Excerpt: A Season for Serenity

Serenity Yates leaned against a pillar on the bungalow’s porch and watched as the world around her transformed into a wonderland of lights. Her neighbors had gone all out this year with their holiday decorations. Some tasteful. Some tacky. All made her smile.

She loved sunset on Christmas Eve. After the rush of the shopping season, she was ready for the peace that twilight would bring. Instead of shivering out in the cold, she really should go back in, close the toy shop, and begin a much-needed break. But for one more moment, she would linger, enjoying the lights, savoring the magic.

When her phone vibrated, she glanced at the screen. A text from her final customer of the year.

Jeremy Park here. Just leaving Raleigh. Should be there by 6

He always identified himself. As if she could forget who he was.

Ok. I’ll be waiting

She reentered the warmth of Grandpa’s house. Correction, hers. Although she’d inherited it six months ago, she still thought of the bungalow-turned-toy-shop as his. After flipping the door sign to CLOSED, she looked around the showroom, proud to see its sparsely-stocked shelves. They’d sold a lot of toys this year, not a guarantee with her grandfather gone. But customers, both loyal and new, had come, drawn by the reputation of their handmade, wooden toys.

Her mood sobered. Even though sales had been strong, she worried about the bottom line. Expenses had been hard to control, and she had no idea when they’d get better. In the last decade of his life, Grandpa had neglected the house. She’d been forced to dip into savings for major repairs, and more were lurking. Cracked windows. Peeling paint. A roof that should’ve been replaced years ago.

If her parents knew how bad it was, they would offer her money. But their help would come at a cost—pressure to take their “advice.” Which was why she hadn’t told them.

Okay, enough. Her week-long vacation was an hour away. Tying herself into knots could wait until January.

She walked to the back of the showroom and rested a hip against the checkout counter. “Norah?”

Her teen assistant looked up from her phone. “Yes?”

“You can leave any time.”

Her eyes glowed with happy secrets. “Charlie’s picking me up at five-thirty.”

Good. Serenity would have Jeremy to herself for the five minutes he would be there. “Big date?”

“Yeah.” Norah beamed. “He won’t tell me where.”

“Okay. Let me get the last dollhouse from the workroom, then I’ll be able to take over as soon as you leave.”

Serenity continued down the hall to the rear of the bungalow, into the room that had once been the den and was now where they painted and polished toys. The dollhouse rested on the huge worktable, starkly illuminated by overhead spotlights. She inspected it one last time, ticking items off a mental checklist.

When Jeremy Park had ordered it for his niece Lilah, he’d been refreshingly specific. The color theme had to be purple with yellow accents. The dollhouse should have three floors and five rooms. A kitchen and living room splitting the ground floor. A bedroom and bathroom in the middle. And a playroom for the attic, complete with a mini-mural of Lilah’s favorite stuffed pig. Serenity had included doll furnishings simple enough to spark imagination and sturdy enough to withstand a high-energy five-year-old.

As she folded a care-and-maintenance sheet, her thoughts shifted to her customer. It had been a pleasure to work with Jeremy. Since he was stationed at an overseas military base, they’d had to discuss his expectations over the phone. His decisiveness was, well, hot. So was his voice. Smooth, rich, commanding. She’d looked forward to their calls and, within the hour, she would finally meet him.

It was crazy to feel this excited. The man lived an ocean away from her. He would get his gift and be gone. But seeing him tonight might be the highlight of her holiday. A sad truth if she pondered it, which she wouldn’t.

When the front door chimed, she frowned. Was Norah’s boyfriend early? It must be time to relieve her. Serenity placed the instruction sheet inside the attic and lifted it carefully.

A muffled conversation echoed down the hall. Norah’s voice was in customer mode. There was a loud thump, and a man bellowed, “No!”

Had a customer just yelled at her assistant?

Cradling the dollhouse against her chest, Serenity walked into the showroom, pausing in the doorway to take in the scene. Norah stood stiffly behind the counter. A stocky, middle-aged businessman stood opposite her, his face blotched with red, his gloved fists braced on the counter.

Although Serenity put on a polite expression, she wasn’t feeling polite. Whatever his problem was, Norah didn’t deserve to be the target of his frustration. “May I help?”

The man straightened. “Who are you?”

“Serenity Yates. The toy shop’s owner.”

“Then you’re who I want to talk to. My goddaughter wants a dollhouse. This girl says there aren’t any left.”

