The Christmas Village

Book 2: Somerset Lake

by Annie Rains

Genres: Sagas; Small Town & Rural; Women's Fiction; Clean & Wholesome Romance; Contemporary Romance

Synopsis

USA Today bestselling author Annie Rains returns to Somerset Lake, North Carolina, with a heartwarming Christmas story about a midwife and her ex-fiance who face high stakes when they must team up to compete in the neighborhood house decorating contest, in this trade paperback that will help get readers in the holiday spirit. Once upon a Christmas, she gave him her heart. This year, he'll have to win it back again . . . When Lucy Hannigan returned to her childhood home in Somerset Lake, one of the first things she did was join the local book club. And thank goodness, because now that Lucy’s first Christmas without her mother is bearing down upon her, she can use all the help and support she can get.  Especially when she has to take in a tenant and the only person interested is Miles Bruno, her ex-fiance. Lucy’s friends keep teasing her about the way Miles is trying to make up for his mistakes but forgiving and forgetting isn’t coming easily to Lucy. With bills piling up and her mother’s finances in disarray, however, Lucy isn’t in any position to say no. As the small town prepares for the holidays and competition heats up in the Merriest Lawn decorating contest, Lucy can’t help feeling like a Scrooge. Her mom loved the holidays and won the contest each year, but as much as Lucy would like to carry on the tradition, she isn’t sure she has it in her to deck the halls this holiday. Yet when Miles shows up with tons of tinsel, dozens of decorations, and lots and lots of lights, Lucy begins to wonder if maybe the spirit of the season will finally mend her broken heart.

Release date: October 12, 2021

Publisher: Grand Central Publishing

Print pages: 416

Sample

Chapter One

A noise woke Lucy Hannigan. She peered into the darkness of her bedroom, heart thumping beneath her heavy quilt, and waited to hear it again.

Or hopefully not hear it again.

Another loud bang had her body shooting upright in bed. It sounded like something had been knocked over outside. Was someone at her back door?

Lucy grabbed her iPhone on the bedside table and looked at the time. Five a.m. wasn’t the hour for friendly visitors. But if this was just a friendly guest, then whoever was making the ruckus would ring the doorbell. From the back side of the house, someone would need to open Lucy’s fence, which was secured by a lock.

Lucy eyed her French bulldog, Bella, who was snoring soundly in the corner of the room. “Some guard dog you are,” she whispered, standing on shaky legs, her ears tuned to anything that went bump in the night—er, early morning.

Lucy had been out late, helping to deliver a baby at Maria Fernandez’s house. Being a midwife, she was used to keeping late hours, but she’d hoped to sleep in this morning. Now she was wide awake with adrenaline pumping through her veins.

Something scraped against Lucy’s back porch. She stood frozen for a moment. This time, Bella opened her eyes and lifted her head.

“Bella, bark,” Lucy whisper-shouted. Perhaps the sound of a ferocious canine would frighten the intruder away. “Bark!”

Lucy had inherited her mom’s old French bulldog along with this excessively large home in The Village, the oldest neighborhood in Somerset Lake, North Carolina. The house had belonged in her family for generations along with half the businesses in town. Along the way, families had grown smaller, businesses had been sold off, and all that was left in the Hannigan family now was Lucy and this pink house.

“Bella, bark!” she ordered again.

Instead, Bella lowered her head, closed her eyes, and huffed softly. Once upon a time, Bella had been trained to be a watchdog. Now she could barely hear or see. She could still catch a scent though. That wasn’t helpful at this moment.

Lucy stepped out of her bedroom. It was the only one downstairs. She did everything on the first floor because Bella couldn’t climb the stairs anymore. For the most part, Lucy just pretended that the second level of the house didn’t exist. This house was big enough for two large families to live comfortably. It felt a bit wasteful to have so much unused space.

She shuffled quietly down the hall in socked feet, her heart pumping as she clutched her cell phone in her hand.

What did she really think she was going to do if she ran into a burglar? Invite him in for coffee?

The noise happened again. Lucy gasped. Then she simultaneously pressed the Power button and the Volume button on her iPhone four times in quick succession—the shortcut to dial 911. The phone immediately began to sound an alarm that punctured the darkness. This time, Bella scurried out of the bedroom with a few loud barks.

Lucy held the phone to her ear, her hand shaking so hard she could barely keep from dropping it.

“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?” a familiar woman’s voice asked.

“Moira?” Lucy whispered. Moira was one of Lucy’s best friends, and she worked as an emergency services dispatcher in town.

