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“Come on. Just take a handful and help me. It will be fun.”
She shook her head and continued staring out at the falling snow.
Since the shooting, these moods had come over her out of nowhere. She would seem to be handling things fine and then a few moments later would become fearful, withdrawn and just want him to leave her alone.
The counselor she had seen regularly assured him it was a natural result of the trauma Olivia had endured. He hated that each step in her recovery—physical and emotional—had become such a struggle for her.
After hanging a few more strands, he finally gave up. What was the point when she didn’t seem inclined to help him, especially since he’d never much liked tinsel on trees anyway?
His father hadn’t, either, he remembered. He had a stray memory of one of his parents’ epic fights over it one year. Diane had loved tinsel, naturally. Anything with glitz had been right down her alley. Her favorite nights of the year had been red carpet events, either for her own movie premieres or those of her friends.
His father, on the other hand, had thought tinsel was stupid and only made a mess.
One night when he was about seven or eight, a few years before they’d finally divorced, his mother had spent hours hanging pink tinsel on their tree over his father’s objections, carefully arranging each piece over a bough.
When they’d woken up, the tinsel had been mysteriously gone. As it turned out, Tom had arisen hours before anyone else and had pulled off every last shiny strand.
After a dramatic screaming fight—all on his mother’s side—she had stormed out of their Bel Air house and hadn’t been back for several days, as he recalled.
Ah, memories.
He pushed away the bitterness of his past and turned back to his daughter. “If you don’t want to hang any more tinsel, I guess we’re done. Do you want to do the honors and turn out the lights so we can take a look at it?”
She didn’t answer him, her gaze suddenly focused on something through the window.
“Someone’s coming,” Olivia announced, her voice tight. She jumped up from the window seat. “I’m going to my room.”
He was never sure which she disliked more: large, unruly crowds or unexpected visitors showing up at the door. Nor was he certain she would ever be able to move past either fear.
With effort he forced his voice to be calm and comforting. “There’s no reason to go to your room. Everything is fine. I’m right here. You’re okay.”
She darted longing little glances down the hall to the relative safety of her bedroom, but to her credit she sat down again in the window seat. When the doorbell rang through the house, Flynn didn’t miss her instinctive flinch or the tense set of her shoulders.
He hoped whoever it was had a darn good excuse for showing up out of the blue like this and frightening his little girl half to death.
To his shock, the pretty librarian and author stood on the porch with a bag in her hand and a black-and-brown dog at the end of a leash. In the glow from the porch light he could see her nose and cheeks were pink from the cold, and those long, luscious dark curls were tucked under a beanie. She also wasn’t wearing her glasses. Without the thick dark frames, her eyes were a lovely green.
“Hello.” She gave him a fleeting, tentative smile that appeared and disappeared as quickly as a little bird hunting for berries on a winter-bare shrub.
“Celeste. Ms. Nichols. Hello.”
She gave him another of those brief smiles, then tried to look behind him to where Olivia had approached. At least his daughter now looked more surprised and delighted than fearful.
“And hello, Miss Olivia,” the librarian said. “How are you tonight?”
Her voice was soft, calm, with a gentleness he couldn’t help but appreciate.
“Hi. I’m fine, thank you,” she said shyly. “Is that your dog?”
Celeste smiled as the dog sniffed at Olivia’s feet. “This is Linus. He’s a Yorkshire terrier and his best friend is a black cat named Lucy.”
“Like in Charlie Brown’s Christmas!” She looked delighted at making the connection.
“Just like that, except Linus and Lucy are brother and sister. My Linus and Lucy are just friends.”
Olivia slanted her head to look closer at the little dog. “Will he bite?”
Celeste smiled. “He’s a very sweet dog and loves everybody, but especially blonde girls with pretty red sweaters.”
Olivia giggled at this, and after another moment during which she gathered her courage, she held out her hand. The little furball licked it three times in quick succession, which earned another giggle from his daughter.
“Hi, Linus,” she said in a soft voice. “Hi. I’m Olivia.”
