A Surprise Holiday Family

Christmas came early for Erica Lindholm! Suddenly a mom to adorable twin baby boys and part owner of a snowy small-town Pennsylvania farm, Erica is living her dream. Until the boys’ estranged uncle, Jason Stephanidis, comes home to celebrate the holidays. The handsome, brooding detective turns out to be a natural with the babies...and with Erica’s wounded heart. But if Jason knew the truth about their identities, her picture-perfect life could melt away. She’s finally found the warm home, the loving family and the cozy Christmas she always wanted. Will Erica’s secret cost her everything?

“Let’s see how they like the Christmas lights.”

Erica carried the twins into the front room.

She sat on the couch and put Mikey on the floor, then Teddy. She waved her hand toward the tree. “Pretty!” she said.

The twins’ brown eyes grew round as they surveyed the sparkling lights and ornaments.

“Priiiiy,” Mikey said, cocking his head to one side.

Teddy started to scoot toward the tree.

“Whoa, little man,” Jason said, intercepting him before he could reach the shining ornaments.

“Better put the ornaments higher up and anchor that tree to the wall.” Papa laughed.

Teddy then turned and crawled toward Mistletoe, who gave his face a few licks. Teddy chortled and waved his arms.

“Not very sanitary,” Papa commented.

“Oh, well,” Erica and Jason said at the same time. Jason grinned at her.

It was like watching a Christmas movie. The perfect setting. A happy home. She’d always longed to be in such a family.

And it was all a lie.

Dear Reader,

I’ve always been fascinated with twins, so research for this book has been a joy! Watching videos of how baby twins “talk” to each other, mock-shopping for Christmas outfits and peppering every twin parent I know about their memories of the early years...what could be more fun? And since my own daughter benefited from early intervention services, it made me happy to give a nod to the amazing work doctors and therapists do to help babies catch up.

I also loved figuring out Erica and Jason’s story. Both of them have baggage from childhood hurts, and both are insecure about their ability to make a relationship work. But as they discover, God is there to help all of us grow closer to perfection, as we seek Him and follow His will.

My prayer is that each of you experiences love and peace this Christmas season. Please visit my website at www.leetobinmcclain.com and stay in touch. I love to hear from readers!

Warmest Christmas wishes,

Lee

LEE TOBIN MCCLAIN read Gone with the Wind in the third grade and has been a hopeless romantic ever since. When she’s not writing angst-filled love stories with happy endings, she’s getting inspiration from her church singles group, her gymnastics-obsessed teenage daughter and her rescue dog and cat. In her day job, Lee gets to encourage aspiring romance writers in Seton Hill University’s low-residency MFA program. Visit her at leetobinmcclain.com.

Secret Christmas Twins

Lee Tobin McClain

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor: if either of them falls down, one can help the other up. But pity anyone who falls and has no one to help them up.

—Ecclesiastes 4:9–10

To Shana Asaro and Melissa Endlich,

who offered me the opportunity to work on

this special Christmas project, and to Mark S.,

with appreciation for the informal legal counsel

and the delicious cider.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Detective Jason Stephanidis steered his truck down the narrow, icy road, feeling better than anytime since being placed on administrative leave. He’d checked on several elderly neighbors near Holly Creek Farm and promised to plow them out after the storm ended. Now he was headed back to the farm to spend some much-needed time with his grandfather.

It wasn’t that he was feeling the Christmas spirit, not exactly. Being useful was how he tamed the wolves inside him.

Slowly, cautiously, he guided the truck around a bend. Amid the rapidly falling snow, something flashed. Headlights? In the middle of the road?

What was a little passenger car doing out on a night like this? This part of Pennsylvania definitely required all-wheel drive and heavy snow tires in winter.

He swerved right to avoid hitting the small vehicle. Perilously close to the edge of the gulch, he stopped his truck, positioning it to provide a barrier against the other car going over the edge.

There. The car should be able to pass him now, safely on the side away from the ledge.

Rather than slowing down gradually, though, the other driver hit the brakes hard. The little car spun and careened into an icy snowdrift, stopping with a resounding thump.

Jason put on his flashers, leaped from his truck and ran toward the vehicle. He couldn’t see through the fogged-up window on the driver’s side, so he carefully tried the door. The moment he opened it, he heard a baby’s cry.

Oh no.

“The babies. My babies! Are they okay?” The driver clicked open her seat belt and twisted toward the back seat. “Mikey! Teddy!”

There were two of them? “Sit still, ma’am. I’ll check on your children.” He eased open the back door and saw two car seats. A baby in each. One laughing, one crying, but they both looked uninjured, at least to his inexperienced eye.

Between the front seats, the driver’s face appeared. “Oh, my sweet boys, are you okay?” There was an edge of hysteria in her voice.

“They seem fine, ma’am. You need to turn off your vehicle.”

She looked at him as if he were speaking Greek, then reached a shaky hand toward the baby who was wailing. “It’s okay, Mikey. You’re okay.” She patted and clucked in that way women seemed to naturally know how to do.

The baby’s crying slowed down a little.

“Turn off your vehicle,” he repeated.

“What?” She was still rubbing the crying baby’s leg, making soothing sounds. It seemed to work; the baby took one more gasping breath, let it out in a hiccupy sigh and subsided into silence.

She fumbled around, found a pacifier and stuck it in the baby’s mouth. Then she cooed at the nearer baby, found his pacifier pinned to his clothes and did the same.

Unhurt, quiet babies. Jason felt his shoulders relax a little. “Turn the car off. For safety. We don’t want any engine fires.”

“Engine fires?” She gasped, then spun and did as he’d instructed.

He straightened and closed the rear car door to keep the heat inside.

She got out, looked back in at the babies and closed the door. And then she collapsed against it, hands going to her face, breathing rapid.

“Are you all right?” He stepped closer and noticed a flowery scent. It seemed to come from her masses of long red hair.

“Just a little shaky. Delayed reaction.” Her voice was surprisingly husky.

“How old are your babies?”

She hesitated just a little bit. “They’re twins. Fifteen months.”

He focused on her lightweight leather jacket, the nonwaterproof sneakers she wore. Not on her long legs nicely showcased by slim-fitting jeans. “Ma’am, you shouldn’t be out on a night like this. If I hadn’t come along—”

“If you hadn’t come along, I wouldn’t have gone off the road!”

“Yes, you would’ve. You can’t slam on your brakes in the snow.”

“How was I supposed to know that?”

“Ma’am, any teenager would know not to...” He trailed off. No point rubbing in how foolish she’d been.

She bit her lip and held up a hand. “Actually, you’re right that I shouldn’t be out. I was slipping and sliding all over the place.” Walking up to the front end of the car, she studied it, frowning. “Wonder if I can just back out?”

Jason knelt and checked for damage, but fortunately, the car looked okay. Good and stuck, though. “You probably can’t, but I can tow you.” As he walked around the car to study the rear bumper in preparation for towing, he noticed the Arizona plates.

So that was why she didn’t know how to drive in the snow.

He set up some flares, just in case another vehicle came their way, and then made short order of connecting the tow rope and pulling her out of the drift.

He turned off his truck, jumped out and walked over to her. Snow still fell around them, blanketing the forest with quiet.

“Thank you so much.” She held out a hand to shake his.

He felt the strangest urge to wrap her cold fingers in his palm, to warm them. To comfort her, which would shock the daylights out of his ex-fiancée, who’d rightly assessed him as cold and heartless. He was bad at relationships and family life, but at least now he knew it. “You should wear gloves,” he said sternly instead of holding on to that small, delicate hand.

For just the briefest second he thought she rolled her eyes. “Cold hands are the least of my problems.”

Really? “It didn’t look like your children are dressed warmly enough, either.”

She turned her back to him, opened her car door and grabbed a woven, Southwestern-looking purse. “Can I pay you for your help?”

“Pay me? Ma’am, that’s not how we do things around here.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Look, I’d love to hang out and discuss local customs, but I need to get my boys to shelter. Since, as you’ve pointed out so helpfully, they’re inadequately dressed.”

“I’ll lead you back to a road that’s straighter, cleared off better,” he said. “Where were you headed?”

“Holly Creek Farm.”

Jason stared at her.

“It’s supposed to be just a few miles down this road, I think. I should be fine.”

