Maybe next Christmas Eve. It would take a miracle to have it this year, she thought.

She and her mother liked country music. Tressa hated it. Liz wondered where her Uncle Haskell stood on the issue. Somehow, she couldn’t see her overall-clad uncle listening to the Irish melodies that Tressa loved. She’d bet her fiddle that he was a Willie Nelson and George Jones man.

Another three Christmas songs had played through when she made a left onto the O’Donnell property. She gasped when she saw the big two-story white house and all the vehicles parked out front. She’d expected to find something more like her house, a small ranch-style place with a dog on the porch.

Oh, stop it, she thought to herself. You’ve been in real houses before. You’re acting worse than you did on your first date nine years ago. And this isn’t even a date. Raylen said he didn’t have a wife. He didn’t say anything about a girlfriend. He’s probably just being a good neighbor.

Folding chairs under a shade tree in the backyard had a guitar, banjo, and several other stringed instruments sitting on them. She wondered if she should add her fiddle to the mix but decided to leave it in the truck. By the time dinner was over, she might have had enough normalcy and be ready to get the hell out of Dodge.

The wind had died down from the night before, but a breeze whipped her long, flowing skirt around her ankles when she got out of the truck. She pulled her bright orange crocheted shawl around her shoulders and made her way to the door. Her finger headed for the doorbell, but it didn’t reach its mark. The big wooden door swung open and Raylen stood a foot from her. How in the devil did he do that? Did he have a sixth sense that knew when she was about to ring a doorbell or unlock a door?

The slight breeze that fluttered the fall leaves on the trees wafted the scent of his cologne to her while she took in his black Wranglers, a black pearl-snap shirt, and shiny black boots.

Raylen stood to one side and motioned for her to come inside. “I heard a car door slam and hoped it was you. We’re just about ready for Grandpa to say grace and then we can eat. I was afraid you wouldn’t take me serious about the invitation, but I’m glad you are here.”

“Hey, talk later. I’m starving,” a dark-haired woman yelled as she made her way down the staircase.

“That’s Gemma, my youngest sister,” Raylen explained. “Let’s have grace and then I’ll introduce you to the family.” He put his hand on her shoulder and steered her through the living room and into the kitchen.

The living room was a huge square with lots of tall windows letting in natural light. A brown leather sofa with deep cushions and wide arms was on either end of the big square room, with rocking chairs and recliners thrown in here and there with tables and lamps beside them. It was a room that invited family and friends to come right in and make themselves at home.