That Holiday Feeling (Virgin River #8)(37)

Trace’s words suddenly came back to haunt her. How convenient that she had forgotten the warning.

At the sound of his laughter as he and Hannah came toward the kitchen, Savannah’s pulse raced a little faster. The same wicked yearning that had gripped her earlier teased her senses now. She sighed. Resisting him was going to be a whole lot harder than she’d ever imagined. She’d just have to keep reminding herself that he was cut from the same cloth as her workaholic ex-husband.

“Mom, can we put the Christmas tree up tonight?” Hannah pleaded as they finished up bowls of ice cream after the best spaghetti Trace had eaten in years.

“According to tradition, we never put it up till Christmas Eve,” Savannah told her, but she sounded regretful, as if this were one tradition she could be persuaded to change.

“Maybe it’s time to start your own tradition,” Trace suggested, earning a high-five from Hannah. “Besides, the sooner the tree is in its stand and has some water, the better it will be, right? It’ll last much longer, and it will fill the house with the scent of pine. Why not start enjoying it now?”

Hannah studied her mother, clearly trying to gauge her mood. “Please,” she begged finally. “I’ll go up in the attic and bring down all the decorations you said are up there. Trace will put it up and string up the lights. You won’t have to do anything.”

“Except keep the carols going on the CD player and the hot chocolate flowing,” Trace corrected. “What do you say, Savannah?”

“I say that you two are a formidable team,” she said, feigning an air of resignation that was belied by the spark of excitement in her eyes. “Go on. Bring in the tree.”

“Do you know where you want it?” Trace asked. “Once it’s up, I don’t want to be hauling it all over the house.”

She frowned at him. “It goes in front of the window in the living room. That’s where it’s always been.”

“And you’re happy with that?” he persisted.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Since you’re starting new traditions and all, I just thought you might want to go for broke and pick a new location.”

“I think the old one is just fine,” she said. “That way, anyone driving up to the house will be able to see the lights on the tree.”

Trace resigned himself to moving the sofa that normally sat in front of that window. “Where should I move the sofa?”

Savannah regarded him blankly. “The sofa?”

“The one in front of that window.”

Her eyes suddenly lit with understanding. “So that’s why you were so eager to have me put the tree somewhere else. You’re going to be stuck moving furniture.”

“Hey, I’m not complaining.” He glanced at Hannah. “Did you hear me complain?”

“No,” she said at once.

“I’ll put that sofa just about anywhere you want it except the attic,” he insisted.

Savannah regarded him with a wry expression. “I think on the wall facing the fireplace will do.”

“Got it. Tree in front of the window. Sofa in front of the fireplace. And the easy chairs currently on that wall? Where should they go?”

A chuckle erupted from deep inside her, lighting up her face. “Maybe Hannah and I can rearrange the furniture while you get the tree in its stand.”

“No way,” Trace protested. “I’m providing the brawn here. Just give me instructions.”

By the time Savannah finished with the instructions, he was pretty sure that not one single piece of furniture in the living room would be where it had started out. He figured he could live with that, as long as she didn’t change her mind a million times.

“That’s it?” he questioned. “You’re sure?”

“As sure as I can be before I see what it looks like,” she said.

Trace sighed. “I’ll get started. You might want to hunt for some painkillers and a heating pad in the meantime.”

“Very funny.”

He leveled a look at her. “Who’s joking?” he asked as he headed for the living room to rearrange the furniture.

By the time everything was in its newly designated place, including the tree, the room did have a cozier, more festive air about it. A fire crackled in the fireplace, and the fresh scent of pine filled the air.

Hannah had brought down stacks of boxes of decorations from the attic. They were now scattered over every surface, as she took each one from its tissue and examined it with wide-eyed delight.

“These must be really, really old, huh?” she asked him.

“They certainly look as if they’re antiques,” Trace said, noting the loving care with which she handled them. It must be nice to have family heirlooms to be brought out year after year, each with its own story. But now with Mae gone, who would share those stories with Hannah?

Savannah came in just then carrying a tray of steaming mugs filled with hot chocolate. Her eyes widened as she saw the decorations.

“Oh, my,” she whispered. “I remember these. Mae used to tell us kids about them when she’d take them out of the boxes. We were never allowed to touch them because they were so old and fragile, but we each had our favorites.”

She immediately picked up a blown-glass rocking horse, its paint beginning to wear away. “This was mine. This and the angel that goes on the top of the tree. Is that still here?”