One Hundred Humbugs (Aspen Cove #25)

Chapter 20

CHAPTER TWENTY

The pale winter sun had only just risen when Becket stirred, the familiar sounds of bleating goats rousing him from sleep. He glanced over at Ruby, still peacefully slumbering, her hair splayed across the pillow. He allowed himself to imagine waking up like this every morning, in this house, with Ruby by his side.

Shaking off the thought, Becket quietly slipped out of bed and made his way to the garage. Inside, he found Daisy where they’d left her the night before, nestled comfortably in her corner on a bed of hay.

“Morning, mama,” he said, kneeling beside her. Daisy lifted her head, acknowledging him with a gentle bleat. Becket ran his hand along her side, feeling the slight movements of the kid within. “Not today, huh? Well, that’s okay. You take your time.”

He spent the next hour tending to the goats, his mind wandering to the day ahead. The Christmas cookie festival and tree lighting loomed large in Becket’s mind. He was excited about experiencing it for the first time alongside Ruby. Maybe they could both find a sense of home in this town.

By the time he returned to the house, the smell of coffee filled the air. He found Ruby in the kitchen, hair tousled from sleep, clutching a steaming mug.

“There you are,” she said, smiling as she handed him a cup. “How’s our mama-to-be?”

Becket accepted the coffee gratefully. “Content as can be. I don’t think we’ll be seeing any kids today, but you never know with goats. They like to keep you on your toes.”

Ruby’s laugh was warm, heating Becket more than the coffee ever could. “Kind of like a certain goat herder I know,” she teased.

They spent the morning sorting through more of Uncle Peter’s boxes, laughing at the odd knick-knacks and marveling at the eclectic collection. Becket watched Ruby as she examined each item, her expression alternating between amusement and thoughtfulness.

“What do you think Uncle Peter was doing with a collection of vintage potato mashers?” Ruby asked, holding up an ornate specimen.

Becket grinned, taking the masher and turning it over in his hands. “Maybe he was preparing for a mashed potato apocalypse? You never know when you might need to whip up a batch in a hurry.”

Ruby’s laughter filled the room, and Becket’s heart swelled. He loved the way her eyes crinkled at the corners when she let go and laughed.

As they worked, Becket noticed how at ease Ruby seemed, how her laughter came more freely with each passing day—a far cry from the stressed, overwhelmed woman who had arrived in Aspen Cove just a short time ago .

They unearthed a box of old Christmas ornaments, each one wrapped in yellowed newspaper. Ruby held up a delicate glass bauble, its surface painted with a snowy scene.

“These are beautiful,” she said, turning the ornament to catch the light. “I wonder what kind of Christmases Uncle Peter had here.”

Becket moved closer, peering at the decoration. “I bet they were something special. Maybe we could use some of these on the tree this year?” He paused, realizing what he’d said. “I mean, if you’re planning to stay that long.”

Ruby’s expression softened, but before she could respond, Becket’s stomach let out a loud growl. They both burst out laughing, the moment broken.

“I think that’s our cue for lunch,” Ruby said, setting the ornament back in its box.

As they prepared sandwiches, Becket’s mind raced. He wanted to ask Ruby about her plans, about whether she was still thinking of selling the house and returning to Chicago. But he held back, not wanting to pressure her.

It was nearing mid-afternoon when Becket realized they were out of the small candies he used for decorating the gingerbread cookies. “I need to run into town,” he said, glancing at his watch. “We’re out of those little candies I used for the buttons.”

“Oh, I can go,” Ruby offered, but Becket shook his head.

“No, you stay here and keep sorting. I won’t be long.”

Becket needed a voice of reason when it came to his feelings for Ruby, and if anyone had wisdom to offer, it was Doc Parker. The man was practically the town’s historian—oldest in years and, likely, wisest in words.

In town, Becket found the candies he needed at the Corner Store. As he was leaving, he noticed it was nearing four o’clock—Doc’s usual time for a pint at Bishop’s Brewhouse. On impulse, he headed over.

The warm, hoppy smell of the brewery enveloped Becket as he entered. He found Doc at the bar, already nursing a pint.

“Well, if it isn’t our resident goat whisperer,” Doc said. “Pull up a stool, son.”

Becket sat down and ordered a beer, already feeling a bit lighter in the company of Doc. “Thanks, Doc. I was hoping to catch you. I need some advice.”

Doc raised an eyebrow, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Advice, huh? That’s gonna cost you.”

Becket’s lips twitched. “Like a copay?”

Doc shook his head. “No, son. You either buy my next beer—because I’m gonna need it when the kids start climbing on my lap—or you play me a game of tic-tac-toe.” He nodded toward a grid already drawn up on a napkin on the bar, as if it was just waiting for a challenger. “But I should warn you ... I never lose.”

Becket shook his head, grinning. “So, I’m buying the beer either way, huh?”

