Amanda laughed, taking her hands out of her jacket pocket and loosening her scarf. The trailer was warm and smelled of spaghetti sauce and garlic bread. “He’s quite the celebrity, no doubt.” She glanced again at the tree. “Your Christmas tree looks beautiful.”

“That space in there would be empty if it weren’t for your family,” she replied.

A little girl darted into the kitchen. “Mommy, mommy. Is Tate here?” She was wearing a pretty red and green plaid dress. Her hair in a high ponytail with red velvet ribbons falling down each side. Upon seeing Amanda, she hid behind her mother, tugging on her sweater.

“No, no.” Kristen reached behind and gently coaxed her daughter from behind her back. “Tate can’t join us tonight, but this is his girlfriend, Amanda. Amanda is Mr. Turner’s daughter.”

Chloe let go of her mother and looked up at Amanda. “Hi,” she said softly.

Kristen winked. “She did this shy act with your sweetheart earlier, for about two seconds. “Chloe, why don’t you show Amanda the decorations you and Tate made for the tree?”

Chloe let go of her mother and ran into the living room. Amanda followed the little girl and knelt down next to the tree. She watched as Chloe reached out and touched a snowflake hanging at the very bottom. “He made this one for me. I wish he was here,” she said sadly, looking down at the carpet.

Amanda’s heart melted. She was certain that Tate had promised this little girl he’d have dinner with her. She reached over and touched the glittering piece of white construction paper. “What a beautiful snowflake. Tate made this?”

Chloe nodded. He said he’d bring me and my sister extra cookies for Santa Claus. Santa might stop by tonight and bring us gifts if he doesn’t run out of time like he always does.”

Amanda looked up at Kristen. She understood what Chloe meant.

“Chloe, go get your sister. Dinner is almost ready.” Kristen motioned her daughter to the front room. “Things were especially rough last year,” she explained.

Amanda nodded and returned to the kitchen. “May I join you in Tate’s place?” She pointed to the table.

Kristen nodded with excitement. “Absolutely! We’d love for you to stay for dinner. Do you like spaghetti?”

“I love it! Plus, a night where I don’t have to watch my carbs will do me some good.” She took off her coat, placed it behind her chair, and sat down. Chloe and Danielle dashed into the kitchen, taking their seats across from her.

“Miss Amanda, is joining us.” Kristen set a plate full of garlic bread on the table.

“Girls, I know I’m not Tate, but he sent me here to have dinner with you both and your mother. Would that be okay?”

Chloe stared at Amanda with big eyes. “Do you wanna say grace?”

“I would love to.” She turned to Kristen. “Are you sure this is okay?”

“Of course.” She set a huge plate of spaghetti in front of Amanda. “It’s not every day that we dine with a celebrity.”

Amanda laughed. “I’m hardly famous. Oh, you know what I forgot? Dad—I mean Tate, asked me to bring some extra cookies for Santa. I’ll just go get them out of the car so they don’t get hard in the cold. I’ll be right back.”

“Yay!” Chloe screamed out loud from her chair. “I told you he would bring more cookies for Santa, Mommy.”

Amanda headed out the door with her jacket. She wrapped her arms around her body to shield her from the cold.

Well, this was an unexpected turn of events. Why didn’t Tate tell her this was where he was going tonight? He certainly had made an impression on those little girls inside, especially Chloe. Something must have happened this morning that touched his heart.

She had an idea. Pulling out her phone from her pocket, she dialed her parents’ number.

“Brenda, hi! Is Tate still asleep?”

“I think so. He hasn’t been down.”

“Good. Just let him sleep. Listen, I know the message I’d like inscribed on the rock. ‘Christmas dinner.’”

“Christmas dinner?”

“Correct.”

“Can I spell it with an ‘X’?”

“That’s fine.”

“No problem then. I’ll start working on it right now.”

“Thanks, Brenda! I’ll be home soon.”

She clicked her phone off and walked back to the trailer. She thought about calling her father, but hesitated. She suspected he’d known what he was doing by sending her here, and she was exactly where she was supposed to be this evening.

* * *

Tate stared out the guest room window at the lights on the lawn and bit into a cookie. He was a little groggy from his nap, and his ankle still hurt. He watched the strangers below who had gathered to see the Turners’ holiday display.

