The whole town’s in on this Christmas secret!

Maeve Buchanan isn’t the jealous type. But with another Valley Ridge wedding approaching, she’s feeling a twinge of envy. Everyone seems to be finding “it”—except her. Not that romance is high on her priority list! Inspired by the arrival of a homeless family one snowy night, Maeve—Valley Ridge’s own George Bailey—is determined to give them a permanent home by Christmas.

To make this surprise happen, fiercely independent Maeve is going to need a lot of help. Particularly from the irritating newcomer Aaron Holder, who thinks Maeve is just too good to be true and suspects her motives. Working together won’t be easy. But it’ll be worth it…in so many ways!

He spotted Maeve Buchanan crossing the street.

Aaron didn’t know what to make of the fiery redhead who volunteered her time to a library and took in stray homeless families.

She had to have an angle. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he’d learned the hard way that everyone had an angle. Everyone was out for something. Just because he couldn’t see what Maeve was after, didn’t mean she didn’t have an agenda.

To listen to his uncle and the customers at the Feed Store, she was too good to be true. And Aaron realized that if something seemed too good to be true, it generally was.

Maeve was a puzzle.

Dear Reader,

My love of Christmas has nothing to do with my holidayish name. Many people think my birthday must be sometime during the festive season. It’s not. It’s in August. Mom liked the name Holly because she didn’t see any potential nicknames in it. This is why I spent most of my life as Hall. To the point that I turned in papers in school as Hall. Move over Madonna and Cher.

So, the fact I’ve written seven Christmas books over the years doesn’t have anything to do with a birthday, or my name. I just love the season. It’s a special time. There’s a spirit of giving and kindness that I’d love to see last throughout the year.

My heroine Maeve Buchanan carries that spirit with her year-round. As opposed to Aaron Holder, who’s troubled by his past and future. Ultimately, he finds his place in the present next to Maeve—a place he never thought he’d find.

It was so much fun to return to Valley Ridge and meet up with the other couples from the first three books. It’s at one of their weddings that Maeve and Aaron share a very special dance.

Thank you for sharing your holiday with me and Maeve and Aaron! I hope you enjoy A Valley Ridge Christmas.

Holly Jacobs

A Valley Ridge Christmas

Holly Jacobs

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

In 2000, Holly Jacobs sold her first book to Mills & Boon Books. She’s since sold more than twenty-five novels to the publisher. Her romances have won numerous awards and made the Waldenbooks bestseller list. In 2005, Holly won a prestigious Career Achievement Award from RT Book Reviews. In her nonwriting life, Holly is married to a police captain, and together they have four children. Visit Holly at www.hollyjacobs.com, or you can snail-mail her at P.O. Box 11102, Erie, PA 16514-1102.

For Jack

And for librarians, who have made such a difference in so many people’s lives…including mine. Special thanks to Miss Kitty here in Erie.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue

Excerpt

PROLOGUE

BOYD MYERS WANTED more than anything to glance over at his wife, Josie, but he didn’t dare take his eyes off the road. Not that he could see much of the road beneath the white wall of snow.

“We need to pull off the interstate.” His voice seemed very loud after listening to the wind buffet the RV for so long.

He white-knuckled the steering wheel and hunched forward, as if moving closer to the windshield would help him see some landmark. A guardrail. A sign. Another car. He hadn’t seen headlights in what felt like forever. That didn’t mean there was no one else on the road, only that the snow hid them—and that possibility scared him.

“There,” Josie said, pointing to the right.

Boyd jumped and tightened his grip, thinking she’d spotted some other vehicle, but Josie simply said, “A town. Valley Ridge.”

A small sign bearing the words, Valley Ridge, lit up for a split second under his headlights. There must have been other signs farther back that they’d missed because the turnoff was almost immediate. If he’d been going sixty-five miles an hour, he’d have shot right by the exit ramp. But because he was only going ten, maybe fifteen miles an hour, it was possible for him to ease the RV off the highway.

“Now I know how the shepherds felt,” Josie murmured.

“Shepherds?” he asked.

“They had a star that lit the way to Bethlehem—all they had to do was follow it.”

Despite the weather and his anxiety, he chuckled. “If there were stars tonight, we’d never see them through the snow. We’ll have to be thankful for the street signs.” The off-ramp ended and he brought the RV to a halt. “Which way?”

“All we have to do is follow the signs,” she said, pointing.

There was another sign proclaiming Valley Ridge to the right.

Some of his anxiety eased—Josie always knew what to say. He put her through so much, but her optimistic attitude never wavered.

Boyd had never heard of Valley Ridge. He wasn’t sure if they were in New York still or if they had crossed over into Pennsylvania—not that it mattered. Just as it didn’t matter how small a town this Valley Ridge was. It would have some parking lot he could pull the RV into. And if not, pulling over to the side of the road there had to be a great deal safer than pulling over to the side of the interstate. Frankly, he hadn’t been sure he could tell where the side of the interstate was.

He eased the RV onto the two-lane road and followed the sign that pointed to the right. It felt as if it took hours to enter the town proper, but he finally spotted a sign that read Valley Ridge Library. He couldn’t see the building, but there were reflectors that marked what he assumed to be the driveway. He pulled the RV between them and parked. It was probably the middle of the unlit parking lot, but for tonight, that would suffice.

He turned off the engine and finally looked at his wife. “I wasn’t sure we were going to make it.”

“I never doubted you for a minute.” Josie’s arms were resting on her enormous stomach. “Carl slept through the whole thing.”

He glanced at his two-year-old son, safely strapped into his car seat in the back.

“I’ve never driven in such a bad storm.” And he never wanted to be out in weather like this again.

His fault. This was all his fault.

If the plastics plant he’d worked for hadn’t closed. If he hadn’t lost his job, they wouldn’t have lost their tiny bungalow in Plattsburgh, Vermont. If they hadn’t lost the house, he wouldn’t have sold everything to buy a twenty-year-old RV that had seen better days and packed up his family, then headed off to North Dakota and the promise of work there.

As if she knew what he was thinking, Josie leaned over and kissed his unshaven cheek. “It will all come out in the wash, Boyd.”

He smiled to hear her using her grandmother’s saying. Her grandmother had been a crusty old woman who’d scared the heck out of him at first, but eventually became a grandmother to him, as well. When their families objected to them marrying at such a young age, she’d stood up for him and Josie.

“We’re all here together, safe and warm,” Josie said. “The storm can blow the rest of the night. It won’t bother us.”

“I should...” he started, trying to prioritize what needed to be done.

“You should go to sleep.”

He nodded, knowing she’d worry if he didn’t go to bed with her. “After I turn on the propane so we have heat.” He pulled on his parka and opened the driver’s side door. The snow was almost up to his knees and blowing so hard that he couldn’t see the library or any other houses. He shut the door and felt small and alone, standing in the midst of the snowstorm. Then he looked back through the window and saw Josie kneeling by Carl. He took a deep breath. Josie didn’t deserve the situation they were in. And somehow he’d find a way out of it.

For a moment, the wind stopped howling and rather than being pelted by flakes, the snow fell gently around him. He glanced up and caught the merest hint of light in the sky. A star. One small beacon in the sky, shining like a promise of better things.

He heard the thought and laughed at himself. Josie the eternal optimist, forever talking about signs, had turned his brain to mush. He was thankful he was alone and hadn’t said the words out loud.

As if on cue, the wind picked up again and the small star disappeared behind the whirling snow.

Boyd turned on the propane and went back into the aging RV.

Josie had Carl unbuckled, and as Boyd picked him up, his son stayed asleep. “I’m sorry,” he said softly as they walked toward the bed in the back of the RV.

“Boyd Myers, you’ve got nothing to be sorry about.”

He gave voice to his thoughts this time. “If I hadn’t lost my job, then we wouldn’t have lost the house, and we wouldn’t be out here in the middle of...”

“Snowmageddon,” she supplied with a grin. “We could play ‘what-if’ all night, but that’s not going to get us anywhere.”

“We’re going to spend the holidays in a RV. We’re driving away from everything we know. We’re driving across country, not knowing if there will really be a job waiting for me.”

“We’re going to spend the holidays with each other. With Carl. With the new baby.” She patted her stomach. “We have a roof over our head, and we have each other. For Thanksgiving next week, I have a whole list of things I’m thankful for. You’re at the top of it. You’ll find a job,” she finished with utter conviction and certainty. “Everything happens for a reason. Plattsburgh wasn’t our real home. We’re on our way to finding the town we belong to, but no matter what, we’re already home as long as we have each other.”

“My little optimist,” he said as he shucked his jeans and sweatshirt and crawled under the covers.

Josie tucked the sleeping, pajama-clad Carl into the middle, then climbed into the bed on her own side.

“We’re lucky, Boyd. We might not have much money...”

He snorted at the understatement.

Josie continued as if she hadn’t heard him. “And you could make a long list of what we once had and were forced to sell, but we’ve got the RV. We’ve got Carl and soon we’ll have this new baby. We have each other. Everything else will work out.”

“You really believe that?” He reached over and stroked her fine, soft hair that lay spread on the pillow next to his.

“I really believe that. Life is funny. One moment, you think you’ve lost everything, the next you discover that you’ve found something even better.”

The image of that lone star shining in the midst of the blizzard flitted through his head. He leaned across their sleeping son and kissed Josie’s forehead.

She was right. He’d lost his job, but so had many other people in recent years.

He’d also lost the house because he couldn’t afford the payments, but again, so had many others.

Even though he was in the same boat as all those other folks, he had one advantage. He had Josie. He’d loved her ever since meeting her on their first day of kindergarten.

She always denied that and insisted he’d never even noticed her until high school, but she was wrong. He’d noticed her all right. It had taken him the nine years between kindergarten and high school to work up the courage to approach her as anything more than a friend. But he’d known as a five-year-old that Josie Bentley was someone rare and special, just as he’d known she deserved someone so much better than him. But to his utter amazement, she loved him. She’d picked him.

They may have lost everything, but somehow, he’d find a way to get it all back—if for no other reason than because Josie believed in him. And that thought, like one lone star in the midst of a blizzard, burned bright as he closed his eyes. Somehow, he’d get it all back for Josie.

No matter what it took.

CHAPTER ONE

MAEVE BUCHANAN WOKE up at precisely 5:00 a.m. She didn’t need to look at a clock to know it was five. Maeve had an internal alarm that went off on its own every morning. Some people might find that annoying, but she liked mornings, so she didn’t mind. She enjoyed being able to catch a breath before jumping into her day—her normally very busy day.

As she snuggled under the covers she realized how cold her exposed face was. It was colder than a typical November morning in Valley Ridge, New York. She glanced out the window and rather than being greeted by the big oak tree, all she saw was snow. The blizzard that the weatherman forecasted had obviously arrived.

She eased down the cover and realized that it wasn’t simply cold...it was freezing.

She glanced at the alarm clock she never set, but no bright numbers lit up the room.