“Lucy?” Moira asked. “Why are you calling me here? This line is for emergencies only.”

Lucy leaned against the wall in the hallway, one hand pressed to her chest. Her heartbeat forcefully thumped the pads of her fingers. “This is an emergency. I think someone is breaking into my home. There are noises on the back porch. Can you send a deputy? Or the whole sheriff’s department?”

Moira asked a few more questions and kept Lucy on the line. She was so professional that Lucy almost forgot that the woman helping was her sarcastic best friend. Minutes felt like hours and then someone rang her front doorbell.

Bella ran ahead of Lucy, stopping behind the front door and barking in a deep, misleading baritone.

Lucy followed and went up on her tiptoes to look out the peephole. A Somerset Lake sheriff’s deputy was standing on her porch. She wobbled on her toes until she could also see the man’s face. Black hair, dark eyes.

“Is that a deputy?” Moira asked, her tone continuing to exude calm professionalism.

“Yes.” Lucy returned to flat feet. Her heart was racing for a whole other reason now.

“So you’re safe to disconnect this call?” Moira asked.

“Yes. Thank you. We’ll have coffee later?” Lucy asked.

Moira audibly sighed. “These calls are recorded, Luce. Just text my cell.”

“Right.” Lucy tapped End on her phone’s screen, reached for the doorknob, but hesitated. Of all the deputies at the Somerset Lake Sheriff’s Department, why was Miles Bruno the one who responded to the call?

The doorbell chimed again.

This time, Lucy sucked in a breath and turned the knob. She opened the door and peered back at Miles, almost forgetting that she was terrified of whatever was making the noises on her back porch. This man still had a hold over her, even twelve years after he’d broken off their brief engagement.

“What’s going on?” he asked, his tone just as professional as Moira’s had been.

Lucy pointed in the opposite direction. “The back porch. There’s a noise.” She hugged her arms around her chest, realizing that she was wearing a too-thin cotton pajama top and pants. It was late November, and the chilly air zipped right past Miles, through her door, and penetrated her clothing.

Another noise had Lucy whirling in the direction of her kitchen, which led to the back door. “Did you hear that?” she asked breathlessly.

Without answering, he stepped over the threshold and walked past her.

What kind of egotistical burglar continued to break in once a sheriff’s car had pulled into the driveway?

Lucy locked the front door behind Miles, just in case the burglar decided to run around to the other side of the house. She heard Miles open the back door and braced herself for a fight. Good guy versus the bad one. What if the bad guy won? What if he had a weapon?

I should hide.

Lucy looked around the living room, which still housed her parents’ furniture. Everything she owned had belonged to her mom. Her father had passed away when she was in college. One morning, he’d had a heart attack in his sleep and never woke up. Lucy had been devastated at the time but losing her mom last year hurt even more.

Lucy hurried over to the couch and squatted down, sandwiching herself between it and the end table. She’d always been horrible at hide-and-seek as a child. Anyone with two good eyes would find her, especially since her breathing was so shallow that her lungs were making a scraping sound. She momentarily tried to stop breathing but that only resulted in an audible gasp a minute later and more shallow breaths.

She listened for what felt like an eternity. Then she heard heavy footsteps approaching.

Please be Miles. Please be Miles.

She squeezed her eyes shut and then jumped as Miles called her name.

“Lucy? I’ve dealt with your burglar. It’s safe to come out now.”

The breath whooshed out of her lungs. The good guy had won. Miles had always been one of the good guys, even when her broken heart had told her he was one of the bad.

*  *  *

As soon as Miles heard the address, he’d known whose house he was en route to. Lucy Hannigan had lived in the pink house on Christmas Lane since she was a kid. And since they were teenagers all tangled up in the thrill of first love.

Lucy peered up at him from her hiding place behind the couch.

“There was never a burglar,” he said. “But if there was, that would be an awful hiding spot.”

Lucy frowned up at him. “Well, I didn’t have a lot of time to find a better one.”

He chuckled and offered his hand to help her stand.

She hesitated, and he knew she was just stubborn enough not to take it. Lucy was independent—that’s something he’d always admired about her. All the women in his life had that in common. His mom, his sister, Ava. His aunt Ruth. Not that Lucy was a woman in Miles’s life anymore. She was more of a friend who kept him at an arm’s length. He couldn’t say he blamed her.

Lucy surprised him by extending her arm and slipping her hand in his, palm to palm. He tugged gently, and she came up fast and close, her green eyes narrowing in. Her soft pink lips puckered and made a small O of surprise. “Thank you,” she said a little breathlessly—probably because she was still calming down from the scare.

