Like a Winter Snow Read online

  But would they? Could anyone care for a mom better than a daughter?

  “So glad to hear that.” Sophia wove her arm through Joy’s. “Let’s grab your luggage and hit the road. I can’t wait to show you Port Willis.”

  Be upbeat, Joy. Don’t ruin this for Sophia. “And I can’t wait to see it.” Joy was supposed to have visited last Christmas, but her mom had been worse than anticipated. Sophia had come to Florida instead nine months ago, and they’d spent a lovely week together catching up face-to-face.

  They walked toward the baggage claim area, and while they waited for her bag to be unloaded, Joy studied her friend. Soft black waves fell to Sophia’s shoulders, framing her face, including her bright blue eyes. As always, she was dressed stylishly but simple. Her white sweater fit her long, thin frame well, and she wore her favorite pair of comfy black slacks. She’d exchanged her usual flats for boots, and wrapped around her neck hung a soft yellow infinity scarf. Her best friend rarely wore colors.

  At least, she hadn’t before moving here—before finally healing from an abusive past relationship and all the yuck that went with it.

  Finally, the carousel started moving, and bags of all shapes and sizes whirred by until Joy spotted hers. When it moved close enough, she stepped forward and lugged the leopard-print suitcase off the conveyor belt.

  Sophia chuckled. “That bag is so you.”

  Yes, with her blond bobbed hair and bright and mostly vintage clothing, Joy’s style definitely contrasted with Sophia’s. “Whatever do you mean?” Joy’s laughter joined her friend’s, shaking her long earrings to a tickle along her neck.

  It felt good to laugh. The last year hadn’t provided much opportunity.

  Sophia led her through the doors of the small airport, and a strong wind nearly knocked Joy back against the door, leaving her cheeks tingling. “Whoa. It’s a bit chilly out here.”

  “I warned you it’d be colder than Florida.”

  They high-tailed it through the parking lot.

  “You said the average temp would be fifty degrees.” A glimpse at the sky showed full gray clouds threatening to burst. Hopefully the weather would make a turn for the better on Sophia’s wedding day.

  Sophia clicked a button on her key fob, and the lights of a blue sedan flashed. She popped the trunk and slid Joy’s luggage inside. “The operative word being ‘average.’ It’s rained nearly every day this month so far. I don’t know what I was thinking, having a wedding in December.”

  They both climbed into the front seats of the car. How strange to see the wheel on the right side of the car. Sophia started the engine, and heat began to pour from the vents.

  Joy buckled her seat belt. “You wanted a Christmas wedding. The most romantic time of year and all that.”

  “Yeah, but the weather is the most gorgeous here in the summertime. At least, that’s my favorite season so far. But maybe that’s just because it’s when I first moved here.”

  “And met William,” Joy teased.

  A small smile quirked at the corner of Sophia’s lips. “That too.” The lemon air freshener dangling from the rearview mirror gently swung as her friend pulled out from the parking lot. “Oh well. If it’s overcast and gloomy on my wedding day, or rains all day, or whatever the case may be, at the end of it all, I’ll be Mrs. William Rose and that’s what matters.”

  “Exactly. And then you’ll have a lovely ten-day honeymoon in Italy before William has to start the spring term.” Given her love of books and that she owned a bookstore, Sophia marrying a literature professor was perfect.

  “It’ll all work out.” Sophia kept her eyes on the road, but despite her own tiredness, Joy didn’t miss the tremble in her friend’s lips.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Can’t keep anything from you, can I?”

  “No, and you’d better not try.” Joy spotted a sign for an overlook. According to Sophia, Port Willis was only about a half hour from the airport, but once they arrived at the small village, she suspected they’d be overrun with “curious” neighbors and local gossips out to meet the newcomer. “Pull over here and let’s talk.”

  “Bossy as ever, I see.” But Sophia did as Joy had asked.

  “As your best friend and maid of honor, I’m allowed to be.” Not only that, but considering their nine-year age difference, Joy had always looked at Sophia as the younger sister she’d never had.

