LITMIR.BIZ

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a glance. “Thanks again, friend. I missed being home...and the scenery.”

      Holt caught Blair’s frown.

      The bell tinkled as Lola breezed out the door and a guy several years younger than Holt entered.

      “Hey, Manny. What can I do for you?” Blair asked, and wiped her hands on her jeans.

      “It’s what I can do for you.” He set a cake container on the counter. “Sophia made her famous double-chocolate cake. Three layers.”

      “Oh. My.” Blair touched her throat. “Tell her she didn’t have to do that.”

      “You’ll be sharing that with your new neighbor, right?” Holt asked.

      Manny turned and nodded. “Manny Menendez.”

      “He’s Sophie’s brother. She works for the Drummonds,” Blair offered, then did what Holt wanted to do. Slid her finger into the icing and closed her eyes to savor it. “This is amazing.”

      “I know,” Manny said.

      Holt stopped gawking at Blair’s display and faced Manny. “Holt Renard.”

      Manny gave a nod of acknowledgment. “Well, Mitch has me shoveling hay today, so I’ll see you later.”

      Blair waved her goodbye and turned to Holt. “What brings you in? You know I was getting cake?”

      “What’s the deal with that little saying?” He quirked his thumb toward the bell above the door.

      “Haven’t you ever seen It’s a Wonderful Life? It’s a classic Christmas movie. Bell rings. An angel gets its wings.”

      This woman was adorably strange and confusing. “Maybe. I don’t remember.” Holt scoped out the place. Decorated Christmas trees in every corner, merchandise underneath as if they were Christmas gifts. Even an old mantel had been secured to the wall complete with stockings hanging.

      Colored lights ran the length of the walls and hung from the ceiling. “So...what’s up with this?” He twirled his finger around the store.

      “I like Christmas.”

      Holt feigned shock. “Really? I had no idea.”

      Blair tossed him a flat look, but he spotted a fair amount of amusement in her eyes. Hopefully, he could regain the ground he’d lost last night when she suddenly turned wary again. He hated to admit he really liked her.

      “Everything in here represents a life lived. Those bowls.” She pointed. “Someone may have mixed dough to make a Christmas pie or to throw together a birthday cake.” She motioned toward an old club chair and ottoman. “A dad might have read his child bedtime stories sitting there, maybe The Night Before Christmas. Somewhere along the line, those memories were tossed out. Not wanted. I find that sad.”

      But what did it have to do with Christmas 24/7? Holt perused old books, hutches, curio cabinets, coins, knives, dolls and various stuffed toys.

      He understood the concept. He’d kept some of Trina’s belongings for years, then couldn’t bear the memories and had given them away. He jabbed a thumb toward a kiddie tea set. “A little girl had a tea party and invited some of those stuffed animals.”

      Blair beamed. The first real smile he’d seen. It lit him up brighter than the window display. “Yes, maybe. And over there a grandfather taught his grandson how to play chess.” Excitement laced her voice. She enjoyed this—imagining, pretending...dreaming.

      Holt eyed the old table with a wooden chessboard arranged on top. Something about seeing her thrilled and happy set off a spark in him, and he played along to keep that smile on her face, the childlike wonder in her eyes. “And he went on to win the national championship to make his grandpa proud, but Grandpa died before he saw it and so the boy couldn’t stand to play chess again. And he gave his memories away,” he murmured. Just like Holt.

      Running her slender finger down the chessboard, Blair slowly nodded. “Perhaps. People discard memories in the form of objects for all sorts of reasons. I like to think I’m giving someone a chance to make new memories.”

      Holt understood more than he wished to.

      “You play pretend well.” Blair gave him a nod of approval.

      If she only knew how well.

      Blair cleared her throat and rubbed her nose, reminding him of Jeremy’s habit. Guilt ate at Holt. For keeping the fact that he knew Jeremy from Blair and because Jeremy’s disappearance might be Holt’s fault.

      If something happened to him, how would he look Blair in the eye and explain?

      “So, what did you need?” Blair tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

      “My store needs equipment. I’m working on building my inventory, but it’s sparse. I guess I could set up a few undecorated Christmas trees and call it a forest.”

      Blair laughed.

      “Gigi said she’d help me. I’m gonna take her up on it.” If his intuition was right and Blair was as protective as he thought, she wouldn’t want Gigi alone with him. She might be laughing and sharing a bit about her business, but being polite was a far cry from trusting someone. She wouldn’t even let him in the house for the night when an intruder had been prowling, which meant Holt didn’t have her solid trust. Yet.

      Besides, he didn’t want Gigi helping him. He wanted Blair. Which unsettled him.

      Blair scurried behind the counter. “Gigi can’t,” she said, worrying her lip. I’ve—I’ve got her doing a lot of inventory and prepping for the launch of our online store. But...but I can. I’ll do it.” Obviously, she didn’t want to, but would say anything to get Gigi off the hook. He wasn’t proud of manipulating her, but she might be able to help Holt find Jeremy. And it kept him close in case whoever tried to kill her made another attempt. Regardless of why someone had come after her, he wasn’t going to sit idly by and let her be harmed.

      “Great. Where do we start?”

      “Naming the store for one.”

      “I’m all imagined out.”

      Waving him off, she rounded the counter. “My store is It’s a Wonderful Life. Because, one, I love the movie. It’s the last thing I watched with my mother before she died. We watched it Christmas night. The next morning she went out shopping and died in a car accident.”

      That explained Christmas all year round. Blair was keeping her mother alive through the store. An ache throbbed in his chest.

      Blair looked lovingly at her merchandise. “I never want to forget the memories of Christmas with her. How I felt. And it’s also perfect for my store. The little girl who snatches up a princess doll knows in her heart that life got a little better. A hunter finds the blade he’s been searching everywhere for and his Saturday mornings have turned—”

      “Wonderful. Not just wonderful but wonder-full.”

      Blair squinted at him, nodding. “See? Use your perception and imagination. You’ll have a name before you know it.”

      Holt grunted. What was the point of using so much imagination for a store that wasn’t going to ever open.

      Blair straightened a stack of old books. “I need to make a trip to Memphis in the morning. There’s a little shop about thirty miles away. A huge junk store. We can use my truck if you want and see if we can’t find some goods there.”

      “Sounds like a plan.”

      “Oh, do you think you could help me unload that dresser from yesterday’s auction? I’m not in a big hurry, but we’ll need it cleared out before we leave tomorrow.” Blair waved to a woman and young daughter as they entered the store, the mother threatening the child with no ice cream if she touched a single thing. Why bring little kids to places they couldn’t explore? Never made sense to Holt.

      “You

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