Page 33 of A Spell for Midwinter’s Heart

Tools broke, branches fell on heads, unpredictable storms rained out workdays. Pretty soon every arborist in five counties knew the job wasn’t worth the trouble, and so the new buildings had gone up around them, and members of the coven still regularly harvested their wood for spellwork.

Her mother walked up to the oak, stroking its old trunk gently, connecting with it before she would move to work off a branch.

Rowan stared at the strip mall, willing memories to stay away. But they came regardless. A rounded porch with gingerbread rails, the sharp points of gables, the tower room that had been her favorite place to sit with her grandmother, talking magic and people watching.

It all came back in a painful tumble, and with a sharp inhale, she turned on her heel, proceeding on down the road while everyone else waited for her mother to finish.

At the end of the block, the Presbyterian church was releasing its congregation from Christmas morning services, Pastor Thomas greeting each of her congregants in turn.

Gavin emerged from the crowd and caught sight of her. His face lit up, and he mouthed, Hi! And then, Wait there!

Her stomach butterflied, and she waved as he pushed his way through the crowd and across the street to come to stand in front of her, hovering close enough that she could smell the tang of peppermint on his breath.

“Merry Christmas,” she said.

His brow wrinkled as he returned, “Happy…Fifth Day of Yule?”

“Impressive math skills there, McCreery,” she said with a grin.

“I was hoping I’d run into you,” he said. “I have something.”

He pulled a small wrapped box from his pocket and passed it over. Inside was a silver necklace shaped like a banner of twined holly and ivy. “It was my mom’s…She got it on the Europe trip—from one of the markets that inspired this place.”

“In Heidelberg?” He nodded. Emotion rose in Rowan’s throat. “Thank you. Are you sure…?”

“It’s just been sitting in a drawer. Now I can actually see it—on you.” Her heart fluttered as she nodded, fumbling with the clasp. “May I?”

He took the necklace in hand and disappeared behind her. Her eyes closed in anticipation. For a moment, nothing happened. Finally, his fingers grazed the nape of her neck, sending tingles down her spine, and the cold metal of the necklace came to rest against her chest.

His fingers trailed down, following the arch of her spine as far as her sweater would allow.

Goddess, how she wanted him to keep going.

But they were in a street in broad daylight on Christmas Day and the Midwinters didn’t need any fuel for the notion they’d corrupted Christmas, so she disentangled from him, reluctantly.

“I, um, actually have something for you too. It’s not wrapped…

” She pulled a cigar-shaped fountain pen from her pocket, its dark shaft accented in bright metallic bands.

“It’s been sitting on my dad’s desk for as long as I can remember.

I asked if he ever used it, and he said he didn’t even know how.

It was a gift from some historical society he worked with while he studied abroad.

He’s happy to see it going to someone who’ll use it. ”

Gavin took it, his eyes widening. “This isn’t just a pen—this is a Montblanc Meisterstück 146.”

“Wow—identified on sight. You really are that level of nerd.”

“Oh, yes.” He chuckled and turned it in his hands. “They say the difference in these old pens is the softness. I cannot wait to try it out.” He kissed her, the excitement clear in his lips. “Thank you. And thank your dad.”

When he pulled away, his expression was serious.

“Something’s been bothering me. Yesterday, we…

never got to talk about what happened back at the sauna.

” He shook his head. “I thought I saw signals that weren’t there…

I moved too fast. I’m sorry.” His words were full of self-reproach, and even though it wasn’t what she’d hoped he would apologize for, a rush of emotion filled her throat.

She shook her head, smiling and pressing a gloved hand to his chest. “No.”

“No?” he asked, surprised.

“My guard came down, and it was holding a lot back. But, no, you didn’t misread the signals.” Reputation be damned. She stepped in closer again to slide her hands into his jacket. “I’m not the best at giving them, but I was one hundred percent propositioning you when I invited you in.”

“Oh?” he asked, his expression relaxing and then turning wanting.

