Susan Wiggs - Candlelight Christmas

“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.