“She’s right. Have you checked at—?”

“From here. My goddaughter wants one of your dollhouses. It’s the only thing she has on her wish list.”

Serenity stepped closer to her assistant, edging behind the counter, not-so-subtly providing a united front. “We’re sold out, sir.”

He sneered. “You ran out of dollhouses on Christmas Eve? What kind of stupid planning is that?”

Serenity glanced pointedly at the clock. Ten past five. She wasn’t the one guilty of poor planning. “We only make a limited number. They’re custom-made for each child.”

“How about the one you’re holding?”

“I’m sorry.” And she was—for his goddaughter. Serenity felt no sympathy for this jerk. “It isn’t for sale.”

“Yeah?” The man lunged over the counter, snatched the tag dangling from the dollhouse, and squinted. “Call this…Jeremy Park. Tell him I’ll pay double whatever it cost.”

Stunned by the man’s audacity, Serenity stowed the dollhouse out of sight under the counter, yanked the tag from his hand, and glared. “I cannot help you.”

“But—”

“You’ll have to excuse us. We’re closed for Christmas.” She walked past him to stand by the door.

His eyes blazed with fury. She stared quietly back. Her resolve must have gotten through because, with a snort, he slammed through the front door and stormed to a blue Mercedes. As soon as he climbed into the passenger side, the car screeched from the driveway, spitting gravel. Once it was out of sight, she exhaled with relief and turned.

Her assistant was slumped against the counter. “Whoa. That was intense.”

More like disturbing. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I mean…it was kind of shocking, but I wasn’t scared.” Norah knelt to study the dollhouse, her eyes bright with admiration. “Although I understand why his goddaughter would want one. You make the cutest dollhouses.”

“Thank you.”

“Doesn’t he know you’ve been sold out for months?”

“Apparently not.” And probably wouldn’t care if he did.

Serenity watched Norah, reassured to see that she’d moved on. Serenity should, too. After meeting with Jeremy, she would spend the rest of the evening with her family. She would not allow an ill-mannered customer to ruin it for her. “I’ll be in the break room. Come get me when you leave.”

“‘Kay.”

She wove through the workroom and into the space that was part kitchenette, part haven. After heating a mug of chai tea in the microwave, she relaxed in the rocking chair, sipped her drink, and willed her thoughts to drift.

And they drifted all right, straight to her final customer.

In October, on the day she’d started taking custom orders for Christmas dollhouses, a tall, pregnant woman had been waiting when the shop opened, first in line to order one for her daughter Lilah. Serenity had added her name to the list as they chatted about options. That is, until they’d discussed the price. Then young mother’s inner glow had dimmed. She’d shaken her head, blinked away tears, and dashed out.

When Jeremy called several weeks later, the dollhouse quota had long been met, but he’d been persuasive, with an answer for every objection. And even though he hadn’t seen his niece in two years, he’d been confident about what Lilah would like. Once Serenity made the connection between him and the young mother, she’d agreed to make one more.

By their second conversation, Serenity had become thoroughly fascinated with him—this kind, involved uncle who had a hard time containing his excitement over the gift. Thank heavens for Google. She’d searched for his Air Force base in Italy and ended up finding press releases that included images of his unit, a photo of him in dress uniform with medals crowding his chest, and a jaw-dropping shot of him after a half-marathon, his T-shirt molded to his body. Yeah, she was definitely curious.

Her phone pinged. She checked the screen and found a message from her best friend.

Closed for Christmas yet?

Isabella was on a skiing trip with her fiancé. Serenity was surprised to hear from her so soon.

Only one more customer. How’s Colorado?
Beautiful. I’m sitting by a crackling fire, with a romance novel and a hot mulled cider

Uh-huh. That seemed off. She placed a video call.

“Hi.” Isabella’s smile looked forced.

“How are you? Really?”

“Fine.”

“So, not fine. Where’s Brandon?”

“On the slopes.”

Serenity frowned, concerned over what her friend wasn’t saying. Isabella wasn’t much of a skier, but she’d agreed to go when Brandon insisted on spending the holiday with his family. Was he leaving her alone often? Or was she there by choice? Before Serenity could think of a nice way to ask, the shop door chimed. She looked at the clock. Five-thirty. It must be Norah’s ride. Pushing from the rocking chair, Serenity crossed to the sink to rinse her mug.