Doc leaned back, a satisfied look on his face. “Maybe. But it’s cheaper than a copay. Could be your lucky day. Now tell me what’s on your mind.”

Becket took a breath, fiddling with the edges of the napkin grid. “It’s Ruby,” he confessed. “I want her to stay, more than anything. But I don’t have any right to ask her to. I mean, it’s not even my house she’s trying to figure out. I don’t want to be the guy who makes her feel like she has to choose me over everything she’s got waiting back in Chicago. ”

Doc placed an O on the napkin, the pencil scratching against the paper as he leaned in. “You know, son, Ruby seems like a smart woman. From what I hear, she already got an offer sight unseen, didn’t she?”

Becket nodded, still staring at the tic-tac-toe board. “Yeah. Could’ve signed the papers, been done with it.”

“But she didn’t,” Doc said with a knowing nod. “She’s stalling, isn’t she? Did you ever wonder why?”

Becket looked up, meeting Doc’s steady gaze. “Yeah, I do.”

“That’s because she’s figuring out what’s important, where she fits. Ruby seems like the kind of girl who appreciates family, history. If all she wanted was a quick buck, she would have signed those sale papers and flown back to Chicago already. It sounds to me like she’s trying to find out if Aspen Cove could be home. If it feels like a place she could put down roots.”

Doc’s words hit home. “So ... what do I do?” Becket ran a hand through his hair, his frustration clear. “Doc, I’ve got nothing to offer her. I’ve got a beat-up truck and some goats. Not a solid foundation to build a future on.”

Doc chuckled, the sound deep and rich like the bark of an old tree. “Let me tell you something about love, Becket. Ain’t no bank account big enough, no fancy car fast enough, no house grand enough that can hold a candle to the feeling of loving and being loved. Real love ... well, it doesn’t care if you’re driving a shiny new car or a rusted truck that needs a prayer to start each morning.”

Becket stayed silent, his eyes fixed on Doc, waiting for the lesson he knew was coming.

“I’ve seen men with million-dollar deals and big city dreams who still went to bed lonely every night,” Doc continued, his voice softening with a touch of nostalgia. “ And I’ve seen others with nothing but a roof over their heads and a woman who’d stand by their side through thick and thin, and they lived richer lives than most folks could ever dream. You see, love isn’t about what you can put on paper, Becket. It’s about what you can put in someone’s heart.”

Becket swallowed, absorbing the words. “But what if she wants more than that?”

Doc leaned forward, tapping the table with his finger to make sure he had Becket’s full attention. “Then let her go after it. Let her figure out if all that glitters is gold. But if she’s stalling, if she’s hesitating on that offer for the house, then maybe—just maybe—she’s finding out that real gold’s right here in Aspen Cove. And you, my boy, might just be worth more than any sight-unseen offer she’s got.”

Becket’s lips twitched, and something stirred in his chest. “You make it sound simple.”

Doc grinned back, a twinkle in his eye. “Love is simple, son. It’s folks that make it complicated. So, let her make her choice, but in the meantime, show her that your beat-up truck and goats aren’t just things—they’re part of a life that she could love.”

Becket nodded, feeling the truth in the words. “I guess I’ve got some showing to do.”

Doc clapped him on the back. “That’s right. Now, let’s finish this game. And remember, it could still be your lucky day.”

When Becket returned home, he checked on Daisy again before heading into the house. She seemed comfortable, showing no signs of impending labor. He made a mental note to check on her again before they left for the tree lighting and cookie exchange .

He found Ruby in the kitchen, making a fresh pot of coffee.

“Hey,” he said, not wanting to startle her. “Ready for tonight?”

Ruby looked up. “As ready as we’ll ever be. Did you get the candies?”

Becket held up the bag triumphantly. “Mission accomplished. Now, let’s turn these cookies into little works of art.”

As they worked side by side, decorating the cookies, Becket couldn’t stop glancing at Ruby. The way she bit her lip in concentration as she piped icing, the small, pleased smile when a design turned out perfectly—he wanted to remember every detail.

As the day wore on, they turned their attention to the two goats they’d decided to bring to the tree lighting ceremony. Becket had chosen to leave Daisy at home due to her pregnancy, opting instead for the enthusiastic Sir Chomps-a-Lot and Houdini. As for Houdini, leaving him behind seemed riskier than bringing him along—who knew what trouble he might get into if left unsupervised?

Dressing them proved to be a challenge, with Houdini living up to his namesake.

“Come on, you little troublemaker,” Becket grunted, struggling to fasten a pair of felt antlers onto Houdini’s head. The goat bleated indignantly, twisting his neck to avoid the offending accessory. “It’s just for a few hours. You can handle it.”

Ruby watched. “You know,” she said, “I never thought I’d see the day when dressing up goats for a tree lighting would be a normal part of my life.”

Just as they were trying to figure out how to make the goats look more festive, there was a knock at the front door .