“You’re welcome.” He didn’t release her hand immediately. She didn’t let go either. Instead, they looked at each other for a long moment. Once upon a time, Miles could swear he saw forever in those eyes of hers, reaching across time to old age. He’d been able to imagine Lucy’s red-toned hair turning a soft white and her sitting on a front porch swing still holding his hand somewhere.

Lucy pulled her hand away and dropped it down by her side. Her gaze flitted past him, a look of uncertainty crossing her expression. “If it wasn’t a burglar,” she said, “what was making all that noise?”

“An opossum. The little guy had his head stuck in a mason jar on your back porch. Want to see?”

Lucy looked horrified. She shook her head quickly. “No, that’s okay. The mason jar is for harvesting rainwater,” she explained. “My mom used it to—”

“Wash her face and hair.” He nodded. “I know.”

It was a Hannigan family beauty secret. That beauty secret had been common knowledge since Reva Dawson had put it up on her town blog a couple years ago, boasting something about pH levels and minerals and referencing the Hannigan beauty. Miles had seen a lot of rainwater jars out on folks’ back porches since then. The Hannigan name had always been able to sell anything in this town. Even an old wives’ tale.

“The creature is still in my jar?” Lucy folded her arms in front of her. Either because she was cold—the house was a little drafty—or because she was protecting herself, and not from a burglar this time.

“Yes. You had a plastic bin on your porch. I contained it inside to make sure it didn’t run off while I talked to you.” Miles grimaced. “I’ll try not to break the jar but I wanted to make sure you won’t be upset if I do.”

Her arms loosened and dropped by her side. Lucy looked from him to the back door and the critter beyond. “Those jars cost less than a dollar. The thing needs to breathe.”

“He’s getting enough to stay alive right now.”

“No. You should free him.” She shook her head. “It’s just a jar. I can get another at the store—really.”

But Miles suspected the jar held sentimental value. It was her mother’s, just like the house and her dog. He’d been worried about Lucy since her mother passed. He saw something sad when he looked into her eyes. He’d wanted to reach out to her many times over the last twelve months but he’d always hesitated. She had close friends, and he doubted she wanted to hear from him.

“Go. I don’t want that thing to die on my watch.” Lucy gave his shoulder a little shove, the unexpected touch shooting unexpected warmth through him.

Miles started walking toward the back door, sending up a little prayer that he could save the opossum, the jar, and Lucy’s heart. He stepped outside with Bella at his heels. She hurried over and sniffed the thing with its head in the jar. When it swung wildly toward her, she took off, running back inside.

Miles chuckled to himself. “Don’t worry, little guy. I got you. You’re creating quite the commotion this morning, you know,” he told the opossum. It was gray with a white face and bright pink nose. Kind of cute, maybe, but this wasn’t the first opossum Miles had come in contact with. He knew they had teeth like razor blades, and he didn’t really want those teeth to come anywhere near him. The last thing he needed this holiday season was rabies.

“Okay, you grab the jar. I’ll grab the opossum,” he told Lucy, whose eyes grew wide. “Unless you’d rather touch the critter,” he said, knowing full well she wouldn’t.

She shook her head quickly, making him chuckle.

He grabbed the opossum’s backside first. Then Lucy bent and secured the jar. They both straightened and looked at one another. Of all the ways Miles imagined he might get close to Lucy Hannigan again, having an opossum in a rainwater jar between them wasn’t one of them. “On my count,” he said.

She nodded, her green eyes still locked on his. She stepped away from the jar now, holding it far away from her body as if the creature might escape and launch itself at her.

They both lowered back to the ground and prepared to pull in opposite directions.

Miles’s fingers tightened just enough around the creature to keep it still. As soon as its head was free, he was going to let go and let it scurry off this porch. “One. Two. Three.” He pulled the critter. Lucy pulled the jar. The opossum was free with a quick pop of its head. Miles’s fingers flung open, almost tossing the creature in the direction of the steps so that Lucy didn’t freak out. From his peripheral vision, he could see that she was dancing on her feet, freaking out anyway as she watched the scene unfold.

Miles smiled to himself. It took all of five seconds for the opossum to disappear into the night.

Miles looked over at Lucy. “You okay?”

She looked a bit shell-shocked. “Yes. That was certainly an adventure for one night.”

“Well, it’s kind of already morning.” He tipped his head at the scattering of light rising behind the mountain skyline. The mountains of North Carolina were softer than those on the West Coast. These rolled like a lazy river along the clouds. Any which way you turned in Somerset Lake, the view was the same—all sky and Blue Ridge peaks.