“Hey. Sorry. I have to take over in the showroom.” Serenity heard a muffled sigh and hated to cut this off. “Can we talk later?”

“Sure. I’ll text you when I’m free.”

“Sounds good. I’ll be heading over to my parents’ house soon, but I’ll watch my phone.”

“Okay. Merry Christmas, Serenity.”

“Thanks. You, too.” She shoved her phone into a pocket and hurried from the room.

Norah was coming down the hall from the showroom, shrugging into her coat. “Charlie’s here. Can I leave?”

“That’s fine. I’ll wait for Sergeant Park.”

“No need. His dollhouse has been picked up.”

Serenity froze. Blinked. Picked up? That couldn’t be right. She must have misheard. Jeremy wouldn’t be here for another half hour. “Wait. Repeat that.”

Norah buttoned her coat. “The dollhouse has been picked up.”

“By whom?”

“His friend came to get it. Just now.”

“No.” Serenity sucked in a ragged breath, her skin prickling with horror. Somebody took the dollhouse? “Sergeant Park is on his way from the Raleigh airport. He did not send a friend.”

“Yes, he did. The lady said he was stuck at the office, so she got it for him.”

Sick with dread, Serenity brushed past her assistant and ran into the showroom, praying this was all a bad dream. The counter was empty.

“Serenity? What’s going on?”

“The woman lied. He flew in from Europe today. He’s not stuck at the office.”

“You must be wrong.” The girl’s eyes widened with shock. “Please, please be wrong.”

Serenity ran out the shop door and down the steps, staring with burning eyes at the street. Empty, too.

“Hi, Ms. Yates.”

She spun around. Charlie stood on the porch. She hadn’t noticed him as she stumbled by. How long had he been there? “Did you see a person come out with a dollhouse?”

“Yes, as I was coming up the sidewalk. She was old—grandmother old—and dressed like she was on her way to a party. I asked if she wanted help, but she said no.”

“Did you see where her car went?”

“In the direction of the courthouse. She was in a hurry, too.”

The dollhouse was gone. Stolen. How could anyone be so despicable?

Shaking, Serenity clutched the railing for support. “What kind of car?”

“A Mercedes Maybach.”

The rude man had left in a Mercedes. Coincidence? “Was it blue?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Serenity’s legs buckled, and she sat hard on the bottom step, barely able to take this in. Stealing a child’s gift would be vile any time, but to do it on Christmas Eve? It was…

She couldn’t come up with any words to capture how horrible this was. How unthinkable.

Jeremy was on the way. What should she do?

There wasn’t anything she could do except tell him the truth. Anguish shuddered through her at the ordeal ahead.

Desperate to calm herself, she focused on the house across the street. She’d always loved that neighbor’s yard at Christmas. Thousands of white lights edged the roof, spiraled up porch columns, twinkled in evergreens. Beautiful. Pure.

How did this happen?

A step creaked, and a trembling Norah plopped down beside her. “I’m so, so sorry, Serenity. What can I do? Should I stay until Sergeant Park gets here?”

“No, not necessary.” She pulled the girl into a hug, and they clung to each other, united in sorrow and disbelief.

“I should be the one to tell him.” Norah’s voice was hoarse with tears. “It’s my fault.”

“No. It’s the thief’s fault. Not ours.”

“What’re you going to do?”

“I’m not sure.” Serenity ought to…what? Sergeant Park would be here soon, and she had nothing to give him. No explanation that could make the situation better.

Too agitated to sit, she pushed up and hung on to the banister, shivering from more than the cold.

Norah scrubbed at her cheeks as she wobbled to her feet. Her bewildered boyfriend drew her to his side. Steadied her.

“Go on,” Serenity said. “I’ve got this.”

After Charlie’s truck had driven away, she went inside the shop and stood uncertainly in its center, her brain too sloppy and thick to think clearly. What was the logical next step? Call the police?

Yes. That’s what she should do. Report the theft.

Except…

How much could she tell them? While she might have a suspicion about who the thief was, Serenity hadn’t seen the woman. The police would have to talk with Norah and Charlie. It would be awful to be interviewed on Christmas Eve, and her assistant was traumatized enough.

Serenity shrank away from the idea. Reporting the theft could wait a few hours, couldn’t it? Besides, Jeremy should hear the news privately, not with the police as an audience. And she would need every shred of her remaining composure to break it to him.