  When they reached the lookout point and climbed from the car, Joy had to keep her jaw from dropping. The Gulf back home was beautiful in its own right but nothing like the view in front of her. They stood on a grassy bluff, and the ocean pounded the cliffs below so hard that water misted her face. The roar of the ocean was strong but not angry—a reminder that Joy was a part of this world but not its driving force.

  She breathed in the fresh air and hunkered into her newly purchased neon orange parka. The pockets warmed her hands as she turned to Sophia. “Well? Spill.”

  Sophia folded her arms across her chest. “It’s nothing big, really. Just stress, I think. Running a bookstore during the holidays and planning a wedding is just much more than I anticipated.”

  “Hasn’t your mom helped?” Sandy Barrett was a well-known event planner who specialized in weddings.

  “As much as she can, but there’s only so much she can do from Phoenix. She doesn’t have contacts over here, and she’s busy with her own events. In fact, she won’t even be out here until the day after Christmas because she has a major event on Christmas Eve that was already planned when we chose our wedding date. She offered to hand it off to another coordinator, but I insisted she keep the engagement for the bride’s sake.” Sophia rocked back and forth on her heels. “I’ve kind of regretted being so generous, though. There’s still so much to do before the wedding, and I just feel like there’s no possible way to get everything done in time.”

  “When is Ginny getting into town?” One of the other bridesmaids—and the groom’s former sister-in-law—American Ginny Rose was now a culinary student in London. She’d been Sophia’s first friend in Port Willis.

  “This weekend. In time for the bachelorette party.”

  “I can’t wait to meet her.” Joy nudged Sophia with her hip and slid a hand around her waist. “And I’m here now, so just give me a list and I’ll go to town.”

  “Really?”

  “Of course. What did you think I came here to do? Lounge around and eat bonbons all day?”

  “What is a bonbon anyway?” Sophia’s arms came around Joy once more and she squeezed. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. Seriously. Even though I love my life here, I’ve missed you so incredibly much.”

  “I’ve missed you too. Life has been . . .” Joy quieted as thoughts of her mother, her father, and assisted living facilities spiraled through her mind. But she was here for Sophia, not to have a pity party about the direction her own life had taken. Her own failures. “So, now that that problem’s solved—”

  “Not so fast. I’m such a terrible friend. I didn’t even ask you how your mom is doing. Just plowed ahead with my own problems. Please forgive me.”

  The smell of rain and wet earth tinged the air. “You have a lot going on.”

  “But you do too. So, how is she?”

  Joy just shrugged. “About the same as the last time we talked. Dad is considering moving them into an assisted living facility.”

  “And what do you think about that?”

  She didn’t want to discuss this, or her guilt over leaving Mom would become evident. “I—”

  A fat drop of water hit the ground in front of them followed by a hundred more.

  They ran back to the car, ducking inside as fast as possible.

  Sophia reached in the backseat and handed Joy a towel. “I’ve gotten used to these spur-of-the-moment deluges by now. I come prepared.”

  “Nice.” Joy used the towel to dab her face and hands dry. “So, this list of last-minute things. Is it stuff I can handle on my own?”

&
nbsp; Sophia’s forehead scrunched. “Most of them, I think. It’s just a lot of random little things that simply have to be done, like picking up the groom’s gift I ordered for William, meeting with the venue coordinator to run through the order of events for the ceremony and reception, calling all of the vendors and confirming the details. But with this huge holiday sale I have going at the bookshop, I’m swamped with orders and trying to get them shipped out in time for Christmas. Not to mention working the front desk. My seasonal employee had a family emergency, so William’s been filling in when he can, but . . .”

  “Have no fear, friend.” Joy handed her the towel. “Together, we’ve got this.”

  Yes, a to-do list was the perfect way to remind herself of why she’d come—and to justify leaving her parents to do so.

  Chapter 3

  No wonder Sophia was stressed.