Darn. That meant the power was out. And no power meant the furnace wasn’t working, so she not only had no light, she had no heat.

Like ripping off a bandage, some things were easier if you did them fast, so Maeve pushed back the covers and yipped as the frigid air assaulted her. She quickly put on her robe and slippers and when that didn’t seem like enough, she pulled the throw from the bottom of the bed over her shoulders. She hurried down the narrow, steep steps into the kitchen and checked the window. Her view was reduced to almost nothing.

She kicked off her slippers and put on her UGGs, her barn coat and a hat. She looked down and couldn’t help but smile. Her red-and-black checkered pajama pants looked absurd sandwiched between her burgundy barn coat, the edge of her robe and her tan boots, but there was no one around to notice as she nipped out the side door and marched along the house to the small shed at the end of the driveway where she stored her wood.

She piled as many logs as she could manage into her arms and hurried back inside. God bless Mrs. Anderson’s sense of thriftiness and nostalgia. The former town librarian had done so much for her, and taught her a lot, as well. The woodstove still sat in the corner of the kitchen. Maeve dumped her load of wood in the wood box and opened the stove’s door. She didn’t use it often, but given the fact that she lost power at least once a winter, she’d had enough practice to make short work of starting a small fire inside it. She left a few of the logs for backup and took the rest to the basement where another wood burning stove was hooked up to the house’s heating system. Her house was small enough that between the two stoves she’d stay warm.

It took two tries to get the basement stove’s fire going, but she finally managed it. She went back upstairs and put the old percolator on the top of the stove in the kitchen, then went back outside to bring in more wood.

She’d made two more trips when the wind died down enough to allow her a bit of a view. Normally she looked out at some old oak trees that marked the edge of her property and, beyond them, a small stone wall, then the library parking lot and the library itself. Today, a ratty-looking RV blocked her view of the library.

The parking lot was a smart place to pull over. She listened and couldn’t hear anything. She wondered if someone had abandoned the RV, or if the occupants were still inside. If they were inside, they might not have heat. She wasn’t sure how the heating system on an RV worked. Even if they did have heat, how insulated could an ancient RV be? She’d barely asked herself the question before she made her decision.

She put her load of wood in the house, then went back outside and trudged across the parking lot.

She knew that Dylan, who was a friend—or at least friendly—and a cop, would give her a stern lecture about knocking on a stranger’s door, but there was no way she was going to let someone freeze to death steps away from her house. The snow was even higher in the parking lot. It fell into her boots as she broke a path. Later, she’d clear the lot and her driveway, but for now, she continued on.

She knocked on the RV’s door and a small boy dressed in a snowsuit toddled into view. A tall man with blond, thinning hair, wearing a coat came after him. He eyed her a moment, and then opened the door.

“Hi. You look like you could use some hot coffee and a warm place for your family.” He didn’t respond, so she smiled and said, “I’m Maeve Buchanan. I live in the house next door.” He still made no response, so she added, “I have a woodstove going and the coffee’s hot.”

The man glanced over his shoulder and an equally bundled woman with a thick brown braid trailing under her hat came into view. “Excuse my husband. He doesn’t function before seven, and even after that, manners aren’t his strong suit. I’m Josie, he’s Boyd and that little one is Carl, and we’d be very appreciative of someplace warm. The propane ran out about a half hour ago and it’s starting to feel like an ice chest in here.”

Maeve smiled. “Well, grab what you need and follow my path across the parking lot. I’ll make some oatmeal.” Maeve smiled one more time at them before turning and following her track back across the lot.

She could hear Josie telling her husband that she was going to see to it that Carl had more manners than his father.

Maeve didn’t envy Boyd, because she doubted that the scolding had stopped, even when she couldn’t hear it any longer. She hurried back inside, took off her coat and boots, and slipped on her fuzzy slippers.

She rarely greeted guests in her flannel pajama bottoms and robe, but she doubted the upstairs had warmed enough to make changing comfortable. She decided that given the circumstances, she wasn’t changing yet.

Moments later, her guests arrived. Boyd had Carl in one arm and his free hand on Josie’s elbow. Maeve hurried over and let them in. “Welcome. You can hang your coats out here. The kitchen’s warming up nicely.”

As Josie took off her coat, Maeve couldn’t miss what the bulky winter coat had disguised. Not only was her guest pregnant, she was very pregnant. “Oh, my, you come right in and sit down.”

She hurried into the living room and pulled Mrs. Anderson’s rocker into the kitchen next to the stove. “Here you go. You sit here and warm up.”

“Thank you for the invitation,” Boyd said formally.

Maeve wanted to laugh because she was pretty sure that Josie had fed those words to her husband. But she simply smiled and said, “You’re welcome. It’s the least I can do.”

“It’s a lot more than most would,” Josie said. “We were so thankful to find your town and the parking lot last night. It was the worst weather I’ve ever been out in. The little man—” she mussed her son’s hair as he climbed up on her lap “—slept through the whole thing.”

“We’ll be out of your hair as soon as I can get out and buy more propane,” Boyd hurried up and added.

“Really, it’s fine. It’s not as if I planned on doing anything but hibernate inside today,” she said. “So, where are you all heading?”

The four of them sat down at the table, and Josie told their story over a breakfast of oatmeal and toast.

From that one question Maeve learned that the small family was heading to North Dakota, which was supposed to be experiencing a job boom. She learned that Boyd could do anything if he set his mind to it. He’d worked construction, and then worked at a plastic plant where he’d been a manager.

Maeve learned that Josie and Boyd had started dating in high school and married right after they’d graduated. Boyd had gone to work and Josie had gone to the state university campus in Plattsburgh. Josie had almost finished her degree when she had problems with her first pregnancy and had taken time off. She’d been heading back to school to finish her final term when she’d gotten pregnant with the new baby and, given her problems with Carl’s pregnancy, she decided to wait until after the baby was born to go back to school and get her degree. “But I’m going to finish,” she announced with such conviction that Maeve was sure she would.

The snow had eased up a bit, but the wind continued to blow fiercely. Maeve stood. “I’d better put some more wood in the stove in the basement.”

“May I bring in more wood for you?” Boyd asked.

“That would be a huge help,” Maeve said. “It’s in the small shed at the back of the driveway.”

He nodded, put on his coat and boots and headed out.

“Thank you for giving him something to do,” Josie said as Boyd shut the door. “He hates feeling as if he’s taking a handout.”

“I’m pretty sure sharing a woodstove and some oatmeal doesn’t constitute a handout. It’s merely the neighborly thing to do. It’s nothing.”

“Not to you, but it means a lot to us. I was so worried about Carl. It was freezing in the RV. Let Boyd help. He’ll feel better about taking advantage of you.”

Maeve snorted. “Well, there was no advantage taken, but if I can get out of carrying in wood, I’m glad to oblige.”

Josie laughed. “He’s generally much friendlier. But between losing his job, then the house, and worrying about me, the new baby and Carl...it’s taken a toll.”

That explained why they were heading to North Dakota at the start of winter. The Lake Erie region was known for its harsh winters, but North Dakota was colder by far.

Maeve sensed that Boyd wouldn’t have appreciated his wife sharing that part of things. “Well, when we’re in the midst of a storm like this, the more the merrier is what I say.”

After the stoves were both loaded, she left the family to themselves while she ran upstairs to dress. When she came back down, Boyd was bouncing Carl on his knee and smiling. But when he spotted her, the smile disappeared and his expression turned serious again.

Maeve handed a small pile of books to Josie. “I thought Carl might enjoy a story. I’m going to head out and start the snowblower.”

“Let me,” Boyd said.

Normally Maeve would bristle and inform him that she was more than capable of clearing her own driveway, but remembering Josie’s words, she smiled instead. “I’m pretty sure there’s enough snow out there for the both of us. And when we’re done, if you move your RV to my side of the parking lot, you’re welcome to hook up to my utilities. We’ll have to give the plows a chance to clear the roads, but then we can head to the store and get you some propane. My truck’s got four-wheel drive.”

Boyd didn’t say anything. For a moment, Maeve thought that he was going to refuse the hook up and the ride, but he looked past her at Josie, then said, “I’ll pay you for the cost of the utilities and the gas.”

“The drive is a couple blocks. Normally I’d walk, but I’m sure the sidewalks aren’t cleared and I don’t think we want to carry a propane container. As for the electricity, we’ll work it out.”

He nodded, bundled up and headed outside.

“Thank you,” said Josie.

Maeve nodded as she put on her outdoor gear again. “Really, it’s my pleasure.”

She started for the door, but Josie stopped her. “You sort of live by your motto, don’t you?” She pointed at Mrs. Anderson’s cross-stitch. I can’t save the world, but I can try.

“That was a friend’s. She saved me in so many ways. This doesn’t even begin to compare.”

“It does to me, and despite his bearishness, it does to Boyd, too.”

Maeve nodded. “I’m glad to help. You stay near the stove, but watch Carl. It gets hot and I wouldn’t want him to be burned.”

“Will do.”

Maeve followed Boyd out into the snow, thankful to get away from Josie’s studying gaze. The small woman had a look about her that said she saw more than Maeve wanted to share.

Maeve had never shared easily. She was a private person.

But sometimes, especially over the past year, as she watched Sophie, Lily and Mattie bond over the loss of a friend and then grow closer and become friends in their own right, she wished she had someone she could confide in like that. Oh, the three women were her friends. She went to their showers and weddings, but they only knew her on the surface. And Josie, a practical stranger, already looked at her as if she knew more than the surface bits Maeve felt comfortable sharing.

It was disturbing and tantalizing at the same time.

Maeve guessed she could afford to be a bit more relaxed around Josie. After all, when the weather cleared, she’d be heading to North Dakota with her family.

So for today, and maybe even tomorrow, Maeve would let Josie be the friend she’d always hoped for.

* * *

AARON HOLDER BUNDLED into a pair of Carhartt overalls and a coat. The thick layers of cloth were constrictive and stiff. He felt like Ralphie’s little brother in A Christmas Story. If he fell onto his back, he suspected he’d give a very turtlelike impression as he tried to right himself.

He’d been in Valley Ridge less than a week and already wished he was back in Florida. If he was, he’d take his coffee onto his back porch—a lanai in local parlance—fire up his laptop and work there in shorts.

He stuffed his feet into a pair of boots. In his Florida fantasy, he was barefoot.

Sure, Orlando got some colder weather, but not in November. And when an occasional cold day hit, he might need to wear jeans and a sweatshirt, but he’d never woken up to snow that was measured in feet. Many feet.

He loved his uncle Jerry, but he wished he’d said no when he’d asked Aaron to spend a few months in Valley Ridge in order to mind the store. His uncle had pointed out that Aaron could do his work anywhere, and that the employees at Valley Ridge Farm and House Supplies took care of most of what needed to be done at the store. All Aaron would have to do was keep an eye on things. Uncle Jerry wanted someone from the family at the business’s helm because, as he said, “I have the best employees, but family is family, and blood is thicker than water.”

