#1 NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR SUSAN WIGGS INVITES YOU TO AN UNFORGETTABLE CHRISTMAS IN THE CATSKILLS

A single father who yearns to be a family man, Logan O’Donnell is determined to create the perfect Christmas for his son, Charlie. The entire O’Donnell clan arrives to spend the holidays in Avalon, a postcard-pretty town on the shores of Willow Lake, a place for the family to reconnect and rediscover the special gifts of the season.

One of the guests is a newcomer to Willow Lake—Darcy Fitzgerald. Sharp-witted, independent and intent on guarding her heart, she’s the last person Logan can see himself falling for. And Darcy is convinced that a relationship is the last thing she needs this Christmas.

Yet between the snowy silence of the winter woods, and toasty moments by a crackling fire, their two lonely hearts collide. The magic of the season brings them each a gift neither ever expected—a love to last a lifetime.

Candlelight Christmas

The Lakeshore Chronicles

Susan Wiggs

www.mirabooks.co.uk

For Carter.

May the spark of your imagination take you wherever you wish to go.

Contents

Part 1

No-Process Pickles

Prologue

Part 2

Massive Spaghetti Feed

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Part 3

Beer-Cheese Spread

Chapter Four

Part 4

Eggnog Pancakes with Whiskey Butter

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Part 5

Maple Bacon Bread Pudding

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Part 6

Walking Dead Sugar Cookies

Chapter Twelve

Part 7

Seductive Hot Chocolate

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Epilogue

Excerpt

Part 1

Christmas Pickles

The origin of the Christmas pickle is steeped in mystery. It seems no one knows the real truth. The hand-blown glass pickle ornaments from Lauscha in Germany can date back as far as 1847, and are treasured by families everywhere. The first child to spy the ornament on the tree Christmas morning gets an extra gift from Santa, and the first adult enjoys good luck all the year through. It’s probably just a marketing hook, but who doesn’t like presents and good luck?

The pickle prize inspired this recipe for jars of colorful pickles. Since these are no-process pickles, they are a) easy and b) perishable.

Much like a woman’s heart.

No-Process Pickles

1 cup water

1 cup white vinegar

2 teaspoons salt

1 tablespoon sugar

Handful of fresh dill

Whole peppercorns and peeled garlic cloves

Kirby cucumbers (or regular cucumbers, cut into quarters lengthwise)

Red radishes, sliced thin

Fill clear glass jars with the pickles and radishes, creating a nice color palette of red and green. Add the herbs and spices. Combine the water, vinegar, sugar and salt in a jar with a lid, and shake to dissolve. Pour over pickles in the jars. Seal and refrigerate. These will be ready the next morning and can last up to a month—after that, please discard for safety’s sake. The longer the cucumbers pickle, the softer they will get, and if you don’t grasp that metaphor, I can’t help you. Anyway, if you like things fresh and crisp, don’t wait too long to eat these.

[Source: Original; adapted from Ohio State University Extension guidelines, 2009]

Prologue

Christmas Past

There were worse things than spending Christmas with your ex-husband, thought Darcy Fitzgerald as she pulled up in front of the house.

A root canal without novocaine, for example. That was probably worse. A crash landing in a small aircraft, perhaps. Reading Silas Marner in ninth grade. Frostbite, a crocodile attack, eating a bad oyster. Head lice.

She enumerated the many ways things could be worse, all the while bracing herself for the hours to come. The car tires churned up last night’s melting snow as she jockeyed her Volkswagen into the small space.

She’d dressed with special care, determined for Huntley to see that he’d lost something special. Deep down, she knew the notion was ridiculous; Huntley Collins had not truly seen her in a very long time.

While pulling the bag of gifts from the trunk, she stepped into the ankle-deep grimy slush. As it flooded her favorite kitten-heel suede shoes, the bone-freezing ice took her breath away. She reared back, slipping on the crusty ice, and landed butt-first in a dirty snowbank. The bag of parcels broke open, and her festively wrapped packages littered the ground.

“Awesome,” she muttered, pulling herself up and trying to brush the filth off her skirt.

Perhaps the most hellish part of the day was the knowledge that she had agreed to this travesty. Huntley had convinced her to get through the holidays together so they wouldn’t ruin things for everyone else.

The Fitzgeralds and the Collinses had been best friends and neighbors for decades. The two Collins boys and the five Fitzgerald girls had grown up together, playing hide-and-seek on summer nights, surfing at Cupsogue Beach, pulling pranks on one another, sneaking beer from the fridge for liquid courage before a school dance, telling each other secrets...and lies. Huntley’s older brother was married to Darcy’s older sister. The families’ fortunes were meant to be entwined forever.

Unfortunately, Huntley’s notion of forever spanned approximately five years. Darcy had found out about his affair—with his ex-wife, just to make things even worse—before Thanksgiving. Yet she had come today out of regard for her stepkids, Amy and Orion, though she expected little from the sullen, resentful teenagers.

She’d been part of their lives for five years, and she had selected their gifts with care. In a weak moment, she’d bought a little something for Huntley, so he’d have something under the tree from his kids, who were too self-absorbed and, at the moment, confused, to shop for him.

She found the smallest of the scattered packages in the ditch—the yodeling plastic pickle. There was a tradition that the first to find the pickle on the tree would get a special surprise. She moved the switch on the back of the pickle. It made a brief gurgling sound and then died.

“Surprise,” she muttered, and trudged grimly up the stairs to the front door.

Part 2

Just because you’re a single dad is no excuse for feeding your kid junk food. At some point you have to suck it up and learn to cook like a man.

Massive Spaghetti Feed

Never underestimate the power of the fantastic bowl of spaghetti.

1 15-ounce can of San Marzano tomatoes, crushed

1 stick of butter

1 onion about the size of your fist, cut up

Parmesan cheese

1 pound of spaghetti, cooked al dente

Simmer the first three ingredients together for 45 minutes, and then blend with an immersion blender or food processor. Pour over hot spaghetti and pass the parm.

[Source: San Marzano tomato label]

Chapter One

Summer’s End

Logan O’Donnell stood on a platform one hundred feet in the air, preparing to shove his ten-year-old son off the edge. A light breeze shimmered through the canopy of trees, scattering leaves on the forest floor far below. A zip line cable, slender as a thread in a spider’s web, hung between the tree platforms, waiting. Below, Meerskill Falls crashed down a rocky gorge.

“There’s no way I’m going off this.” Logan’s son, Charlie, drew his shoulders up until they practically touched the edge of his helmet.

“Come on,” Logan said. “You told me you’d do it. The other kids had a ball. They’re all waiting for you on the other side, and I heard a rumor about a bag of Cheetos being passed around.”

“I changed my mind.” Charlie set his jaw in a way that was all too familiar to Logan. “No way. No W-A-Y-F.”

Logan knew the shtick, but he went along with it. “There’s no F in way, dude.”

“That’s right. There’s no effin’ way I’m going off this thing.”

“Aw, Charlie. It’s almost like flying. You like to fly, right?” Of course he did. Charlie’s stepfather was a pilot, after all. Logan crushed the thought. There were few things more depressing than thinking about the fact that your kid had a stepfather, even if the stepfather was an okay guy. Fortunately for Charlie, he’d ended up with a good one. But it was still depressing.

Charlie spent every summer with Logan. During the school year, he lived with his mom and stepfather in Oklahoma, a million miles away from Logan’s home in upstate New York. It sucked, living that far from his kid. Being without Charlie was like missing a limb.

When he did have his son with him, Logan tried to make the most of their time together. He planned the entire season around Charlie, and that included working as a volunteer counselor at Camp Kioga, helping out with the summer program for local kids and inner-city kids on scholarship. The zip line over Meerskill Falls was a new installation, and had already become everyone’s favorite feature. Nearly everyone.

“Hey, it’s the last day of camp. Your last chance to try the zip line.”

Charlie dragged in a shaky breath. He eyed the harness, made of stout webbing and metal buckles. “It looked really fun until I started thinking about actually doing it.”

“Remember how you used to be scared to jump off the dock into Willow Lake? And then you did it and it was awesome.”

“Hel-lo. The landing was a lot different,” Charlie pointed out.

“You’re going to love it. Trust me on this.” Logan patted the top of Charlie’s helmet. “Look at all the safety features on this thing. The harness, the clips, the secondary ropes. There’s not one thing that can go wrong.”

“Yo, Charlie,” shouted a kid on the opposite platform. “Go for it!”

The encouragement came from André, Charlie’s best friend. The two had been inseparable all summer long, and if anyone could talk Charlie into something, it was André. He was one of the city kids in the program. He lived in a low-income project in the Bronx, and for André, it had been a summer of firsts—his first train trip, his first visit upstate to Ulster County, where Camp Kioga nestled on the north shore of Willow Lake. His first time to sleep in a cabin, see wildlife up close, swim and paddle in a pristine lake...and tell ghost stories around a campfire with his buddies. Logan liked the fact that at camp, all the kids were equal, no matter what their background.