“I guess it is,” Lucy said. She hugged the mason jar to her body. “And I will be wide awake for the rest of the morning. I was hoping to sleep in.”

“Late night?” he asked.

“Nine hours of labor and delivery,” Lucy confirmed. “But at the end of it, there was a healthy baby and two very exhausted and happy parents.”

“A tired midwife too,” Miles added.

“Yes.” Lucy broke into a yawn. “But after all this excitement, there’s no hope of going back to bed now.”

Miles couldn’t take his eyes off her as she fidgeted with the strings of her pajama pants and patted down her long auburn hair. “The bright side is you can enjoy your coffee while watching the sunrise.”

Lucy noticeably stiffened. No, he hadn’t been referring to the time they’d done that when they were eighteen—hers had been decaf because of the baby. Judging by her face, however, that’s exactly what she was thinking about.

Time to leave.

Miles walked past Lucy and back inside the house. “I’m still on duty,” he said as if to explain his rush. Not that she’d invited him to stay and catch up or enjoy a cup of coffee with her. “Do you mind if I wash my hands at your sink?”

“Of course. After rescuing me from my burglar, that’s the least I can do,” she said, following him inside the kitchen.

“You didn’t need rescuing,” he called behind him. “Although, I guess you would still be crouched between the wall and the couch right now if not for me,” he teased. He turned on the faucet and pumped some soap from the dispenser into his palm.

After getting cleaned up, he headed toward the front of the house. He opened the door and stepped out onto the porch. “See you later, Lucy,” he called over his shoulder.

“Goodbye. And Miles?”

He stopped walking and turned back. “Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“Just doing my job. And I’m glad I was the one who got the call. It’s good to see you, Luce. Have a good day.” He headed down the steps and made quick strides to his cruiser.

Once he was inside his car, he blew out a breath and flicked his gaze to Lucy, who was still standing in her open doorway. After a second, she turned back and closed the door behind her. Miles reversed out of her driveway to finish his shift. After that, he’d be going straight to the Youth Center, where he volunteered regularly.

With Thanksgiving coming next Thursday, the kids at the center were finishing up charity meal baskets. Once upon a time, Miles’s family had been the one in need. These days, the Bruno family was doing all right, even if they’d never lived in a fancy mansion-size house like Lucy’s in The Village. Miles had a good job with a stable income. Next on his list was to purchase a house of his own. Maybe after that, he’d finally be ready to settle down.

The problem was that he’d ruined any chances with the only person he’d ever been interested in spending his life with. It was kind of hard to take back telling your ex-fiancée that the reason you’d proposed was because you’d felt obligated.

Ouch.

But telling Lucy the truth would sting a whole lot more—which was why he never would.

Chapter Two

Lucy stepped into Sweetie’s Bake Shop later that morning, dragging her feet and in desperate need of a double espresso. She’d just left a client’s home and really wanted something stiffer than her usual French roast brew.

The mother-to-be that Lucy had just visited didn’t respect Lucy’s time. The TV in her living room had been blaring, and the future mom was doing laundry in between Lucy’s midwifery services, making what should have been a thirty-minute house call last well over an hour. This was one of those times, rare as they were, when Lucy missed being an obstetric nurse in a hospital setting.

“Hey, sweetie.” The café’s owner, Darla, waved from behind the counter. Never one to mince words, she said, “You look rough. Are you meeting my daughter here this morning?”

“Yes. Moira said she’d stop by after her shift.” The shift where Moira had answered Lucy’s 911 call. How embarrassing. Lucy was never going to live this down with her best friend. “Can I get a double espresso please?”

“Of course, you can. And I’ll go ahead and make Moira’s coffee too.”

Lucy had no doubt that Darla knew exactly how her daughter drank her brew. Moira had always been an old soul, drinking black coffee since she was seven and reading the newspaper before she’d ever reached double digits.

“And what’ll you have to eat?” Darla wanted to know. “How about a Sweetie Pastry?” Instead of naming the bakery after herself, Darla had titled it in honor of the Sweetheart Tree on the edge of Somerset Lake where lovers sometimes carved their initials.

Lucy looked at the food in the display longingly. Everything looked as good as it tasted. Lucy knew this firsthand because she’d sampled every cookie, pastry, and muffin on the menu. “A pastry sounds delicious but I think today I’ll have a French baguette.”