  Joy took the wedding to-do list in hand, stuffed it into her jacket pocket, and stepped out of Rosebud Books’s front door. Despite the sun shining through a lightly clouded sky, the air whipped against her coat and gave her a reason to hurry. Still, she didn’t want to miss any details of this small fishing village on the Cornish coast.

  Port Willis seemed everything Sophia had described—quaint, with shops new and old lining the main thoroughfare, stunning views to rival the most breathtaking of locales, and affable townspeople who had come to greet their bookshop owner’s best friend the moment they’d arrived in town the day before. But even more than its physical structure and residents, there was something remarkable about its essence. Somehow this centuries-old place that smelled of salt spray and fudge breathed newness into Joy’s spirit.

  “Hullo! Pleasant day, isn’t it?” A male grocer tipped his head toward Joy then returned to tidying his display of apples and oranges in the wooden crates outside his store.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  Moving past Trengrouse Bakery and the local bank, she continued walking down High Street—or up, rather. The road led from one end of town to another, ending at the docks, which were currently behind her. Last night, Sophia and William had taken Joy to a favorite restaurant down that way, and afterward they’d stood on the short pier in the moonlight. Despite the cold temperature, there had been something soothing in the sway of the dock, the gentle rocking of the boats. And when William had slipped his arms around Sophia’s shoulders, and her friend had leaned back against him, Joy’s heart had nearly burst with contentment. How she had wished for such a man for her friend, who had suffered so much pain.

  And now, to focus on helping her friend have the wedding day of her dreams. Joy shook herself from the memory and continued climbing the steep road toward the antique shop where Mrs. Mavis Lincoln was holding Sophia’s groom gift for William.

  Seeing the sign for the store, Joy hustled across the road and pushed her way through the door. Instant warmth greeted her, as did Mariah Carey singing about what she wanted for Christmas. The upbeat but modern tune seemed a jarring contrast to the shop, which was stuffed to the brim with treasures from every bygone era. In front of her, a large wardrobe that reminded her of the one from those Narnia movies appropriately welcomed her into this other world. Surrounding that, knickknacks of all kinds called to her—everything from a stack of ceramic chinaware to mid-century chairs and a collection of antique purses, including one vintage beaded bag that practically screamed her name.

  To her left sat an artfully arranged display of Victorian Christmas cards. Joy’s fingers itched to flip through them. But no, she had a job to do . . .

  Okay, a few moments wouldn’t hurt anything.

  She removed her gloves and stashed them in her purse then slid her fingers over one card with rounded edges and a now-faded but once-vibrant picture of Santa feeding grain to a flock of hunting geese. Flipping to the next card, she couldn’t hold in a giggle at the strange illustration that depicted two large mice fighting over a piece of hard candy the same size as them.

  As she held up the card to see it better, a small yip startled her into dropping it. Joy turned around to find a medium-sized white dog sitting on its haunches and staring at her. He wasn’t menacing at all, just curious, his head cocked, one ear standing on end.

  Joy bent slowly to pick up and replace the card in its case then knelt once more near the dog, holding out her hand, palm down. “Hi, boy. Are you the local guard dog?”

  “More like lap dog.”

  Her head rose to find the owner of the British accent—and Joy nearly did a double take.

  Behind the dog stood a forty-something man around six feet tall, with broad shoulders, a neatly trimmed beard, and rich brown eyes that reminded her of her favorite coffee beans. He wore a nice pair of dark blue jeans and a long-sleeved, collared shirt underneath a black sweater vest. On anyone else, his style would have appeared boring to Joy, but on him it seemed classy. “H-hi.”

  H-hi? Seriously? She was forty-two, not fourteen.

  But when a woman saw a man who was a cross between Henry Cavill and Gerard Butler, apparently it rendered her unable to speak.

  Especially when that man wasn’t wearing a ring on his left hand. Yeah, she hadn’t been able to stop herself from looking.

  Don’t be ridiculous, Joy. Focus on the dog.

  Right. The dog. She swung her gaze back to the adorable little mutt, who looked at the man as if waiting for a cue. Finally, he sniffed the air then rose to approach. He was missing a back leg and hopped over to her.