“I kind of want to do it,” Charlie said.

“Up to you, buddy. You saw how it’s done. You just stand on the edge and take one step forward.”

Charlie fell silent. He stared at the waterfall cascading down the rocky gorge. The fine spray from the rushing cataract cooled the air.

“Hey, buddy,” Logan said, wondering about his son’s faraway expression. “What’s on your mind?”

“I miss Blake,” he said, his voice barely audible over the rush of the falls. “When I go back to Mom’s, Blake won’t be there anymore.”

Logan’s heart went out to the kid. Blake had been Charlie’s beloved dog, a little brown terrier who had lived to a ripe old age. At the start of summer, she’d passed away. Apparently Charlie was dreading his return to his mom’s dogless house.

“I don’t blame you,” Logan said, “but you were lucky to have Blake as your best friend for a long time.”

Charlie stared at the planks of the platform. “Yeah.” He didn’t sound convinced.

“It sucks, losing a dog,” Logan admitted. “No way around it. That’s why we’re not getting one. Hurts too bad when you have to say goodbye.”

“Yeah,” Charlie said again. “But I still like having a dog.”

“Tell me something nice about Blake,” Logan said.

“I never needed an alarm to get up for school in the morning. She’d just come into my room and burrow under the covers, like a rabbit, and she’d squirm until I got up.” He smiled, just a little. “She got old and quiet and gentle. And then she couldn’t jump up on the bed anymore, so I had to lift her.”

“I bet you were really gentle with her.”

He nodded. After another silence, he said, “Dad?”

“Yeah, bud?”

“I kinda want another dog.”

Aw, jeez. Logan patted him on the shoulder. “You can talk to your mom about it tomorrow, when you see her.” Yeah, he thought. Let Charlie’s mom deal with the mess and inconvenience of a dog.

“Okay,” said Charlie. “But, Dad?”

“Yeah, buddy?”

“Kids were telling ghost stories in the cabin last night,” he said, picking at a thread in the webbing of his harness.

“You’re at summer camp. Kids are supposed to tell ghost stories.”

“André told the one about these people who committed suicide by jumping off a cliff above the falls.”

“I’ve heard that story. Goes way back to the 1920s.”

“Yeah, well, the ghosts are still around.”

“They won’t mess with the zip line.”

“How do you know?”

Logan pointed to the group of kids and counselors on the distant platform. “They all got across, no problem. You saw them.” The other campers appeared to be having the time of their lives, eating Cheetos and acting like Tarzan.

“Show me again, Dad,” said Charlie. “I want to see you do it.”

“Sure, buddy.” Logan clipped Charlie to the safety cable and himself to the pulleys. “You’re gonna love it.” With a grin, he stepped off the platform into thin air, giving Charlie the thumbs-up sign with his free hand.

His son stood on the platform, his arms folded, his face screwed into an expression of skepticism. Logan tipped himself upside down, a crazy perspective for watching the waterfall below, crashing against the rocks. How could any kid not like this?

When Logan was young, he would have loved having a dad who would take him zip-lining, a dad who knew the difference between fun and frivolity, a dad who encouraged rather than demanded.

He landed with an exaggerated flourish on the opposite platform. Paige Albertson, cocounselor of the group, pointed at Charlie. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Oh yeah, my only son. Oops.”

“Why is he staying over there?” asked Rufus, one of the kids.

“I bet he’s scared,” said another kid.

Logan ignored them. On the opposite platform, Charlie looked very small and alone. Vulnerable.

“Everything all right?” Paige put her hand on Logan’s arm.

Paige had a crush on him. Logan knew this. He even wished he felt the same way, because she was great. She was a kindergarten teacher during the school year and a Camp Kioga volunteer during the summer. She had the all-American cheerleader looks, the bubbly, uncomplicated personality that most guys couldn’t resist. She was exactly the kind of girl his parents would want for him—pretty, stable, from a good family.

Could be that was the reason he wasn’t feeling it for her.

“He’s balking,” said Logan. “And he feels really bad about it. I thought he’d love zip-lining.”

“It’s not for everybody,” Paige pointed out. “And remember, if he doesn’t go for it, the world won’t come to an end.”

“Good point.” Logan saluted her and jumped off, crossing back to the platform on the other side, where Charlie waited. The zipping sound of the pulley and cable sang in his ears. Damn, this never got old.

“Just like Spider-Man,” he said as he came in for a landing. “I swear, it’s the coolest thing ever.”

Charlie shuffled across the wooden planks of the platform. Logan reached for the clips to attach him to the pulley. “That’s gonna be one small step for Charlie,” he intoned, “one giant leap for—”

“Dad, hang on a second,” Charlie said, shrinking back. “I changed my mind again.”

Logan studied his son’s posture: the hunched shoulders, the knees that were literally shaking. “Seriously?”

“Unhook me.” Beneath the helmet, Charlie’s face was pale, his green eyes haunted and wide.

“It’s okay to change your mind,” Logan said, “but I don’t want you to have any regrets. Remember, we talked about regrets.”

“When you have a chance to do something and then you don’t do it and later on you wish you had,” Charlie muttered.

Which pretty much summed up Logan’s assessment of his marriage. “Yep,” he said. “At the farewell dinner tonight, are you going to wish you’d done the zip line?”

Logan unhitched himself. Charlie studied the cables and pulleys with a look of yearning on his face. Okay, Logan admitted to himself, it bugged him that Charlie had conquered the jump off the dock with his mom, but Logan couldn’t get him to push past his fear of the zip line. He had a flashing urge to grab the kid, strap him in and shove him off the platform, just to get him past his hesitation.

Then he remembered his own pushy father: get in there and fight. Don’t be a chickenshit. Al O’Donnell had been a blustering, bossy, demanding dad. Logan had grown up resenting the hell out of him in a tense relationship that even now was full of turmoil.

The moment Charlie was born, Logan had made a vow. He would never be that dad.

“All right, buddy,” he said, forcing cheerfulness into his tone. “Maybe another time. Let’s climb down together.”

* * *

The final dinner of summer at Camp Kioga was served banquet-style in the massive dining hall of the main pavilion. There was a spaghetti feed with all the trimmings—garlic bread, a salad bar, watermelon, ice cream. Awards would be given, songs sung, jokes told, tributes offered and farewells spoken.

The families of the campers were invited to the event. Parents arrived, eager to reunite with their kids and hear about their summer.

A sense of tradition hung like the painted paddles and colorful woven blankets on the walls. The old Catskills camp had been in operation since the 1920s. People as far back as Logan’s grandparents remembered with nostalgia the childhood summers they’d spent in the draughty timber-and-stone cabins, swimming in the clear, cold waters of Willow Lake, boating in the summer sun each day, sitting around the campfire and telling stories at night. In a hundred years, the traditions had scarcely changed.

But the kids had. Back in the era of the Great Camps, places like Camp Kioga had been a playground for the ultrawealthy—Vanderbilts, Asters, Roosevelts. These days, the campers were a more diverse bunch. This summer’s group included kids of Hollywood power brokers and Manhattan tycoons, recording artists and star athletes, alongside kids from the projects of the inner city and downriver industrial towns.

The organizers of the city kids program, Sonnet and Zach Alger, pulled out all the stops for the end of summer party. In addition to the banquet, there would be a performance by Jezebel, a hip-hop artist who had starred in a hit reality TV series. The show had been filmed at Camp Kioga, chronicling the efforts of the outspoken star to work with youngsters in the program.

Tonight, the only cameras present belonged to proud parents and grandparents.

Charlie was practically bouncing up and down with excitement, because he knew he was getting a swimming award. André was next to him as they took their seats at their assigned banquet table.

Paige, who stood nearby, handing out table assignments, leaned over and said, “Those two are such a great pair. I bet they’re going to miss each other now that summer’s over.”

“Yeah, it’d be nice if they could stay in touch. Tricky, though, with André in the city and Charlie off to an air force base in Oklahoma.”

“Must be hard for you, too.”

“I can’t even tell you. But...we deal. I’ll see him at Thanksgiving, and he’s mine—all mine—for Christmas.”

At the moment, Christmas seemed light-years away. Logan wondered how the hell he’d keep himself busy after Charlie left. He had his work, a thriving insurance business he’d founded in the nearby town of Avalon. If he was being honest with himself, he was bored stiff with the work, even though he liked helping friends and neighbors and made a good living at it.

Initially, the whole point of setting up a business in Avalon had been to enable him to live close to Charlie. Now that Charlie’s mom had remarried and moved away, Logan was starting to think about making a change. A big change.

His sister India arrived to join in the festivities, and Logan excused himself to say hi. Her twin boys, Fisher and Goose, had spent the summer here. Charlie had had a great time with his two cousins, who lived on Long Island, where India and her husband ran an art gallery.

