it was the right thing for Elle and Nick. It had never been about them trying to make Elle and Nick leave—all they’d wanted was to be doing whatever they could to make them be happy here. Even if that was spending more time with Grams. But now with Elle and Nick both feeling better than they had done in years, Dottie too, and the business doing so well, they’d all come to an agreement. They all wanted to sign the new lease, to properly commit to staying. And to commit to honesty being the best policy if they wanted to make it work.

But I’d already told them a white lie. None of them had any idea I’d left them presents under the tree. As well as the onesies, I’d made a printed photo book for Jess, full of all the old photos Mum had managed to dig out of Little Marsh back in the day.

For Pete, I’d written up the Christmas Treefle recipe in a handmade recipe book. The front cover just said “Pete Miller: King of Waffles (and probably Treefles too).” And Nick—well, we’d agreed not to do presents, but I couldn’t not leave him anything. So I’d printed out the photos from our trip to New York—mainly the ones of me messing up the poses at the Top of the Rock—and put them in a copy of a Gremlins DVD that I’d picked up at a thrift store. ARGH. I mean charity shop. This place was getting to me!

Thinking about leaving them all made my breath catch in my chest—uh-oh…like I might cry again.

It happened every time I thought about the goodbyes. Especially the one with Nick. It had been so rushed—but he’d had to go straight from Dottie’s to squeezing in a gig rehearsal. I really hoped someone would film it tomorrow. That would be my January entertainment sorted.

“Flight BV197—gate seven now open. Could all passengers please make their way to the gate.”