Page 16 of Christmas Treasures (Sugarville Grove #6)

CHARLIE

C harlie woke before her alarm, the soft gray light of morning spilling through her bedroom window.

For a moment, she just lay there, still wrapped in her quilt, Fig stretched across her legs like a furry, judgmental anchor.

She sat up slowly, brushing a hand through her hair.

Fig gave an offended grunt and flopped onto his side, claiming more territory on the bed.

“I know. I’m nervous too.” She had tossed and turned before falling asleep around midnight.

She padded into the kitchen and made herself a coffee.

Was it a mistake to join Max today? She’d have figured he’d want his mother with him, but he’d asked her. So what could she do but agree?

Anyway, there was no backing out now. She’d promised Max she would accompany him, and she was not someone to go back on her word. No matter how scary an eight-year-old seemed.

After showering, she pulled on soft jeans, boots, and a cream-colored sweater. She blew out her hair and took extra care with her makeup. She wanted to be comfortable but also look nice. For Max.

No, no, no. Why had that thought popped into her head?

Her phone buzzed on the counter with a text from Max.

Leaving in five minutes. You still in?

Charlie stared at it for a moment, then tapped out a reply.

Nervous but ready.

Me too.

“Hold down the fort, okay?” she said to Fig. “If you’re good, you will get to meet a little girl who loves kitties.”

Fig blinked once. Unimpressed but loyal.

Charlie locked the door behind her and stepped into the cold December morning just as Max stopped in front of the house.

Her breath caught at the sight of him leaning over the steering wheel of his SUV. He looked fantastic in a blue sweater, with his hair still damp from the shower.

If only she could stop fantasizing about kissing him again.

Maybe she could focus on something more important.

Like a little girl forced to come to a strange land.

This was not about her. Not today. She would do whatever she could to comfort a child who had lost too much.

She, of all people, was the one to do it.

Max merged onto the highway, Christmas music playing softly from the radio. Charlie relaxed into her seat, her nerves settling as she watched the landscape blur by—frosted fields, clusters of evergreens, farms she’d started to recognize as familiar landmarks.

Ahead, a cheerful sign came into view, painted red and gold: Martin’s Christmas Tree Farm.

A row of neatly planted Christmas trees stretched along the road, some were tied to car roofs, others illuminated by twinkling lights strung along the split-rail fence.

Families wandered among the trees, bundled against the cold, mugs of steaming drinks in hand.

Max glanced sideways at her. “Have you been to Martin’s yet? My family gets a tree from there every year. Mom has a cookie decorating party every year. It’s in a few days, actually. I thought maybe we could take Bianca. She could meet her new cousins and my family. Or do you think that’s too much?”

She shook her head. “I’m not sure. Anyway, I don’t really do Christmas.”

He glanced her way again, eyes curious. “Can I ask why? Or is that off-limits?”

Charlie looked down, gathering courage before answering. “My mom died near Christmas when I was thirteen.”

Max went quiet, the only sound between them the muffled hum of car tires and gentle strains of the radio. “I’m so sorry,” he finally said, voice gentle. “That must have been awful.”

She swallowed, fingers twisting together in her lap.

“It was. And the worst part—it was my fault. I’d sneaked out to see friends, even though I was supposed to be home in bed.

She went out looking for me, worried sick.

She got hit by a car trying to cross the street.

” Her voice wavered slightly. “I’ve never forgiven myself. ”

Max’s jaw tightened slightly. “Hey now, you were thirteen. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Rationally, I know that. But emotionally? I’ve never been able to shake the shame. And regret. Christmas became this reminder of the worst mistake I ever made. Then Dad died in December, too, the year I sold ForkCast. After that, I just shut down. It felt easier not to celebrate. Not to remember.”

Max reached over, his hand lightly covering hers on the console. “I get that. ”

Charlie stared out the window, startled by the tears that threatened. “But now I see places like Martin’s and how excited people are—and I wonder if I’ve missed out on a lot of life by holding on to this. Maybe it’s time I find a new memory to put in its place.”

“You deserve that,” Max said simply, removing his hand from hers. “Maybe this Christmas can be different.”

She glanced over at him. “You’re going to have to get a tree for Bianca. Maybe I could go with you?”

His face lit up. “I’d love that.”

“I might like to go to the cookie party too. As long as you don’t make fun of me for being too particular about decorating. I tend to fixate a bit on stuff like that.”