Red-haired like Logan and Charlie both, and dressed in flowing silks unlike anybody, India rushed over to her twin sons, practically in tears.

“I missed you guys so much,” she said, gathering them against her. “Did you have a good time at camp?”

“The best,” said Fisher.

“We made you some stuff,” said Goose.

“Real ugly jewelry, and we’re gonna make you wear it,” Fisher told her.

“If you made it, then I’m sure it’s beautiful,” she said.

“Uncle Logan taught us how to light farts.”

“That’s my baby brother,” India said. “Now, you need no introduction, but I’ll introduce you, anyway.” She indicated the woman behind her. “Darcy, this is my brother, who probably needs to be sent to the naughty corner, but instead, he’s a volunteer counselor.”

“And head fart lighter,” said the woman, sticking out her hand. “I’m Darcy Fitzgerald.”

He took her hand, liking her straightforward expression. She had dark hair done in a messy ponytail and a direct, brown-eyed gaze. Her hand felt small but firm, and she had a quirky smile. For no reason Logan could name, he felt a subtle nudge of interest.

“Are you here to pick up a kid?” he asked her. “Which one belongs to you?”

“None, thank God,” she said with a shudder.

“Allergies?” Logan asked.

“Something like that.”

“Then you came to the wrong place.” He gestured around the dining hall, swarming with excited, hungry kids. To him, it was a vision of paradise. He liked kids. He liked big, loud, loving families. It was the tragedy of his life that he was restricted to summers and holidays with his only child.

“Except for one thing,” said Darcy, turning toward the dais where the band was setting up. “I’m a huge Jezebel fan.”

“You must be. We’re a long way from anywhere.”

She nodded. “I came along for the ride with India when she invited me to pick up her boys. Thought it would be nice to get out to the countryside for a weekend.”

“So you live in the city?” he asked.

“In SoHo. I didn’t have anything thing else going on this weekend. Yes, I’m that pathetic friend everybody feels sorry for, all alone and getting over a broken heart.” She spoke lightly, but he detected a serious note in her tone.

“Oh, sorry. About the broken heart. Glad to hear you’re getting over it.”

“Thanks,” she said. “It takes time. That’s what people keep telling me. I keep looking for distractions. But hearts are funny that way. They don’t let you lie, even to yourself.”

“Not for long, anyway. Anything I can do to help?” He instantly regretted the offer. He had no idea what to do about someone else’s broken heart.

“I’ll spare you the details.”

Good.

She scanned the big, noisy room. “Where can a girl get a drink around here?”

“It’s not that kind of party.”

“Oops. Of course.” She set down her bag and peeled off her jacket. Underneath, she wore a shapeless T-shirt commemorating Jezebel in Madison Square Garden. “I guess we’d better have a seat,” she said, glancing around. “Looks like India found a table.” His nephews, along with Charlie and André, had already visited the buffet and were chowing down.

“Right this way,” he said, unconsciously touching the small of her back as he steered her through the dining hall.

She glanced up at him, and he noticed something in her stare. Startlement? Recognition? And he noticed something in himself. Attraction? No, couldn’t be. She was not his type. Like Paige, she was the type his family would want him to date, only unlike Paige, she wasn’t girl-next-door cute. She was...funny and ironic, and she spoke with a boarding school accent that somehow didn’t sound affected. He had no idea why he would suddenly find this interesting.

They went through the buffet line on opposite sides of the long table. “This doesn’t look like the camp food we had when I was a kid,” she said.

“Where’d you go to camp?”

“Walden, in Maine.”

Further evidence that she was the “right” sort of girl, in his parents’ eyes. But Logan told himself not to let that prejudice him. “I’ve got an idea,” he said. “How about we—”

“Hey, Dad!” Charlie piped up, motioning him over to the table. “Check it out. I’m Mr. Potato Head.”

Charlie had decked himself out at the salad bar, with rings of green pepper for eyeglasses, a cherry tomato nose, carrot sticks for vampire teeth.

“Oh, that’s brilliant,” Logan said. “And so appetizing.” He turned to Darcy as she set her plate down at an empty place. “My son, Charlie, the boy genius. Charlie, this is Darcy.”

“Nice to meet you.” With the firm, direct manner Logan had drilled into him, Charlie made eye contact and stuck out his hand. The effect was ruined by the stickiness of his hand.

Logan felt Darcy stiffen as she briefly took the grubby little hand. “Hiya, Charlie,” she said. “Who’s your friend?”

“This is André,” said Charlie. “He’s got a frog in his pocket, so watch out.”

“You weren’t supposed to tell,” André said, though he was clearly proud of his find.

“André and Charlie have been buddies this summer,” Logan told Darcy.

“BFFs,” Charlie said. “We made a blood oath.”

“Not with real blood,” André said. “With ketchup.”

“Sounds tasty.” Darcy discreetly wiped her hands with a napkin. “So, are your parents here, André?”

“My mom’s coming up tomorrow. I wish I didn’t have to go back to the city.”

André’s mother, Maya, worked as a nanny in Manhattan. André claimed she spent more time with her employer’s kids than she did with her own.

Logan could relate to the situation from a different perspective. He’d been the employer’s kid, once upon a time. His parents, busy with work and social obligations, had been distant yet powerful figures in his world, a dynamic he was determined not to pass on to his own son.

“They look like a great pair,” Darcy said, watching André and Charlie fencing with their forks.

He nodded. “They’re going to miss each other after this summer. Last night I signed them both up for a Skype account so they can talk to each other on the phone.”

“That’s nice.”

“I’m nice. Didn’t my sister tell you?”

“She didn’t need to. You just did. Seriously, that’s a kind thing to do.”

During the banquet, the speeches were mercifully brief. Olivia and Connor Davis, who managed Camp Kioga, gave a quick welcome before handing the mic to Sonnet Alger. Sparkling with enthusiasm, Sonnet welcomed the families and friends of the campers.

Sonnet was Charlie’s aunt by marriage, stepsister to Charlie’s mom, Daisy. Right out of college, she’d been an intense, driven young woman, fierce in her quest for career success. But it was only recently, now that she was a newlywed making a life with her husband, Zach, that she seemed truly happy. She glowed with that inner light of joy of a woman in love. And Zach was watching from the wings, camera in hand, regarding her with a goofy, smitten expression.

Logan was happy for them. The pair hadn’t had an easy road. Logan knew that. Maybe this was how love worked; it had to be tested and proved, over and over again. There had been a time when Logan thought he knew what true love was. Then he looked at couples like Sonnet and Zach Alger, and realized he didn’t know shit. It was nice, seeing the two of them so happy together, but at the same time, it accentuated the giant, hollowed-out ache Logan felt in his own life.

Jezebel performed some of her hit songs, PG-rated ones. The kids and even some of the parents went nuts, clapping and stomping. During a particularly angry rendition of “Put Back the Things You Stole,” he glanced at Darcy, who had stopped eating to simply stare in admiration.

Logan found himself wishing he wasn’t so intrigued by her. She seemed complicated, and he wasn’t so good with complicated women.

* * *

After the music, everyone went outside for a bonfire on the beach. “Our last night here,” Sonnet told the group. “We hope you’ll carry a bit of Camp Kioga home with you—the beautiful places you’ve seen, the new skills you’ve learned, the adventures you’ve had. Right now I have a little assignment.”

Groans erupted, but she ignored them. “It’s simple. I want you each to take one of these envelopes and write yourself a Christmas card.”

“A Christmas card? In summer?”

“To yourself.” She passed around a container of pens. “Put your home address on the envelope. Quit looking at me like that. As least this way, you know you’ll get one card this year. I’m going to collect them all and mail them the week before Christmas. On the card, I want you to write a Christmas wish. Keep it to yourself. This is just for you. Friends and parents, you can do the same thing.”

Balancing the small card on his knee, Charlie began writing diligently, without hesitating. Logan paused, noticing Darcy Fitzgerald writing swiftly, as well. Logan wished for a lot of things, but the only wish that really mattered was the one he couldn’t have—more time with Charlie. All he could do was make sure the time they did have together was perfect.

And that was what he ended up writing on his card—Make Christmas awesome for Charlie.

Charlie sealed his envelope and wrote his address, then tossed it into the basket. Darcy followed suit, then tilted back her head, gazing up at the starry sky. “Hard to think about winter on a night like this,” she said.

“True. What’s your Christmas like?”

She stiffened and brought her gaze level with his. “Ridiculous,” she said. “I have four sisters. Christmas is always chaos. And this year...” Her voice trailed off.

“What about this year?”

“I don’t think I’ll be up for all the madness.”

“There’s an alternative?”

“I could go to an ashram. How about you? Is there a typical O’Donnell family Christmas?”

