Chapters (59)
- Cover
- Back Cover Text
- Praise
- About the Author
- Booklist
- Dedication
- The St. James Affair
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Candlelight Christmas
- Part One
- No-Process-Pickles
- Prologue
- Part Two
- Massive Spaghetti Feed
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Part Three
- Beer-Cheese-Spread
- Chapter Four
- Part Four
- Eggnog Pancakes with Whiskey Butter
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Part Five
- Maple Bacon Bread Pudding
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Part Six
- Walking Dead Sugar Cookies
- Chapter Twelve
- Part Seven
- Seductive Hot Chocolate
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Epilogue
- Excerpt from The Apple Orchard by Susan Wiggs
“How?” she’d asked. “By phone? E-mail? No, thanks.”
He had kissed her just once that night, but it had made every subsequent kiss thereafter pale in comparison. And then, only half joking, he had said, “Same time next year?”
Despite the futility of a romance between them, they’d both kept their promise. Christmas Eve, sophomore year. Elaine stealing away from the St. James affair, Tony making himself late for midnight mass. They spotted each other across the ice and met in the middle. Both of them knew that whatever spark they’d initially felt hadn’t dimmed.
“So we’re starting this forbidden Romeo-and-Juliet thing, eh?” he’d said, and then when he’d laughed and kissed her again, she’d had the strong and undeniable conviction that their attraction was something rare and not easily dismissed. But she was leaving for St. Kitts the next day, he had to go back to hockey, and it was all completely impossible. They’d even joked about the way the world was conspiring to keep them apart.
They’d indulged in a brief fantasy. She would transfer to Notre Dame, live in the sorority house across the street from his frat... The very idea had made her laugh.
“What’s funny?” he asked.
“The thought of my father paying for me to go to a Catholic college in the midwest.”
“Hey, it’s Notre Dame. People respect Domers.”
“But they don’t send their daughters to school with them.”
Yet their lives had crossed a third time the following Christmas Eve. Elaine could still picture how he’d looked after waiting for her in the cold. Ears and nose red, eyes aglow with pleasure at the sight of her. This time, there was no pretense of surprise or coy declaration of “I was just passing by...” Each admitted that they’d come looking for the other, that the past year had been endless, the urge to track the other down almost irresistible. But they hadn’t wanted to disturb the magic that happened each Christmas Eve. Meeting in between was like knowing what your presents were early. They were young. It was a game. But they both knew it was turning into something more.