Where was Amanda? He moved from the window and lay back down on the bed. She’d asked him if she was a better kisser than Melanie. He thought back to that freezing night twenty years ago and his first kiss . . .

* * *

Tate brushed his cold hand over his face. It was instantly wet, as a fresh coating of tears stained his cheeks. He didn’t understand why his mother was making him leave town in the middle of the night on Christmas Eve. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t stop crying.

He jammed his hands into his coat pocket and leaned up against the old station wagon, watching his mother pump gas into it from the other side. Where were they going? His mother was in a conversation with a man behind her who was also pumping gas for his truck. He locked eyes with a young girl who was sitting inside. She was staring at him.

He looked away. The last three months had been one long nightmare. However, it didn’t start out that way. Last spring had been one of the best of his young life—making the junior varsity baseball team at his new school and getting straight B’s, an academic first, making his parents proud. Then he’d spent last summer at camp where he learned to water ski and fish on the Finger Lakes. His mom promised she’d send him to camp again next year. He was going to hold her to that promise.

Fall had not been kind to his family. In late September, his dad suddenly dropped to the ground at work and was rushed to the emergency room where he passed away of a heart attack shortly after being admitted. He was only thirty-nine. Now Tate and his mom were all alone, still new in the area, and without family for support.

“Tate. Tate, dear . . .” his mom called out, snapping him out of his trance. “Here.” She walked over and handed him a ten-dollar bill. “Why don’t you go get us a couple of sodas and some snacks for the trip?”

He took the money. “Whatever.” He was angry with his mother for making him leave the only place he’d ever considered home. She never let him drink soda. It was an attempt to make things right, but he wasn’t ready to call a truce. He’d liked living here. He’d made good grades and had friends. Didn’t that account for anything?

As he walked into the adjoining convenience store, he could hear the faint sound of Christmas music. He headed to the back refrigerator and selected two cans of Coke. From out of nowhere, the girl from the truck appeared. She had straight blond hair tied back in a ponytail and big green eyes.

“Hey, you dropped this outside.” The girl handed Tate the ten dollars his mother had given him.

“Thank you,” he said. He took the bill and shook a little snow off it.

“Are you excited about Santa?”

“Huh?”

“You know. Santa Claus. He’s coming tonight. It’s Christmas Eve.”

“I’m too old for Santa,” he said in disgust, looking the girl up and down. She was wearing acid washed jeans similar to his own and red and white striped legwarmers. She could be around his age. Maybe two or three years younger. “Aren’t you too old, too?”

“Maybe, but that doesn’t mean I can’t still believe.”

“That’s for kids.” Tate reached out in front of the girl and grabbed a bag of potato chips. He headed toward the cash register, handed the money to the man behind the counter, and waited for his change.

“Why were you crying?” The girl had come up behind him.

“I wasn’t crying.” He was starting to get agitated. Why wouldn’t this girl go away? “Boys don’t cry.”

“You were.”

“Were not.”

“Was not,” she corrected.

He pushed his way out the door. The last thing he wanted was to get into an argument with this smart aleck girl.

“Tate, you about ready?” his mom called out and got into the driver’s side of their station wagon.

The girl followed him outside. “Wait. I have something for you. Let me just ask my dad if it’s okay.” She ran over to the truck.

“I don’t want it,” he yelled back. Geez, she really was annoying. He hadn’t realized girls could be so irritating. She bounced back over to him.

“Here.”

“I said I didn’t want it.”

“Just take it. They’re cookies. Christmas cookies to leave for Santa. You’re never too old to believe.”

Tate frowned. “Thanks,” he muttered and got into the car.

The girl skipped back to the truck.

His mom grabbed the box from him. “Well that was awfully nice. Do you know that girl?” She opened it, showing him a dozen sugar cookies in different Christmas shapes inside.

“No.”

His mom picked up a tree shaped cookie and took a bite. “Yum. Want one?”

“No.” He stared straight ahead. “Can we go now?”

There was a knock on the passenger window. Tate looked over to see the girl peering in the window. He ignored her.

“Tate, where are your manners? Honestly. Roll down your window,” his mother ordered.

He reluctantly grabbed the car’s handle and began to turn it. “What?” he asked.