“My folks like to spend the winter in Paradise Cove, Florida. We usually rendezvous down there. Charlie loves getting together with all his cousins.”

“And how about you? What do you like?”

The question took him by surprise. It had been a long while since someone had asked him that.

“What do I like? Family. Friends and food. I want to be with Charlie,” he said. “Actually, I’d love to take him snowboarding, but that’s tough to do in Florida.”

“Snowboarding sounds fun. Is there a ski resort nearby?”

“Saddle Mountain,” he said. “It’s a twenty-minute drive, tops. Some of my best memories with Charlie were made there. I hope it can stay open.”

“Financial troubles?”

“Not that I know of. It’s been privately owned by one family for years. Now the owner’s retiring, so he’s looking for a buyer.”

“You should buy it.”

He turned slightly to face her. “You’re a mind reader. I had the same thought, and it’s not out of the realm of possibility if I could get a group of investors together. Most people think it’s a crazy idea.”

“Some of the best ideas are the crazy ones.”

He grinned. “I like the way you think.”

Bags of marshmallows were being passed around. Logan found a stick for himself and one for Darcy. “So, how long have you known India?” he asked.

“Freshman year of college. Glee club and ski club.”

Bennington girl, then. He tried not to generalize, but it was hard not to do when every single Bennington girl he met came from the same cookie-cutter mold. “So you sing and ski.”

“More like a squawk and snowboard.”

“You like snowboarding?”

“Yeah. Especially on a bluebird day. Or any day, really. I love to ride the way other people love to breathe.”

A jock, he thought. Dang. He loved girl jocks. “And after college?” he asked, more and more interested.

“I took a few wrong turns,” she said, her gaze sliding away. “So...Avalon. Gorgeous. But tiny. How did you end up here?”

“Charlie’s mom.” He gestured at his pride and joy, who was currently jamming several marshmallows on the end of his stick. “I moved here to be near him. The irony is, his mother remarried and moved away. Now I’m still here and I only get Charlie for summers and holidays. It’s tough.”

“Sorry to hear it. Kids are life’s biggest complication, aren’t they?”

“And its biggest perk.”

She chuckled. “I’ll take your word for it.”

He tried to toast the marshmallows slowly, but they burst into flame. He blew on them and offered the end of the stick to Darcy. “Crispy critter?”

“Don’t mind if I do.” She took a whole marshmallow into her mouth in a motion he found ridiculously sexy. “Delicious,” she said.

He liked talking to her. There was something easy about her, something genuine. “Tell me about life in SoHo.”

“It’s all right,” she said. “I moved recently, to a little walk-up—emphasis on little—and I work on Madison Avenue.”

“Advertising?” He ate the rest of the melting marshmallows, liking the burned sweetness.

“Good guess. And you’re right.”

Their shoulders brushed. He felt it again, that pleasant sting of attraction.

She looked up at him, her expression slightly quizzical.

“So, listen,” he suggested, “after the kids are all tucked in for lights out, you want to go paddling?”

She laughed. “In the dark?”

“A moonlight paddle on Willow Lake. Since it’s your first time here, you don’t want to miss the lake by the light of the moon.”

“Just the two of us?”

“Up to you. We could invite India along, or not...if you’re sufficiently over your broken heart.”

“Sounds like fun,” she said easily. “You sound like fun, Logan. And as for my heart...” She sighed. “Do we ever get over it? Or just through it?”

“Good question.”

“And?” She gazed at him in a way that made him glad he’d suggested the after-hours paddle.

“And I don’t know.”

Wow, he thought. There was definitely some potential here. “I’m glad India brought you to see the place,” he said. “My family’s always trying to fix me up.”

“Do you need fixing?”

“Depends on who you ask. You’re not afraid of the dark, are you?”

She laughed. “I’m not afraid of anything. Except maybe—”

“Dad. Hey, Dad, check it out.” Charlie burst between them, brandishing a long stick with a marshmallow on the end. “Me and André are having a marshmallow war.”

“With flaming marshmallows,” André declared, bending back his stick, with a burning marshmallow on the end.

“Cripes, you can’t be doing that.” Logan grabbed the stick. “This stuff burns like napalm.”

“We’ll aim for the water,” Charlie said. “Da-ad.” He’d started a movement. Now a whole group of kids were catapulting marshmallows.

“Damn it,” said Logan, “I swear, Charlie... Excuse me,” he said to Darcy, and went to confiscate the weapons. By the time he finished and had the kids marching off to their cabins, Darcy had stood up, her shoulder bag in hand.

“I’m just going to call it a night,” she said. “Thanks for the offer, though. Maybe some other time.”

Great, thought Logan. Just great. “Say, the Pavilion bar is open for adults after lights out. How about we get a drink after—”

“Dad, guess what?” Charlie came running over. “Eugene wants to tell ghost stories again in the cabin tonight. Really gory ones.”

“You hate ghost stories.”

“Right. That’s why I need you to pull cabin duty tonight.”

“No can do,” said Logan.

“Dad, it’s my last night with you.” Charlie played his trump card early.

Logan felt torn—a familiar sensation. When you were a single dad, you felt pulled in a lot of different directions. “You and André can hang out. You don’t have to listen to the ghost stories.”

“Dad—”

“Hey, Logan,” said Darcy, “I’d better get going. We’re heading back to the city in the morning.”

No, don’t let her go. “Then how about we—”

“It was nice to meet you,” she said. “You, too, Charlie. See you around.”

Logan watched her go, then swung back to face Charlie. “Dude, couldn’t you see I was busy?”

“Hitting on some lady? Yeah, I could see that.”

“And still you interrupted.”

“I’m worried about the ghost stories.”

“I’m worried about your manners.”

Charlie gazed at the ground. “Sorry, Dad. I just really want you in the cabin tonight.”

Logan was a sucker for his kid. He hoped like hell he wasn’t a pushover. Hoped he wasn’t spoiling Charlie. The truth was, Charlie had a true horror of ghost stories ever since his cousin Bernie had told him the tale of the bloody toe last summer. The kid had suffered from nightmares for weeks afterward, and to this day still slept with his socks on.

Turning, Logan watched Darcy Fitzgerald as she walked along a lighted path toward the parking lot. For the first time in ages, he’d actually felt something strong and true, just talking with her. But one of the first things she’d told him was that she wasn’t into kids. It was just as well they hadn’t started anything, he told himself.

Chapter Two

“You are in such trouble,” Darcy said to India as they drove away from Camp Kioga to their hotel in the nearby town of Avalon.

“What?” India offered an elaborate look of innocence.

“You know perfectly well what. Your brother, that’s what. You couldn’t be more obvious if you tried.”

“Darce. I am trying.”

“And you’re totally obvious. This was supposed to be a relaxing, forget-all-your-troubles girlfriends’ weekend. You turned it into a setup.”

“I introduced you to my kid brother, that’s all.”

“He’s no kid.” She couldn’t get the image of Logan O’Donnell out of her head. Tall, athletic build. Blaze of red hair—not the dorky kind of red hair, but deep glossy waves of auburn, which she found ridiculously sexy. And his smile. He had an easy smile that made her forget, if only briefly, that she’d ever been hurt by a man. “He has a kid,” she added.

“That would be my adorable nephew, Charlie,” India said. “Thank you for reminding me.”

“Listen, because I don’t think you heard me the first time,” said Darcy. “The only thing I want less than a guy is a guy with a kid.”

“All men are not all like Huntley Collins,” India pointed out.

“I realize that. One day, I will embrace that truth. But I’m not ready to meet anyone.”

“You’ve been divorced a year.”

Divorced. Destroyed was a more apt word for it.

She had married a man who had seemed perfect for her in every way. Huntley was a single dad, sharing custody of Amy and Orion with his ex. Darcy had fallen for the three of them, opening her heart to a ready-made family.

Yet the children, dear as they had been to her, had also taken a hand in the demise of her marriage. As they grew older, they distanced themselves from Darcy, and eventually convinced themselves—or let their mother convince them—that their parents wanted to get back together.

Darcy still recalled the day her marriage had unraveled, though the memory no longer made her cringe. Huntley’s daughter, Amy, had come to her with a bright smile on her face, false as sunshine in November. Darcy had learned to recognize that hollow smile. It was hard at the edges, the grin of a not-very-skilled actress who knew her range was limited, and didn’t care.

“He’s cheating on you,” Amy had said. “With our mom.”

Darcy’s heart had stumbled. Then, clinging to well-honed denial, she had dismissed the notion out of hand. “Your mom and dad are just friends.”

“Nope, they’re back together. Check his email,” Amy said, a clean blade of triumph sharpening her tone. “In the drafts folder. That’s how they communicate. They never hit Send, just log in to the same account and read the drafts. They’re so stupid about it, though. They don’t delete correctly, so the notes still are all there.”

