Page 1 of Christmas Treasures (Sugarville Grove #6)
MAX
E very year it was the same. Christmas erupted in Sugarville Grove the day after Thanksgiving like the opening of Pandora’s box.
Garlands of evergreen wrapped around lampposts, wreaths trimmed with pine cones and tartan ribbon hung on shop doors, and lights blinked from every corner of downtown.
Some shops added their own flair—the Clever Fox Books with tiny brass bells, the bakery with a wreath shaped like a frosted doughnut.
Even Ford’s Animal Hospital got festive.
Max smiled as he passed its window, which featured a cartoonish tabby tangled in ribbon beside a hand-painted sign: “Pawsitively Festive!”
He passed by Clever Fox Books and spotted his sister-in-law Laney working on the window display. She straightened, hand on her pregnant belly, and waved. He returned the gesture and continued down the street.
He pulled his knit cap down over his ears, the cold nipping at his nose.
Since returning from his wandering season, Max had grown to love this time of year.
Sugarville Grove might be small, but it knew how to do the holidays right.
The time away had given him a deeper appreciation for this place—the town that had raised him, the family that had shaped him.
Four brothers. One saint of a mother. And a lovable father who’d passed down the Hayes maple syrup legacy.
Luke had stayed and now ran the farm, but the rest of them had scattered, carving their own paths.
Max’s was the most unconventional, though he’d finally settled—sort of.
His country store sat just outside town, stocked with everything from handcrafted soap to wine to locally smoked meats.
Though it was tough to get away from the store, he’d managed to sneak into town for lunch with his brothers at Sugarville Slice.
As he neared the pizzeria, the contrast hit him as it had many times before.
Sugarville Slice was the lone shop downtown without a speck of holiday cheer.
No wreath. No twinkle lights. Just a clean, minimalist window displaying a chalkboard menu.
It wasn’t uninviting, exactly. But it stood out. Especially here.
Still, the scents of wood fire, garlic, rosemary, and tomato sauce made up for the lack of sparkle.
Charlie Keene might not hang mistletoe, but she and her staff knew how to make a stellar slice.
Before she arrived, they’d had to drive twenty minutes for mediocre pizza.
Now he was pretty sure they had the best in Vermont.
He spotted his brothers at their usual table in the back.
The four brothers were tight, but they were also quite different from one another, evident in their attire.
Luke, who ran their family’s maple syrup farm, wore a flannel shirt, jeans, and boots.
Nolan donned a soft cashmere sweater and neatly pressed khakis, having come from the college where he taught literature.
Logan looked like the lawyer he was in a tailored button-down and slacks, his blazer slung over the back of his chair .
As he passed by the open kitchen, he caught sight of Charlie Keene sliding a pizza out of the oven with a practiced flick of her wooden peel.
Whatever her story, she was easy on the eyes, despite her obvious dislike of Christmas decorations.
He was also fairly certain she didn’t care for him.
At the food drive meeting his mother had organized last week, they’d had a little disagreement over the best way to gather donations.
He’d suggested some of the businesses, including his own, mind you, offer a coupon to anyone who brought canned goods into their store or restaurant.
She’d said people should simply donate because it was the right thing to do, not because of some incentive.
He’d made the mistake of saying, in a teasing way, that she must not know much about human nature.
That had not gone over well.
He plopped into a chair. His brothers greeted him in the usual way, with more grunts than actual words.
“You’re late,” Luke said, in his oldest-brother know-it-all tone.
“Sorry. Vendor issue,” Max said.
Logan sighed, setting down his phone. “This latest client’s going to drive me into early retirement.”
“A divorce or estate planning?” Nolan asked .
“Divorce. Representing the wife. Every time I give her advice, she does the opposite.” Logan slid a menu in Max’s direction.
He took hold of it, excited to see that there was a new special pizza and spotted it immediately: Ash Nolan chose the Maple BBQ Chicken; Logan, the Winter Warmer.
Charlie’s eyes landed on Max. “And for you?”
He cleared his throat, ignoring the flip-flop in his stomach.
She really had the most exquisite face—high cheekbones and a mouth that looked made for kissing.
And those brown eyes that could surely melt any man’s heart should she choose to use them.
“Ash and Ember, please. I love Bramblewood Ash cheese. It’s to die for.
” Why did he say that? He sounded like an idiot.
“They’re talented cheesemakers.” Charlie’s expression softened slightly. “I can only get it once a year because of their lack of inventory.”
He knew that was true. He’d had to grovel for a chunk to sell at his store. Setting an alarm for 6:00 a.m. just to order cheese seemed absurd. But it was really good cheese, and his customers loved it. He’d be sold out of it within a week.
“How’s business?” Luke asked.
Charlie glanced around the room. “Good. People have been really supportive, even though I’m new to town.”
“That’s nice to hear,” Logan said. “This place isn’t always warm to outsiders.”
“I think the pizza helps,” Charlie said, smiling.
“We’re grateful you use Hayes maple syrup,” Luke added.
“I would never do otherwise,” Charlie said, turning toward the kitchen.
As soon as she disappeared, Logan leaned in. “I heard a new rumor about her.”
“Oh yeah?” Max asked, sipping his water.
“You guys ever heard of ForkCast?” Logan asked.
Nolan’s brows lifted. “The logistics software? For restaurants?”
“Sold to Omnivio for a hundred million,” Logan said. “And she was the founder.”
Max blinked. “That was her company?”
Logan nodded. “Her name’s on the original filings. I did a little research. Apparently, she’s some kind of genius. She graduated high school at fourteen and was at Stanford by fifteen. From what I read, she developed the code for ForkCast for her senior thesis.”
Luke let out a low whistle. “Millionaire tech genius running a pizza place in rural Vermont. There’s more to that story.”
“Why would she do that?” Max asked, feeling strangely uneasy.
“Maybe she wanted to drop out of the rat race,” Nolan offered. “Maybe she got burned.”
“Maybe she just loves pizza,” Luke said .
“Whatever the reason, I’m glad she’s here,” Nolan said. “Best pizza in Vermont.”
“I was just thinking that,” Max said.
“Why the sad face?” Luke asked Max.
“Huh? Oh, nothing really,” Max said. Telling his brothers he had a crush on the millionaire pizza maker would inevitably provoke ridicule.
“Out with it,” Logan said. Sometimes Max wondered if Logan realized he didn’t have to sound like a lawyer at all times. Then again, he’d sounded that way before he went to law school.
“If you guys give me a hard time about this, I swear I’ll never share anything again,” Max said.
“Why would we give you a hard time?” Logan asked, a glint in his eyes.
“I was thinking about asking her out, but now that I know she’s a genius, there’s no way. Can you imagine what she’d think when I had trouble reading a menu? Some stupid Vermont hick and a woman like that? I don’t think so.”
“You’re not stupid,” Luke said. “Dyslexia does not mean you’re stupid.”
“Nor does ADHD,” Logan said, sounding protective.
Max shrugged and smiled, as if it didn’t bother him. But that wasn’t true. His learning disabilities had always bothered him, especially because his brothers were all so smart and accomplished.
But he was who he was. Nothing to be done to change that.
However, he certainly didn’t have to ask her out knowing rejection was certain. He’d have to be a fool to do so. And his mama hadn’t raised any fools.
After lunch, Max hurried back to his store, feeling slightly guilty for how much he’d enjoyed that extra slice.
Hearth and Holly Country Store sat snugly down a winding country road, a vintage Vermont staple with wide-planked floors, shelves lined with local jams and honey, baskets overflowing with apples from a nearby orchard, and a deli case filled with Vermont cheeses and cured meats. Rustic meets foodie heaven.