Page 28 of Christmas Treasures (Sugarville Grove #6)

CHARLIE

C harlie woke slowly, eyes heavy, head aching slightly from too little sleep. The events from two days before still felt like a stone had landed on her chest. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop thinking about Max.

Her burned hand throbbed slightly, wrapped now in a clean bandage as she pushed herself upright, blinking at the pale winter sunlight filtering through the window curtains. A glance toward the kitchen made her stomach twist. The smoky smell lingered, faint and bitter.

She forced herself to her feet, grabbing her robe and slipping it over her sweatshirt and pajama pants. Her body ached from her breakdown in the greenhouse, the memory still raw enough to sting.

Padding toward the front room, she stopped abruptly as something bright caught her eye through the front window. On her porch, just outside the door, sat something colorful.

She opened the door slowly, the cold air rushing inward to greet her.

On the porch sat a simple, lovely bouquet of winter flowers—deep reds, soft greens, a few small white blooms nestled gently among them. Next to it, a small envelope rested, her name written in Max’s familiar handwriting.

Her heart did an odd flip-flop.

She knelt, picking up the flowers first. Their sweet scent curled around her, subtle but warm. She held the bouquet close, breathing it in as if she could borrow a little of their strength.

With trembling fingers, she opened the envelope and pulled out the simple card. Max’s handwriting, steady but gentle, filled the page.

Charlie,

I’m so sorry.

I wanted to give you joy. But I understand now. I think, anyway. I didn’t ask you what you needed.

You have every right to celebrate, or not celebrate, Christmas however you choose. I just wanted you to know you’re welcome and wanted, always.

My Ugly Sweater Party is in a few days. No pressure—just an open door and a porch light that stays on for you.

With all my heart,

Max

Tears blurred the words. Charlie wiped her face gently, trying to catch her breath.

This was Max: gentle, thoughtful, generous. He’d stepped into her grief without judgment. Even after her harsh reaction, he’d quietly left the door open, letting her choose for herself.

Exactly what she’d needed.

She stood there, the cold biting at her ankles, flowers clutched to her chest. A new determination rose up through the fog of grief and shame.

She would make it up to him.

Charlie stepped back inside, shutting the door carefully behind her. She placed the flowers on the entry table, the note propped gently beside them. She took a deep breath, steadied herself, and reached for her phone.

Nina answered on the second ring, cheerful and oblivious. “Hey! What’s up?”

“I need a favor,” Charlie said, throat tight.

“Anything. You okay?”

“I want to decorate for Christmas. Tonight. I want to make it warm and joyful. Can you help? This is an emergency.”

Nina paused for only a heartbeat. “I’ll be right over.”

Charlie closed her eyes, relief washing through her.

Maybe she couldn’t erase the past. But she could step forward, toward joy, toward Max—on her own terms this time.

And this Christmas, she would finally reclaim what had been lost.

Charlie welcomed Nina inside, taking note of the copious bags hanging from her arms. Behind Nina came Ivy, clipboard in hand. Following her marched a parade of helpers, each laden with decorations and hauling two massive Fraser firs.

“Two trees?” Charlie asked.

“Absolutely two,” Nina said, directing traffic like a runway controller. “You have some making up to do, so we have to go all out.”

Charlie fought anxiety as she watched more packages appear, filled with ribbons, garlands, lights, and ornaments. There were stacks of Christmas throw pillows, stockings, napkins, special Christmas dishes and glasses and tablecloths. Nina had even found the cutest elf salt and pepper shakers.

“Nina, this might be a little over-the-top,” Charlie said.

“No way. Go big or go home, baby,” Nina said. She gestured dramatically around the room. “This is going to look amazing. Just think of Bianca’s face when she sees it.”

“Yeah, okay, that helps.” Charlie smiled back at her enthusiastic friend.

Ivy appeared, looking ready for battle. “Let’s do this.”

Hours later, Charlie’s house looked as if Christmas had exploded.

She stood in the middle of her living room, taking it all in, amazed by what Ivy and her helpers had created.

A grand evergreen wreath adorned the white-paneled wall above the fireplace, its lush foliage studded with bright red berries.

Below, red-and-cream stockings hung from the pale wooden mantel waiting to be filled.

The mantel itself overflowed with greenery, miniature pine trees, and candles of varying heights—some red, some white, all casting a gentle flickering light that danced across the room.

Christmas trees stood tall on either side of the fireplace, branches adorned with twinkling lights and crimson ornaments that matched the theme throughout the room.

Now all it needed were some wrapped presents for Bianca and Max to open on Christmas Day. God willing, they would accept her invitation. She knew she had work to do to get them to trust her again, but she had to win them back. Whatever it took. Even a houseful of Christmas decorations.

She picked up her phone to text Max.

If you and Bianca aren’t busy tonight, I’d love to show you something. Dinner at 6? I’ll leave the porch light on.

Her heart thudded in her chest as she waited for a response. Then, almost immediately, a reply appeared.

We’ll be there .

Charlie let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding and smiled. Her fingertips trembled against the screen as she composed her reply:

Perfect. I can’t wait to see you both.

Right at six, a sweep of headlights across the window told her they’d arrived. She’d almost believed they might not come after all. But here they were. Ready for her to apologize and make everything right.