“Are you sure that’s the name of the place? There’s a lot of Holly-this and Holly-that around here, especially since the closest town is Holly Springs.”

“I know where I’m going!” She crossed her arms, tucking her hands close to her sides. “It’s a farm owned by the Stephanidis family. The grandparents...er, an older couple lives there.” A frown creased her forehead, and she fingered her necklace, a distinctive silver cross embedded with rose quartz and turquoise.

A chill ran down Jason’s spine. The necklace was familiar. He leaned closer. “That looks like a cross my sister used to wear.” Sadness flooded him as he remembered the older sister who’d once been like a mother to him, warm and loving, protecting him from their parents’ whims.

Before she’d gone underground, out of sight.

“A friend gave it to me.”

Surely Kimmie hadn’t ended up back in Arizona, where they’d spent their early childhood. An odd thrumming started in his head. “Why did you say you were going to the Holly Creek Farm?”

“I didn’t say.” She cocked her head, looking at him strangely. “The twins...um, my boys and I are going there to live for a while. Our friend Kimmie Stephanidis gave us permission, since it’s her family home. What did you say your name is?”

“I didn’t say.” He echoed her words through a dry throat. “But I’m Jason. Jason Stephanidis.”

She gasped and her hand flew to her mouth. She went pale and leaned back against her car.

Jason didn’t feel so steady himself. What had this redheaded stranger been to Kimmie? And was she seriously thinking of staying at the farm—with babies—when she obviously knew nothing about managing a country winter? “Look, do you want to bring your kids and come sit in my truck? I have bottled water in there, and it’s warm. You’re not looking so good.”

She ignored the suggestion. “You’re Jason Stephanidis? Oh, wow.” She didn’t sound happy as she glanced at the babies in the back seat of her car.

“And your name is...”

“Erica. Erica Lindholm.”

“Well, Erica, we need to talk.” He needed to pump her for information and then send her on her way. The farm was no place for her and her boys, not at this time of year. And Jason’s grandfather didn’t need the stress.

On the other hand, given the rusty appearance of her small car, a model popular at least ten years ago, she probably didn’t have a lot of money for a hotel. If she could even get to one at this time of night, in this storm.

She straightened her back and gave him a steady look that suggested she had courage, at least. “If you’re Kimmie’s brother, we do need to talk. She needs help, if you’re willing. But for now, I need to get the boys to shelter. If you could just point me toward the farm—”

He made a snap decision to take her there, at least for tonight. “I’ll clear the road and you can follow me there.” She’d obviously been close to Kimmie. Maybe a fellow addict who needed a place to stay, dry out.

If he caught one whiff of drug use around those babies, though, he’d have her arrested so fast she wouldn’t know what had hit her.

“I don’t want to put you out.” Her voice sounded tight, shaky. “I’m sure you have somewhere to go.”

“It’s no trouble to lead you there,” he said, “since I live at Holly Creek Farm.”

The detective in him couldn’t help but notice that his announcement made the pretty redhead very, very uncomfortable.

* * *

Erica Lindholm clutched the steering wheel and squinted through the heavily falling snow, her eyes on the red taillights in front of her.

Jason Stephanidis lived there. In the place Kimmie had said belonged to her grandparents. What nightmare was this?

How could she take care of the babies here? Kimmie’s brother, being a detective, was sure to find out she’d taken them and run with no official guardianship papers. That had to be a crime.

And he might—probably would—attempt to take them away from her.

She couldn’t let him—that was all. Which meant she couldn’t let him know that the boys were actually Kimmie’s sons.

Somewhere on the long road trip, caring for the twins and worrying about them, comforting them and feeding them, she’d come to love them with pure maternal fierceness. She’d protect them with her life.

Including protecting them from Kimmie’s rigid, controlling brother, if need be. She’d promised Kimmie that.

In just ten minutes, which somehow felt all too soon, they turned off the main road. The truck ahead slowed down, and a moment later she realized Jason had lowered the plow on the front of his truck and was clearing the small road that curved up a little hill and over a quaint-looking bridge.

A moment later they pulled up to a white farmhouse, its front door light revealing a wraparound front porch, the stuff of a million farm movies.

Behind her, Teddy started to fuss. From the smell of things, one or both of the boys needed a diaper change.

Jason had emerged from the truck and was coming back toward her, and she got out of her car to meet him. He looked as big as a mountain: giant, stubbly and dangerous.

Erica’s heart beat faster. “Thank you for all you’ve done for us tonight,” she said. “I understand there’s a cabin on the property. We can go directly there, if you’ll point the way.”

“No, you can’t.”

“Why not?”

“That cabin hasn’t been opened up in a couple of years. The heat’s off, water’s off, who knows what critters have been living there...” He shook his head. “I don’t know what you were thinking, bringing those babies out in this storm.”

Guilt surged up in her. He was right.

“For now, you’ll have to stay at the farmhouse with me.”

Whoa. No way. “That’s not safe or appropriate. I don’t know you from—”

The front door burst open. “There you are! I was ready to call the rescue squad. Who’d you bring with you?”

All she could see of the man in the doorway was a tall blur, backlit by a golden, homey light that looked mercifully warm.

“Open up the guest room, would you, Papa? We’ve got Kimmie’s friend here, and she has babies.”

“Babies! Get them inside. I’ll put on the soup pot and pull out the crib.” The front door closed.

Jason looked at Erica, and for the first time, she saw a trace of humor in his eyes. “My grandfather’s house. He’ll keep you and the twins safe from me and anything else.”

Behind her, through the car’s closed windows, she could hear both twins crying. She didn’t have another solution, at least not tonight. “All right. Thank you.”

Moments later they were inside a large, well-heated farmhouse kitchen. Erica spread a blanket and changed the twins’ diapers while Jason’s grandfather took a dishrag to an ancient-looking high chair. “There you go,” he said, giving the chair’s wooden tray a final polish. “One of ’em can sit there. You’ll have to hold the other for now.” He extended a weathered hand. “Andrew Stephanidis. You can call me Papa Andy.”

“Thank you.” She shook his hand and then lifted Teddy into the high chair. “This is Teddy, and—” she bent down and picked up Mikey “—this is Mikey, and I’m Erica. Erica Lindholm.” Who might be wanted by the police right about now. “I’m very grateful to you for taking us in.”

“Always room for the little ones. That’s what Mama used to say.” The old man looked away for a moment, then turned back to face Erica. “Sorry we’re not decorated for Christmas. Used to have holly and evergreens and tinsel to the roof, but...seems like I just don’t have the heart for it this year.”

Jason carried in the last of her boxes and set it on the table. “I put your suitcases up in the guest room, but this box looks like food.” He was removing his enormous boots as he spoke. “Sorry about the mess, Papa. I’ll clean it up.”

The old man waved a hand. “Later. Sit down and have some soup.”

Erica’s head was spinning. How had Kimmie gotten it so wrong, telling her the mean brother never came to the farm? And it sure seemed like Kimmie’s grandmother, the “Mama” Papa Andy had spoken of, had passed on. Obviously, Kimmie had completely lost touch with her own family.

In front of Erica, a steaming bowl of vegetable soup sent up amazing smells, pushing aside her questions. She’d been so focused on feeding and caring for the twins during four long days of travel that she’d barely managed to eat. The occasional drive-through burger and the packets of cheese and crackers in the cheap motels where they’d crashed each night couldn’t compare to the deliciousness in front of her.

“Go ahead. Dig in. I’ll hold the little one.” Papa Andy lifted Mikey from her lap and sat down, bouncing him on his knee with a practiced movement.

Erica held her breath. With the twins’ developmental delays came some fussiness, and she wanted to avoid questions she wouldn’t know how to answer. Wanted to avoid a tantrum, too.

But Mikey seemed content with Papa Andy’s bouncing, while Teddy plucked cereal from the wooden high chair tray and looked around, wide-eyed. The babies cared for, Erica scooped up soup and ate two big pieces of buttered corn bread, matching Jason bite for bite even though he was twice her size.

When her hunger was sated, she studied him from under her eyelashes and tried to quell her own fear. Kimmie had been afraid of her brother’s wrath if he discovered that she’d gone back to drugs and gotten pregnant out of wedlock. And she’d feared disappointing her grandparents. That was why she’d become estranged from the family. She hadn’t said it outright, but Erica had gotten the feeling that Kimmie might have stolen money from some of them, as well.

