Then the door of the truck opened, and the little boy clambered in, an eager puppy with oversize paws.

“Hey, Dad! It’s snowing. Maybe it’ll snow eight feet and there won’t be any school and we can build a million snowmen in the yard and go sledding.” He bounced on the seat. “Can we?”

“The minute it snows eight feet, we start the first of a million snowmen.”

“Promise?”

Promises, Brody knew, were always a solemn business. “Absolutely promise.”

“Okay! Guess what?”

Brody started the engine and drove up the lane. “What?”

“It’s only fifteen days till Christmas, and Miss Hawkins says tomorrow it’ll be fourteen and that’s just two weeks.”

“I guess that means one from fifteen is fourteen.”

“Yeah?” Jack’s eyes went wide. “Okay. So it’s Christmas in two weeks, and Grandma says that time flies, so it’s practically Christmas now.”

“Practically.” Brody stopped the truck in front of the old three-story farmhouse. Eventually he’d have the whole thing rehabbed. Maybe by the time he was eligible for social security.

“So okay, if it’s almost practically Christmas, can I have a present?”

“Hmm.” Brody pursed his lips, wrinkled his brow and appeared to give this due consideration. “You know, Jacks, that was good. That was a really good one. No.”

“Aw.”

“Aw,” Brody echoed in the same sorrowful tone. Then he laughed and snatched his son off the seat. “But if you give me a hug, I’ll make O’Connell’s Amazing Magic Pizza for dinner.”

“Okay!” Jack wrapped his arms around his father’s neck.

And Brody was home.

Chapter Two

“Nervous?” Spencer Kimball watched his daughter pour a cup of coffee. She looked flawless, he thought. Her mass of curling hair was tied neatly into a tail that streamed down her back. Her stone-gray jacket and trousers were trim and tailored in an understated chic he sometimes thought she’d been born with. Her face—Lord, she looked like her mother—was composed.

Yes, she looked flawless, and lovely. And grown up. Why was it so hard to see his babies grown?

“Why should I be nervous? More coffee?”

“Yeah, thanks. It’s D-Day,” he added when she topped off his cup. “Deed Day. In a couple hours, you’ll be a property owner, with all the joys and frustrations that entails.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” She sat to nibble on the half bagel she’d toasted for breakfast. “I’ve thought it all through very carefully.”

“You always do.”

“Mmm. I know it’s a risk using so much of my savings, and a good portion of my trust fund in this investment. But I’m financially sound and I know I can handle the projected expenses over the next five years.”

He nodded, watching her face. “You have your mother’s business sense.”

“I like to think so. I also like to think I’ll have your skill for teaching. After all, I’m an artist, who comes from two people who are artists. And the little bit of teaching I did in New York gave me a taste for it.” She picked up the cream, added a little more to her coffee. “I’m establishing my business in my hometown, where I have solid contacts with the community.”