  “Oh my goodness, you are just the cutest, aren’t you?” she murmured.

  The dog bumped his head against her hand and she was a goner. “What’s your name, sweetness?”

  “Don’t let him fool you.” The man came closer and lowered himself into a squat.

  The scent of his cologne—an Oriental mixture of cinnamon, vanilla, and something else she couldn’t quite name—drifted toward her. Joy bit her lip to hold in a sigh of pleasure at smelling the extremely masculine and yet cultured fragrance.

  Oy vey.

  He continued. “His name is Rascal, and he owns it. He will steal you blind if you ever happen to leave your food unattended. Isn’t that right, old chap?” As the man scratched between Rascal’s ears, the dog’s tongue lolled out.

  “Well, I don’t blame him. Dog food just isn’t that appealing when there’s a burger to be had, right, Rascal?” She ran her hand down his soft fur, the motion bringing pricks of tears to her eyes. It had nearly broken her heart to give up her dogs when she’d moved in with her parents, but she’d managed to find good homes for all of them.

  At the man’s lack of reply, Joy snuck a glance at him.

  He studied her for a moment then cleared his throat and stood. “Sorry he interrupted your browsing. Can I help you find something specific?”

  Joy followed suit, brushing off a few strands of dog fur as she rose. “It’s no trouble at all. And, actually, I’m here to pick up an order.”

  “All right. If you’ll just follow me, I can get you squared away.” He whistled and Rascal was at his side in seconds.

  She followed as he threaded his way through the tiny aisles of the shop, finally arriving at a desk with a register.

  The man pulled a stack of order cards from a box. Wow, old-fashioned—how appropriate for an antique store. “What name is the order under?”

  “Sophia Barrett.”

  He looked up and a grin split his chiseled face. “Ah, the bride to be. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  A laugh sputtered from Joy’s lips. “She is indeed a pleasure to meet, but I’m not her.” She offered a handshake. “Joy Beckman. The maid of honor.”

  Something twinkled in his eye. “My mistake. Oliver Lincoln.” He took her hand and for a moment, she thought he might bend forward to kiss it.

  She held her breath until he released his hold.

  O-kay. Time to cut back on the BBC miniseries episodes, then.

  Joy folded her hands in front of her. “Lincoln, you said? So, you’re related to the
owner?”

  Oliver dug through the stack of cards. “She’s my aunt. I live in London, but she’s been having some health difficulties the last few months. Her gout is taking its toll, I’m afraid. Since I’m a groomsman in the wedding, I was already planning to come to town, so I decided to make an extended holiday of it to get my aunt back on her feet.” He pulled a card from the stack. “Here it is. That took long enough. I’ve tried convincing her to upgrade to a computer records system, but she won’t hear of it. I’ll return in a moment.”

  As he wandered through a curtained door, Joy blew out a breath. A man who owned a three-legged dog and gave up time to help a sick aunt. Whew.

  She absolutely, 100 percent could not mention this little meeting to Sophia, or Joy would never hear the end of it. No man had turned her head in . . . well, never like this. In her twenties, she’d been busy with school. She’d tried some online dating in her thirties but quickly decided that was not for her. One too many dates had spent the entire dinner whining about their exes, and Joy—therapist that she was—had helped them figure out the root of their relationship woes. Each time, they’d been back into their ex-girlfriend’s good graces before dessert had arrived.

  A long time ago, Joy had come to realize that singleness was her lot in life. And for the most part, she was actually okay with being everyone’s friend. A helper to all.

  So why was she reacting so strangely to Oliver?

  “It must be the jet lag.”

  “What’s that, love?” The man himself returned to the room just in time to hear Joy muttering to herself.

  “Uh, nothing.” And there she went biting her lip again at the way he’d called her “love.”

  Stop it, Joy. It’s just something the English say.

  She zeroed in on the item in Oliver’s hands. “Is that the gift?”

  “It is—and a nice one at that.” He slid the rosewood case across the desk and popped it open to reveal an antique fountain pen.