If only she’d told Norah that their customer was coming, instead of hugging the fact to herself.
A silver sedan slowed on the street and rolled onto the driveway. Jeremy was here. She would contact the police later.

She waited, frozen to the spot, her mind fractured. She hadn’t recovered, but she’d run out of time. His feet were already thudding up the steps. Across the porch. The door chimed as he came in, his stride confident and his smile easy.

“Serenity?”

“Yes, Sergeant Park.” She clasped her hands tightly to her waist. How could she tell him?

“Please call me Jeremy.” He scanned the showroom. When his gaze returned to her, his smile dimmed, and he gave her an almost-clinical scrutiny. “Are you okay?”

She swallowed hard. “No.”

“Can I help?”

In the whole of her career, she’d never had to deliver a message this bad. She forced it out in a rush. “It’s gone.”

His eyes narrowed. “What’s gone?”

“The dollhouse. Someone stole it.”

“Stole.” He repeated the word flatly. Stared at her for a long, agonizing moment. “How?”

“A woman claiming to be your friend took it.”

He shook his head, his expression shuttering. “You knew I was on my way.”

“I had stepped out, and my assistant was too trusting. She didn’t question it.”

He looked away. Swore.

Serenity watched him grapple with the news, the effort evident in his handsome face. The photos she’d found on the Internet hadn’t prepared her for the reality of this man. He was over six feet tall, with a muscled build, his dark hair short and thick. Long lashes framed deep brown eyes, and stubble shadowed the strong line of his jaw. He was glorious, despite his exhaustion.

He met her gaze. “Did you make any spares?”

“No. I’m sorry.” Serenity felt helpless. Could this get any worse?

He studied the nearly-bare shelves she’d been so proud of. They held chunky building blocks, puzzles for learning shapes, stacking rings. Nothing for a five-year-old. His lips twisted. “Do you have anything appropriate for Lilah?”

An obvious question, one she’d been too disoriented to consider. She’d give anything to have a different answer, but she’d sold out of toys for older kids. “I only have toddler toys left.”

He blew out a hard breath. When he spoke again, his voice had roughened. “It’s six o’clock on Christmas Eve. Do I have a prayer of finding anywhere open to buy a gift? An uncle-quality gift?”

“No, I don’t think so.” She took a step closer, hesitating when he stiffened. “I’ll refund your money, of course.”

His shrug both acknowledged and dismissed her statement.

“Jeremy, I’m really sorry.”

“I am, too.” His jaw flexed, hinting at how tightly he reined in his emotions. His gaze swept her from head to toe, as if cataloging every detail of her appearance, from her silky red sweater to the snug black jeans tucked into boots.

“Good-bye, then.” He crossed to the door and went out, his movements extraordinarily graceful for such a big man. Through the window, she tracked him down the sidewalk. Even after he stopped beside the car, his head bent over his phone and his fingers flying, she watched, devastated by how completely she’d failed him.

Was there anything she could do to make this better?

For weeks, she’d dreamed about meeting the man with the gorgeous voice and the glint of anticipation in his eyes. It had been ridiculous to be so curious. She’d willfully ignored that she was merely the toymaker creating a dollhouse for his niece, hoping to make an impression on him.

Well, she’d made an impression, all right.

There were only twelve hours before Lilah awakened to her Christmas morning. Her uncle had planned an epic gift and done everything absolutely right. Now he would arrive empty-handed.
Although she wasn’t to blame for the theft, Serenity felt responsible. She would’ve understood if Jeremy had unleashed his frustrations on her, but he hadn’t. Instead, he’d accepted the terrible news with restraint and walked away.

She wished she could fix this for him, but how? It wasn’t as if she could magically conjure up another dollhouse.

Wait.

An ember of an idea flickered. Could she?

Well, no. Not magically. She had a sample dollhouse she used to prototype new ideas. It was small, with only four rooms, and its walls were scarred. But it was sturdy. Had endured years of experiments and still retained a quaint charm. Or maybe she was biased. It was the first real dollhouse she’d ever made.

Possibilities flooded her brain. Twelve hours wouldn’t be enough to renovate it completely. But with lots of coffee, polish, and luck, Lilah could have a respectable dollhouse under the tree in the morning.

Serenity bolted outside and down the steps. “Jeremy!”

He looked up from his phone, the light from the street lamp behind him leaving his face shadowed.

“Yes?” His voice was cool.

She wouldn’t let his reaction dim her excitement. “I’ll make you another dollhouse.”

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