“Yes. Has anyone told you that you look annoyingly hot in a towel?”

Gavin chuckled once but regarded her with wide, dark eyes that drank her in. “I’m not sure what to do with the ‘annoying’ part of that statement.” He ran a hand down her side. “But if you’re making comparisons, I have to object.”

“Oh, you don’t have to…” she mumbled, looking down.

He put a hand under her chin, tipping it up gently. “Yes, I do. Because you, Rowan Midwinter, were every bit ‘annoyingly’ hot in a towel. You’re hot in everything. Though especially that ivy dress.”

“The gown? From the fundraiser?” She blinked, and he nodded. “But you barely looked at me that night.”

Gavin raised both brows high. “Because it’s generally considered rude to stare. Not to mention, you were pretty resolved to hate me at the time. But…” He ran his hand across her cheek and back through the curls of her hair, letting his fingers tangle. “You’re undeniable, Rowan.”

She did not have time to process the ache of want the words stirred up, because in that moment, a commotion pulled their attention back across the street.

The rest of the Midwinters had finally arrived, and Dennis strolled down the sidewalk in their direction, McCreerys arranged behind him as if he walked at the tip of a phalanx.

Liliana had stopped and was staring at something—a flyer hanging on a lamppost. Rowan realized then there was a similar one nearby.

It was the Christmastown flyer she’d seen in the Nutcracker Museum. But she realized then that there were more of them.

All over the place.

“Oh no,” said Rowan, turning to sprint across the street toward her mother. Gavin’s footfalls followed as he came to join in the fray.

“Well, look who it is!” said Dennis, coming to stand in front of her family with his arms clasped paternally at his front. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” said Joe Midwinter, ever the peacekeeper.

“I’m glad we ran into each other,” said Dennis, directing his gaze at Liliana. “I wanted to be sure you planned to make the meeting on the thirty-first. You haven’t gotten back to me.”

“It’s a busy time for us,” said Liliana, tightly.

“You need to make time. This isn’t going away.”

Liliana shot out a hand in a panning gesture. “The snow’s back, Dennis. The crowds’ve been good.”

“Let’s not have this conversation now,” said Dennis. His eyes darted around to the very public setting the Midwinters and McCreerys found themselves in. “I just want to be sure you’ll be at the meeting, and then we can all go enjoy our holiday.”

“Do you have any new offers? Anyone but the Goshen Group?”

“It’s still the only one on the table. But you really should—”

Liliana cut him off. “Then you know what my answer is. There’s no reason to waste my time.”

Dennis sighed. “I didn’t want to have to point this out, but seeing as it hasn’t occurred to you—I don’t need you on board to sell the land.”

Rowan’s mother paled. “We’d have to tear everything down and move…to where? And with what?”

Gavin’s father spread his hands wide and shook his head with a shrug. “You’d be better off selling it. Make something off it before it sends you any deeper in the red.”

“Never.” Liliana shook her head. “Better to burn the whole thing down!”

The outburst shocked nearby onlookers. Cal Arthur glanced up from where he’d been chatting with Pastor Thomas. They both frowned. Even Rowan couldn’t keep a look of shock from her face. Liliana caught it and froze, looking like a deer in the headlights.

“Do you think everyone else here would agree with that?” asked Dennis, gesturing toward the crowd. “Because I don’t think so.”

Liliana looked away from Rowan to Cal and then to the pastor and through the crowd, and finally back at Dennis. She took a deep breath and looked him straight in the eye. “Sarah would have hated everything about this.”

At that, Dennis’s face went beet red. “Don’t you dare bring her up.”

“You know I’m right.”

With a pivot, Dennis turned away, tossing his last words over his shoulder. “December thirty-first. Be there, or hear about what happens after.”

Rowan’s mother stormed away as well, heading in the opposite direction, and their clans followed. Only Gavin and Rowan lingered, facing the divide between their parents.

At that moment, it seemed impossibly wide.