And because Aaron had grown up with the Holder family motto, Family is Family, he found it impossible to say no. His family’s near obsessive drive to support each other was why he was bundled up and heading out to plow the Valley Ridge Farm and House Supplies’ lot on a post-blizzard November morning. The store would open, albeit late. But from the looks of the quiet main street of Valley Ridge, all the businesses in the area would be opening late today—if they opened at all.

He hoped his uncle’s arthritis was benefiting from the warm dry heat of Arizona.

Aaron opened the garage door and a foot of snow tumbled in. He cursed under his breath as he climbed into his uncle’s truck. He’d made two passes when another truck pulled up in front of the store, leaving tire imprints in the six inches of snow that had fallen since the snowplow had last gone by.

A woman got out. She was bundled up almost as much as he was. Red hair stuck out wildly from under her hat. A man got out of the passenger side and pulled a propane tank out of the bed of the truck.

“Can you fill the tank?” the woman asked.

“I could. I think the question you want to ask is if I would.” Aaron felt immediately apologetic. He shouldn’t take the fact that he hated the snow out on customers.

He was about to say as much and apologize for being snippy when the redhead asked, “Where’s Jerry?” Her tone suggested she wanted to find his uncle and tattle on him.

Aaron had grown up with three younger sisters who liked nothing better than running to their parents with stories of his abuses—some real, some imagined. Maybe that was why he bristled, or maybe it was simply something about this woman that inherently annoyed him. “Jerry’s in Arizona, basking in the warmth, so if you want to tattle, you’ll have to call him to do it. I can give you his number.”

Despite her layers of clothing, he could see her back straighten to the point of breaking. Her words came out measured, as if she was struggling to hold her tongue. “I would prefer it, sir, if you simply filled the tank, then we’ll let you get back to your plowing.”

“Anything you say, Red.” He smiled, hoping she’d read the apology behind his words. But then realized she might find being called Red insulting.

“Sorry,” he said, hoping that a spoken apology at this point could cover his multitude of failings with this particular customer.

She didn’t acknowledge his apology. The now silent woman and the always silent man followed him as he filled the tank. “That’s—”

The redhead cut him off. “Can you simply put it on my account? I’ve got to come back later and get some salt for the library steps.”

“And your account is?”

“Maeve. Maeve Buchanan. Or maybe your uncle has it filed under the Valley Ridge Library. Either way, that’s me.”

He nodded. “Fine, Maeve Buchanan of the Valley Ridge Library. I’ll do that.”

“That’s much better than Red,” she muttered as she turned around and waded back to her truck. Once there, the man started arguing with her about something.

Now, that was an odd romance, Aaron thought as he got back into his truck. Maeve. Maeve Buchanan. She was a bristly thing. The town librarian, from the sound of things. He’d have to do a better job apologizing when she came back later for her salt. Aaron had promised his uncle he’d look after the place and he didn’t think chasing away customers would qualify as doing a good job of it.

Maeve.

Maeve Buchanan.

He’d remember her name.

* * *

“YOU SEEM RILED,” the hitherto silent Boyd said as Maeve pulled back into her now clear driveway.

“You think?” she snapped and immediately felt sorry. The fact that the stranger at the store was awful didn’t mean she needed to be, as well. “Sorry.”

Boyd nodded. “Being called Red seems to have set you off.”

“Humph.” Maeve remembered when Mrs. Anderson first introduced her to L. M. Montgomery. Anne with an “e” was one of her favorite characters, and Maeve had definitely commiserated with Anne when she broke a slate over Gilbert Blythe’s head because he called her Carrots.

Maeve was pretty sure that being called Red was as bad as being called Carrots. It was lucky for the man who was filling in for Jerry that she didn’t carry a slate around, otherwise she’d have been tempted to follow Anne Shirley’s example.

“If you don’t mind,” Boyd started hesitantly as if talking to anyone other than Josie was a strain, “I thought I’d take your snowblower out and help some of your neighbors. Looks like some of them are slow getting cleared out.”

“A lot of them are elderly,” she told him. “I was going to go out and do that myself.”

He silently studied her a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, I can see you doing that. But if you don’t mind, I could do it this once.”

“If you’ll have dinner with me without snapping your spine telling me you don’t need my charity, I’ll graciously accept your offer to help out my neighbors,” she said.

“Snapping my spine?” he asked, and for the first time, Maeve thought she saw a hint of a smile in his expression.

“I think you and I both have our fair doses of pride, but I think for Josie’s sake, you need to put some of yours aside and let me help.”

He mulled her statement over for a moment and nodded. “I’ll try.”

“Then I’ll put some of my pride away and let you help out my neighbors while I go in and check on Josie and Carl. I’ll have some soup on for lunch when you come in.”

“About noon?” he asked.

Maeve nodded. “Sounds good.”

She stomped her boots off before she went back into the house. Carl was sitting at the table, playing with some plastic measuring cups and dry cornmeal.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Josie said quickly. “I’ll clean up any mess he makes.”

“I definitely don’t mind. What’s a bit of cornmeal?”

Josie went to stand, and then grimaced.

Maeve hurried to her side. “Josie?”

Josie was silent and her expression grew more serious. Slowly she relaxed and looked at Maeve. “I had a twinge about an hour ago, and now this one.”

Maeve had been a bookworm her whole life, which meant she knew a little about a lot of things, but other than understanding the basic mechanics of birth, she knew very little about the process. “Could you be in labor?”

“No.” Josie seemed panicked at the thought. “It’s too soon. He has at least another month to go. I’m sure it’s only Braxton Hicks contractions.”

Maeve didn’t know Braxton Hicks from Adam, but she knew that she did not like the situation. And she was equally sure that Boyd wouldn’t like it, either. “Sit down and let me make a call. I have a friend who’s a nurse. I’ll see if she can come over.”

“In this weather?” Josie asked.

“The snow’s stopped and your husband’s out there personally clearing my half of Valley Ridge, as well. Plus, Lily lives close enough to walk if need be.”

Josie shook her head. “I won’t have anyone walking—”

“Shh,” Maeve interrupted. “Don’t argue or I’ll think you’re as stubborn as your husband.”

Josie laughed, which had been Maeve’s intent.

“You tell your friend it’s not an emergency,” Josie warned her. “I don’t want her hurrying over here and inconveniencing herself more than she already will have to.”

“I’ll tell her that we don’t think it’s anything, but want to be sure.” Maeve got her cell phone from the window ledge. Thank goodness it still had a charge. She went out to the front room and dialed Lily’s number.

“Hello?” the almost–Mrs. Bennington answered.

“Getting pre-wedding jitters yet?” Maeve asked by way of a greeting, though she already knew the answer.

“As long as Sophie’s Tori doesn’t speak up at my wedding, there’s nothing to worry about. I have everything planned to the nth degree,” Lily assured her.

Their friend Sophie had been about to marry this summer when a stranger stood up and objected. The entire community was shocked to discover the girl, Tori, was Sophie’s biological daughter.

“How’s Mattie handling everything?” Maeve had listened to Mattie complain about Lily’s bridal ways in the past. The two friends couldn’t be more different. Mattie would have gotten married in jeans if Lily hadn’t pitched a fit. While Lily had definite ideas on what a wedding should entail and jeans weren’t in the picture.

Maeve wished she had friends who were as close as family.

She had friends, but nothing like them.

“Mattie’s calling me Bridezilla now. That’s an upgrade from Bridesmaidzilla.” Lily had been a bridesmaid in Sophie’s wedding, as well as Mattie’s. “And Sophie keeps joking that if the baby gets any bigger, she’s renting a scooter to ride down the aisle.”

“Speaking of pregnant women,” Maeve said, “that’s why I’m calling.”

“I didn’t know you were seeing anyone,” Lily said slowly.

Maeve chuckled. “I know it’s the season for immaculate conceptions, but no, not me. I’ve got a pregnant woman in my kitchen. And I hate to ask, but I’m hoping you’ll run over and check on her. She’s got about a month until she’s due. She’s had a couple pains. She had a name for them and tried to tell me they’re nothing to worry about, but I’m worried.”

“Braxton Hicks?” Lily asked.

“Yes, that’s what she said.”

“She’s probably right, but I’ll come over and check her out.”

Maeve released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Thanks, Lily. Her family spent last night camped out in an RV that ran out of propane this morning. I’m worried. Can you get out, because if not, I can come get you.”

“That’s not necessary. I have four-wheel drive for work and you’re only a few blocks away.”

“I hate to make you—”

“You’re not making me do anything. I told Sebastian I’d give him a hand at the diner this morning and I have a few house calls to make this afternoon, so I have to go out, anyway.”

Maeve felt a flood of relief. “Thanks, Lily.”

“See you soon.”

Maeve hung up and walked back into the kitchen. Carl dumped a cup full of cornmeal into a bigger cup, while Josie sat, eyes closed, in the rocker, her hands over her protruding stomach.

Maeve glanced at Mrs. Anderson’s cross-stitch.

No, she couldn’t save the world, but she was going to do her best to help this one small family.

CHAPTER TWO

MAEVE HAD ALWAYS wanted dark, mysterious looks like Lily Paul’s. Lily tended to wear a lot of Bohemian clothes that would be considered suspect by the locals if anyone other than Lily wore them. Lily had a fondness for a lot of clunky jewelry and bold colors.

None of that was evident today as she came into the kitchen bundled up in a hat, parka and knee-high boots. Her scarf was wrapped around her face so many times, only her eyes were visible.

“Come in, Lily,” Maeve said, and then teased, “I mean, I’m assuming you’re Lily. It’s hard to tell under all those clothes.”

Lily began unwinding the scarf and shucked off most of the layers. “Seriously,” she grumbled, “Sebastian had some very firm opinions on what I should wear today. Most of the time, he doesn’t say a word about my clothing choices.”

“He probably wanted to be sure you stayed warm,” Maeve said. She wouldn’t say it out loud, but it was endearing. No one worried about her dressing warmly enough except her mother. That thought made her feel lonely, despite the fact that her house was currently overflowing with people.

“Yeah. Sebastian also wanted to drive me. I put my foot down on that notion. However, he insisted I wear two pairs of socks inside my boots, so there was no satisfying stomp when I put my foot down, only a very wimpy smooshing. Still, he got the picture.” Lily turned and smiled at Josie. “Hi, I’m Lily. And this handsome man is?”

“Carl. And I’m Josie. Thank you so much for coming out in this mess. I’m sure I’m fine and I hate to be a bother.”

“I’ll tell you what. Why don’t we let Carl sit with Maeve, and you and I will borrow her bedroom for a quick checkup.”

Josie hesitated long enough to make Maeve wonder if she’d agree, but Lily said, “I did come all the way over here in the snow. The very deep, frigid snow.”

“Wow, way to lay on the guilt.” Maeve laughed.