“You got it.” Darla took Lucy’s debit card, ran it through the scanner, and handed it back. Then she prepared Lucy’s espresso and slid it across the counter along with the baguette wrapped in a square of parchment paper. “I’ll bring Moira’s breakfast over in just a sec.”

Lucy thanked her and then found a seat along the wall of the bakery, which was decorated in soft pastel colors. Lucy settled at her table and took a sip of her espresso, looking up when someone called her name.

“Morning, Lucy,” Mayor Gil Ryan said as he walked toward the counter.

“Hey, Gil.” Lucy didn’t harass the poor guy by calling him Gilbert the way that the guys in town did, knowing how much he hated that. Lucy thought it was a nice name though. It brought back memories of her teenage years reading Anne of Green Gables and falling hopelessly and helplessly for the character Gilbert Blythe.

Lucy pulled a piece off her baguette and popped it into her mouth, almost sighing at the cottony texture of the bread that practically dissolved when it hit her tongue. She hoped Gil would get his breakfast and move on quickly before Moira arrived. Moira always got a little frustrated with Gil’s attention. He wasn’t flirty or inappropriate in any way. He was just nice. And he was extra nice to Moira.

Darla, knowing her daughter and probably thinking the same thing, was quick in giving the good mayor his coffee and Danish. As Gil headed out with his breakfast in hand, he waved to Lucy. “See you later.”

“Bye, Mayor Gil,” she called back.

A moment later, Moira strolled in with their friend Tess at her side. Tess owned Lakeside Books and led the book club they attended every Thursday night.

“Thank goodness Gil is gone,” Moira huffed as she laid her purse on the chair across from Lucy’s. She sat down, and Tess took the seat right next to Lucy.

“I saw Somerset’s friendly mayor come in and waited around the corner to avoid him,” Moira explained.

Tess rolled her eyes and shook her head. “And I caught her in the act on my way here.”

Lucy giggled, nearly choking on another bite of her baguette. “Gil is nice. Handsome.” She ticked off the mayor’s positive qualities on her right hand. “He’s smart. Rich. A genuinely good person. What am I missing?”

“You’re missing the fact that I’m not romantically interested in him.”

Darla stepped over with Moira’s coffee, bagel, and a kiss on the cheek for her only daughter, leaving a bright pink lipstick print in her wake. She also placed a coffee and bagel in front of Tess. “Morning, Tess. I’m assuming you want your usual?”

Tess reached for the drink. “Thank you, Darla.”

“Of course.” Darla looked at Moira. “How was the night shift?”

She blew out a breath as her bottom lip poked out. “Awful. I can’t wait for Celia to get back from her honeymoon so I can return to working days.”

“She’s a newlywed. They should be up all night for entirely different reasons,” Darla said with a snicker.

Moira reached for her coffee. “Thank you for this, Mom. I need it.” She sipped it gratefully.

“Of course. Let me know if you three ladies need anything else.” Darla turned and headed back to the counter.

“So…” Moira said. Judging by the grin on her face, she knew what had happened with Lucy’s burglar. “An opossum, huh? Did he steal anything valuable?”

“Only my pride.” Lucy rolled her eyes and sipped her espresso. “I’m guessing Moira told you what happened this morning?” she asked Tess.

Tess nodded. “I never knew you were so jumpy.”

“The opossum was loud, okay? Very loud. And I live alone in a huge house with a ton of things that someone might want to take. How was I supposed to know it was an animal?”

Moira cackled and bit into her bagel with a loud crunch. “And Miles was the one who responded,” she said after chewing and swallowing. “How did that go?” She waggled her eyebrows.

Lucy was beginning to regret asking Moira to meet her here. “He saved the creature and left.”

Tess looked disappointed. “That’s it? I thought there might be something juicier to that story.” Although a widow, Tess was the romantic of the group. All the books she chose for book club always had a happy ending. She wouldn’t hear of it otherwise. Lucy guessed it was because Tess’s own love story hadn’t ended happily.

“Like what?” Lucy asked.

“I don’t know.” Tess shrugged. “Like a brush of the hand or better yet a kiss.”

Lucy’s mouth dropped even though she wasn’t a bit surprised. “I hate to break it to you two, but Miles and I are friends.”

“Boring.” Moira took another bite of her bagel, hazel eyes rolling upward.

“If you want exciting, find a book in Tess’s store,” Lucy muttered.

After a quiet minute of eating, the conversation moved to other things.

“So, any leads on renting out your garage apartment?” Tess asked.

Lucy shook her head. “I’ve had that sign for renting my garage apartment out in the yard forever. No. . .