None of that was the twins’ fault, and if Kimmie’s family history were the only barrier, Erica wouldn’t hesitate to let Jason and Papa Andy know that the twins were their own relatives. She wasn’t foolish enough to think she could raise them herself with no help, and having a caring uncle and great-grandfather and more resources on their side would be only to their benefit.

But Kimmie had said Jason would try to get custody of the twins, and seeing how authoritative he seemed to be, Erica didn’t doubt it.

Kimmie hadn’t wanted her brother to have them. She’d insisted there were good reasons for it.

Erica wished she could call and ask, but Kimmie wasn’t answering her phone. In fact, she’d left a teary message two days ago, saying she was moving into a rehab center. She’d assured Erica that she was getting good care, but might not be reachable by phone.

Now that Erica was sitting still, for the moment not worried about her and the twins’ survival, sadness washed over her. For Kimmie, for the twins and for herself. With all her flaws, Kimmie had been a loving friend, and they’d spent almost every moment of the past month together. Like a vivid movie, she remembered when Kimmie—addicted, terminally ill and in trouble with the law—had begged her to take the twins.

“I know it’s a lot to ask. You’re so young. You’ll find a husband and have babies of your own...”

“No, I won’t,” Erica had responded. “But that’s not what’s important now.”

“You have time. You can get over your past.” Kimmie had pulled a lock of hair out of Erica’s ponytail. “You could be beautiful if you’d stop hiding it. And you need to realize that there are a few men out there worth trusting.”

Remembering Kimmie’s attempt at mothering, even at such a horrible moment, brought tears to Erica’s eyes even now, in the bright farmhouse kitchen. Erica wouldn’t get over her past, wouldn’t have kids of her own, as Kimmie would have realized if she hadn’t been so ill.

But Erica had these babies, and she’d protect them with her life. They were her family now.

The old black wall phone rang, and Papa answered it.

“Yes, he’s here.” She listened. “No, Heather Marie, he’s not coming out again in the storm just because you forgot to buy nail polish or some such crazy thing!” He held the phone away from his ear and indistinguishable, agitated words buzzed out from it. “You saw a what? A dog?”

Jason took one more bite of corn bread, wiped his mouth and stood. He might have even looked relieved. “It’s okay, Papa. I’ll talk to her.”

Papa narrowed his eyes at him. “You’re an enabler.”

Jason took the phone and moved into the hall, the long cord stretching to accommodate. Minutes later he came back in. “She thinks she saw a dog out wandering on Bear Creek Road, but she was afraid if she stopped she couldn’t get going again. I’m going to run out there and see if I can find it.”

“And visit her? Maybe get snowed in? Because that’s what she wants.”

Jason waved a dismissive hand. “I don’t mind helping.” Then he turned to Erica. “We have to talk, but I’m sure you’re exhausted. We can figure all of this out tomorrow.” He left the room, a giant in sock feet. Moments later, a chilly breeze blew through the kitchen, and then the front door slammed shut.

A chill remained in Erica’s heart, though. She had the feeling that Kimmie’s big brother would have plenty of questions for her when he returned. Questions she didn’t dare to answer.

* * *

It was almost midnight by the time Jason arrived back at the house. Exhausted, cold and wet, he went around to the passenger side to get leverage enough to lift the large dog he’d finally found limping through the woods near Bear Creek.

He carried the dog to the house and fumbled with the door, trying to open it without putting down the dog.

Suddenly, it swung open, and there was Erica, her hair glowing like fire in the hallway’s golden light. “Oh, wow, what can I do?” She hurried out to hold open the storm door for him, regardless of the cold. “Want me to grab towels? A blanket?”

“Both. Closet at the top of the stairs.”

She ran up and came back down and into the front room quickly, her green eyes full of concern. Her soft jeans had holes at the knees, and not the on-purpose kind teenagers wore.

After she’d spread the blankets on the floor in front of the gas fireplace, he carefully set the dog down and studied him. Dirty, yellow fur, a heavy build: probably a Lab-shepherd mix. The dog didn’t try to move much but sighed and dropped his head to the floor as if relieved to have found a safe haven.

“Go take off your wet things,” Erica ordered Jason. “I’ll watch the dog.”

“The twins are asleep?”

“Like logs.”

Jason shed his jacket, boots and hat, got two bowls of water and a couple of thin dishrags, and came back into the warm room. It hadn’t changed much since he was a kid. He half expected his grandmother to come around the corner, bringing cookies and hot chocolate.

But that wasn’t happening, ever again.

“Was he in a fight?” Erica asked. She was gently plucking sticks and berries out of the dog’s fur. “His leg seems awful tender.”

“I’ll try to clean it and wrap it. He’s friendly, like he’s had a good home, though maybe not for a while.” He put the cold water down, and the dog lifted his big golden head and drank loud and long, spilling water all over the floor.

“He’s skinny under his fur,” Erica said. “And a mess. What are all these sticky berries on him?” She plucked a sprig from the dog’s back, green with a few white berries.

“It’s mistletoe.” Made him think of Christmas parties full of music and laughter. Of happy, carefree times.

Erica didn’t look at Jason as she pulled more debris from the dog’s fur. “Then that’s what we’ll call him. Mistletoe.”

“You’re naming the dog?”

“We have to call him something,” she said reasonably. “You work on him. I’ll be right back.”

He puzzled over Erica as he carefully examined the dog’s leg. She seemed kind and helpful and well-spoken. So how had Kimmie connected with her? Had Kimmie gotten her life together, started running with a better crowd? Was Erica some kind of emissary from his sister?

He breathed in and out and tried to focus on the present moment. This homey room, the quiet, the dog’s warm brown eyes. Letting his thoughts run away with him was dangerous, was what had made him okay with administrative leave. The only crime he’d committed was trusting his partner, who’d turned out to be corrupt, taking bribes. With time, Jason knew he’d be exonerated of wrongdoing.

But still, he was all too aware that he’d lost perspective. He’d been working too hard and getting angrier and angrier, partly because of worrying about his sister’s situation and wondering where she was. He’d had no life. Coming here, taking a break, was the right thing to do, especially given his grandmother’s death earlier this year.

He should have come home more. He’d made so many mistakes as a brother, a son, a grandson. And a fiancé, according to what Renea had screamed as she’d stormed out for the last time. Funny how that was the weakness that bothered him the least.

Erica came back into the room and set a tray down on the end table beside the couch.

A familiar, delicious smell wafted toward him. Déjà vu. “You made hot chocolate?”

She looked worried. “Papa Andy showed me where to find everything before he went to bed. I hope it’s okay. You just looked so cold.”

He took one of the two mugs and sipped, then drank. “Almost as good as Gran’s.”

Her face broke into a relieved smile, and if she’d been pretty before, her smile made her absolutely gorgeous. Wow.

“How’s Mistletoe?” She set down the other mug and knelt by the dog.

He snorted out a laugh at the name. “He let me look at his leg. Whether he’ll let me wash it remains to be seen.” He put down the hot chocolate and dipped a rag into the warm water.

“Want me to hold his head?”

“No.” Was she crazy? “If he bites anybody, it’s going to be me, not you.”

“I’m not afraid.” She scooted over, gently lifted the dog’s large head and crossed her legs beneath. “It’s okay, boy,” she said, stroking his face and ears. “Jason’s going to fix it.”

Jason parted the dog’s fur. “Don’t look—it’s not pretty.”

She ignored his instruction, leaning over to see. “Aw, ouch. Wonder what happened?”

“A fight, or clipped by a car. He’s limping pretty bad, so I’m worried the bone is involved.” As gently as possible, he squeezed water onto the wound and then wiped away as much dirt as he could. Once, the dog yelped, but Erica soothed him immediately and he relaxed back into her lap.

Smart dog.

Jason ripped strips of towel and wrapped the leg, aiming for gentle compression. “There you go, fella. We’ll call the vet in the morning.”

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Erica eased out from under the dog’s head, gave him a few more ear scratches and then moved to the couch, picking up her mug on the way. “I love hot chocolate, but in Phoenix, we didn’t have much occasion to drink it.”