When she pulled open the door, Max stood framed in darkness, snowflakes melting in his dark hair, his gaze meeting hers.

She detected no malice or even trepidation.

He was simply Max. Forgiving, generous, supportive.

Beside him, Bianca looked up, her small hand clasped in his, her expression transforming into one of awe as she peered beyond Charlie into the glowing interior.

“Come inside, I have a surprise.” Charlie beckoned them into the foyer and then led them to the living room. “Nina and Ivy helped me to make it special. What do you think?”

Bianca twirled in a circle, clearly taking everything in. “Charlie, Christmas is here. è bellissimo.” She moved from decoration to decoration, exclaiming over each one.

Max’s expression was equally awestruck. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

“I wanted to.” Charlie patted the sofa, asking Bianca to come sit by her.

The child did as she asked, folding her hands in her lap like the little angel she was.

Charlie spoke in English. “I’m sorry for how I acted.

It was a terrible way to be when you and Max have done nothing but show me kindness.

” The child looked confused, so she repeated it in Italian.

By the end, Bianca smiled, nodding in understanding. She placed her hand against Charlie’s cheek. "Va bene. Eri triste." It’s okay. You were sad.

“Thank you,” Charlie said.

Just then, Fig came marching in, his head held high and his belly swinging from side to side. He made a beeline for Bianca, jumping onto her lap. Bianca immediately started speaking to him softly in Italian and petting him.

Although nervous, Charlie glanced over at Max, who now sat in one of the armchairs, looking so handsome in a red sweater and jeans.

“I’m surprised Fig isn’t wearing a red bow,” Max said. “He seems to be the only thing left untouched.”

Charlie laughed, relieved by his teasing tone. “If Nina could have caught him, he probably would be.”

Max gestured toward the kitchen. “Want to talk in the kitchen while Bianca and Fig play together?”

She nodded, following him into the other room. When they reached the island, she took Max’s hands in her own. “I’m sorry for everything. I don’t deserve to be forgiven, but I hope you will anyway.”

“Everyone deserves forgiveness,” Max said. “And most especially you. I should have listened to you instead of pushing so hard. It’s just that I love you so much, and I wanted you to feel joyful instead of sad.”

She stared at him. “Did you just say you love me?”

“I did. And I do. It kind of sneaked up on me. But being away from you has been terrible. I haven’t slept. Can’t eat. The truth is, I feel like I can’t live without you in my life. And if that means keeping my good intentions to myself, I will.”

“No, I was the one in the wrong. I should never have been so awful, especially in front of Bianca.”

He seemed to notice the bandage on her hand. “What happened?”

“I burned it pulling out a batch of scorched cinnamon rolls.” She flushed, remembering the scene all too vividly.

“I had a little breakdown after you left. I ran out to the greenhouse and…well, I’ll show you what I did.

In the meantime, the rolls burned to a crisp and set the fire alarm off, which freaked out poor Fig. ”

“Oh honey, I’m sorry. That sounds awful.” He stroked her cheek.

“It was. But it was also cathartic. It’s time to forgive myself about my mother. I swear she was here with me, telling me it was time to let go—that she forgave me and I should too. She told me to love you and to let myself be loved by you. And Bianca. I could smell her perfume.”

His eyes glistened with tears. “She knew you needed her.”

“I guess she did.” Charlie looked up and into his eyes. “I love you too. As you can see by the ridiculous amount of Christmas decor.”

He pulled her in for a kiss, murmuring against her mouth as he captured her bottom lip between his. “I love it, and I love you.”

After dinner, she knew it was time to show them the greenhouse. “Will you come with me to the greenhouse? Both of you?”

Bianca abandoned her half-eaten dessert without hesitation, eyes bright with anticipation. Max did the same. Soon they were crossing the snowy yard. She paused at the greenhouse entrance, her heartbeat quickening. “I should warn you. It’s bad.”

Max’s palm covered hers. “Whatever it is, we can help.”

She pushed the door open and flipped the switch. Light flooded the interior, revealing the aftermath of her fury—terra-cotta shards scattered across concrete, soil spilled, plants lying broken and exposed. Her grief on display for all to see.

“What happened?” Max asked.

“I don’t know exactly. I went to a very dark place. It just happened. Tearing apart something I loved so much doesn’t make sense. But grief and trauma do strange things to a person.”

Max wrapped an arm around her. “It’s all right. We’ll put it back together.”

Bianca stepped forward, surveying the damage with a solemnity beyond her years. “Ma possiamo farlo nuovo. Più bello di prima.” But we can make it new. More beautiful than before.

Charlie knelt beside her, the concrete cold through her jeans. She tucked a strand of hair behind Bianca’s ear, throat tightening. “You’ll help me?”

Bianca nodded.

Without further discussion, they began. Max moved to the workbench, gathering fallen tools and replacing them where they belonged. Bianca carefully collected plant fragments, studying each one before placing it in a salvage pile. Charlie swept soil back into pots and replanted what she could.

They worked together, and soon the mood lifted. They began to chatter and laugh as they put the greenhouse back in order.

When they were finished, Bianca leaned heavily against Max’s side, looking suddenly very sleepy.

“Let’s go inside. There’s a little girl who has far surpassed her bedtime,” Charlie said.

Max knelt so Bianca could climb on his back. He took Charlie’s hand, and together they headed toward the house.