“Nonsense,” Darcy said. Yet the moment Amy had said those words—He’s cheating on you—her body was telling her to pay attention for once, to listen. Her heart knew the truth before her mind caught on to the situation. The blood in her veins congealed into ice. In that moment, she had felt weirdly detached from her own life, as though entering a different reality. “You shouldn’t be looking at your dad’s email,” she scolded. Classic nagging stepmom, as ineffective as a barkless Chihuahua.

“Neither should you,” Amy shot back. Then the girl had burst into tears and collapsed, sobbing, into Darcy’s lap.

And that, Darcy had realized, had been the first undeniable sign of her failing marriage—not the drafts folder, which of course completely confirmed Amy’s accusation, but the fact that, months earlier, Darcy herself had begun monitoring Huntley’s messages.

He was both careless and unsophisticated about computers. She hadn’t been looking for anything specific. Just...looking. For answers. For the reason she couldn’t feel the love from him anymore. For the reason he had emotionally left the building, like a traveler checking out of a motel he never planned to return to.

It was said that there are no winners in a divorce, but Darcy discovered that wasn’t true in her case. She had lost a husband, a family, a way of life. She had lost half her assets, her home and her belief in her own judgment when it came to men. Huntley had lost, too; the fling with his ex had flamed out, and these days, as far as she knew, he was alone. But there were winners—the crafty Amy and her brother, Orion. They had not wanted a stepmother, and now she was gone, vanished from their lives.

And here was a surprise. She missed them. She had managed to stop loving Huntley. That was easy enough, crushing her feelings for someone who had crushed her heart with the most intimate of betrayals. She couldn’t simply turn off her feelings for the kids, though. When she’d married Huntley, they were eight and ten, filling her with joy. Five years later, they were teenagers, challenging her at every turn. Yet even at their most manipulative and obnoxious, they were children to whom she had given herself entirely. Even now she couldn’t stop remembering how it felt to be a family, swept up in the busy days of their lives together. Knowing she couldn’t see them, could never hold or touch them again was a special kind of hell.

In the Fitzgerald family, Darcy herself had been the daughter most likely to procreate. After all, she had married a man with children, and she’d made no secret of wanting more. She’d loved being a stepmom to Amy and Orion—until everything had changed. The special, knife-sharp hurt of their campaign against her had caused a fundamental shift deep inside Darcy. She’d gone from being a woman who thought she could have it all to a woman who wanted none of it.

“I’m not ready to meet anyone,” she said to India. “It seems like only yesterday, I considered myself a happily married woman.”

“Now you’ll be happily single.”

“And determined to stay that way. Not only do I want to stay away from guys, but I want to stay away from guys with kids. So quit trying to throw me together with your yummy brother.”

“You think he’s yummy?”

“Don’t you dare tell him I said that.”

“I was just going to send him a text. Jeez, what do you take me for? The idea of ‘brother’ and ‘yummy’ do not compute in my mind. Ew.”

“Spoken like a true sister.”

“I’m trying to help here, Darcy. Look at it this way—you got your starter marriage over early.”

“It was supposed to be forever.”

“The next one will be. Just you wait.”

“Exactly. I’m waiting. Forever is worth waiting for. So don’t be trying to fix me up with your brother.”

They rounded a bend in the road, and the main square of Avalon came into view. Gilded by sunset, the little lakeside village had the kind of charm seen in tourist brochures, touting the wonders of the Catskills—glorious rolling hills clad in end-of-summer excess, colorful painted cottages along the lake, catboats flying their white sails on the water, out for an evening sail. The sight was so pretty, it took her breath away for a moment—the deep purple of twilight reflected in the still water, the stars sprinkled above the distant hills, the fairy lights of the town.

The bucolic allure of scenery and serenity tugged at her heart. She’d been living in Manhattan for too long. It was good to get out into nature for a while, to see the sky above and the scenery all around her.

“Okay,” Darcy said, “you’re forgiven. It’s beautiful here. A nice change from the sock warehouse out my window in the city.”

“Agreed. We should come up to see Logan more often.”

“He said he moved here to be near Charlie.”

“That’s right. Charlie was born the summer after they got out of high school.”

“So young,” Darcy mused.

“Never underestimate the power of a teenager to do dumb things. I worry constantly about my boys. Logan definitely had a wild streak in high school. Daisy—that’s Charlie’s mom—came here to be with her family. She thought she’d be raising the baby alone, but Logan surprised everyone, including our parents. He got his act together, moved up here to be near Charlie, and turned himself into an awesome dad. Put himself through college and started a solid business. I adore him for turning his life around, but the path he took still makes our parents mental.”

“You can’t be serious. Aren’t they proud of him?”

“Yes, but they had other plans for him. He was supposed to go to an Ivy League school like all good O’Donnells, and then he was supposed to take over the reins of the family business. Instead, he wound up here, running an insurance office and being Charlie’s dad. I guess our folks have made their peace with it, but they still think he took a wrong turn.”

“Parents,” Darcy mused, gazing out the window at the play of light on the water. “What is it with parents, projecting all their expectations on their kids? I’ve been in violation of my folks’ expectations since the moment I was born a girl instead of a boy.”

“Yes, how dare you?” said India.

“Such a burden, having five daughters,” said Darcy. “And now only one of us is decently married. Lydia and the oh-so-perfect Badgley Collins.”

“Huntley’s older brother. How is everyone handling that?” asked India.

“We’re all so terribly civilized about it. My folks and the Collinses go way back to their college days. We are meant to get along no matter what.”

Darcy had not been able to bring herself to tell her family about the cheating. They had no idea how hard it was for her to simply grit her teeth and pretend she had smoothly moved on with her life, to pretend that the Collinses’ son Huntley had not shredded her heart into irreparable bits. “I’m already dreading the holidays,” she confessed. “Our families have been swapping host duties for decades. My mom and Rachel Collins are already planning the usual joint celebration at Thanksgiving.”

“You could spend the holidays with us,” India said.

Darcy imagined her family’s horror at the prospect of her defection. Their holiday traditions were chiseled in stone. The season always started off with a Thanksgiving feast that would make Martha Stewart green as collectible glass with envy. After that, the holidays kicked into high gear—the plans, the shopping, the food, the music. The previous year, she had made the mistake of trying to join in, and the stress had nearly wrecked her. The prospect of enduring even a salmon mousse canapé in the presence of her ex-husband made her nauseated.

“What do you say?” asked India. “I swear, my family would love to have you.”

“Seriously?”

“Sure. We usually all go to my folks’ place in Florida, at Paradise Cove. The house is huge, and located right on a private beach, a surfer’s mecca. You can sit on the sugar-fine sand, sipping a fruity drink, and let your ex deal with the mess he made.”

“Surfing? Do you know how tempting that sounds?”

“That’s the idea—to tempt you.”

“I might take you up on it. Wait a second. Is your brother going to be there?”

“Yep.”

Darcy couldn’t stop herself from flashing on an image of Logan O’Donnell in board shorts and flip flops, on a sugar-sand Florida beach.

“I’ll think about it,” she said. She probably wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about it.

India peered at the shady street ahead and switched on the headlamps. “Hey, do me a favor and see if the hotel brochure has directions. We’re staying at the Inn at Willow Lake.”

Darcy found a colorful flyer and angled it toward the light. “There’s an annex in the middle of town, and the main location is on the lake.”

“We’re staying at the one on the lake.”

“It’s easy to find, then. Just stay on the Lakeshore Road and we’ll come right to it. Looks gorgeous in the brochure.”

“I’m sure it is. Just as an aside—the owners, Nina and Greg Bellamy, are Logan’s former in-laws.”

“Wait, what? His ex is their daughter?”

“Hazard of life in a small town—eventually, everyone is connected.”

“So, was he married to Charlie’s mother for long?”

“No. They tried to make it work for Charlie’s sake, but they realized it wasn’t right and never would be. It was hard, watching him struggle to hold them together. There was...drama. Maybe someday Logan will tell you all about it.”

“Assuming I want him to tell me. Assuming he wants to.”

“Ah, Darce. I know you’re still raw, but I promise, things will get better. After his breakup, Logan was kind of a mess for a while, but he came out of the fog.”

“Meaning he climbed right back on the horse, so to speak.”

“I think it’s a guy thing. They tend to start dating right away. He hasn’t had a serious relationship yet, though. Just a string of...distractions, I guess you’d call them. Daisy, his ex, is remarried now, living in Oklahoma with her new husband. That’s why Logan’s time with Charlie is so precious—he has to split custody with Charlie’s mom.”

Darcy pictured the little boy, an adorable mixture of sweetness and mischief, his wavy red hair matching his father’s. “Just so you know, Charlie is one of the many reasons I’m not interested in hooking up with your brother. I’m sure he’s a nice little kid, but I’ve been with a man who has children, and I’m not going there again. I intend to remain happily childless for all of my days.”