Jason picked up his half-full cup and sat in the adjacent armchair. “How did you know Kimmie?”

The question was abrupt, and he meant it to be. People answered more honestly when they hadn’t had a chance to relax and figure out what their interrogator wanted to hear.

She drew in a deep breath and blew it out. “Fair question. I met her at Canyon Lodge.” She looked at him, but when he didn’t react, she clarified. “It’s a drug rehab center.”

“You’re an addict, too?”

“Noooo.” She lifted an eyebrow at his assumption. “My mom was. I met Kimmie, wow, ten years ago, on visits to Mom. When they both got out, we stayed in touch.”

And yet she hadn’t turned to her mom when she’d needed a place to stay. “How’s your mom doing?” he asked.

She looked away. “She didn’t make it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.” She slid down off the couch to sit beside the dog again, petting him in long, gentle strokes.

“Where’s Kimmie now? Is she in Phoenix?”

Erica hesitated.

“Look, we’ve been out of touch for years. But if she’s sober now...” He saw Erica’s expression change. “Is she sober now?”

Erica looked down at the dog, into the fire, anywhere but at him.

Hope leaked out of him like air from a deflating tire. “She’s not.”

Finally, she blew out a breath and met his eyes. “I don’t know how to answer that.”

“What do you mean? She’s straight or she’s not.”

Erica’s face went tense, and he realized he’d spoken harshly. Not the way to gain trust and information. “Sorry. Let’s start over. Why did she send you to Holly Creek Farm?”

Simple enough question, he’d thought. Apparently not.

“It’s complicated,” she said.

He ground his teeth to maintain patience. His superiors had been right; he was too much on the edge to be working the streets right now. For a fleeting, fearful moment, he wondered if he could ever do it again.

But interviewing someone about your own kin was different, obviously, than asking questions about a stranger.

“Kimmie isn’t...well,” she said finally.

Jason jerked to attention at her tone. “What’s wrong?”

She opened her mouth to speak, but his cell phone buzzed. Wretched thing. And as a cop, even one on leave, he had to take it.

“It’s late for a phone call.” Then she waved a hand, looking embarrassed. “Not my business. Sorry.”

A feeling of foreboding came over Jason as he looked at the unfamiliar number. “Area code 602. Phoenix, isn’t it?”

She gasped, her hand going to her mouth. “Yes.”

He clicked to answer. “Jason Stephanidis.”

“Mr. Stephanidis.” The voice on the other end was male, and there was background noise Jason couldn’t identify. “Are you the brother of Kimberly Stephanidis?”

Jason closed his eyes. “Yes.”

“Okay. This is Officer John Jiminez. Phoenix PD. You’re a cop, too?”

“That’s right.”

“Good. My information’s accurate. Do you know... Have you seen your sister recently?”

“No.”

Silence. Then: “Look, I’m sorry to inform you that she’s passed away. I’ve been assigned to locate her next of kin.”

A chasm opened in his chest. “Drugs?”

“The coroner listed the cause of death as an overdose. But it also looks like she had advanced lung cancer.”

Jason squeezed his eyes closed, tighter, as if that could block out the words he was hearing. What he wanted to do was to shout back: No. No. No.

* * *

Erica sat on the couch, her arms wrapped around herself. Trying to hold herself together.

Kimmie was gone.

The twins were motherless.

Grief warred with worry and fear, and she jumped up and paced the room.

After Jason had barked out the news, said that a lawyer would call back tomorrow with more information, he’d banged out of the house.

What had happened? Had Kimmie gone peacefully, with good care, or died alone and in pain? Or, given the mention of overdose, had she taken the low road one last time?

Erica sank her head into her hands and offered up wordless prayers. Finally, a little peace came to her as the truth she believed with all her heart sank in: Kimmie had gone home to a forgiving God, happy, all pain gone.

She paced over to the window and looked out. The snow had stopped, and as she watched, the moon came out from under a cloud, sending a cold, silvery light over the rolling farmland.

Off to the side, Jason shoveled a walkway, fast, furious, robotic.

Wanting air herself, wanting to see that moon better and remind herself that God had a plan, Erica found a heavy jacket in the hall closet and slipped outside.

Sharp cold took her breath away. A wide creek ran alongside the house, a little stone bridge arching over it. Snow blanketed hills and trees and barns.

And the moonlight! It reflected off snow and water, rendering the scene almost as bright as daytime, bright enough that a wooden fence and a line of tall pines cast shadows on the snow.

The only sound was the steady chink-chink-chink of Jason’s shovel.

The newness, the majesty, the fearfulness of the scene made her tremble. God’s creation, beautiful and dangerous. A Sunday school verse flashed through her mind: “In His hand is the life of every creature and the breath of all mankind.”

The shovel stopped. Heavy boot steps came toward her.

“You should have contacted me!” Jason’s voice was loud, angry. “How long were you with her? Didn’t you think her family might want to know?”

His accusatory tone stung. “She didn’t want me to contact you!”

“You listened to an addict?”

“She said you told her you were through helping her.”

“I didn’t know she had cancer!” He sank down on the front step and let his head fall into his hands. “I would have helped.” The last word came out choked.

Erica’s desire to fight left her. He was Kimmie’s brother, and he was hurting.

She sat down beside him. “She wasn’t alone, until just a short while ago. I was with her.”

He turned his head to face her. “I don’t get it. On top of everything else she had to deal with, she took in you and your kids?”

She saw how it looked to him. But what was she supposed to say? Kimmie hadn’t wanted her to tell Jason about the twins. She’d spoken of him bitterly. “I was a support to her, not a burden,” she said. “You can believe that or not.”

He leaned back on his elbows, staring out across the moon-bright countryside. “Tough love,” he muttered. “Everyone says to use tough love.”

Behind them, there was a scratching sound and then a mournful howl.

Jason stood and opened the door, and Mistletoe limped outside. He lifted his golden head and sniffed the air.

“Guess he got lonely.” Jason sat back down.

Mistletoe shoved in between them and rested his head on Jason’s lap.

They were silent for a few minutes. Erica was cold, especially where her thin jeans met the stone porch steps. But she felt lonely, too. She didn’t want to leave the dog. And strangely enough, she didn’t want to leave Jason. Although he was obviously angry, and even blaming her, he was the only person in the world right now, besides her, who was grieving Kimmie’s terribly early death.

“I just don’t get your story,” he burst out. “How’d you help her when you were trying to care for your babies, too? And why’d she send you and your kids here?”

Mistletoe nudged his head under Jason’s hand, demanding attention.

“I want some answers, Erica.”

Praying for the words to come to her, Erica spoke. “She said this was a good place, a safe place. She knew I...didn’t have much.”

He lifted a brow like he didn’t believe her.

“She’d loved my mom.” Which was true. “She was kind of like a big sister to me.”

“She was a real big sister to me.” Suddenly, Jason pounded a fist into his open hand. “I can’t believe this. Can’t believe she OD’d alone.” He paused and drew in a ragged breath, then looked at Erica. “I’m going to find out more about you and what went on out there. I’m going to get some answers.”

Erica looked away from his intensity. She didn’t want him to see the fear in her eyes.

And she especially didn’t want him to find one particular answer: that Kimmie was the biological mother of the twins sleeping upstairs.

Chapter Two

Sunday morning, just after sunrise, Jason followed the smell of coffee into the farmhouse kitchen. He poured himself a cup and strolled around, looking for his grandfather and listening to the morning sounds of Erica and the twins upstairs.

Yesterday had been rough. He’d called their mother overseas—the easier telling, strangely—and then he’d let Papa know about Kimmie. Papa hadn’t cried; he’d just said, “I’m glad Mama wasn’t alive to hear of this.” Then he’d gone out to the barn all day, coming in only to eat a sandwich and go to bed.

Erica and the twins had stayed mostly in the guest room. Jason had made a trip to the vet to get Mistletoe looked over, and then rattled around the downstairs, alone and miserable, battling his own feelings of guilt and failure.

Tough love hadn’t worked. His sister had died alone.

It was sadness times two, especially for his grandfather. And though the old man was healthy, an active farmer at age seventy-eight, Jason still worried about him.

