The picture-perfect image was enough to make Clark sick. It was enough to make Clark want to sing along. It was enough to make him wonder if Michael and Kate were together.

Again, not because he cared. Just because he needed more ammo against her. And he was curious.

“Singing’s not allowed,” he snapped, harsher than he intended.

Michael scoffed, undeterred.

“What is this, The Sound of Music?”

“I’m being pretty generous, letting you stay here. But this isn’t an open invitation. You can’t just have free rein in my house. And you know what?”

Clark’s admittedly self-righteous lecture ended with the abrupt ringing of the doorbell. Truth be told, he was so oblivious to the workings of the house, he hadn’t realized what their doorbell even sounded like, so the noise sent him jumping in shock.

“Oh, good!” Kate looked up from the piano keys for the first time since he arrived, her brown eyes alchemizing to a glistening gold. Michael popped up from the piano bench and ran towards the front door. For all of the excitement, a pit of understanding bottomed out in Clark’s stomach. If he wasn’t careful, his house would soon be overrun with townies. “Emily’s here!”

“Emily who?”

“Emily Richards.”

“I don’t know who that is.”

He didn’t need an introduction. Emily Richards tottered through the living room door, juggling storage containers of brightly wrapped presents in her cocktail-straw-thin arms. The introduction wasn’t necessary because Clark had actually met Emily the night before. She worked behind the check-in desk of the Miller’s Point Bed and Breakfast. She was the one who had suggested sleeping in his car because “no one in this town is going to have room for you after what you did.”

He hadn’t taken her advice, choosing instead to return home for the first time in a long time, but that didn’t stop her words and the hatred in her eyes from haunting him the entire way.

Emily Richards was a twig of a woman with high blonde hair. She couldn’t have been any more different from Kate if she tried. Where Kate was all curves and warmth, Emily was narrow and icy. Without knowing either of them particularly well, Clark could only assume their differences made their friendship work.

“Sorry I’m late. I walked all the way up the hill and it was murder on my calves. Where should I put these?”

“What are those?”

“Donation bins.” Kate’s deft hands continued their musical exploration of the keyboard, even as she afforded him the bare minimum of her attention in favor of Emily. “Go ahead and put them on the floor for now. We’ll take them out with us later.”

“Later? Where are you going?”

The suspense extended as Emily flounced into his kitchen without saying so much as a “hello” to him.

“Who wants eggnog?” She shouted.