01_Gift from the Heart by Irene Hannon

watched the girls walk away, then looked up at Clare with an awed expression. “Candace stopped to talk to me,” she said in a hushed voice.
    “I noticed.”
    “She’s never done that before.”
    Clare put her arm around Nicole’s shoulder. “Maybe she’s had a change of heart.”
    Her face alight with hope, Nicole looked back at the girls, who were quickly disappearing among the other holiday revelers. “Yeah.”
    Adam watched the exchange, knowing he was missing something significant. But the nuances were lost on him. He doubted they were lost on Clare, however. So he’d just have to rely on her to fill him in later.
    As they made their way toward the gazebo, it suddenly occurred to him that he was beginning to rely on Clare for a lot of things. Which wasn’t necessarily good. He was immensely grateful for the small but important changes that she had already brought to their lives, of course. But he needed to remember that this was not a permanent arrangement. Clare would be with them for six months. Actually, closer to five now. He had spoken about the time limit of the arrangement with Nicole when he’d told her about Clare’s offer, but he needed to remind her periodically so she didn’t become too attached. Otherwise, Clare’s departure at the end of May would be devastating.
    And he needed to remind himself, as well, he acknowledged. Or he had a feeling that Nicole wouldn’t be the only one who was devastated.
     
     
    “Now I remember why I hate tinsel,” Adam grumbled good-naturedly as he draped a few more strands over a sturdy branch of the Fraser fir.
    “Stop complaining,” Clare chided with a smile. “Tinsel is what makes a tree magic. A tree without tinsel is like…like a hot fudge sundae without the hot fudge.”
    “We never had tinsel,” Nicole offered. “And Mom and I never decorated ourselves. Some people always came and did it for us. Our tree looked different every year, too. One Christmas it was all white.”
    Clare couldn’t imagine having a totally different tree every year, but she kept her thoughts to herself. For her, Christmas was all about tradition. About taking out treasured ornaments and sharing memories of where and when they’d been acquired, and about the warmth and caring and laughter of family holiday rituals.
    “So did you always have a real tree?” Nicole interrupted her thoughts.
    “Absolutely.”
    “I’m going to grab some cookies. Anybody want some?” Adam asked.
    “You’re just trying to escape the tinsel job,” Clare accused with a smile.
    “Guilty as charged,” Adam admitted with a grin.
    “I’ll take a couple,” Nicole told him.
    “Clare?”
    “None for me, thanks.”
    “And did you always have tinsel?” Nicole asked, resuming the previous conversation.
    “Always.”
    “Did David help you decorate?”
    At the sound of shattering glass, Adam sharply turned from the doorway. Clare had dropped one of the round glass ornaments on the hardwood floor and it lay broken at her feet. She stared down at it, her face suddenly pale.
    Nicole moved beside her and gently touched her arm. “I’m sorry, Clare,” she said contritely.
    Adam watched as Clare struggled to compose her features, noting the tremor in her hand as she put her arm around Nicole’s shoulder. “It’s okay. Just chalk it up to my clumsiness.”
    Hardly, Adam thought. Clumsy and Clare were not words anyone would ever use in the same sentence. Nicole’s question had obviously upset Clare deeply. Unfortunately, Adam hadn’t really been listening very closely to the exchange as he headed for the kitchen. He thought his daughter had mentioned someone named David. But Adam was pretty sure that Seth Mitchell had told him Clare’s husband’s name was Dennis. So who was David?
    Adam didn’t have a clue. But Nicole obviously did. And he intended to get the answer to his question at the earliest opportunity.
     
     
    “That was another great meal, Clare. Thank you.”
    “I’m glad