Lily laughed, too. “I have to wheedle a certain feisty patient on a regular basis. Guilt is a first foray. I do have a trump card I can pull out and use if necessary.”

“A quick game of one-handed basketball?” Maeve asked. Everyone in town had talked about Lily and Sebastian’s one-handed basketball game this past summer. If talk were to be believed, half the town had witnessed the game. That’s how things went in Valley Ridge. People told stories so often that after a while they felt as if they were there, even if they weren’t.

Josie smiled. “More guilt won’t be necessary. Plus, I’m not sure what one-handed basketball is, but I’m sure I’m not up for it. You’re right. My husband will feel much better about everything if I can tell him I got checked out.”

Maeve took Carl as the other two women left. “What do you say we start some water for tea?” she said.

She held the boy on her hip as she filled the kettle.

As they passed the fridge, Carl reached for a postcard that the Langley kids had sent her from Disney World. When Mattie and Finn had gotten married in August, they’d taken the kids—his nieces and nephew—on a family honeymoon to the Magic Kingdom. Abbey, the youngest, was still telling anyone who would listen about her honeymoon.

Carl reached for the card and said, “Mickey.”

She let him grab the postcard. “Yes, that’s Mickey Mouse. Let me put the kettle on the woodstove. I think I have a Disney book that we can read together.”

She carried the toddler into the front room where she had some books waiting to go to the library. “I think I saw...” she muttered as she dug one-handed through the pile. “There.” She pulled out the Mickey Mouse storybook and carried both Carl and the book back into the warmth of the kitchen. They’d read the first few pages when Lily and Josie rejoined them.

“Everything all right?” she asked them both.

“I think so, but I want Josie to come in and see the doctor. No one’s at the office yet. To be honest, I don’t think any stores or offices are open except Jerry’s and the grocery store, but I’m sure Neil will be in soon. After I’ve talked to him, I’ll call you with a time today or tomorrow.”

“Really, we can’t afford a doctor’s visit,” Josie protested.

“Of all the things you need to worry about, that’s not it,” Lily said gently but firmly. “Neil owes me.”

“But...” Josie looked as if she was trying to find an argument.

Lily put her hand on top of Josie’s. “One of the things I love about Neil’s practice is that we see everyone regardless of insurance or means. He could have practiced anywhere. He had offers and to be honest, still occasionally gets offers from bigger towns. He chose a small town because he wanted to make a difference. He’s not in this for the money.”

“Boyd is very proud,” Josie said softly. “He won’t accept charity.”

Maeve might not have known him long, but she knew that was the absolute truth. “He’s paying me back for some oatmeal and an electric outlet by single-handedly clearing half of Valley Ridge’s sidewalks and driveways.”

Lily thought a moment. “Okay, Josie, I’ll tell you what. You come in for a visit, and if Boyd is willing he can help us out with a couple of projects around the office.”

“He can do anything. I mean, absolutely anything. I’ve never met a job Boyd couldn’t do,” Josie gushed.

“Well, then, it’s settled.” Lily reached out for the toddler. “May I?”

Josie nodded and Maeve handed him over. “He’s adorable.” Carl reached up and wrapped his hand in a clump of Lily’s hair. She gently unwound his chubby fist.

“That’s why I go with a braid or ponytail most days. We call him the hair monster. Boyd likes to quip that his hair is thinning out of self-preservation.”

Maeve had a hard time imagining Boyd joking. But people could hide things behind their public faces. She knew this from experience.

When Carl was unwound, he held his hands out for his mother and Lily passed him over to Josie. As she cuddled the toddler, Josie said, “Thank you so much, Lily. First Maeve, now you. I think that snowstorm stranding us in Valley Ridge was the first bit of good luck we’ve had in a long time.”

“You wouldn’t be the first person to find yourself coming to Valley Ridge for a quick visit, then falling in love and staying,” Lily said. “I came here for a nursing assignment. When it was over—” Lily’s voice caught on the word over, then she continued “—I stayed. I’d made friends here and fallen in love with the town itself.”

Maeve remembered when Lily came to town. She’d watched as Lily bonded with Mattie and Sophie as they all cared for Bridget Langley. It was true that most of the community had pitched in to help the sick mother of three, but Lily, Mattie and Sophie had shouldered the bulk of Bridget’s care. As Bridget got sicker, the three of them had become so close. When Bridget had passed, their friendship had buoyed them.

Maeve envied their friendship. She wasn’t jealous. At least she didn’t think she was. She tried not to be, but she couldn’t help feeling as if she’d spent her whole life on the outside looking in. She’d watched each of the three friends fall in love. Mattie and Sophie were married, and Lily was on her way to the altar. Maeve wasn’t jealous of that, either. At least most days she wasn’t.

She rarely shared too much about herself, but this once, she forced herself to say, “I grew up here, but I left home for college and didn’t think I’d be back. Yet here I am. Once Valley Ridge gets its hooks in you, it’s hard to tear yourself away.”

“So far, it seems like a lovely place,” Josie said wistfully. “Not that I’ve seen much more than Maeve’s house and the library parking lot. But the company here has left a very good impression on us.”

“Where are you all headed?” Lily asked.

“North Dakota. Boyd read an article that said jobs were to be had there, so we sold pretty much everything we owned, bought the RV and are going to see for ourselves. The article also mentioned a housing shortage, and Boyd thought we could live in the RV until we got settled.”

“Traveling in your condition must be hard.” Maeve knew what it was like to call someplace with four wheels home. Granted, she hadn’t had an entire RV, but she remembered how awful it was.

She hadn’t thought about those times in a while. It didn’t take a psychologist to see why her subconscious was making a connection between Josie’s circumstances and her own back in the day.

Josie answered, “No, it’s not hard. I’m sitting in the front passenger seat, and that’s not any worse than sitting in a recliner at home. Frankly, the RV is so small that cleaning is a breeze. And...” Josie continued to entertain them with all her happy reasons why living in an RV had some huge advantages over living in a house. Lily was laughing, but Maeve couldn’t join in. She made tea and served everyone and pretended to laugh along with Lily at the appropriate places in Josie’s soliloquy, but Maeve knew deep in her heart that no matter how nice a spin Josie put on the situation, being homeless was no laughing matter.

Lily checked her watch. “I’ve got to run. I need to get to the diner because a few of our employees are snowed in. Then I have a couple of home visits that can’t be put off until later. But I’ll call you soon with a time for your appointment.”

“Thank you again,” Josie said.

Lily smiled. “It was no problem at all.”

Carl’s head was nodding against his mother’s shoulder. “Josie, if you want, he can have a nap in my bedroom. The whole house has warmed up quite nicely, so he should be fine.”

“Thank you, Maeve.” Josie hefted herself to her feet.

“Do you want me to carry him up for you?” Maeve asked.

“No, I’m fine,” Josie assured her.

“The stairs are a bit steep and narrow.”

“Are you saying I can’t fit up a narrow staircase?” Josie asked.

Maeve felt utterly embarrassed. “No, honestly, Josie. That’s not what I meant at all. I would—”

Josie held up her hand, interrupting Maeve’s apologies. “I was just kidding. Honest. Boyd tells me all the time that my sense of humor is warped. I’m afraid he’s right.” She picked up the toddler and went through the living room to the stairs.

Maeve turned to Lily. “Thank you so much for helping. I’ve just met Boyd and Josie, but I know they’d pitch a fit if I offered to pay for her visit, but maybe we could work it out on the sly.”

“No need for that,” Lily assured her as she started to put on her layers. “I meant what I said. I don’t even have to ask Neil to know that he’ll work something out with them. Last spring he got paid in chickens for a home visit. I used to watch stuff like that on TV when I was younger, but really, I didn’t imagine it ever working in this day and age.

“Neil insists he didn’t go into medicine to be rich. Plus, we’ve got honey-do jobs galore at the practice. Neil is a very gifted doctor, but he’s hopeless when it comes to a paintbrush or screwdriver. Ask me sometime about the time he decided to change a washer in the bathroom faucet.” Lily shivered as if to say the project hadn’t gone well.

Maeve didn’t know what else to mention. That was part of her problem when it came to making friends. She was no good at the easy give and take, but she did ask, “How are the wedding plans?”

“Everything’s in order. Mattie keeps teasing me, but I don’t see what’s wrong with being well prepared. Look at last night’s blizzard. I know Valley Ridge gets snow in November, but normally not this much all at once. I have a bunch of friends with plows on standby in case we get another storm and...” She let the sentence fade. “Short of some unexpected volcanic eruption, I’ve planned for every contingency I could think of.”

Maeve was impressed. “Well, if you need something, you only have to holler.”

“All I need is you there,” Lily assured her. “Of course, if you need a date...”

Maeve could see it coming from a mile away.

“...I know someone,” Lily finished. “One of my patient’s grandsons moved into her house to help her out. He’s a very nice guy.”

Maeve sighed. “If I decide I need a date, I’ll let you know.” She wasn’t sure what happened to turn half of Valley Ridge’s minds toward fixing her up, but it had been bad ever since Mattie and Finn, and Sophie and Colton were married.

She took that back. She knew exactly what had happened.

Tori Allen—her summertime volunteer at the library and Sophie’s rediscovered daughter—that’s what happened. Or rather who happened.

Tori had decided that Maeve needed to get out more and she’d not so subtly tried to fix her up whenever she could. And for someone who lived in Ohio and only came in to Valley Ridge for visits, she managed quite a bit. She’d tried to convince Maeve to date the town’s bachelor cop, Dylan. But she was pretty sure she’d dissuaded Tori from making that particular match. Dylan was a nice enough man, but he wasn’t what Maeve was looking for.

To be honest, Maeve wasn’t exactly sure what she was looking for in a man. But she was certain that when she found him, she’d know. Immediately. That’s how it had happened when her mom met her dad. And after her father passed away, her mother had fallen head over heels for Herman Lorei, a new farmer in town. It was good to see her mom happy again.

Yes, someday Maeve would meet the man for her. Until then, she’d wait. She wasn’t willing to settle.

“Well, if you change your mind...” Lily let the offer hang there a moment. “My client’s grandson is cute.”

Maeve grinned. “Thanks, Lily. I’ll let you know.” But don’t hold your breath. “Thanks for everything.” Maeve saw Lily out and hoped that she’d dissuaded her friend from playing matchmaker. After all, she had Tori, the teenage yenta matchmaker-wannabe, on the job.

Maeve was comfortable. And she was busy. Between her paid job at the winery in Ripley and her volunteering at the library, there weren’t enough hours in the day. She wasn’t actively looking for a relationship. She was content to wait until she found him, or he found her. And if it never happened? She’d be okay. Ms. Mac, the school principal, had never married but seemed perfectly happy with her full, productive life. She’d made such a difference in Maeve’s life.

There were fates much worse than being single.

She glanced at the clock.

Since Maeve’s boss, Gabriel, had called and said not to even try to get to Ripley today, she could cross the now-clear parking lot to the library and catalog a few of her new books.

