Praise for the novels of Debbie Macomber
“Another of Macomber’s heartwarming winners.... Tender, funny, sweet and poignant.”
—Library Journal on 1225 Christmas Tree Lane
“Readers will warm to its endearing characters. Prolific Macomber is known for her honest portrayals of ordinary women in small-town America, and this tale cements her position as an icon of the genre.”
—Publishers Weekly on 16 Lighthouse Road
Praise for the novels of Brenda Novak
“Heartwarming, life-affirming, page-turning romance. I can always count on Novak to make me weep, laugh and fall in love!”
—Jill Shalvis, New York Times bestselling author
“Brenda Novak doesn’t just write fabulous stories, she writes keepers.”
—Susan Mallery, #1 New York Times bestselling author
Praise for the novels of Sheila Roberts
“The ultimate in feel-good family drama and heart-melting romance. Plus there’s the added bonus of getting to celebrate the season with a community that couldn’t be more devoted to Christmas.”
—USA TODAY on The Lodge on Holly Road
“A deftly crafted and delightfully entertaining novel from the pen of an author with a genuine flair for originality and the creation of memorable characters.”
—Midwest Book Reviews on Christmas from the Heart
Praise for the novels of RaeAnne Thayne
“Endearing small-town residents and bratty cats add humor to this heartwarming, steady-paced holiday romance.”
—Publishers Weekly on Sugar Pine Trail
“This quirky, funny, warmhearted romance will draw readers in and
keep them enthralled to the last romantic page.”
—Library Journal on Christmas in Snowflake Canyon
Together for Christmas
Debbie Macomber
Brenda Novak
Sheila Roberts
RaeAnne Thayne
Table of Contents
5-B Poppy Lane by Debbie Macomber
When We Touch by Brenda Novak
Welcome to Icicle Falls by Sheila Roberts
Starstruck by RaeAnne Thayne
5-B Poppy Lane
Debbie Macomber
Also available from MIRA
The Cedar Cove novels by
#1 New York Times bestselling author Debbie Macomber
16 LIGHTHOUSE ROAD
204 ROSEWOOD LANE
311 PELICAN COURT
44 CRANBERRY POINT
50 HARBOR STREET
6 RAINIER DRIVE
74 SEASIDE AVENUE
8 SANDPIPER WAY
92 PACIFIC BOULEVARD
1022 EVERGREEN PLACE
1105 YAKIMA STREET
1225 CHRISTMAS TREE LANE
Also
5-B POPPY LANE
A CEDAR COVE CHRISTMAS
DEBBIE MACOMBER’S CEDAR COVE COOKBOOK
Contents
Prologue
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Epilogue
Prologue
IT WAS EARLY AFTERNOON, Christmas Eve. Snow was falling lightly, adding to the festive atmosphere inside and out. Helen Shelton fussed with the decorations in her small Cedar Cove duplex, making sure everything was in place. The tree, a real one, featured the ornaments she’d started acquiring when she’d married Sam in 1946. He’d bought her many of these, and as she hung them carefully on the branches she’d relived their history, hers and Sam’s. He’d died almost thirty years ago but she remembered every Christmas they’d spent together.
The Nativity pieces were arranged on her coffee table with the Infant Jesus nestled in the manger, surrounded by the other familiar figurines. A large evergreen wreath hung on her front door. The house was redolent with the scents of spruce and spice—ready for Christmas.
Helen wanted everything perfect when her only granddaughter and her husband arrived. In preparation she’d mulled cider and baked Ruth’s favorite Christmas cookies from an old gingerbread recipe; they’d first made it together when Ruth was a child. Even now, after all these years, Helen remembered the thrill she’d felt when her granddaughter was born. Oh, she loved her grandsons, but for a grandmother there was something special about a girl.
The doorbell chimed and Helen peeked outside to see her dear friend Charlotte Rhodes standing on the porch. Delighted, she opened the door and quickly ushered Charlotte inside. They were both getting on in years, and Helen suspected neither of them had many Christmases left. She didn’t have a fatalistic view of life by any means, but she was a practical woman. Helen knew what it was to face death. She had no fear of dying.
“Merry Christmas,” Charlotte said, unwrapping a hand-knit lace scarf from around her neck. Her friend was the most exquisite knitter. Many a time she’d assisted Helen with her knitting projects. She gave her the confidence to try new things. Why, with Charlotte’s help a few years back, Helen had completed a complicated Fair Isle sweater. She still felt a bit of pride whenever she wore that sweater. She was a competent knitter in her own right; she didn’t mean to discount her skills. But Charlotte had such an encouraging way about her, and not just when it came to knitting. Helen had confided in Charlotte about what had happened to her during the war, and Charlotte had urged her to share it with her family. Eventually, she had....
“Merry Christmas,” Helen said, taking Charlotte’s coat and scarf and hanging them up. She led her friend into the kitchen. “This is such a pleasant surprise.”
“I knew your granddaughter and her husband were stopping by, so I brought some of my green tomato mincemeat.” She removed two beribboned jars from her ever-present knitting bag.
“Oh, Charlotte, thank you.” Helen accepted the jars and put them on the counter to admire. Charlotte was well aware that Helen had a weakness for her homemade green tomato mincemeat.
“Consider this a small Christmas gift,” Charlotte said, looking pleased at Helen’s reaction.
“Didn’t you say it was too much work this year?” Helen could swear Charlotte had claimed she was finished with canning. And who would blame her?
“I did say that, and then I took a look at all those green tomatoes and I couldn’t help myself. Besides, Ben swears mincemeat is his favorite pie.”
“I thought your peach pie was his favorite.”
Charlotte actually blushed. Those two had been married for several years now but they still behaved like newlyweds. It always made Helen smile.
“Ben says that about all my pies.”
“Well, I’m very happy to get these. I’ll make a pie for tonight’s dessert.” Helen automatically set the teakettle on the burner, dropping tea bags into her best china pot.
“What time is your granddaughter getting here?”
Helen glanced at the kitchen clock. “Not for several hours. Around five.”
Charlotte pulled out a chair and sat down, reaching into her voluminous bag for her knitting. Socks again. Charlotte was never without her knitting, and these days it was usually socks. Helen had