“I’ll get it,” Ruby said, hurrying through the door that led from the garage into the house.

Becket continued wrestling with Houdini’s antlers, only looking up when he heard Ruby return. She and Mrs. Brown entered. Mrs. Brown’s cat Mr. Piddles cradled in one arm and a bag of knitted items in the other. Becket had to stifle a laugh when he saw Mr. Piddles dressed in a full elf costume, complete with pointy hat and shoes. The cat’s expression could be described as one of utter resignation.

“Good evening,” Mrs. Brown chirped. “I’ve brought those scarves for your goats.”

“Oh, Mrs. Brown, thank you so much,” Ruby said, her voice warm with gratitude. “We were just getting the goats ready.”

Becket caught Ruby’s eye and mouthed, “Poor cat,” as he struggled to keep his laughter in check, causing Ruby to stifle a giggle.

They spent the next few minutes wrangling the goats into their new scarves, with Houdini doing his best to eat Mr. Piddles’ elf hat. The cat, for his part, maintained a dignified air of long-suffering patience.

As Mrs. Brown prepared to leave, she turned to Ruby and Becket. “You two make such a lovely couple,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “It’s so nice to see young love blossoming in Aspen Cove.”

Becket’s cheeks heated up, and he saw Ruby’s face turn a delightful shade of pink. Before either of them could say a thing, she was out the door, Mr. Piddles in tow.

An awkward silence fell between them, broken by Houdini’s attempt to eat his own scarf.

“Well,” Becket said, clearing his throat, “time to head out. Don’t want to be late for the big event. ”

Ruby nodded, still looking a bit flustered. “Right. Yes. The tree lighting.”

As they headed out, Becket made one last check on Daisy. Satisfied that she was comfortable and showing no signs of imminent labor, he joined Ruby and the goats outside.

The crisp evening air nipped at their cheeks as they headed into town, Houdini and Sir Chomps-a-Lot trotting beside them on leashes. The streets were alive with activity, holiday music drifting through the air, accompanied by the scent of cinnamon and pine needles from every direction.

“It’s like something out of a Hallmark movie,” Ruby marveled, taking in the twinkling lights and cheerful decorations they had installed.

Becket grinned, pulling Houdini back as the goat eyed a wreath like a salad buffet. “They say Aspen Cove doesn’t do anything halfway when it comes to Christmas.”

Ruby’s eyes lit up at that. “I’ve never seen a town do a proper tree lighting before.”

“Well, looks like you’re in for a treat,” Becket said, unable to hide his own excitement. Even though he was new to town, something about tonight was like stepping into a tradition he’d always belonged to.

As they walked toward the town square, twinkling lights cast a warm glow, and carols floated through the crisp, cold air. Becket watched Ruby—the way her eyes sparkled, reflecting every light they passed, her cheeks flushed pink from the cold. She seemed to belong here, right in the heart of Aspen Cove’s winter wonderland.

“Ready for your first Aspen Cove tree lighting?” he asked, a grin spreading wide across his face.

Ruby nodded, and there was a glimmer of something more than just excitement in her eyes—something that made Becket’s heart skip a beat. “You know what? I think I am.”

As they walked toward the tree, Ruby reached into the basket slung over her arm, offering gingerbread cookies to people they passed. Children’s faces lit up, and even a few adults couldn’t resist taking one.

When they reached Maisey, the owner of the diner, Ruby held out a cookie. “Gingerbread?” she offered.

Maisey grinned, balancing a tray piled high with cookies of her own. “Well, if you insist,” she said, taking one. Houdini’s ears perked, and the goat tried to sneak a nibble from the edge of the tray.

“Ah, ah, ah!” Maisey swatted him away, laughing. “Not for you.”

Becket shrugged apologetically. “Sorry about that. He’s got a bit of a sweet tooth.”

Maisey waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t we all?” She nodded toward the tree, pride evident in her voice. “You know, that beauty was planted just last year. Came straight from Amanda Anderson’s yard. She’s an author who’s writing an entire romance series about this town.”

“Really?” Ruby asked, looking at the tree with new admiration. “That’s so ... special.”

Maisey nodded. “Aspen Cove has a way of finding its way into your heart. Just like it did with Amanda—who inherited her cabin in the woods from Bea Bennett. This town...” She looked around, her eyes sweeping over the families, the lights, the joy in the air. “It makes you want to stay. Gives you roots.”

Ruby’s eyes softened as she looked at Maisey, then at Becket. “Seems like Amanda and I have a lot in common.”

“Maybe more than you realize,” Maisey said. “Aspen Cove has a lot to offer—if you’re open to seeing it.”

Becket watched Ruby closely, hoping she was starting to see what Maisey meant. He could feel that sense of rightness again, that feeling like he was where he was supposed to be. And maybe Ruby was feeling it too, he thought, as she laughed at Houdini’s continued attempts to steal a cookie.

Tonight was going to be special. He could feel it in the air.