She hadn’t heard a peep from upstairs, so she left Josie a note on the table with her whereabouts and cell phone number, and took a pile of books with her.

She doubted anyone would be out today and even if they were, she doubted they’d be in desperate need of a library book, but still, as was her practice, she went to turn on the small neon open sign in the library window—before she remembered there was no power.

Well, that was that. Maeve would leave the books to be cataloged some other day.

As long as she was dressed for it, she decided she’d walk the few blocks to the grocery store and buy some more milk. She had some meat in the fridge and could easily put together a stew for herself and her unexpected guests. She should probably think about moving the contents of the refrigerator outside if the power didn’t come back on soon.

And while she was out, she might as well stop at Valley Ridge Farm and House Supplies for the salt and some more lamp oil, just in case the power wasn’t restored by nightfall.

She hadn’t exaggerated this morning when she told Boyd that she normally went on foot to the shops in Valley Ridge. She rarely drove anywhere other than to work. If Valley Ridge ever approved a budget that would pay her for her work at the library, then she would probably be able to give up driving all together. Well, mostly. She crossed over the bridge that spanned Cooper’s Creek, then past the schools. She continued up Park Street, past the familiar shops. As she approached the grocery store, she found that a number of Valley Ridge residents were already there. The owner had a generator that kept the freezers and refrigerators running. Her shopping done, she headed back toward home. The Farm and House Supplies store was on the way.

The store took up most of the block of Park Street right before the schools. The parking lot and outdoor yard comprised a great deal of it. Jerry carried mulch, stones, some bricks and other basic items he stored outside. She looked past the empty lot and saw the top of the old Culpepper place.

She walked around the block to get to the residential street where the Culpepper house was located. From Park Street there wasn’t much to see apart from the roof. Standing in front of it now, she recalled how people said that it had good bones. The bones of the Culpepper place were becoming better disguised with every passing day as neglect etched itself onto the facade. The stonework was covered with ivy that was dead and brown given the cold. As for the yard, she knew there was no lawn under the snow, but rather a collection of weeds that the neighbors occasionally mowed. Most of the windows were boarded over, and the corner of the porch had begun to sag in a way that gave the impression the entire porch would someday completely slide off the house.

There was nothing sadder than a deserted house, Maeve mused. Once, a family had lived there. She had a vague recollection from her childhood of Mr. and Mrs. Culpepper. They’d seemed ancient then. The house had been vacant since Maeve had moved back to town.

Even the layer of snow that covered it couldn’t erase the lonely look of the place. For some reason, it made Maeve ache. She remembered a time when she would have been thrilled to call even that sorry neglected house her home.

She forced herself to ignore the wave of unpleasant nostalgia that had been biting at the edge of her memories since she met the Myers family.

She cut through the back of the property, went around the dilapidated fence and arrived back at the store. She went inside and was relieved when she practically bumped into Sophie McCray. Sophie was one of those eternally sunny people, around whom it was impossible to stay glum.

“Maeve,” Sophie cried out as she teetered toward her on high-heeled boots. Sophie was petite and as such, rarely seen without some kind of heel on her footwear. But given that she was only weeks away from giving birth, Maeve thought maybe her friend should consider trying out some more sensible shoes. Sophie’s stomach protruded so far out that she couldn’t zip her coat, sensible shoes made even more sense. But Sophie didn’t seem to care as she ran over and embraced Maeve.

“What are you doing out?” Maeve asked. “Colton should have tethered you to the farm in this weather.”

“He tried, but I don’t tether well. Besides, we needed a few things and he’s helping Sebastian and Finn dig out some neighbors. I’m on my way to the diner to meet Mattie and Lily.”

“Lily will probably run late and I’ll be the one at fault,” Maeve admitted. “I have company and she came to help me out.”

Sophie nodded knowingly. “I heard.”

“The Valley Ridge message boards—I should have guessed. Social media doesn’t have anything on our grapevine, does it?”

Sophie laughed. “So how is your pregnant visitor?”

“Her name’s Josie. She’s passing through Valley Ridge with her husband, Boyd, and son, Carl. She’s fine for now. Lily’s going to set up an appointment with Neil before they move on. I’ll feel better after he checks her out.”

“If you don’t mind more unexpected company, maybe I’ll stop by later and say hi. Us pregnant women need to stick together.”

“I’m sure Josie would enjoy that.” Maeve rarely had anyone over to her house. Instantly she’d gone from no guests to overflowing with guests.

“Is it true they lost their house?” Sophie asked.

With some people, Maeve would have bristled at the question, assuming they were only looking for some juicy gossip. But this was Sophie, and there was concern in her eyes. Maeve didn’t want to give up Josie’s confidences, but felt safe confiding in Sophie. “They’re headed to North Dakota to look for work.”

“I wish I knew about some job in Valley Ridge,” Sophie said. “But times have been tight here like everywhere else.”

“I know.” Maeve jostled the grocery bag from one arm to the other. “But as soon as the storm’s aftermath is cleared, it sounds like they’ll be on their way.”

“Well, I’m glad I’ll meet her before they leave. I’ll stop in after lunch, if that’s okay?”

“That would be fine.”

Maeve wasn’t sure why she didn’t like to open her home to anyone, but that was the truth of it. She had never been someone who could have friends over after school, or after work. Her home now was her private sanctuary. She hadn’t thought twice about having Josie and her family come over, but with more people crowding into her modest house it made her feel...anxious.

She pushed the feeling aside and went looking for the first thing on her list. She rounded a corner in the home section and spotted an employee with his back to her. He was wearing a T-shirt that had a large logo of the store. “Excuse me. Can you tell me where the lamp oil is?”

“Can I? Certainly, I can. The question you wanted to ask was, Will I?” the employee muttered as he turned around.

“You,” was Maeve’s response. Not that she was surprised. The minute the words left the man’s mouth she’d known he was the snarly guy from this morning. Despite his surliness, Maeve couldn’t avoid liking his voice.

Maeve hadn’t realized until this very moment how much she loved a good voice. The rich, low gravelly type was her favorite. Put a voice like that on one of her audiobooks, and she could listen to the phone book being read.

And this man’s voice was deep, commanding, intoxicating.

“Listen, I don’t want to start another debate with you. You’re Jerry’s employee and even if he’s not here, he has standards. So, I’d appreciate it if you would help me find the lamp oil without any more of your sarcasm.”

He tipped an imaginary hat. “Anything for you, Red.”

“Maeve. Remember?”

He chuckled. “I’m not likely to forget. Maeve Buchanan, the librarian.”

“Well, then, if you haven’t forgotten my name, I’d appreciate it if you’d use it.” That was polite, not that this guy deserved polite.

“Follow me and I’d be happy to show you to the lamp oil, Maeve.”

She wasn’t the only one he was testy with. That much was evident as he led her through the aisles, ignoring everyone as they passed.

“So is your mood an everyday occurrence, or is it specific to today?” she asked.

He gave her a quizzical look.

“You are less than salesman-nice.”

“You’re right. I find the snow and the power outage unbelievably annoying. And I feel sort of naked without my computer...”

At the word naked Maeve got a very vivid image of the man with the good voice in far less clothing than he was wearing. She immediately tried to push the unwelcome image away.

Pretty is as pretty does, or so the saying went. So far, judging by his attitude, he wasn’t very pretty at all.

“...I guess it shows in my manners. Sorry.” He stopped at a shelf and pointed.

“Oh, you have manners? I hadn’t noticed.” Now she was the one being snippy. She felt a little guilty—but only a little. After all, it wasn’t his fault that she’d had crazy images of him in her head. She coughed. “Thank you for showing me to the proper aisle.”

“Would you like to have dinner sometime?” His look of surprise matched how she felt.

Maeve couldn’t have been more taken aback if the man had asked her whether the moon was flat, or if it was summer. “No, I don’t think so. To be honest, not if you were the last man on earth.” She said it as nicely as she could, but she wanted to be clear. Her mother would have scolded her for being so blunt, but this man set her teeth on edge and didn’t seem to realize how off-putting he was. “But thanks for asking and for your assistance.”

She practically sprinted toward the cashier, anxious to get away from this man, who she suspected was still staring after her.

“I’m Aaron, by the way, Maeve the Librarian. Aaron Holder,” he called.

She didn’t turn around, but did wave a hand to acknowledge him. Aaron. Nice name. Nice voice. But other than those two things, she could find very little that was nice about Mr. Aaron Holder.

* * *

AARON WATCHED RED dash for the register with her lamp oil and grocery bag in hand. She certainly had the temper of a redhead. He wasn’t one to believe in stereotypes, but this one seemed to apply.

He acknowledged he’d been less than pleasant both times they met. When he was younger, his mother used to say that the world had best watch out when he was in a mood—especially when it involved his sisters. Recently, his mother informed him that he’d been in a mood for the past two years.

Today’s exercise in wireless living only exacerbated his general level of frustration. He hadn’t lied when he said not having power ticked him off. He felt disconnected. He was a man who made his living on the computer. So, not only could he not work on his new program today, his only access to the internet was via his phone, and answering clients’ questions on its minuscule screen was a pain because he was pretty sure he needed glasses. Constantly increasing and decreasing the size of the screen and font only fueled his frustration. Added to that, he was here in snowy Valley Ridge, New York, rather than sitting in the sun, enjoying life in Florida. But for some reason, Red had perked him up.

His family would say he took perverse delight in being annoying.

He’d disagree. He never intended to be annoying. He merely liked to understand things. And he counted people as things that he liked to understand.

They were so complicated.

Give him complex ideas to code into a computer and he could puzzle through any of them. But people? There was no algorithm for understanding them. You could input data to your heart’s content, but they still surprised you. You thought you knew everything about them and then when you least expected it, they’d spring something new on you.

Sometimes, they’d spring something on you that shook you to your core.

Okay, he knew where this line of thinking would lead and frankly he didn’t have time for that today. He’d already annoyed one customer. He owed it to his uncle to not annoy any more.

He wished Maeve the librarian had said yes to his dinner invitation. Maybe he should have assured her that he wasn’t asking her on a date. He wasn’t interested in dating anyone. But he could do with a friend here in town. Or at least an acquaintance. And because Maeve the librarian seemed to be able to hold her own with him, she seemed like a good candidate.

He didn’t have more time to think about Red. He had a store to see to. Aaron spotted a man whose uniform proclaimed that he was the local cop. “Do you need help, Officer?”

“You’re new here,” the cop stated. “Even if I didn’t know almost every soul in Valley Ridge, I’d have known because you’re the first person to call me Officer in weeks.”

“What do most people call you?” Aaron asked with interest. He was curious. This guy’s pants and shirtsleeves were creased. Anything metal, from badges to the grip on his weapon, gleamed. Everything about him screamed, my job is my identity.

“Sheriff.” There was significant annoyance in his voice as he spit out the word. Sort of like Maeve bristling every time he called her Red.