Where was his grandfather now, anyway? Jason looked out the windows and saw a trail broken through newly drifted snow. Papa had gone out to do morning chores without him.

A door opened upstairs, and he heard Erica talking to the twins. Maybe bringing them down for breakfast.

She was too pretty and he didn’t trust her. Coward that he was, he poured his coffee into a travel cup and headed out, only stopping to lace his boots and zip his jacket when he’d closed the door behind him.

Jason approached the big red barn and saw Papa moving around inside. After taking a moment to admire the rosy morning sky crisscrossed by tree limbs, he went inside.

Somehow, Papa had pulled the old red sleigh out into the center of the barn and was cleaning off the cobwebs. In the stalls, the two horses they still kept stomped and snorted.

Papa gave him a half smile and nodded toward the horses. “They know what day it is.”

“What day?”

“You’ve really been gone that long? It’s Sleigh Bell Sunday.”

“You don’t plan on...” He trailed off, because Papa obviously did intend to hitch up the horses and drive the sleigh to church. It was tradition. The first Sunday in December, all the farm families that still kept horses came in by sleigh, if there was anything resembling enough snow to do it. There was a makeshift stable at the church and volunteers to tend the horses, and after church, all the town kids got sleigh rides. The church ladies served hot cider and cocoa and homemade doughnuts, and the choir sang carols.

It was a great event, but Papa already looked tired. “We don’t have to do it this year. Everyone would understand.”

“It’s important to the people in this community.” Papa knelt to polish the sleigh’s runner, adding in a muffled voice, “It was important to your grandmother.”

Jason blew out a sigh, picked up a rag and started cleaning the inside of the old sleigh.

They fed and watered the horses. As they started to pull out the harnesses, Jason noticed the old sleigh bells he and Kimmie had always fought over, each of them wanting to be the one to pin them to the front of the sleigh.

Carefully, eyes watering a little, he hooked the bells in place.

“You know,” Papa said, “this place belongs to you and Kimmie. We set it up so I’m a life tenant, but it’s already yours.”

Jason nodded. He knew about the provisions allowed to family farmers, made to ensure later generations like Jason and Kimmie wouldn’t have to pay heavy inheritance taxes.

“I’m working the farm okay now. But you’ll need to think about the future. There’s gonna come a time when I’m not able.”

“I’m thinking on it.” They’d had this conversation soon after Gran had died, so Jason wondered where his grandfather was going with it.

“I imagine Kimmie left her half to you.”

Oh. That was why. He coughed away the sudden roughness in his throat. “Lawyer’s going to call back tomorrow and go through her will.”

“That’s fine, then.” Papa went to the barn door. “Need a break and some coffee. You finish hitching and pull it up.” He paused, then added, “If you remember how.”

The dig wasn’t lost on Jason. It had been years since he’d driven horses or, for that matter, helped with the farm.

It wasn’t like he’d been eating bonbons or walking on the beach. But he’d definitely let his family down. He had to do better.

By the time he’d figured out the hitches and pulled the sleigh up to the front door of the old white house, Papa was on the porch with a huge armload of blankets. “They’ll be right out,” he said.

“Who?”

“Erica and the babies.”

“Those babies can’t come! They’re little!”

Papa waved a dismissive hand. “We’ve always taken the little ones. Safer than a car.”

“But it’s cold!” Even though it wasn’t frostbite weather, the twins weren’t used to Pennsylvania winters. “They’re from Arizona!”

“So were you, up until you started elementary school.” Papa chuckled. “Why, your parents brought you to visit at Christmas when you were only three months old, and Kimmie was, what, five? You both loved the ride, and no harm done.”

And they’d continued to visit the farm and ride in the sleigh every Christmas after they’d moved back to the Pittsburgh area. Even when their parents had declined to go to church, Gran and Papa had insisted on taking them. Christmases on the farm had been one of the best parts of his childhood.

Maybe Kimmie had held on to some of those memories, too.

He fought down his emotions. “I don’t trust Erica. There’s something going on with her.”

Papa didn’t answer, and when Jason looked up, he saw that Erica had come out onto the porch. Papa just lifted an eyebrow and went to help her get the twins into the sleigh.

Had she heard what he’d said? But what did it matter if she had; she already knew he thought she was hiding something.

“This is amazing!” She stared at the sleigh and horses, round-eyed. “It’s like a movie! Only better. Look, Mikey, horses!” She pointed toward the big furry-footed draft horses, their breath steaming in the cold, crisp air.

“Uuusss,” Mikey said.

Erica’s gloved hand—at least Papa had found her gloves—flew to her mouth. “That’s his second word! Wow!”

“What did he say?” It had sounded like nonsense to Jason.

“He said horse. Didn’t you, you smart boy?” Erica danced the twins around until they both giggled and yelled.

Papa lifted one of the babies from her arms and held him out to Jason. “Hold this one, will you?”

“But I...” He didn’t have a choice, so he took the baby, even though he knew less than nothing about them. In his police work, whenever there’d been a baby to handle, he’d foisted it off on other officers who already had kids.

He put the baby on his knee, and the baby—was this Mikey?—gestured toward the horses and chortled. “Uuusss! Uuusss!”

Oh. Uuusss meant horse.

“I’ll hold this one, and you climb in,” Papa said to Erica. “Then I’ll hand ’em to you one at a time, and you wrap ’em up in those blankets.” Papa sounded like a pro at all of this, and given that he’d done it already for two generations, Jason guessed he was.

Once both twins were bundled, snug between Papa and Erica, Jason set the horses to trotting forward. The sun was up now, making millions of diamonds on the snow that stretched across the hills, far into the distance. He smelled pine, a sharp, resin-laden sweetness.

When he picked up the pace, the sleigh bells jingled.

“Real sleigh bells!” Erica said, and then, as they approached the white covered bridge, decorated with a simple wreath for Christmas, she gasped. “This is the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.”

Jason glanced back, unable to resist watching her fall in love with his home.

Papa was smiling for the first time since he’d learned of Kimmie’s death. And as they crossed the bridge and trotted toward the church, converging with other horse-drawn sleighs, Jason felt a sense of rightness.

“Over here, Mr. S!” cried a couple of chest-high boys, and Jason pulled the sleigh over to their side of the temporary hitching post.

“I’ll tie ’em up,” Papa said, climbing out of the sleigh.

Mikey started babbling to Teddy, accompanied by gestures and much repetition of his new word, uuusss. Teddy tilted his head to one side and burst forth with his own stream of nonsense syllables, seeming to ask a question, batting Mikey on the arm. Mikey waved toward the horses and jabbered some more, as if he were explaining something important.

They were such personalities, even as little as they were. Jason couldn’t help smiling as he watched them interact.

Once Papa had the reins set and the horses tied up, Jason jumped out of the sleigh and then turned to help Erica down. She handed him a twin. “Can you hold Mikey?”

He caught a whiff of baby powder and pulled the little one tight against his shoulder. Then he reached out to help Erica, and she took his hand to climb down, Teddy on her hip.

When he held her hand, something electric seemed to travel right to his heart. Involuntarily he squeezed and held on.

She drew in a sharp breath as she looked at him, some mixture of puzzlement and awareness in her eyes.

And then Teddy grabbed her hair and yanked, and Mikey struggled to get to her, and the connection was lost.

The next few minutes were a blur of greetings and “been too long” came from seemingly everyone in the congregation.

“Jason Stephanidis,” said Mrs. Habler, a good-hearted pillar of the church whom he’d known since childhood. She’d held back until the other congregants had drifted toward the church, probably so she could probe for the latest news. “I didn’t know you were in town.”

He put an arm around her. “Good to see you, Mrs. Habler.”

“And this must be your wife and boys. Isn’t that sweet. Twins have always run in your family. You know, I don’t think your mother ever got over losing her twin so young.”

Mother had been a twin?

Erica cleared her throat. “We’re actually just family friends, passing through. No relation to Jason.”

The words sounded like she’d rehearsed them, not quite natural. And from Mrs. Habler’s pursed lips and wrinkled brow, it looked like she felt the same.

What was Erica’s secret?

And why hadn’t he ever known his mother was a twin?

And wasn’t it curious that, after all these years, there were twins in the farmhouse again?

* * *

When they returned to the farm, Erica’s heart was both aching and full.