The dog wagged his tail but didn’t bark, which Flynn had to appreciate given how skittish Olivia had been all evening.
She knelt down and started petting the dog—using her injured left arm, he saw with great surprise.
“He likes me!” Olivia exclaimed after a moment, her features alight with a pleasure and excitement he hadn’t seen in a long time.
“Of course he does.” Celeste smiled down at her with a soft light in her eyes that touched something deep inside him.
“I’m sorry to just drop in like this, but I couldn’t help thinking tonight about what you told me earlier, how the Sparkle book helped you in the hospital.”
“It’s my favorite book. I still read it all the time.”
“I’m so happy to hear that. I told my sister, who drew all the pictures, and she was happy, too. We wanted to give you something.”
“Is it for my birthday in three days? I’m going to be seven years old.”
“I had no idea it was your birthday in three days!” Celeste exclaimed. “We can certainly consider this an early birthday present. That would be perfect!”
She reached into the bag and pulled out a small stuffed animal.
“That’s Sparkle from the book!” Olivia rose to see it more closely.
“That’s right. My sister made this while she was drawing the pictures for the first Sparkle book last Christmas. We have just a few of them left over from the original hundred or so she made, and I wondered if you might like one.”
Olivia’s eyes went huge. “Really? I can keep it?”
“If you want to.”
“Oh, I do!” Almost warily, she reached for the stuffed animal Celeste held out. When it was in her hands, she hugged it to her chest as if afraid someone would yank it away.
For just a moment she looked like any other young girl, thrilled to be receiving a present. The sheer normalcy made his throat suddenly ache with emotions.
“He’s sooo cute. I love it! Thank you!”
Olivia threw her arms around Celeste in a quick hug. Flynn wasn’t sure if he was more shocked at her use of her injured arm or at the impulsive gesture. Like a puppy that had been kicked one too many times, Olivia shied away from physical touch right now from anyone but him.
Her therapist said it was one more reaction to the trauma she had endured and that eventually she would be able to relax around others and return to the sweet, warm little girl she once had been. He wondered if Dr. Ross ever would have guessed a stuffed reindeer might help speed that process.
Celeste probably had no idea what a rare gift she had just been given as she hugged Olivia back. Still, she looked delighted. “You’re very welcome,” she said. “You will have to come up to The Christmas Ranch sometime. That’s where the real Sparkle lives.”
Olivia stepped away, eyes wide. “The real Sparkle lives near here?”
“Just up the road.” Celeste gestured vaguely in the direction of her family’s place. “We’ve got a herd of about a dozen reindeer. Sparkle happens to be a favorite of my niece and nephew—of all of us, really. That’s where I got the inspiration for the stories.”
“Can we go see them, Dad? Can we?”
He shrugged. That was the thing about kids. They dragged you to all kinds of places you didn’t necessarily want to go. “Don’t know why not. We can probably swing that before the holidays.”
Christmas was just around the corner and he was completely unprepared for it. He didn’t like celebrating the holidays in the first place. He didn’t really feel like hanging out at some cheesy Christmas moneymaking venture aimed at pouring holiday spirit down his throat like cheap bourbon.
But he loved his daughter, and if she wanted to go to the moon right now, he would figure out a way to take her.
“I like your tree,” Celeste said, gazing around his grandmother’s cluttered living room. “I especially like the tinsel. Did you help your dad put it up?”
A small spasm of guilt crossed her features. “Not really,” she admitted. “My dad did most of it. I have a bad arm.”
She lifted her shoulder and the arm in question dangled a little as if it were an overcooked lasagna noodle.
To her credit, Celeste didn’t question how she could use that same arm to pet the dog or hold a stuffed reindeer.
“Too bad,” she only said. “You’re probably really good at hanging tinsel.”
“Pretty good. I can’t reach the high parts of the tree, though.”
“Your dad helps you get those, right?”
“I guess.”
Celeste picked up the bag of tinsel where Flynn had left it on the console table. “Can I help you put the rest of it up on the side you didn’t get to yet? I’m kind of a tinsel expert. Growing up on The Christmas Ranch, I had to be.”