Chapter Three

Saying goodbye to Charlie had become steeped in ritual. First Logan took him to the house and they arranged his room so that when he returned, he’d find everything in place. Then they packed his duffel bag and drove to the center of town for a snack and to say goodbye to friends and neighbors.

Signs of autumn and back-to-school were already popping up. Suzanne Bailey of Zuzu’s Petals boutique was on the sidewalk in front of her shop, arguing with Adam Bellamy, a newcomer to town who happened to be from an old Avalon family. He’d recently moved to Avalon and worked as a fireman. He and Logan were buddies, both of them fans of outdoor sports—mountain biking, snowboarding, white-water kayaking, rock and ice climbing. Suzanne’s husband, Jeff, was also a firefighter, probably on duty at the moment. She and Adam were like oil and water; at the moment they appeared to be bickering about the placement of her sidewalk sale racks.

“Sorry to interrupt the fun,” said Logan, “but I brought Charlie to say goodbye.”

Adam turned, his scowl at Suzanne turning to a grin for Charlie. “Hate to see you go, my brother. I’ll keep an eye on your old man while you’re away.”

“Cool,” said Charlie. “Don’t let him give you any trouble.”

“He’s always trouble, but I think I can handle him.” Adam looked like the kind of guy who could handle anything. Built like a linebacker, he was a three-time winner of a seventy-story stair-running marathon in the city.

Suzanne gave Charlie a quick hug. “I remember when you got all your back-to-school clothes from me. I miss that.”

Something must have shown on Charlie’s face, because she added hastily, “Here’s a little something for you.” She handed him a small solar-powered reading light, something she sold in her shop. “For your travels.”

“Wow, thanks,” said Charlie.

“Will you be back for Thanksgiving?” she asked.

“We always go to Florida.”

“That’s rough,” Adam said, patting him on the shoulder.

“Christmas, then?” Suzanne asked. “Or will you be basking in the Florida sun then, too?”

“Unless we get a better offer,” Logan said.

Charlie tugged at his sleeve. “Bakery next, Dad?”

“Bakery next.”

“Cool, I’ll get a table.” Charlie headed down the block toward the Sky River Bakery for his last visit to the beloved place for the holy grail of pastries, the iced maple bar.

“He’s really grown this summer,” said Suzanne. “He acts more grown-up, too.”

Logan nodded. “I guess having to shuttle back and forth between parents is making him grow up fast.”

“Charlie’s an awesome kid,” said Adam. “If I ever have kids, I’m coming to you for advice.”

“Thanks. I’m trying to get used to the part-time parenting thing, but it sucks. Love that little guy, and I miss him so damn much when he’s not around.”

“Dive into work,” Suzanne suggested. “That’s what I do.”

“What, to escape your humdrum existence?” Adam asked. “I’ll be sure to tell Jeff that.”

“Hey.” She swatted him with a coat hanger.

“Diving into my work isn’t exactly an escape,” said Logan.

“You’re a good businessman,” Adam pointed out. “That must feel good, right? Everybody I know uses you.”

“‘For all your insurance needs,’” Logan finished, quoting his own slogan. “I’m so freaking bored with my business, I can’t even tell you. I got into it because I wanted to be near Charlie. It’s a stable, predictable racket with regular hours. But since he moved away with his mom, it’s just a job.”

“Then find a job you like,” Adam said simply. “That’s what I did.” He’d been an executive for a big multinational corporation, but seemed a lot more content these days as a firefighter and an arson investigator.

“I’m thinking about taking over Saddle Mountain,” said Logan. Every time he thought about it, the idea fixed itself more firmly in his mind.

“The ski resort?” asked Suzanne. “You’re joking.”

“Maybe not.”

“You’re crazy,” she said.

“I bet people told you that when you said you were opening your shop,” Adam pointed out.

“You’d lose,” she retorted, though she seemed to like his teasing.

“I’d better catch up with Charlie,” said Logan.

“I’ll join you,” Adam said. “Hungry again. And I want to hear more about your new plan.”

They found Charlie waiting at the bakery, seated at a painted enamel table and eyeing the fragrant, glistening contents in the display case. The café seating area was busy with its morning crowd of locals and tourists. The walls featured a series of stunning photographs by Daisy Bellamy—Logan’s ex. Even though she’d moved away, reminders of her lingered everywhere. She was a Bellamy, after all; in Avalon, they were ubiquitous.

As he studied the beautifully photographed nature scenes, Logan felt a curious detachment. He didn’t miss her. He didn’t still love her. But he missed the life of the family they’d made, the day-to-day routines, the companionship, the fun they’d had with Charlie.

Adam went to the counter and ordered coffee and kolaches, and Charlie’s usual—an iced maple bar and a mug of hot chocolate. “So, when are you going to set this new plan in motion?” he asked Logan.

“New plan doing what?” Charlie asked, then took a big bite of the soft pastry.

Logan gave a slight shake of his head. Not now.

“His new plan to be as awesome as me,” Adam said, clinking cups with Charlie. “Your dad says he needs a cooler job.” He consumed half a kolache in one bite.

“Yeah, like a time traveler or a shape-shifter,” Charlie suggested.

“I already do that,” said Logan. “But don’t tell anybody.”

“Really?”

“You don’t think I sit at a desk all day studying actuary tables, do you? That’s just a cover for my true identity.”

“What’s your true identity?”

“The Silver Snowboarder.”

“You like snowboarding with your dad?” Adam asked him.

Charlie nodded. “It’s the best.”

“Better than that maple bar?”

“Well...almost.”

Adam finished his coffee. “I need to roll, my brothers.” He bumped knuckles with Charlie, then gravely shook his hand. “You take care, now. Work hard in school, and I’ll see you when you come back around.”

“Okay, Adam. Don’t let the place burn down while I’m gone.”

“Never happen.” He left a tip on the table. “MTB later?” he asked Logan.

“Indubitably.” Mountain-biking was exactly what he’d need later in the day, when Charlie’s departure for Oklahoma hurt like a fresh, gaping wound in his chest. He and Adam had begun a tradition of tearing up the trails in the hills above Avalon after work, in all kinds of weather.

Charlie dawdled over finishing his snack, and Logan didn’t rush him. Though neither had mentioned it, they both knew they were only minutes away from the dreaded long goodbye.

As soon as they left the bakery, the inevitable process would begin. Charlie’s mom was waiting for him at the Inn at Willow Lake, which was owned by her folks. Daisy always stayed there when she came to town. Logan’s duty was to hand the kid over and pretend it was great, a big adventure for Charlie. “Coparenting” was one of those terms that sounded like a good idea until it was actually put into practice. In actual fact, every time he said goodbye to Charlie, it ripped out a piece of his heart.

His phone vibrated, signaling a text message. Daisy’s ID came up. We’re hoping to make the noon train to the city. Possible?

Shit.

“We need to go, buddy.” Logan added to the tip on the table. “Don’t forget your stuff.”

Charlie grabbed his Camp Kioga baseball cap and put it on. “Ready,” he said.

They got in the car. Logan drove a banana-yellow Jeep, good for getting around when the winter snows came.

Avalon looked like one of his ex-wife’s flawless photos today, the leaves just starting to turn, the lake placid and flat, the covered bridge over the Schuyler River drawing the last of the summer tourists. It would still be hot in Oklahoma, flat and scrubby around the air force base.

“Excited about fifth grade?” Logan asked.

“Oh yeah. Can’t wait.”

“I know, buddy. School’s your job. You’ll do great. You’re going out for soccer this fall?”

“Sure. Soccer’s cool.”

Soccer had been Logan’s life when he was a kid, right up through high school. He still remembered the rush of a good play, the euphoria of drilling a goal home. His father rarely missed a game. It was the one thing that kept them close. Ultimately, though, the sport had become too important. Logan’s need to perform superseded common sense. In high school, his determination to impress his father had pushed him to play injured, and that had led to a ripped-up knee, multiple surgeries and a dangerous dependence on painkillers.

Logan resigned himself to missing all of Charlie’s games. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. He would find other activities to do with Charlie. Kioga in the summer, snowboarding or Florida in winter, daily phone calls, being there for his son whenever he could. He hoped like hell their time together would be enough.

They pulled up at the inn, a historic property in a grand mansion by the lake. The main building, with its wraparound porch and belvedere tower, was reflected in the glassy water. Hiding the heaviness in his heart, Logan grabbed Charlie’s duffel bag and backpack and went up the walk. Charlie’s mom came out the door.

Daisy looked amazing, no surprise. She’d always been smoking hot, even in high school, and she’d been as reckless and rebellious as Logan, which had led to the unplanned pregnancy in the first place. She wore her blond hair short, and her face was wreathed in smiles. Now, however, there was something new about her. The angry, reckless girl had turned into a woman—a mom. She was holding a baby on her hip. Behind her was her husband, Air Force Captain Julian Gastineaux, tall and dark, casual in civilian clothes today.