After dropping Jason, Erica and the twins in front of the farmhouse—along with the real Christmas tree they’d brought home—Papa insisted on taking the horses and sleigh to the barn himself, even though Erica saw the worried look on Jason’s face.

“Is he going to be okay?” she asked as they hauled the twins’ gear into the house in the midst of Mistletoe’s excited barking.

Jason turned to watch his grandfather drive the sleigh into the barn. “He enjoyed the sleigh ride, but I think picking out a tree brought up too many memories. He’ll spend a few hours in the barn, is my guess. That’s his therapy.”

“He’s upset about Kimmie?”

“Yes. And on top of that, this is his first Christmas without my grandma.”

Her face crinkled with sympathy. “How long were they married?”

“We had a fiftieth-anniversary party for them a couple of years ago,” he said, thinking back. “So I think it was fifty-two years by the time she passed.”

“Did Kimmie come?”

He barked out a disgusted-sounding laugh. “No.”

Not wanting to get into any Kimmie-bashing, Erica changed the subject. “Could we do something to cheer him up?”

He looked thoughtful. “Gran always did a ton of decorating. I’d guess the stuff is up in the attic.” He quirked his mouth. “I’m not very good at it. Neither is Papa. It’s not a guy thing.”

“Sexist,” she scolded. “You don’t need two X chromosomes to decorate.”

“In this family you do. Will you... Would you mind helping me put up at least some of the decorations?” He sounded tentative, unsure of himself, and Erica could understand why. She wasn’t sure if they had a truce or if he was still upset with her about the way she’d handled things with Kimmie.

But it was Christmastime, and an old man needed comfort. “Sure. I just need to put these guys down for a nap. Look at Mikey. He’s about half-asleep already.”

“I’ll start bringing stuff down from the attic.”

Erica carried the babies up the stairs, their large diaper bag slung across her shoulders. Man, she’d never realized how hard it was to single-parent twins.

Not that she’d give up a bit of it. They’d been so adorable wrapped up in their blankets in the sleigh, and everyone at church had made a fuss over them. One of the other mothers in the church, a woman named Sheila, had insisted on going to her truck and getting out a hand-me-down, Mikey-sized snowsuit right then and there. She’d promised to see if she could locate another spare one among her mom friends.

Erica saw, now, why Kimmie had sent her here. It was a beautiful community, aesthetically and heartwise, perfect for raising kids.

She’d love to stay. If only she wasn’t terrified of having them taken from her by the man downstairs.

Kimmie had seemed to feel a mix of love and regret and anger toward her brother. Now that she’d met him, Erica could understand it better.

A free spirit, Kimmie had often been irresponsible, unwilling to do things by the book or follow rules. It was part of why she’d smoked cigarettes and done drugs and gotten in trouble with the police.

Jason seemed to be the exact opposite: responsible, concerned about his grandfather, an officer of the law.

Erica wished with all her heart that she could just reveal the truth to Jason and Papa. She hated this secrecy.

But she would hate even more for Jason to take the twins away from her. This last thing she could do for Kimmie, she’d do.

And it wasn’t one-sided. Kimmie had actually done Erica a favor, offered her a huge blessing.

Erica rarely dated, didn’t really understand the give-and-take of relationships. Certainly, her mother hadn’t modeled anything healthy in that regard. So it was no big surprise that Erica wasn’t attractive to men. She didn’t want to be. She dressed purposefully in utilitarian clothes and didn’t wear makeup. She just didn’t trust men, not with her childhood. And men didn’t like her, at least not romantically.

So the incredible gift that Kimmie had given her that she could never have gotten for herself was a family.

She put the twins down in their portable playpen, settling them on opposite sides, knowing they’d end up tangled together by the end of the nap. Mikey was out immediately, but Teddy needed some back rubbing and quiet talk before he relaxed into sleep.

Pretty soon, they’d need toddler beds. They’d need a lot of things. Including insurance and winter clothing and early intervention services for their developmental delays.

And just how was she going to manage that, when she didn’t have a job, a savings account or a real right to parent the twins?

Teddy kicked and fussed a little, seeming to sense her tension. So she pushed aside her anxiety and prayed for peace and for the twins to be okay and for Papa to receive comfort.

And for Kimmie’s soul.

When she got toward the bottom of the stairs, she paused. Jason was lying on the floor, pouring water into a green-and-red tree stand. Somehow, he’d gotten the tree they’d quickly chosen into the house by himself and set it upright, and it emitted a pungent, earthy scent that was worlds better than the pine room freshener her mother had sometimes sprayed around at Christmastime.

Jason had changed out of church clothes. He wore faded jeans and a sage-green T-shirt that clung to his impressive chest and arms.

Weight lifting was a part of being a cop, she supposed. And obviously, he’d excelled at it.

Her face heating at the direction of her own thoughts, she came the rest of the way down the stairs. “It smells so good! I never had a live tree before.”

“Never?” He looked at her as if she must have been raised in a third world country. “What were your Christmases like?” He eased back from the tree and started opening boxes of decorations.

“Nothing like a TV Christmas movie, but who has that, really? Sometimes Mom would get me a present, and sometimes a Secret Santa or church program would leave something on our doorstep.”

Jason looked at her with curiosity and something that might have been compassion, and she didn’t want that kind of attention. “What about you? Did you and Kimmie and your parents come here for the holidays?”

“My parents loved to travel.” He dug through a box and pulled out a set of green, heart-shaped ornaments. “See? From Ireland. They usually went on an overseas trip or a cruise at Christmas, and every year they brought back ornaments. We have ’em from every continent.”

“Wow. Pretty.” But it didn’t sound very warm and family oriented. “Didn’t they ever take you and Kimmie with them?”

“Nope. Dumped us here. But that was fine with us.” He waved an arm around the high-ceilinged, sunlit room. “Imagine it all decorated, with a whole heap of presents under the tree. Snowball fights and gingerbread cookies and sleigh rides. For a kid, it couldn’t get much better.”

“For a grown-up, too,” she murmured without thinking.

He nodded. “I’m glad to be here. For Papa and for me, too.”

“Where are your parents now?”

“Dad passed about five years ago, and Mom’s living on the French Riviera with her new husband. We exchange Christmas cards.” He sounded blasé about it. But Erica knew how much emotion and hurt a blasé tone could cover.

They spent a couple of hours decorating the tree, spreading garland along the mantel and stringing lights. By the time Erica heard a cry from upstairs, indicating that the twins were waking up, they’d created a practically perfect farm-style Christmas environment.

“Do you need help with the babies?” Jason asked.

She would love to have help, but she knew she shouldn’t start getting used to it. “It’s fine. I’ll get them.”

“I’m going to check on Papa, then.”

Erica’s back was aching by the time she’d changed the twins’ diapers and brought them downstairs, one on each hip. But the couple of hours they’d spent decorating were worth it. When Jason opened the door and Papa came in, his face lit up, even as his hands went to his hips. He shook his head. “You didn’t have to do this. I wasn’t...” He looked away and Erica realized he was choking up. “I wasn’t going to put anything up this year. But seeing as how we have children in the house again...” He broke off.

Erica carried the twins into the front room. “Let’s see how they like all the lights,” she said, and both men seemed glad to have another focus than the losses they were facing.

She sat on the couch and put Mikey on the floor, then Teddy. She waved her hand toward the tree. “Pretty!” she said, and then her own throat tightened, remembering the silver foil tree she’d put up in Kimmie’s apartment. They’d taken a lot of photographs in front of it, Kimmie in her wheelchair holding the twins. Erica had promised to show the twins when they were older, so they’d know how much their mother had loved them.

The boys’ brown eyes grew round as they surveyed the sparkling lights and ornaments.

“Priiiiiy,” Mikey said, cocking his head to one side.

Erica had no time to get excited about Mikey learning another new word because Teddy started to scoot toward the tree, then rocked forward into an awkward crawl.

“Whoa, little man,” Jason said, intercepting him before he could reach the shining ornaments.

“Better put the ornaments higher up and anchor the tree to the wall,” Papa said. “It’s what we used to do for you and your sister. You were a terrible one for pulling things off the tree. One year, you even managed to climb it!”