Olivia looked at the tree, then her father, then back at Celeste holding the tinsel. “Okay,” she said with that same wariness.
“It will be fun. You’ll see. Sparkle can help. He’s good at tinsel, too.”
How she possibly could have guessed from a half-tinseled tree that he had been trying to enlist his daughter’s help with decorating, he had no idea. But he wasn’t about to argue with her insight, especially when Olivia obediently followed her new heroine to the tree and reached for a handful of tinsel.
“Can I take your coat?” he asked.
“Oh. Yes. Thanks.” She gave a nervous little laugh as she handed him her coat. At the library, she had been wearing a big, loose sweater that had made him wonder what was beneath it. She had taken that layer off apparently, and now she wore a cheerful red turtleneck that accentuated her luscious curves and made his mouth water.
He had an inkling that she was the sort of woman who had no idea the kind of impact she had on a man. As he went to hang her coat by the front door, he forced himself to set aside the reaction as completely inappropriate under the circumstances, especially when she was only trying to help his kid.
When he returned to the living room, he found her and Olivia standing side by side hanging tinsel around the patches of the tree he had left bare.
Her cute little dog had finished sniffing the corners of the room and planted himself on his haunches in the middle of the floor, where he could watch the proceedings.
Flynn leaned against the doorjamb to do the same thing.
How odd, that Olivia would respond to a quiet children’s librarian and author more than she had her counselor, her physical therapist, the caregivers at the hospital. She seemed to bloom in this woman’s company, copying her actions on the lower branches she could reach. While she still seemed to be favoring her injured arm, occasionally she seemed to forget it hurt and used it without thinking.
All in all, it wasn’t a terrible way to spend a December evening while a gas fire flickered in Grandma Charlotte’s fireplace and snowflakes fluttered down outside the window.
After several moments, the two of them used the last of the tinsel and Celeste stepped away to take in the bigger picture.
“That looks perfect!” she exclaimed. “Excellent job.”
Olivia’s smile was almost back to her normal one. She held up the stuffed animal. “Sparkle helped.”
“I told you he would be very good at hanging tinsel.”
Whatever worked, he figured. “Let me hit the lights for you,” he said. “We can’t appreciate the full effects with the lights on.”
He turned them off, pitching the room into darkness except for the gleaming tree. The tinsel really did reflect the lights. His mom had been right about that, even if she had gotten so many other things wrong.
“Oh. I love it. It’s the prettiest tree ever,” Olivia declared.
“I have to agree,” Flynn said. “Good job, both of you.”
“And you,” Olivia pointed out. “You did most of it earlier. We only filled in the gaps.”
“So I did. We’re all apparently excellent at decorating Christmas trees.”
Celeste met his gaze and smiled. He gazed back, struck again by how lovely she was with those big green eyes that contrasted so strikingly with her dark hair.
He was staring, he realized, and jerked his gaze away, but not before he thought he saw color climb her high cheekbones. He told himself it must have been a trick of the Christmas lights.
“Oh, I nearly forget,” she exclaimed suddenly. “I have another birthday present for you. Two, actually.”
“You do?” Olivia lit up.
“Well, it’s not actually your birthday yet, so I completely understand if you want to wait. I can just give them to your dad to hold until the big day.”
As he might have predicted, Olivia didn’t look all that thrilled at the suggestion. “I should open them now while you’re here.”
“I guess I should have asked your dad first.”
He shrugged, figuring it was too late to stop the cart now. “Go ahead.”
With a rueful, apologetic smile, she handed the bag to Olivia. “It’s not wrapped, since I didn’t know it was your birthday when I came over. I’m sorry.”
His daughter apparently didn’t care. She reached into the bag and pulled out a book with colorful illustrations on the cover.
“Ohhh,” she breathed. “It’s another Sparkle and the Magic Snowball book!”
“This one is signed by both me and my sister, who did the illustrations. I figured since it’s your favorite book, you ought to have a signed copy.”
