Lissa Manley - A Snowglobe Christmas - Yuletide Homecoming / A Family's Christmas Wish

Gently played symphonic Christmas music practically sucked her inside, alluring and lovely. Amy closed her eyes and breathed deeply of the warm, welcoming scent of Christmas past and present. “I love this smell.”

For as long as she could remember, cinnamon and pine, snow and flowers, and this shop with snowglobes and poinsettias in the vast picture window had meant Christmas.

“Christmas is the best smell of the year.”

They both giggled and hugged once more, a spontaneous action Amy knew would be repeated time and again. Her mama was a hands-on kind of woman.

Amy stepped away from her mother’s embrace to survey the gloriously decorated store.

“The shop looks amazing.” She turned a slow circle, examining every detail. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen it look bet—”

The word died an abrupt death, jammed down into her throat like a fist.

“Hello, Amy.” The gently masculine voice was as familiar as Christmas and as unwelcome as a lump of coal.

Amy’s heart jerked against her rib cage.

Rafe Westfield, the man who’d taken her heart and then handed it back again, leaned against the glass-topped counter. Bundled to the ears in a sheepskin jacket, and out of place amidst the singing Santas and dainty angels, he was handsomer than ever. His brown hair had grown out from the last time she’d seen him, after the recruiter had buzzed him bald, and now lay in gentle waves above a forehead no longer smooth and boyish but creased with fine worry lines. If anything they made him more rugged, more delicious.

Like his mouth. He had the most perfect lips a man could have, the bottom full and curved with the top a long, low M like the mountains surrounding Snowglobe. She remembered the feel of that mouth, the kisses they’d shared when he’d loved her. Or claimed to. He never really had; she knew that now. If he’d loved her, he would not have joined the military against her wishes.

She licked her own lips, gone bone-dry.

“Rafe?” she managed. “What are you doing here?”

She’d worked hard to let go of the bitterness, to forgive and move on, but in one moment, the old feelings came rushing back like a tidal wave.

“I live here,” he said. Below a slash of dark brows, his winter-blue eyes were solemn and aloof. The sparkle was gone, the teasing glint, the ready smile. He had changed. But then, so had she. Amy was no longer the gullible little college grad who’d dreamed of nothing but being Mrs. Rafe Westfield and making a home in Snowglobe, Montana.

“No, you don’t,” she insisted. “You can’t live here. You’re in the marines. You’re in the Middle East somewhere.”

“Was. Now I’m home.”

Home? He was calling Snowglobe home? The flutter of panic that had started way down in Amy’s belly soared through her bloodstream. He couldn’t be here permanently. Not if she was.

“What happened to your military career?”

The career that was more important than a life with me.

A muscle above one cheekbone flinched. It was the only indication that her question had hit a sore spot.

“Three tours was enough.” Abruptly he turned to the counter and collected two giant pots of scarlet poinsettias. To her mother, he said, “I’ll drop these off on my way.”

“Thanks for doing that, Rafe. The shop’s so busy, I’m not sure when I could get out there.”

“No problem.”

Then, exactly as he had five years ago, he turned and walked out the door.

“Mother!” Amy spun around, fingers gripping the counter’s edge. “What is he doing here?”

With mild reproof Dana said, “You’re repeating yourself, Amy. Rafe has lived in Snowglobe all his life, just as you have.”

“That’s not true. He left. He said he wasn’t coming back. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Her mother pretended to rearrange a lighted ceramic village behind the cash register. “If I recall—and I do—you forbade me to ever speak his name again. You said the relationship was done and over with and you wanted to move on. And you did.”

“You should have told me anyway,” Amy answered, feeling unreasonable and petulant.

“Would you have come home? Would you have agreed to take over the shop?”

“No, I wouldn’t have. I don’t want to be constantly reminded of how he humiliated me. It’s hard enough to come back to Snowglobe knowing that everyone in town pitied poor little Amy Caldwell when Rafe broke off our engagement to join the military.”

“Oh, precious girl.” Her mom repositioned a jingling reindeer before taking Amy by the shoulders. “That was a long time ago. You’ve enjoyed a nice career, friends, dates, travel. If you’d married so young, look at what you would have missed. I thought you’d forgiven and forgotten all about Rafe Westfield.”

“I said I’ve forgiven him. I’ll never forget. How could I? We were engaged. I’d picked out a dress!”

She’d loved him so much she thought she’d die when he chose the marines over her. Yet, he had, and there was no changing the past. After six months of feeling sorry for herself and dealing with the pitying stares, she’d taken the job in Spokane. She’d found a good church, made friends, had a great life.

So why was she letting Rafe get to her now?

The internal question shook her. Why indeed? Rafe Westfield was nothing but a bad memory.

The tiny bell over the shop door jingled and two customers entered. Her mother moved into action, leaving Amy to wander through the beautiful Christmas displays. Maybe the sights and smells would calm her stress and bring back the excitement of being home.

She shucked her jacket, leaving the bright turquoise scarf to dangle over her long black sweater.

She didn’t understand why she was so upset. She was completely over Rafe. He was old news. It wasn’t like she hadn’t had a boyfriend in the past five years. She had and yet, the old hurt had flown in her face like an out of control downhiller.

She rounded the corner of the greeting card display and heard someone say, “Amy? Is that you? I heard you were coming home for Christmas.”

“Katie?” Amy’s mood rose at the sight of her bouncy blonde friend from high school. With a squeal, the two women exchanged a brief hug. “It’s so good to see you. What are you doing?”

“Trying to find the perfect birthday card for Todd.” Katie had married a local boy right out of high school. “I’m having a little Christmas-style birthday party in his honor on Saturday. Why don’t you come? It’ll be a great way to see old friends again.”

“I’d love to! Are you sure it’s okay? I don’t want to be a fifth wheel.”

Katie made a noise in the back of her throat. “Stop. This is Snowglobe. No one is a fifth wheel here. Bring a little gift for the gift exchange if you want. It’ll be fun.”

“Are you playing Dirty Santa?”

Katie fingered a particularly pretty birthday card before putting it back on the shelf and selecting one with a grinning mule on the front. “We play Nice Santa, sort of. All the gifts are decent, but some are great. No one loses, but it’s lots of fun to see the guys in a friendly fight over a new snowboard and the girls bartering for a gift certificate to Molly’s Massage.”

“Mmm. Molly’s Massage.” Amy rotated her shoulders, tight after the unexpected confrontation with Rafe. “Sounds wonderful. I’m in.”

“Last year I ended up with a set of deer antler salt and pepper shakers.” Katie laughed. “Todd thought they were so cool!”

Amy laughed, too, feeling much better after reconnecting with her old friend. When Katie left, a steady stream of customers entered the shop, most of them people Amy knew, though a few tourists had already begun to gather for the annual Christmas ski race. Vacationers usually rented cabins and lodges in the countryside or stayed at the Snowglobe Bed-and-Breakfast, eager to catch the spirit of a small-town Christmas in the snowy Rockies.