Jason picked up Teddy and plunked him back down on the floor beside Mikey, but not before Erica had seen the red spots on the baby’s knees. “I need to get them some long pants,” she fretted. “Sturdy ones, if he’s going to be mobile.”

“Can you afford it?” Jason asked.

Erica thought of the stash of money Kimmie had given her. She’d spent more than half of it on the cross-country drive; even being as frugal as possible in terms of motels and meals, diapers didn’t come cheap. “I can afford some.”

Questions lurked in his eyes, but he didn’t give them voice.

Teddy rocked back and forth and got himself on hands and knees again, then crawled—backward—toward Mistletoe, who lay by the gas fire. Quickly, Jason positioned himself to block the baby if needed.

Mistletoe nuzzled Teddy, then gave his face a couple of licks.

Teddy laughed and waved his arms.

“Not very sanitary,” Papa commented.

“Oh, well,” Erica and Jason said at the same time.

From the kitchen came a buzzing sound and Erica realized it was her phone. She went in and grabbed it. An Arizona number. She walked back into the front room’s doorway and clicked to accept the call.

“Hello,” came an unfamiliar voice. “Erica Lindholm?”

“That’s me.”

“This is Ryan Finnigan. An old friend of Kimmie Stephanidis. Do you have a moment to talk?”

She looked at the twins. “Can you watch the boys?” she asked the two men.

Jason looked a little daunted, but Papa nodded and waved a hand. “Go ahead. We’ll be fine.”

She headed through the kitchen to the dining room. “I’m here.”

“I’m not only an old friend, but I’m Miss Stephanidis’s attorney,” the man said.

“Kimmie had an attorney?” Kimmie had barely been organized enough to buy groceries.

“Not exactly. The medical personnel who brought her to the hospital, after her overdose, happened to find one of my business cards and gave me a call. I went to see her, and we made a will right there in the hospital. None too soon, I’m afraid.”

She was glad to know that Kimmie had had a friend near and that she’d been under medical care, and said so.

“I did what I could. I was...rather fond of her, at one time.” He cleared his throat. “She let me know her wishes, and I was able to carry those out. But as for her estate...she’s left you her half of the Holly Creek Farm.”

“What?” Erica’s voice rose up into a squeak and she felt for the nearest chair and sat down.

“She’s left you half the farm her family owns. It’s a small, working farm in Western Pennsylvania. The other half belongs to her brother.”

“Half of Holly Creek Farm? And it’s, like, legal?”

“It certainly is.”

She sat a moment, trying to digest this news.

“I’m sure it’s a lot to take in,” the lawyer said after a moment. “Do you have any questions for me, off the top of your head?”

“Did Kimmie...” She trailed off, peeked through the kitchen into the front room to make sure no one could hear. “Look, is this confidential?”

“Absolutely.”

“Did she leave any instructions about her children?”

“Her children?”

“I take it that’s a no.” Oh, Kimmie, why would you provide for them with the farm, but not grant me guardianship?

“If Kimmie did have children...the most important thing would be that they’re safe, in an acceptable home.”

“Right. That’s right.” She didn’t want to admit to anything, but if he’d been fond of Kimmie at one time, as he’d mentioned, he would obviously be concerned.

He cleared his throat. “Just speaking hypothetically, if Kimmie had children and died without leaving any written instructions, they would become wards of the state.”

Erica’s heart sank.

“Unless...is there a father in the picture?”

“No,” she said through an impossibly dry mouth. Kimmie had told her that after abandoning her and the twins, the babies’ father had gone to prison with a life sentence, some drug-related theft gone bad.

“If there’s no evidence that someone like you—hypothetically—had permission to take her children, no birth certificates, nothing, then any concerned party could make a phone call to Children and Youth Services.”

“And they’d take the children?” She could hear the breathy fear in her voice.

“They might.”

“But...this is hypothetical. You wouldn’t—”

“Purely hypothetical. I’m not calling anyone. Now, even if the state has legal custody, if you have physical custody—and the children in question are doing well in your care—then the courts might decide it’s in the best interest of the children for you to retain physical custody.”

“I see.” It’s not enough.

“None of this might come up for a while, not until medical attention is needed or the children start school.”

Or early intervention. Erica’s heart sank even as she berated herself for not thinking it all through. “If it did come up...would there be some kind of hearing?”

“Yes, and at that time, any relative who had questions or concerns could raise them.” He paused. “It seems Kimmie had very few personal effects, but whatever there is will be sent to her family as soon as possible.”

Her hands were so sweaty she could barely keep a grip on the cell phone. “Thank you. This has been very helpful.”

“Oh, one more thing,” the lawyer said. “You’ll be wanting to know the executor of Kimmie’s will.”

“It’s not you?”

“No. I’m happy to help, of course, but if there’s a capable family member, I usually recommend that individual.”

Erica had a sinking feeling she knew where this was going. “Who is it?”

“It’s her brother. Jason Stephanidis.”

Chapter Three

The next morning, Jason padded down the stairs toward the warmth of coffee and the kitchen. Noticing a movement in the front room, he stopped to look in.

There was his grandfather, in his everyday flannel shirt and jeans, staring out the window while holding a ceramic angel they’d set on the mantel yesterday. As Jason watched, Papa set it down and moved over to a framed Christmas photo of Jason and Kimmie as young kids, visiting Santa. Papa looked at it, ran a finger over it, shook his head.

Jason’s chest felt heavy, knowing there was precious little he could do to relieve his grandfather’s suffering.

But whatever he could do, he would. He’d been a negligent grandson, but no more.

Mistletoe leaned against his leg and panted up at him.

He gave the dog a quick head rub and then walked into the room just as Papa set down the photograph he’d been studying and turned. His face lit up. “Just the man I want to see. Come get some coffee. Got an idea to run by you.”

“Yeah?” Jason slung an arm around his grandfather’s shoulders as they walked into the kitchen. He poured them both a fresh cup of coffee, black. “What’ve you got in mind?”

Papa pulled a chair up to the old wooden table and sat down. “Got someone coming over to do a little investigating about our guests.”

“You, too?” Jason was relieved that he wasn’t the only one who felt suspicious. In a corner of his mind, he’d worried that it was as Renea had said: he couldn’t trust, couldn’t be a family person. “I can’t figure out why Kimmie left the farm to her. What were they to each other?” As executor of the estate, he needed to know.

The mere thought of there being an estate—of Kimmie being gone—racked his chest with a sudden ache so strong he had to sit down at the table to keep from falling apart.

“I’m thinking about those babies, for one thing,” Papa said unexpectedly.

“What about them?”

“Something’s not right about them, but I don’t know what it is. So I’ve got Ruthie Delacroix coming over this morning. There’s nobody knows as much about babies as Ruthie.”

Jason remembered the woman, vaguely, from visits home; she’d always had a child on her hip at church, and he seemed to recall she ran a child care operation on the edge of town.

“And that’s not all I’m wondering,” Papa said darkly, “but first things first.”

Jason grinned. Papa conniving and plotting was better than Papa grieving.

“I figure I have to take the lead on this, since you haven’t shown a whole lot of sense about women. When you brought home that skinny thing—what was her name? Renea?—and said you were going to marry her, your grandmother had a fit.”

Jason wasn’t going to rise to that bait. And he wasn’t going to think about Renea. He got up and started wiping down the already-clean counters.

No sooner had his grandfather headed upstairs to his bedroom than Jason heard the sound of babies babbling and laughing, matched by Erica’s melodic, soothing voice. A moment later, she appeared, a baby in each arm.

Even without a trace of makeup, her fair skin seemed to glow. Her hair wasn’t styled, but clipped back, with strands already escaping.

His heart rate picked up just looking at her.

As she nuzzled one of the baby’s heads—was that Mikey or Teddy?—he was drawn into her force field. “Want me to hold one of them?”

And where did that come from? He never, but never, offered to hold a baby.

“Um...sure!” She nodded toward the wigglier baby. “Take Teddy. But keep a grip on him. He’s a handful. I just need to get them some breakfast.” As she spoke, she strapped Mikey into the old wooden high chair.

Jason sat down and held the baby on his knee, studying him, wondering what Papa saw that made him worry. But the kid looked healthy and lively to him as he waved his arms and banged the table, trying to get Erica’s attention.

