A Knights Bridge Christmas. Carla Neggers
ection id="ud34b5851-8279-59aa-ab5b-4542b7b62fb7">
New York Times bestselling author Carla Neggers celebrates the joy and romance of Christmas in New England
Clare Morgan is ready for a fresh start when she moves to the small Massachusetts town of Knights Bridge with her young son, Owen. Widowed for six years, Clare settles into her job as the town’s new librarian. She appreciates the warm welcome she and Owen receive and truly enjoys getting the library ready for its role in the annual holiday open house.
Clare expects to take it slow with her new life. Then she meets Logan Farrell, a Boston ER doctor in town to help his elderly grandmother settle into assisted living. Slow isn’t a word Logan seems to understand. Accustomed to his fast-paced city life, he doesn’t plan to stay in Knights Bridge for long. But Daisy Farrell has other ideas and enlists her grandson to decorate her house on the village green one last time. Logan looks to Clare for help. She can go through Daisy’s book collection and help him decorate while she’s at it.
As Clare and Logan get his grandmother’s house ready for the holidays, what neither of them expects to find is an attraction to each other. Better than most, they know all the crazy things that can happen in life, but everything about Knights Bridge and this magical season invites them to open themselves to new possibilities…and new love.
A Knights Bridge Christmas
Carla Neggers
For Leo and Oona
Contents
A Recipe for Applesauce Spice Cake with Maple Frosting or Cream Cheese Frosting
A Recipe for Baked Sweet Potatoes and Apples
A Recipe for Chive-and-Parsley Butter
“I cannot change! I cannot! It’s not that I’m impenitent, it’s just... Wouldn’t it be better if I just went home to bed?”
—Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol
December 1945
FIFTEEN-YEAR-OLD DAISY BLANCHARD paused on South Main Street and sighed at the once-stately house across from the Knights Bridge common, just past the town library. Built in 1892, the house had a curving front porch, tall windows and Victorian details that must have looked grand in their day. Now, a week before Christmas, the house looked shabby and forlorn against the gray winter sky. It wasn’t decorated. There wasn’t so much as a wreath on the front door.
It was, by far, the worst-looking house in the village.
My house, Daisy thought with dismay.
Even through the war, she and her mother had managed to decorate for Christmas. They would scour the house for bits of ribbon and yarn and they would cut evergreen boughs and gather pinecones in the yard. They’d learned to be resourceful. Everyone in their small town west of Boston had done the same—using, reusing, mending, sharing what they had. Other homes, businesses, churches, the library and town offices were decorated for the season. The First Congregational Church had a crèche, and a family of carrot-nosed, top-hatted snowmen greeted shoppers at the country store.
The only reason her house wasn’t decorated, Daisy knew, was because her father believed decorating was a waste of time and effort.
He was another Ebenezer Scrooge.
She felt bad for such thinking. Give him time, her mother had told her. Daisy was trying but it wasn’t easy when she so desperately wanted to have fun this Christmas. For more than three years, her father had been away at war, serving in the navy in the Atlantic. She’d missed him so much. When he’d come home in September, she’d been so excited. But he’d changed during the war, and so had she. She’d grown up. She wasn’t a child anymore. She couldn’t explain the changes in him, except that fighting the war and being away had taken a toll. He didn’t talk about his experience, but she knew he must have seen terrible things.
With the end of the war,