“Charlie boy!” Daisy flung her free arm around Charlie and hugged him close to both her and the baby.

Logan stood back, watching. An outsider.

“Look at your sister,” Daisy said. “She’s grown so much.”

Charlie grinned and kissed the down-fuzz head. “Hiya, Princess Caroline,” he said, then looked back at Logan. “Dad, check it out, she’s really cute.”

“Totally cute,” Logan agreed.

Charlie broke away to give Julian a hug. “Hi, Daddy-boy.” His nickname for Julian had always been Daddy-boy. Logan hated that.

“Man, look at you,” Julian said. “You’re tall, my man.”

Logan and Julian acknowledged each other with a nod. The two of them were not exactly friends, but they shared a mutual respect and a love for Charlie.

“Congratulations,” Logan said. “Your baby’s really cute.”

“Thanks.”

Charlie took command of his sister, holding her with care. He showed her and Julian the paddle he’d painted and all the campers had autographed. Each camper went home with one.

“So, his stuff is here,” Logan said to Daisy. “He’s all set.”

“Thanks.” She gazed up at him, her blue eyes a stranger’s eyes now. “How are you?”

“Good.” It still felt surreal, talking to this person who had once been his whole world. He used to be on intimate terms with her not just physically, but with her every thought, her every dream and desire. Now she was just someone he didn’t really know anymore. She had truly moved on. The baby was stark evidence of that. Daisy had made a new life for herself.

Logan couldn’t say for certain that he’d done the same. He still lived in the house he and Daisy had bought together and remodeled, dreaming of the future. He still had the same job. Same friends. Same life—minus the family.

“You look good,” she said. “Summer camp agrees with you and Charlie both.”

That, at least, was gratifying. Toward the end of his marriage, Logan had let himself go, not bothering to pay attention to his diet, forgetting to exercise. Once he emerged from the fog of divorce, he’d taken out his frustration by mountain-biking, rowing on the lake, scrambling up rocks and mountainsides. He’d embraced single fatherhood with a vengeance, studying nutrition and cooking as if his son’s life depended on it. Cool that Daisy had noticed the improvement.

“Charlie had a great time at Camp Kioga. Be sure he tells you about all his adventures.”

“I will.”

Julian was already loading things into the car. Daisy’s stepmother, Nina, came out on the porch and gave Logan a wave. She had a baby of her own, a little boy about a year old. One big happy family. Logan felt like a chump, standing there, a complete outsider, his connection to the Bellamys now so tenuous. There had been a time when he’d come here for holiday gatherings, dinners and picnics on the lawn. Now his only role was to hand over Charlie and walk away.

“Um, so Julian got new orders,” Daisy said. Her gaze shifted from side to side, then to the ground.

Logan still knew her well enough to read nervousness in her manner. “What’s that mean?”

“We’re moving.”

“Why do I sense this is not good news?”

“The new assignment’s Yokota Air Force Base.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Where the hell is that?”

She swallowed visibly. “It’s in Fussa. Er, that’s in Japan.”

“Fuck.”

She winced, and he didn’t even bother to apologize for the profanity. To Logan, the real profanity was losing his son.

“The custody arrangement will still work the same,” she hurriedly stated. “He’s with you holidays and summers. It’s just...the travel time will be longer.”

“That’s great, Daze. Just freaking great.”

“There are daily nonstops from Tokyo to the States. I checked. We’ll make it work, Logan. I swear we will.”

He shot a glare in Julian’s direction. As an officer in the air force, he had an exciting career. Good for him. But not so good for Logan and Charlie. “When?” he demanded.

“Right after Christmas break. Charlie will go to school on base. He’ll learn a new culture, a new language. I’ve already found him a tutor to give him Japanese lessons. He’ll see a whole new world over there. It’s an amazing opportunity for him.” She spoke hurriedly, enumerating the advantages as if she’d memorized them, one by one.

“More amazing than spending time with his dad?”

“You’ll still have him for the same number of days.”

“Have you told him yet?”

“No. We will today.”

Logan raked a hand through his hair. “Jesus.”

“We need to make this a positive thing for Charlie.”

“Right.” Composing himself with an effort, he went to say goodbye to his son. He walked over to Charlie and sank down on one knee. “I sure had a great time with you,” he said. “What an awesome summer.”

“Yep. Um, can you keep my paddle? There’s no room to take it with me.”

The kid had no idea that he was destined to move half a world away. He’d probably have to leave a lot more behind. “Sure. I’ll keep it safe for you, buddy.”

Charlie stared down at the ground. His chin trembled. “Thanks, Dad.”

Goodbyes were always the hardest. Logan’s job was to assure his son that everything was perfectly fine—even if it wasn’t. “You’re going to have the time of your life in fifth grade, buddy. And you’ve got a new little sister to play with.”

“I guess.”

“We’ll talk every day,” he said. “Just like always.”

“And I’ll see you at Thanksgiving.” Charlie’s effort at being positive was heartbreaking.

“Indubitably.”

“And then we’ll be together at Christmas.”

“That’s right. Maybe we’ll have Christmas in Avalon instead of Florida this year. I could get us season passes at Saddle Mountain. Maybe I’ll just get us the whole resort.”

“Okay.” A tremulous smile curved Charlie’s mouth.

Logan took the little boy in his arms. Despite everyone’s exclamations over how he’d grown, Charlie felt so small and fragile. He was being taken away to the other side of the world, where Logan couldn’t see him or touch him, inhale the little boy smell of him, lie next to him while he fell asleep at night. “I’ll miss you, buddy.”

“Me, too.”

“Okay. One more kiss and a hug.”

A big squeeze. Logan pressed his lips to his son’s warm, silky red hair. “So long, pal.” He pasted on a smile and pretended a piece of his heart was not being torn out. Then he stood up and headed for his car. At the edge of the parking lot, he turned and watched Charlie and his other family bustling around. Just for a moment, Charlie paused and looked back. He offered a big smile, and then their special salute, index finger and pinky in the air as if at a rock concert. Then Charlie turned back to the family and was swept into the business of leaving.

The hole in Logan’s chest felt as big and jagged as the Grand Canyon.

“Fuck,” he said again, and without thinking, broke the painted paddle in two.

“You look as if you could use a friend,” said a voice behind him.

He swung around. Darcy Fitzgerald was walking toward him, carrying an overnight bag. “Or an anger-management class,” she added, eyeing the broken paddle.

“Just handed my son off to his mom,” Logan said. “Never the best start to the day.”

“I’m sorry. I know it’s hard.”

Hell no, she had no idea. He wasn’t going to argue with her, though. “I’ll deal,” he said, picking up the pieces of Charlie’s paddle, the paddle he’d promised to safeguard. To change the subject, he asked, “You’re going back to the city?”

“That’s right.” She tilted her face to the sun. “Hard to leave on a day like today.”

He kind of hated it that Darcy had come upon him in such a vulnerable moment, his emotions raw from having Charlie ripped from him.

“India said Charlie lives part-time in Oklahoma.”

“That’s right.”

“Must be so challenging for you.”

“Every time I say goodbye to Charlie, it kills me a little bit.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I need to get going,” he said.

“Back to work?”

“That’s right.”

“So, your sister said you’re in business for yourself?”

She was probably just making polite conversation. But her question annoyed him. Maybe she was fishing for information on him. Did he have a steady, stable job? Was he a good prospect? A catch?

Some devil made him reply, “As a matter of fact, I’m just about to change jobs. That local ski area I mentioned? I’ll be taking it over.”

He had no idea where those words had come from. Probably the idea had been simmering on the back burner of his mind for a long time. But all of a sudden it was the truest thing he’d said since telling Daisy Bellamy, “Let’s have the baby and raise it together,” eleven years ago.

Hearing a guy declare he was going to take on such a risky enterprise was bound to send a woman running for cover. Trying to make a living by running a ski resort was like betting on horses or playing the lottery.

Darcy’s reaction was the last thing he’d expected. “That’s awesome,” she said.

“Awesome as in a wise investment, or awesome as in bat-shit crazy?”

She laughed. “Depends on who you ask.”

“I’m asking you.”

“Why? Does my opinion matter?”

Not really, he thought. There had been a time, long ago, when he’d put great stock in opinions—of parents, teachers, coaches. There had been a time when his father’s opinion had mattered so much that Logan had lost himself. He could admit that now. He had been lost in some mythic quest for perfect—on the soccer field, in school, in business.

Then out of the worst thing to happen in his life had come the best thing he’d ever done—Charlie. Since he became a dad, every move he made had been for Charlie’s sake.