Which seemed perfectly sensible to Jason. Even in old jeans and a loose blue sweater, Erica was a knockout. Any male would want her attention.

Nostalgia pierced him. Erica moved around the room easily, already comfortable, starting to know where things were. It made him think of his grandfather sitting at this very table after a long day of farmwork, his grandmother bustling around fixing food, declining all offers of help in the kingdom that was her kitchen.

Papa was grieving the loss of his wife now, but his life had been immeasurably enriched by his family. In fact, it was impossible to think of Papa without thinking of all those who loved him. And when Jason and Kimmie had needed some extra parenting, Papa and Gran had opened their arms without a second thought. They’d been the making of Jason’s childhood.

Unfortunately, Kimmie had seen more neglect before Papa and Gran had stepped in. She’d never quite recovered from their parents’ lack of real love.

“Would you like some oatmeal?” Erica asked a few minutes later, already dishing up four bowls, two big and two small. “I’m sorry, I should’ve asked rather than assuming. The twins love oatmeal, and so do I, and it’s about the most economical breakfast you can find.”

“That would be great.” He shifted Teddy on his knee. “Put his down here and I’ll try to feed him. No guarantees, though.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“It’s no problem. You had the care of them all night. At least you ought to get a minute to eat a bowl of oatmeal yourself.”

“That would be a treat.” She placed a small bowl beside his larger one and handed him a bib and a spoon. “Go to it.”

Trying to get spoonfuls of oatmeal into a curious baby proved a challenge, and as Erica expertly scooped the cereal into Mikey’s mouth, she laughed at Jason’s attempts. How she managed two, as a single mom, he couldn’t fathom.

“Hey now,” he said when Teddy blew a raspberry that spattered oatmeal all over himself, the high chair and Jason. “Give me a break. I don’t know what I’m doing here.”

“Teddy! Behave yourself!” A smile tugged at Erica’s face as she passed Jason a cloth. “When he spits like that, he’s probably done. Just wipe his face and we’ll let them crawl around a little.”

Mistletoe had been weaving between their legs, licking up the bits of oatmeal and banana that hit the floor. Jason reached down to pat the dog at the same moment Erica did.

Their hands brushed—and Jason felt it to his core. “Nothing like a canine vacuum cleaner,” he tried to joke. And kept his hand on the dog, hoping for another moment of contact with Erica.

“I know, right? We totally should have gotten them a dog back in Arizona.”

And then her hand went still. When he looked up at her face, it had gone still, too.

“Who?” Jason asked. “You and their dad?”

“I should have gotten them a dog,” she said, not looking at him. “I meant, I should have.”

The detective in him stored away that remark as relevant. And it was a good reminder, he reflected as they both scarfed down the rest of their breakfast without more talk. He couldn’t trust Erica, didn’t know what she had been to Kimmie. Getting domestic with her would only cloud his judgment. More than likely, she’d been a bad influence, dragging Kimmie down.

Beyond that likelihood, he needed to remember that he was no good at family relationships. He was here, in part, to see if he could reset his values, and he’d vowed to himself that he wouldn’t even try to start anything with a woman until he’d improved significantly in that regard. It wasn’t fair to either him or the woman.

* * *

Just moments later, as Jason finished up the breakfast dishes, there was a pounding on the door. Mistletoe ran toward it, barking, as Papa came out of his room and trotted down the stairs to the entryway. Jason heard the door open and then his grandfather’s hearty greeting.

Immediately, the noise level jumped up a notch. “Hey there, Andy! What’s this I hear about babies in the place?”

An accompanying wail revealed that she’d brought at least one baby with her. Probably her grandson, whom she seemed to bring everywhere.

Jason walked into the front room, where Erica was sitting on the floor with the twins. “Ruth Delacroix,” he said in answer to Erica’s questioning expression. “She’s a force of nature. Prepare yourself.”

“Good morning, everyone!” Ruth cried as she came in, giving Jason a big hug and kiss around the baby she held on one hip. Then she spun toward Erica. “And you must be Erica. Andy was telling me about you, that you’re here for a visit with some... Oh my, aren’t they adorable!”

“Let’s sit down,” Papa suggested, “and Jason will bring us all out some coffee. Isn’t that right?”

“Sure.” Jason didn’t mind playing host. He was glad to see his grandfather seeming a little peppier.

When he carried a tray with coffee cups, sugar and milk into the front room, the three babies were all on the floor, and Ruth and Erica were there with them. The pine scent from the Christmas tree was strong, and the sun sparkled bright through the windows, making the ornaments glisten. Papa had turned on the radio and Christmas music poured out.

“Mason! Stop that!” Ruth scrambled after her toddling grandbaby with more agility than Jason could muster up, most days, even though Ruth had to have thirty years on him. “He’s a handful, ever since he started to walk.”

Teddy, not to be outdone, started scooting toward the shiny tree, and Mikey observed with round eyes, legs straight out in front of him.

“Like I said,” Ruth continued, “I’m down a kid, so I’d be glad to watch these little sweethearts anytime you need. A couple of my regular clients are off this week and kept their little ones at home.”

“Thanks.” Erica was dangling a toy in front of Mikey, who reached for it. “I’m not sure quite what I’ll be doing, but knowing there’s someone who could look after the twins for a few hours is wonderful. I really appreciate you thinking of it,” she added to Papa Andy.

“No problem, sweetheart.” Papa took a small ornament off the tree and held it out to Jason. “Remember this?”

“The lump!” Jason laughed at the misshapen clay blob. “Haven’t seen that in years. That’s my masterpiece, right?”

“You were pretty proud of it. Insisted on hanging it in a place of honor every Christmas, at least until you turned into an embarrassed teenager. And so here it is right now.”

Jason smiled as Papa reminisced, egged on by Ruth and Erica. This was important, and Jason was starting to realize it was what he wanted for himself. Traditions and family, carried on from generation to generation. Just because his own parents hadn’t done a good job of making a true home for him and Kimmie, that didn’t mean he had to follow their patterns. He wanted to be more like Papa.

He had some work to do on himself first.

While he reflected, he’d been absently watching Erica—she was easy on the eyes, for sure—so he noticed when her expression got guarded and he tuned back into the conversation.

“What are they, seven, eight months?” Ruth was saying. “They’re big boys.”

“They’re fifteen months,” Erica said.

“Oh.” Ruth frowned, and then her face cleared. “Well, Mason, here, he’s real advanced. Started walking at ten months.”

“They have some delays.” Erica picked up Mikey and held him high, then down, high, then down, jumping him until he chortled.

Teddy did his strange little scoot crawl in their direction. Jason noticed then that Ruth’s grandson was indeed a lot more mobile than the twins, a real pro at pushing himself to his feet and toddling around.

“Why are they delayed?” Ruth asked. “Problems at birth?”

“You might say that.” Erica swooped Mikey down in front of his brother, and the two laughed.

Teddy pointed at the tree. “Da-da-da-DA-da-da,” he said, leaning forward to look at Mikey.

“Da-da-da-da-da!” Mikey waved a hand as if to agree with what his twin brother had said.

Teddy burst out with a short laugh, and that made Mikey laugh, too.

“Now, isn’t that cute. Twin talk.” Ruth went off into a story about some twins she’d known who had communicated together in a mysterious language all through elementary school.

As the women got deeper into conversation about babies, Papa gestured Jason into the kitchen. He pulled a baggie from a box and started spooning baking soda into it.

“What are you doing?”

“You’ll see.” He tossed the baggie onto the counter and then pulled out a couple of syringes. He grabbed a spoon from the silverware drawer.

Jason stared. “Where’d you get that stuff and what are you doing with it?”

“From your narco kit, and it’s just a little test. You’ll see.”

“But you can’t... That’s not—”

“Come on, hide in the pantry!” Papa shoved Jason toward the small room just off the kitchen. “Hey, Erica, where did you put those baby snack puffs?” he called into the front room.

There was a little murmuring between the two women as Papa hastily stepped into the pantry and edged around Jason. “Watch for anything suspicious,” he ordered.

Helpless to stop the plan Papa had set into motion, Jason watched as Erica came into the kitchen, opened a cupboard and pulled out some kind of baby treats. Behind her, Mistletoe sat, held up a paw and cocked his head.

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