“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Christina protested, wadding up her sandwich wrapper. “First of all, this is not a real date. Second, Harriet, you’re welcome to him. He’s not my type. Third, I’d better get back to my shop.”

“Actually,” Harriet murmured thoughtfully, eyes half-closed in plotting thought, “I gave Wink part of those presents. Andy might want to thank me, too.”

—

Christina’s grandparents had owned the large summer house on Milk Street in the middle of town. Her parents had inherited it, and now it was Christina’s. She was an only child, and last year, her father had died from Parkinson’s, and this year, in early February, Christina’s mother had died of a heart attack. Christina knew the painful truth—her mother had been glad to leave this earth. Christina’s parents had been deeply in love and her mother had been lost without her husband.

Christina inherited the house, and she understood how fortunate she was, to own a house, mortgage-free, on Nantucket. But she would have gladly lived in an attic if it could bring her parents back. She had been very close to both parents—the family had really been the Three Musketeers. Without them, she was lonely, and this Christmas she was sad. She and her parents had had a ritual of picking out an evergreen tree, wrestling it into its stand, untangling the lights, and hanging the ornaments. They’d played Christmas music on their old-fashioned CD player and enjoyed hot chocolate as they worked.

This year, Christina didn’t have a Christmas tree. Somehow she just couldn’t do it, not alone, not this year.

She did hang a wreath on the front door, a simple evergreen circle with one large red velvet bow.

“What a great old place!” Andy said when he came to pick Christina up.

“I know,” Christina agreed. “Comfortable, practical, and homey. Not designer-certified at all.” She pulled on her coat. “I get a bit bored with all the perfect blue and white décor I see everywhere now.”

Andy grinned wryly. “Then I’ll have to think of something to entertain you when you come to our house.”

She paused, confused.

“I mean,” Andy explained, “Delia had the house redecorated two years ago. All blue and white.”

“Oops,” Christina said, adding, “I’m sure it’s charming.”

They hurried through the cold wind out to his Range Rover. He held the door for her to step into the luxurious, leathery warmth.

“Well,” Andy continued as he steered along the narrow streets, “after Mother died, Delia needed a project to cheer her up. Delia is a whirlwind of OCD. But I’m glad I have a sister and a niece. Tell me, do you have any siblings?”

“No. I wish I did. Both my parents died within the past year, and I miss having family around at Christmas.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”