“Doesn’t matter how many times I explain that there are differences between a police officer and a sheriff,” the cop grumbled, “certain people here in town still persist in using the wrong term. And they’ve polluted the populace to the extent that most of them use it, as well. The other cops all get officer, but not me. Sheriff?” He looked fierce. “But don’t worry, I know the origins of my sheriffing—so I know where the blame lies—and someday, Colton will get his. I’m Dylan, by the way.”

“Did I hear my name?” A man wearing a cowboy hat rounded the corner. “I’m trying to find my wife and I am sure I heard my name.” He smiled at the cop. “Sheriff.”

Aaron had heard a lot of men refer to their wives, but never with so much love put into the term. He knew without probing any further that this was Colton and that torturing the cop was part of his fun.

The man in the cowboy hat extended his hand. “Colton. Colton McCray.”

“Aaron Holder.”

“So, you’re the nephew who got in last week,” Colton said.

“Whose nephew?” Dylan asked.

“Jerry’s,” Colton and Aaron said in unison.

“Oh, you’re the one spending the winter with us. Sorry it started with a bang. I mean, we definitely get snow here, but for the most part not this much this early,” Dylan offered.

“You know what they say about jumping into the deep end,” Aaron said. “You sink or swim. I’m not sure I’m doing either right now. It’s more like treading water, but at least I’m not drowning.”

“Well, welcome to Valley Ridge,” the cop-not-sheriff said.

“Dylan, this is my friendly reminder. You haven’t RSVP’d to Lily’s wedding yet. It has been the subject of discussion. Much discussion,” Colton added ominously.

“Oh, crap,” the cop said, looking nervous. “I could have not RSVP’d to Sophie’s or Mattie’s weddings with little repercussion, but this is Lily.” He started rummaging in his pocket and produced a phone.

“Yeah, it’s Lily,” Colton agreed.

Dylan punched in a number on his phone, made a hang-on-a-minute gesture and walked down the aisle. “Lily...”

“What’s the problem with this Lily?” Aaron asked as Dylan took his conversation out of earshot.

“Nothing. She’s marrying one of my best friends and is one of the sweetest women in the world. But she has some—” he hesitated as if trying to think of the right words to describe this sweet woman who made cops cower “—uh, very definite ideas about how weddings, engagements, even showers should work. RSVP’ing by the date indicated on the card is in her must-do column.”

“Oh, I see.” But he didn’t. Dylan, a man who carried a gun for a living, had looked truly nervous.

He came back to them, clearly relieved. “Okay, I’m out of the doghouse. I think. I offered to direct traffic out of the church’s parking lot for her.”

Colton chuckled. “Sucker.”

“Hey, they don’t call me an officer of the peace for nothing.”

“No, they call you Sheriff.” Colton laughed at his own joke and Dylan growled.

“I’d better get back to work,” Aaron said. “It was nice to meet you both.”

“Nice to meet you, too. I’m sure Sophie’s going to stop in and invite you to dinner sometime. She’s fond of Jerry. I know he asked her to keep an eye on you and make sure you get introduced around.”

Aaron groaned. Socializing had never been his strong suit. “I’m awful busy between my own work and taking care of things here for Uncle Jerry.”

“I get it,” Colton said. “Dinner with strangers is nobody’s idea of a good time.”

“But you can’t resist,” Dylan told Aaron. “Honestly. You can try to tell Sophie no, but it’s not going to happen. When you meet her you’ll know almost immediately you’ve met your match.”

“I’d like to take offense, but he’s right,” Colton said. “My wife doesn’t know the meaning of the word no.”

“We’ll see,” Aaron said. “Do you guys know the redheaded librarian?”

“Maeve?” they answered as one.

“Yes.”

“What do you want to know?” Dylan asked.

Aaron shrugged. The better question was what didn’t he want to know. “We had a bit of a run-in.”

“That sounds more like the old Maeve than the new one,” Colton said.

“Old Maeve?” Aaron asked.

“I went to school with her. When we were younger, she spent a lot of time in the principal’s office. Called there almost daily. All sorts of rumors about her and what she might have done to warrant so many trips to see the principal. To be honest, I never noticed much of a wild side to her. What I remember most about Maeve growing up was that she always had her nose in a book. She spent most afternoons at the library with Mrs. Anderson. Maeve was...quiet.”

“And since that’s the longest string of words I’ve ever heard Colton say, as he’s usually so quiet himself...to have him call her quiet says a lot,” Dylan continued. “If I had to use one word to describe her, it would be busy. She’s always busy. Always in motion. She volunteered to reopen the library practically on her own and when she’s not at her day job, she’s generally there. A lot of kids head to the library after school to wait for their parents to pick them up. I know a few kids who say Maeve helps them with homework. And little Abbey Langley assures me that Maeve is the best storyteller ever, though according to her, Tori, Maeve’s assistant, is a close second.”

“Where does she work?” Aaron asked. Then he clarified, “Her day job.”

“A winery in Ripley,” Colton said. “My partner, Rich, and I have talked about trying to hire her away from them when we have more cash flow. Right now, Mrs. Nies is handling everything at my winery, but if things continue to pick up, she’ll need the help.”

“Colton here owns a winery and a farm,” Dylan told him.

“Who was the guy she was with this morning?” Aaron hadn’t meant to ask that. But the thought of her and that guy had bothered him.

“Guy?” both men asked.

“Not old, but average height, roughly our age. He was bundled up, so I can’t tell you much more about him other than he needed propane and she drove him over here to get it.”

Dylan went from looking like one of the guys to looking like a cop in the blink of an eye. “I don’t know. It doesn’t sound like anyone she hangs out with.”

“That’s because she doesn’t hang out with anyone,” Colton said.

“I’ll find out,” Dylan promised.

Aaron told them goodbye and turned to help other customers. He had a nagging feeling that he’d broken a confidence by talking to the men about Maeve. That was ridiculous. She’d made no secret of the man—she’d brought him to the store after all. But still, the feeling persisted.

Colton and the sheriff had given him a lot of information to process.

And as the rest of the busy day flew by, he couldn’t help thinking about Red. Bad girl, bookworm, librarian, winery employee, spitfire.

She was a puzzle, and there was nothing Aaron liked better than a good puzzle.

* * *

THE POWER CAME on at three in the afternoon. Maeve could have moved the stew to the stove, but she left it on the woodstove instead. For some reason the sight of it bubbling away in her cast-iron Dutch oven was cheery.

It didn’t just lift her spirits—Boyd seemed less taciturn than earlier. He’d taken the news that Josie had experienced some Braxton Hicks contractions better than Maeve thought he would. He’d even thanked her for calling Lily.

He hadn’t exactly regaled them with tales of his day, but he told them about the people he’d met as he helped clear driveways all over town. “This one older lady came out with cookies and hot chocolate for me. She said she had her fireplace going. I offered to carry in some wood for her. She didn’t look as if she should be doing it.”

“Who was it?” Maeve asked.

“A Mrs. Esterly.”

“She’s a lovely lady. That was nice of you to—” She was interrupted by a knock on the door. She wasn’t sure where she’d put anyone else. Her small kitchen was already crowded with her current company.

She opened the door and saw not only Sophie, who was obviously making good on her promise to visit, but also Colton and Dylan.

Maeve smiled, already predicting Dylan’s first comment. “You’re in luck. The power came on a few minutes ago.”

Sophie and Colton went in, but Dylan stayed on the stairs. “I heard you had a strange family staying with you?”

“They’re not strange, though I haven’t known them long, and they’re not staying with me.” She pointed to the RV. “Before you give me the lecture I heard in my head this morning before I even knocked on their door, I’ll let you know that not only have they been perfectly polite, honest and forthright, but Boyd even wanted to pay me back for allowing them to come in and warm up and eat some oatmeal. Really, Dylan? A man who feels he has to repay someone for oatmeal? They’re perfectly safe.”

Dylan sighed. “I’d prefer meeting them myself, but I just got a call about an accident off I-90. I’ll check back in with you later. Colton will keep an eye out for me in the meantime.”

“Honestly, I’m an adult,” she reminded him.

“Yeah? And I’m the cop. Making sure people are safe is what I do.”

She stuck out her tongue, which made him grin. “Just don’t make a habit of taking in strangers.”

“I can promise that, if you can promise not to make a habit of checking up on me,” she countered.

“I can’t make that promise,” he said with sincerity, “but I’ll take you up on yours.”

She went into the kitchen and found Sophie talking to Boyd and Josie as if they were old friends, while Colton sat back, evidently assessing the couple for Dylan.

Living in a small town could be challenging at times. She pasted a smile on her face and said, “I guess you all managed to introduce yourselves?”

She sat down to the two pregnant women’s assurances and joined in their conversation while Boyd and Colton continued to size each other up.

This was not how she’d imagined her day going.

CHAPTER THREE

THE NEXT DAY, Josie had a doctor’s appointment. Rather than have her and Boyd drive their RV to Dr. Marshall’s office, Maeve had Boyd drive her to work, then insisted he and Josie keep her car for Josie’s appointment.

Boyd was in the parking lot on time, waiting for her, just as she’d known he would be.

Maeve expected Boyd to tell her the young family would be leaving soon. It shouldn’t have bothered her, but if she was honest with herself, she had to admit she liked having them around. She steeled herself for the news.

“How are Josie and the baby?” she asked as she climbed into the passenger seat. It was a treat to have someone else drive her for a change. Not that she couldn’t drive, or even minded driving, but sometimes it was nice to sit in the passenger seat and watch the scenery.

Boyd didn’t start the car. He shook his head. “It’s not good. She had a horrible time with her pregnancy with Carl and given her history, the doctor wants to be very cautious. She’s on bed rest. She tried to convince him she’d stay in the bed in the RV, but he said travel might be risky. Especially since we don’t know exactly where we’re headed and how close we’ll be to medical care.”

Boyd turned to her. He looked worn and defeated. “I hate to do it, but I have to ask for more help. Maybe we could keep the RV parked where it is a few more weeks? At least until the baby comes?”

Maeve realized that every word cost him. Boyd was a proud man and he was humbling himself for Josie’s benefit and the baby’s. If it was possible, Maeve liked him even more. “Boyd, that’s no problem. No problem at all.”

“We liquidated everything we owned. I have some money—”

“Please, don’t.” She frowned. “Really, it’s not necessary to explain.”

He raked his fingers through what was left of his hair. He appeared as if he’d give up fighting his bad luck if he was fighting for only himself. But underneath that weariness was a firm resolve. She’d just met him, but Maeve knew Boyd was a man who would do anything for his family.

“I don’t understand why you’re helping us.”

“I’d like to say it’s what people do...but that’s not necessarily true. Not all people.” She remembered so many who had turned away from her and her mother when they were in the same kind of trouble as Boyd was now. “But some people do. Once, a long time ago, my mom and I needed help. Three people—for no reason at all and no personal gain I could ever see—stepped up. Ms. Mac, my school principal. Hank, who owns the diner. And Mrs. Anderson, the librarian. They all threw my mom and me a lifeline.”