Telling Darcy about the ski resort made Logan feel a spark of...something. That touch or spike that happened when an idea struck a chord. He hadn’t felt it in a long time. Since Charlie had left, Logan had tried to do the right thing—take care of his business and his life, contribute to his 401(k), go to the dentist for regular checkups. He’d done everything by the book and look what it had brought him. Charlie was moving farther away—proof that doing the right thing did not automatically cause the right thing to happen. For all of his efforts, he had nothing but routine predictability. It was time to shake things up. He’d been good long enough.

“I’m ready to take the risk,” he told Darcy. “Are you a risk taker?”

“I have been.” She touched her bottom lip with her finger, an absent gesture. “Not lately, though. I used to be a frequent flier when it comes to taking risks. But sometimes that means you come crashing down. Still, I think I liked myself better when I was a risk taker.”

Odd thing to say. He found himself wanting to hear more. He needed to have a normal conversation right now. He needed to escape the torn-up feeling inside. “How about we—”

“Oh, good, you’re here,” said India, hurrying toward them. “I was wondering if I was going to see my baby brother before we left.”

“Lucky you,” he said, giving her a hug.

“The baby of the family,” India said to Darcy. “You’d never know it by his height, though.” She stepped back and beamed at them both. “It’s good to see you two getting along. I knew you’d hit it off. Mom and Dad are crazy about Darcy.”

Shoot. The last thing he wanted was matchmaking by his family. “Is that what we’re doing?” Logan asked. “Hitting it off?”

Darcy shrugged. “Nobody’s hitting anything. Hey, India, did you know your baby brother’s buying a ski resort?”

“Right,” India said, “very funny.”

“She doesn’t believe you,” Darcy pointed out.

“She will.”

“I’m telling Dad,” said India.

“She’s always been the family snitch,” he told Darcy. For a split second, he pictured his father turning purple, with steam coming out of his ears. “What the hell are you thinking? Are you out of your fool mind?” Al O’Donnell would demand.

Yeah, Dad, maybe I am.

India gave him a hug. “We have to go. Don’t do anything crazy, okay?”

“Right.” He stepped away and there was an awkward moment when he faced Darcy. “Nice meeting you,” he said.

“Likewise.” She hiked her bag up on her shoulder.

“See you at Thanksgiving, yes?” India said.

* * *

Logan had one more goodbye to say—to Charlie’s friend André. The boy’s mom had come up on the train, and he saw them both off at the station. Maya Martin was stunningly beautiful, with caramel-colored skin, abundant dark hair and slender gorgeous legs. Yet she had a fragile look about her, harried and worn. Logan knew she’d endured a lot of trouble in her life, and he knew it wasn’t easy being a single parent. But beyond that, he didn’t know much about her.

So when Maya faced him with a troubled quirk on her brow, he braced himself to find out more.

“Do you have a minute?” She seemed nervous. He had the sense that she was on edge, expecting disaster at any moment. André was on the station platform, hanging out with some of the other departing campers.

“First off, I wanted to say thanks for giving André such an amazing summer.” She spoke with a slight Caribbean accent.

“It was great having him. I’m going to miss him almost as much as I miss Charlie.”

“It’s hard, isn’t it, being away from your kids? Makes it easier to know he’s having a good time, with good people. His sister was so jealous. Angelica had to spend all her days at the Y day camp in Tribeca. She’s excited that next year she’ll be old enough to come to Camp Kioga, too.”

“I look forward to meeting her.”

“Charlie and André get along great,” Maya said. “There’s nothing quite like a best friend, is there?”

Logan nodded in agreement. “When I was a kid, my best friend was named Doug. Doug Tarski. Someone to share adventures with, secrets, getting in trouble together, thinking up ideas, making things. Did André tell you about the fort they made?”

“Yes, they had so much fun. They...” Without warning, her voice broke.

“Maya? Hey, you okay?”

She visibly gathered herself together, inhaling deeply. Her hands flexed and unflexed. “I... Thanks for asking. Actually, I had some trouble this summer.”

“Anything I can help with?”

“I... Maybe. Yes.” She glanced over at André as if to make sure he was out of earshot. “Look, I’ll try to sum it up. André’s dad is not a good guy. He’s one of my dumbest mistakes, in fact. He sells drugs, and when I found out, I made him leave. Last year, he swore he’d gone straight, and even though I suspected he was lying, I went to see him. That’s when he told me he was in trouble, bad trouble, and all he needed was one tiny favor, and then everything would be all right. I was so stupid, I hate myself. I delivered a parcel for him. That’s all. And then the next thing I knew, I was under arrest. I couldn’t afford a defense attorney, but a guy at a legal clinic represented me. He got...he made a deal, but I’m going to have to do time.” Her eyes were filled with panic and tears.

Logan’s gut pounded. “Oh man.”

“I’m not a bad person,” she said. “Stupid, maybe, but not bad. I just hate myself for what I did, and now I can’t undo it.”

“So...what’s next for you?”

She swallowed hard, turned away from where André was playing and dabbed at her eyes. “The courts are backed up, so my sentencing date doesn’t come up until December. The guy at the legal clinic said since I don’t have any priors, I might get parole only. That’s what I’m praying for. But there’s a risk. The maximum sentence is twenty-one months.” She practically choked on the words.

The back of Logan’s neck prickled, but he kept his face neutral. “If you’re... If you have to go away, what happens to the kids?”

“That’s what I’m getting to. I don’t have anyone. My family’s in Haiti. I don’t have a plan. I’m going to throw myself on the mercy of the court. I’m going to beg to stay out of jail for the sake of my kids. But there’s no guarantee. So if...if the worst happens, they’ll go into the foster care system.” She shook with sobs now, looking broken as if the pieces of her would fall to the ground at any moment.

He put his arms around her, feeling her misery lashing at his chest. “I’m really sorry. I’ve never had to deal with something like this, but I do know it sucks to be separated from your kid.”

She gently pulled back, visibly gathering herself back together. “I’m sorry, too. It’s just...I don’t have a lot of friends. The people I work for...I’ve managed to keep it from them, but I know when I tell them, they won’t offer to help with André and Angelica.” She dabbed at her eyes with her sleeve and gave a short, humorless laugh. “Their dad’s mother lives in Jersey. But I can’t ask her. I don’t want anyone from that family looking after my kids,” she said. “My lawyer said foster care is good these days. Lots of enrichment opportunities for the kids. But it’s...”

“Foster care,” he finished for her. And then, from a place inside himself he did not know existed, he said, “I’ll take care of them, if it turns out you need someone.”

She fell utterly still. She even seemed to stop breathing. “You don’t mean it.”

“I do,” he said, “completely.” The surprise was not the offer he’d made. The surprise was how clear he was on this decision. He did intend to help her. “Look, you’re probably not going to need my help,” he said, “but if you do, I’m here.”

“Really?” she whispered, still not moving. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. If your kids need to stay with someone, I’m here.”

“An angel, that’s what you are.” Tears rolled slowly down her cheeks. “You’re a flesh-and-blood angel.”

He laughed, trying to lighten the moment. “Don’t lay that on me. Believe me, I’m nobody’s angel.”

Part 3

Man Food

A lot of business is done over beer and food. It helps a man think better.

Beer-Cheese Spread

1 (2-pound) block sharp Cheddar cheese, shredded

1 small onion, minced

2 garlic cloves, minced

½ teaspoon hot sauce

¼ teaspoon ground red pepper

1 (12-ounce) bottle amber beer, at room temperature

Salt and pepper to taste

Garnish:

thyme sprig

Beat together first 5 ingredients at low speed with a heavy-duty electric stand mixer until blended. Gradually add beer, beating until blended. Beat at medium-high speed until blended and creamy. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Cover and chill. Garnish with a thyme sprig. Store in refrigerator up to two weeks. Serve with crackers, or use to make grilled cheese sandwiches.

[Source: adapted from Southern Living, 2007]

Chapter Four

Following through on a crazy impulse was often the right thing to do.

As soon as the workweek started, Logan got together with his two best buddies, Adam Bellamy and Jeff Bailey, Suzanne’s husband. They hooked their mountain bikes on the back of his Jeep and headed up the winding road that curved around the mountain.

“Hope you’re up for a screaming ride,” Logan said. “And then a business meeting.” He’d told them about his idea of taking on the resort at Saddle Mountain. In the bright sun of a September morning, the wild hills around Willow Lake were clad in a crazy quilt of colors. The drive up to the ski resort filled Logan with nostalgia, for the boy he’d once been, and for Charlie, the boy he’d raised.

The boy who was moving half a world away.

Logan had worked nonstop on the new enterprise, meeting with the retiring owner and sketching out a detailed business plan. There was only one glitch—money. He needed lots of money, more than any one guy had. He needed investors. He’d been on the phone and email constantly, talking with bankers, brokers, private investors. Thanks to his business in town, he knew a lot of people, and there was serious interest. He was working with an expert in ski resort financing, who told him the preliminary financials looked good. There was a lot more work to do, but Logan was determined.

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