Sometimes at night, while she was sleeping, he would sit up and watch her, grateful beyond words that she was in his life. When he thought about how unlikely it was to find the one person who made everything right and fall in love and have her love you back, well, it made his head spin. She had been the greatest of highs, and losing her and their unborn child had nearly destroyed him.

He returned his attention to the present and walked outside with Steve. There was a big fenced-in space in the rear, with gates in the front and back.

“We’ve already marked the trees we’re going to cut down for sales here and in town,” Steve told him. “We’ll start cutting Monday so they’re ready in time.”

“I remember when the closest you came to farming was knowing the best pot dealer in every state.”

“Hey,” Steve said, glancing around as if to make sure no one was within hearing distance. “That was a long time ago. Pot’s legal in Washington State now, and I don’t do that anymore.”

Micah laughed. “You’re a little sensitive.”

“I’m not your partying drummer. I’m a family man with a kid, and I’m a respected member of the community.”

“Fair enough. You’ve come a long way.”

Everyone in the band had, Micah thought. They’d been teenagers when they’d started out. Now, nearly twenty years later, they’d moved on. They were married—most had kids. He’d been the last to settle down, but once he’d found Adriana, he’d been all in.

“How’s the B and B?” Steve asked, leaning against the fence.

“Comfortable. I have a quiet room in the old carriage house.”

“Getting recognized everywhere you go?”

Micah grimaced. Being spotted was an occupational hazard. “Some. Most people just do a double take, then keep moving. I can handle it.”

“Finding your way around town okay?”

“Mostly keeping to myself.”

Steve studied him. “You need to get out. Mingle with people. Soak up the atmosphere. It’s why you’re here.”

His friend was right. Micah had come to Wishing Tree hoping to find a little holiday spirit. He’d managed to heal his body from the accident that had injured him and taken Adriana, and mostly recover from the loss of his wife, but he’d yet to find his way back to writing. In the past year, he hadn’t so much as come up with a refrain, let alone an entire song. He’d tried writing alone and with a writing partner, but neither had produced anything. He’d always done well with holiday-themed music and hoped hanging out in a place known for celebrating the season would help him jump-start his creativity.