Maeve had spent her adult life trying to prove herself worthy of their help. To give back in a way that would make them proud. “Most afternoons I stayed at the library. Mrs. Anderson kept giving me new books to read. And over the years, she became more than a librarian to me—she was a friend. When she moved into a retirement home, she sold me her house at a ridiculously low price. That’s where I live now, and I’m sure she’d have liked the idea of your family finding shelter there. She was never someone who did anything big and flashy, or that made anyone notice her. She lived her life quietly giving to others in countless ways.”

Giving her help. Giving her time. Giving her heart.

Maeve had asked Mrs. Anderson to stay on at the house, but she’d insisted she was excited to move to the retirement home. Maeve had visited weekly, until two years ago when Mrs. Anderson had passed away.

“During the worst period in my life, she pointed me toward books that were filled with hope and optimism. Mrs. Anderson left me that cross-stitch in my kitchen. I can’t save the world, but I can try. She lived by those words and I’m working at following in her footsteps. You’ve heard of paying it forward? Well, I’m paying it back. We won’t be talking about money. The amount of electricity or water you’ll use is minimal.” He seemed as if he was about to protest, but she held up a hand. “And you can pay me back for it by helping someone else someday.”

He still looked as if he was going to refuse, so she added, “And helping me with a few projects.”

He eyed her suspiciously. “Busywork or things you really need done?”

She laughed. “I’m a single woman who is at home in a library or a winery. I’m competent in my sphere. Projects at home are always a challenge.”

She pulled out the big guns. “And you’d be doing it for Josie.”

“You and Josie,” he muttered.

“Me and Josie what?”

“Know what to say to get your way.” The quiet man offered her a small smile, and Maeve got a glimpse of what Josie had seen in him. “My father always warned me about women like you two.”

She laughed. “Dangerous. Yeah, that’s me. But dangerous or not, there are days I think I’d forget my head if it wasn’t attached to my neck. Do you mind waiting another moment before we go home? I have to run back into the store for something.”

“Sure,” he said. “I can manage that all right.”

She hurried into the winery. Its unique fruity scent was always welcoming, she thought. The shelves were filled with wine bottles and grape-inspired paraphernalia and were as familiar to her as the shelves in her library. True, there was no Dewey decimal system here, but she could find everything and anything in a moment’s notice.

Gabriel must have heard her because he popped his head out of the office. “Oh, it’s you. Did you forget something?”

Asking for help wasn’t something Maeve was accustomed to any more than Boyd was. But this was for someone else after all. She looked her boss in the eye. “No, I didn’t forget anything, even though I just lied to someone and said I did. I wanted to ask if you know anyone who is still looking for some short-term, seasonal help.”

“Not offhand. Why?”

“I have a family, a young family, who’s staying with me. Well, near me. They were on their way to North Dakota to look for work, but now they’re stuck here for a while. Josie, the mom, is pregnant and the doctor’s put her on bed rest. Her husband, Boyd, won’t accept charity, and he needs something to do until they can leave...” She let the sentence fade, realizing she was rambling.

Gabriel looked as angelic as his name. He had dark hair, which wanted badly to curl. He kept it cut short, but if he was even a couple days late in trimming it, the curl took hold. He also had piercing blue eyes that didn’t miss anything. Sometimes Maeve thought he saw more to her than she did herself.

“Well, that’s more personal information than you’ve ever shared, Maeve. We worked together all day and you didn’t mention you had guests.”

She shrugged. She liked Gabriel. Liked him a lot. When she started here, he’d tried to engage her in small talk, but she wasn’t very good at it. They’d found common ground discussing work, wine and customers, and he seemed to accept those parameters. But he’d obviously noticed that she didn’t reveal much about herself.

“I wondered if you have any odd jobs going, no matter how small, or if there’s anyone else who needs someone.” She knew that Gabriel didn’t have a permanent, salaried position open, but from time to time there were small things that needed to be done.

“I can’t think of when you’ve ever asked me for anything,” he mused.

“Donations for the library,” she reminded him.

He laughed. “Yes, you’ve hit up everyone in Valley Ridge for that. But this is different. I wish I had an opening, or had heard of someone who did. But I’ll ask around.”

“Thanks, Gabriel.” She felt a bit awkward for having asked. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Okay, that was a good try. She’d ask Mattie. Maybe one of the shops in town was hiring, and if so, Mattie would know. Working at the coffee shop, Mattie heard about things like that.

“Wait,” Gabriel called.

Maeve turned around.

“It’s not a real job, but I could use someone to organize the garage out back. Clean it, put things away...”

“You’re making up work,” she accused.

“Maybe.” He shot her a quick smile. “But are you going to tell him about the offer?”

“I will. Thanks, Gabriel.”

“I wish it was more.”

“It’s a start.” She returned to Boyd and tried to think how to word the job offer.

“Boyd, I double-checked with my boss since he’s been complaining forever about the awful state of the garage, and he said you’re welcome to the job. It’s only cleaning and organizing the space, but...”

Boyd studied her in a way that made her feel he saw as much as Gabriel did. “Do you know what Josie told me last night?”

“No.”

“We were in our bed, the RV was warm and she said, ‘I told you so, Boyd.’” He paused. “When I got laid off, and then when we lost it all, she told me not to worry. She told me that she believed that angels were everywhere and that things would turn out all right for us. So, last night, she said, ‘I told you so, Boyd. We’ve found our first angel.’ I didn’t argue.

“I can never argue with Josie. She listens to me, lets all my arguments bash themselves against her smile. Truthfully, though, this time, I wasn’t sure I believed her. But maybe I’m starting to.”

“Don’t,” Maeve told him. “I’m no angel by anyone’s definition. Letting someone park an RV next to my house, or mentioning a job...that’s nothing.”

“You’re wrong. Josie knew it right away and I’m beginning to believe it, as well.”

Boyd put the car in Reverse, backed out of the parking lot and headed for the highway. He didn’t say anything else. That was fine with Maeve. She was embarrassed by his praise. She knew that what she’d done wasn’t enough. It wasn’t nearly enough.

It wasn’t long before Boyd pulled into her driveway and there was a light on in the RV. “Josie’s resting in bed. I’d better go rescue her from Carl. When I left, he’d had a bunch of books for her to read to him. She’ll be hoarse before she finishes.”

“You’re all welcome to stay in the house,” Maeve offered. It had to be difficult for Josie, being bedridden in the RV. “We can make over the living room.” She’d never wished for a bigger house until this morning. The small one-bedroom cottage was perfect for a single woman, but there wasn’t a lot of room for overnight guests.

“I’d like to say I’m shocked that a practical stranger would make that offer, but nothing you do shocks me anymore. Thank you, but we’ll stay in the RV. To be honest, I think it’s as big as your house.” He laughed then, and Maeve caught yet another glimpse of the man Josie had fallen in love with.

“I think there’s a chance you’re teasing me,” she teased back.

He pretended to consider her statement, there was a definite twinkle in his eye. “There’s always a chance,” he said. “And again, about today, I really appreciate it.”

“The garage thing is only short-term. A day or two at best.”

“It’s something. And it’s not only a job, it’s...hope. I haven’t felt hope in a long time.”

Since he was smiling, she decided to press her luck. “Will you let me help with Josie? Maybe make a meal, or mind Carl? If the doctor has her on bed rest, I can’t imagine taking care of a toddler is easy.”

He took a deep breath. “Yes. That would be great.”

“Fine. I’ve got book club tonight, but tomorrow, after work, I’ll come get Carl and he can visit with me at the library. That will give you both a break.”

Boyd nodded, then got out of the car and walked toward the RV while Maeve went into her house.

He’d called her an angel. She snorted. She took off her coat and boots and sat at her dining table without turning on a light. She didn’t need one to know that Mrs. Anderson’s cross-stitch was on the wall.

Maeve had helped, but surely there was something more she could do.

When she was young, she’d needed help. Her mother had needed help. And now that she thought about it, like Boyd, they’d lost hope. Admittedly, she still found it difficult to talk about those times. She should have told Boyd. Should have explained. Maybe he’d feel better about accepting her aid if he knew how Hank Bennington had given them a hand. Mrs. Anderson at the library and her principal, Ms. Mac, had helped, too. Not one of them had asked for anything in return, either.

Not one of them had saved the world when they’d helped her, but they’d certainly saved Maeve and her mom.

She’d done things to try to repay their generosity over the years. Volunteering at the library was one of those things, but there had been others.

Though none of it seemed like enough.

* * *

AARON NAVIGATED A SLIPPERY PATH to the library. It seemed ridiculous to drive the short distance from his uncle’s apartment above the supply store, but he wished he had. It was warming up and the snow was turning to slush. To make matters worse, Aaron hadn’t put on his boots because he knew that the sidewalks had all been cleared. He’d worn his sneakers, which were now soaked through.

Wet sneakers did nothing to improve his mood.

He wasn’t in Florida anymore.

He wasn’t sure why he was in such a funk. His family would say it was par for the course. He had been working pretty hard around the store. But he liked working so that wasn’t the cause of his bad mood. He just didn’t have time for frivolous endeavors.

And going to the library tonight was one of the frivolous endeavors he should have avoided. He should have stayed at home and ordered an ebook. It would have been delivered instantly to any number of the devices that he could read it on. But there was something about holding a printed book.

But it was too late to turn around and go back. He could see the library from over the bridge, and he was closer to it than his uncle’s apartment, so he kept on slogging through the slush.

He passed the small cottage that bordered the library. There were a few trees and a small stone wall that separated the cottage from the library’s parking lot. He knew it was Maeve’s house. There was a big old RV parked in front of it. When Uncle Jerry had called earlier that day, Aaron casually mentioned having met Maeve. Uncle Jerry told him the same thing Dylan had—that Maeve had almost single-handedly reopened the library, which had closed about a decade ago. And every customer who came into the supply store had been talking about the family Maeve had taken in.

“They’re not staying in a barn behind the inn, but an RV in a driveway is close enough,” he’d overheard Mrs. Dedionisio say to Mrs. Keith.

The two women had gone on and on about the young homeless couple who were expecting a baby at Christmas, as he set up a snowbrush display and eavesdropped.

He’d wished the conversation would turn to Maeve.

Aaron didn’t know what to make of the fiery redhead who volunteered her time at a library and took in homeless families.

She had to have an angle. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he’d learned the hard way that everyone had one.

To listen to his uncle and the customers, she was too good to be true. And Aaron knew that if something seemed too good to be true, it generally was.

Maybe it was his curiosity about her, more than some burning need to borrow a book that had driven him from his warm house tonight. He wanted to see Maeve again, and, according to his uncle, she was at the library most evenings.

There were roughly half a dozen cars in the parking lot and a neon sign in the window read Open. He stomped up the marble stairs. Someone had tossed sand on them to prevent people from slipping.