“I’ll let you take over for me then,” Max said. “Because I’m kind of a mess when it comes to cookies. Focusing on something that long is hard for me, unless it’s something I’m super interested in.”

“Is that because of your ADHD?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Did you struggle in school because of it?”

“Gosh, yes. I had a rough time. Talk about shame. My parents were supportive, but I felt embarrassed. Compared to my brothers, who were all super academic, I was the dummy.”

“You don’t still think that, do you?”

“Nah. I’ve learned that we all have different gifts.

I like the work I do, even though it’s not rocket science.

I get to be with people and procure interesting products from all over the state.

And I don’t have to sit at a desk all day.

” He glanced over at her. “Could you ever see yourself with someone like me? You know, someone who isn’t even close to being as smart as you? ”

“Like you said, there are all kinds of intelligence. I’m envious of how you are with people.

It’s admirable. And humbling. So, please, never worry about anything like that.

” She was shocked to hear him ask such a thing.

“When I first met you, I thought you were a guy with unlimited self-confidence.”

“Yeah, not so much.”

“From my eyes, you’re just right as you are.” She reached over and pulled his hand back onto the console.

His fingers tightened slightly around hers, and he didn’t let go for the rest of the drive.

Charlie sat in a molded plastic chair at the small regional airport terminal, eyes trained on the arrival screen.

Beside her, holding tight to the toy tuxedo cat, Max paced.

Three steps left, three steps right, checking his watch every few seconds as if he could speed up the plane through sheer willpower.

“You’re going to wear out the carpet and your shoes,” Charlie said.

Max stopped abruptly, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Sorry. But does this seem to be taking forever?”

“She’ll be here soon,” Charlie reassured him.

A quiet ding sounded overhead. Charlie’s pulse quickened slightly as the screen updated. “Flight’s landed.”

Max exhaled sharply, visibly steadying himself as he turned toward the arrivals door. She placed a hand on his arm. The doors slid open, and passengers began to trickle out, their expressions weary from the early flight.

“There they are,” Max said.

Camilla had silver-streaked dark hair, neatly pinned back, and wore an elegant wool coat, travel-worn but dignified. Her face softened immediately upon seeing Max, offering him a quiet, reassuring smile. A dark-eyed child, her long hair in a braid, clung to her hand.

Max stepped forward to greet her, but Bianca slipped behind Camilla. Instead, he gave Camilla’s arm a gentle squeeze. “Camilla, it’s so good to see you. How was the flight?”

Camilla touched his arm warmly, eyes softening. “Long, but smooth. Bianca slept a little. Thank you for coming to meet us.”

Charlie watched as Max gave her a reassuring smile. “Of course. Welcome to America. You must be exhausted.”

Camilla’s gaze shifted to Charlie, clearly curious.

Max gestured toward Charlie, stepping aside slightly. “Camilla, this is my good friend Charlie Keene. Charlie, this is Camilla Ferraro.”

Charlie extended her hand warmly. “Piacere, Camilla. Welcome.”

Camilla shook her hand, gentle and firm. “Grazie.”

The small figure stepped out from behind Camilla. Eyes wide and watchful, she clutched a small backpack tightly. Her yellow floral dress peeked out from beneath a pale winter coat. She gazed anxiously around the crowded waiting area, clearly overwhelmed.

She was absolutely darling.

Charlie heard Max’s breath catch. He knelt, bringing himself to Bianca’s eye level.

“Ciao, Bianca,” Max said softly. His voice trembled only slightly as he revealed the plush tuxedo cat from behind his back, offering it gently. “Ti ricordi di me?”

Bianca stared at him for a moment, then nodded. “Sei Max. Sì, mi ricordo di te. Mangiavi gli spaghetti in modo buffo, cantavi troppo forte in chiesa, e facevi ridere la mamma." Yes, I remember you. You ate spaghetti funny, sang too loud in church, and made my mom laugh .

Max nodded, relief flooding his expression. “Sì, sono Max.”

Bianca reached out carefully, accepting the stuffed cat and hugging it tightly.

Her voice grew even softer, but clear enough that Charlie could hear every word.

“Grazie per i soldi che hai mandato così potevo andare a scuola.” Thank you for sending money so I could go to school.

She hesitated, looking carefully into his eyes.

“Ti manca la mamma?” Do you miss my mom?

Max visibly swallowed, struggling briefly for words. He reached out gently, smoothing Bianca’s hair from her forehead with a tenderness that made Charlie’s throat tighten.

“Tantissimo,” he said. Very much.