He opened the door and was greeted not only by heat, but noise.

He spotted Maeve immediately. Even if her hair had been a more sedate color, she would have still stood out. She sat on one of the wooden chairs arranged in a circle in front of the checkout counter. She was laughing at what someone had said. It struck him that there were a lot of people making a lot of racket and this librarian was not shushing a soul.

When she saw him, her laughter died. So did her smile. She turned to an older woman, said something, and then approached him. “May I help you?”

“I came in to browse,” he said.

“Fine. Help yourself. If you find something you want to borrow, we’ll set you up with a file.”

“Not a card?”

“This is a small library. I just started a database and whenever someone borrows a book, I mark it in their file. When they return it, I take it off. It saves people losing cards and the library the expense of reissuing them.”

He nodded. “Is there a time limit?”

“Time limit?” she asked.

“A deadline the book has to be returned by?”

“When you finish?” She made the statement sound like a question. She was looking at him as if he was nuts.

Aaron couldn’t help it if he liked things spelled out. He pressed on. “But what if someone else is waiting to borrow it?”

Maeve sighed and the movement caused her hair to flutter. He wasn’t sure what else to call it. Her hair moved.

Maeve smoothed it back, she’d noticed its movement, too. “If someone else is waiting to borrow it and you’ve had it a long time, then I’ll send you an email and tell you that. Most people are polite enough to hurry and finish it, or bring it back and sign it out again when they have more time and there’s no waiting list.”

“Maeve?” an older gentleman in the midst of the gathering called out.

Maeve held up a finger indicating she’d be right with him, and then turned to Aaron. “If you have any problems, holler. We’re in the middle of book club.”

“What is the book club reading?” Aaron asked.

She sighed again. Sometimes Aaron felt he wasn’t very good at reading people, but he had no problem understanding that Maeve was finding him frustrating.

“We finished Jim Butcher’s first Harry Dresden novel and we’re starting The Hobbit next. The English department at the high school wanted a book that was universal. Something both older and younger readers would enjoy. They’ve assigned the book to their classes over winter break. The kids get extra credit if they show up for our competition next week.”

“I never heard of a book club competition.”

“This is a first for me, too. But the teachers and I came up with it as a way to engage students and adults in the club. We’re having a riddle competition. The kids get bonus marks for attending. And those who show up for our regular January meeting will get extra credit if they join in the discussion.”

“Riddles?”

“Have you ever read the book?” Maeve countered.

Aaron frowned.

“Watched the movies?”

Again he frowned.

Maeve studied him carefully. “So, what you’re saying is, you live under a rock when you’re not filling in for your uncle.”

“Can anyone join? I could check out a copy and read it.” He wasn’t sure why he said that. He read. But his tastes leaned toward nonfiction. Biographies lately.

“Sorry. The library’s copies are all signed out. The school bought copies for the students.” She paused and looked as if she was trying to decide something. “But you can borrow my personal copy if you want.”

“You’re sure it’s okay if I borrow it and join your book club?” That seemed highly unlikely as she continued to look at him with an expression somewhere between exasperation and annoyance.

“The book club is open to all Valley Ridge residents,” was her prim response. “You might be a temporary resident, but you qualify.”

“Maeve,” the old guy hollered again.

“I really have to go. If you want the book, let me know. You can pick it up at my house after I’ve closed here, or I can drop it off at the store tomorrow.”

She rushed back to her circle, her hair bobbing as she crossed the room. She smiled at something the old man said.

Aaron walked over to the bookshelves, but he couldn’t help taking note of the people who made up the book club. There were a wide range of ages, male and female. There had to be about twenty people crammed into the limited space.

After a few minutes, Maeve stood. “I want to thank everyone for being here tonight. Don’t forget, we’ll still have our regular meeting in January to discuss The Hobbit, but instead of a December meeting, we’ll have our Riddlefest next week before the holiday activities begin in earnest. We’re hoping to get a lot of young people from the school joining us.”

She stopped and spoke to a few individuals as she made her way to the counter and began checking out books. A man with three kids in tow—a boy and two girls—put a large number of books on the counter. “Stamp ’em, Miss Maeve, stamp ’em,” the youngest girl commanded.

Maeve pulled out an old library stamp and thumped it against the card at the back of each book. It made a satisfying ka-thunk. Aaron had never given it any thought before, but he liked the sound.

He remembered his once-a-week visits to the school library where the librarian had used the same kind of date stamp. It was a nostalgic sound and reminded him of those carefree days.

“Last one’s for you, Mica,” Maeve said, passing the stamp to the little girl. The boy picked her up and held her while she stamped the card with far more energy than required.

“See you next week,” Maeve said to the family.

Slowly, the line of people shrank. Maeve spent a long time talking to a tall man Aaron didn’t recognize. He’d visited his uncle on occasion and knew a few people here in town, but not this guy.

When the man smiled and nodded, Maeve walked around the counter and gave him an enthusiastic hug.

Aaron realized he’d been staring at Maeve rather than looking at books, so he grabbed the closest book to him and took it to her.

Maeve asked for all his pertinent information, including an email address. “I’ll give you a shout if someone else asks for this title, but I think you’re safe keeping it as long as you need to. I don’t get a lot of requests for Julia Child. Are you cooking for someone special?”

Aaron glanced down and realized he had picked up a cookbook. A very old cookbook. “No. No one special.”

Maeve nodded and looked at him expectantly. “Was there anything else?”

“Yes. If you meant what you said earlier, can I borrow your copy of The Hobbit?” he asked.

“I’m sure you can, but you also may,” she responded with a grin.

“Funny,” he said, which made her smile wider. “I’m not known for my social skills, but my mother taught me better than that.”

“Give me a minute to turn out all the lights and make sure everything’s locked,” Maeve said.

He waited at the door as Maeve walked through the library.

A few minutes went by before she grabbed a coat from behind the counter, slipped it on and joined him. “I’m only next door.”

After Maeve switched off the sign in the window, and locked the door behind them, she and Aaron carefully made it through the snow-covered parking lot and past the RV to her door. His sneakers had begun to dry out in the library, but were now soaked again.

Maeve paused for a mere second and said, “You might as well come in.”

They entered a tiny mudroom, and when she opened the second door, they walked into a small kitchen. There was a table, a woodstove and cabinets that looked as if they were original to the house, a circa 1960s laminate counter and basic white appliances that seemed ancient.

There were glowing embers behind the glass in the door of the stove. She flipped on a light and said, “It will only take me a moment.”

She went through the archway and turned on another light, this time illuminating a cozy living room. A living room where every wall was in actuality a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf. The only breaks in the shelves were for doors and windows. And each shelf was bursting with books. It was easy to see that there were double rows of books on many of them.

“Wow,” he said.

She gave him her first genuine smile of the night. “I’m out of room again. My stepfather is giving me another wall of shelves for Christmas.”

There were no more walls available anywhere that he could see. Even in the kitchen, the walls were lined with cabinets. “Where will you put them?”

“My bedroom. Two of the walls are slanted from the roof line, but there are flat walls on either side. He’s building the shelf around the windows and my bed. I can’t wait.”

“What will you do for shelves after you fill those?” he asked because he was absolutely sure she’d fill them, too.

Maeve dragged the footstool from in front of the rocker over to the shelf that framed the front door and climbed up on it. She pulled out a large book. When she came closer, he could see that it was green leather and in a slipcase. “When I run out of shelves, I’ll think of something else.”

“You could start reading ebooks,” he said.

He waited for her to laugh at the suggestion, as he recognized the expensive book in his hand.

But she didn’t laugh. Instead, she sighed. “I already read ebooks. But my first love will always be printed books. A bound book is a work of art in itself. Speaking of which, hang on while I get a bag for you. I’d rather this one didn’t get waterlogged if it starts to snow or sleet again.”

The slipcase of the green leather book read The Hobbit and the spine was embossed with gold and red lines and decorative squiggles. “I can’t borrow this. I thought you were offering me a paperback. You’re right. A book like this is a work of art.”

She reached out and ran a finger over the leather binding, obviously savoring the feel. “I know. I found it while I was browsing through the bookstore when I was in college. I didn’t have any money to spare. I took a job as a housekeeper full-time at a hotel, did work study on campus and still had classes. No time, no money. I didn’t want this book, I needed it. I ate peanut butter and crackers for weeks to save enough money to pay for it. But it was worth it. What a wonderful way to read the book the first time round. Don’t get me wrong, I have plenty of paperbacks, but there’s something about a leather-bound book. The heft of it. The smell. There’s even the sound. That creak as you open the cover. It tells you that the book was stitched together, not simply glued. A book like this is meant to be enjoyed. Savored even.”

“I’ll be very careful with it.”

She took the book, tucked it into a plastic grocery bag, along with his cookbook, and handed them back. “There you go. And when you finish it, ask me to borrow my copy of The Lord of The Rings. It’s in red leather and equally beautiful.”

“More peanut butter and crackers?” he asked.

“No. I got that one later. I was past my peanut butter years then.” She glanced at the clock and said, “Speaking of late—”

It was a hint. A not so subtle hint that she was ready for him to leave. But he wasn’t ready to leave her. He stood there, with his plastic bag of books and his coat on and he didn’t want to go. Not yet. He struggled to find a conversational gambit. “So, you worked all day at the winery in Ripley—”

She gave him a sharp look. “How did you know that?”

It wasn’t the reaction he’d been looking for. He should probably face it—he didn’t know how to talk to women anymore. “This is Valley Ridge. I bet I could find out your birthday and who you took to homecoming when you were in high school by next week’s Riddlefest.”

That look of suspicion was replaced by a smile. “The sad truth of it is you probably could.”

He tried again. “So, now that you’re done working and volunteering for the day, what do you do with your time?”

She glanced at the clock again. “I’m going to watch A Christmas Carol. It’s on at eight.”

“It’s not Christmas yet.”

“I know. I thought about recording it, but there’s something about watching it live on TV that I like. There are so many versions of that movie. I’m planning to catch as many of them as I can, and then I’ll reread the book.”

She looked so pleased with her idea. He was confused. “Why watch them all?”

“I found ten television and movie versions. I want to see how each director’s vision of the story differed, what parts are universal to all the films.”

She seemed to sense his confusion and sighed. “Here’s the thing, if you told a story and I told the same story, there would be differences. Things that stood out for you might not be the parts that stood out for me. A few years ago, Harlequin—”

He must have looked confused because she clarified, “They publish romance books. One of the biggest publishers in the world. Anyway, they asked a group of authors to participate in a storytelling adventure. The authors started with the same paragraph, and then each had to write the rest of the story. Every author came at it from his or her individual perspective. One was humorous, one was historical... They were all different, despite the fact they all started at the same place. I thought that watching the same movie as envisioned by different directors and acted by different actors would be interesting, so—” She shrugged. “Why am I telling you this? Go read The Hobbit and let me get to my movie.”

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