Christmas Sugar (Insta-Spark)

“Because the bluff was your dream, Alex. I want to give it to you.”

“You already gave me my dream, Dylan. I have you.”

“But the house . . . the bluff . . .”

“I have another bluff now. You built me a lovely place to sit and spend time. You know how much I love my sun-house.”

“I wanted to give you this dream.”

I shook my head. “I’ve been trying to tell you for months, Dylan. You already have. I wanted a home, love, and to feel safe. The bluff was my hideaway. It was where I went when I needed to feel centered. I have all that at the Gables. Our home—you—center me. The kids love it there. We have plenty of room, it’s easy access to Edgewater or Halifax. You love your office, and I enjoy running the cottages . . . when they’re not full of company, that is.”

He chuckled. Most of the time, they were filled with personal guests. Arlene and Simon, their family, and George were constant visitors. We took guests on occasion, and even those were regulars.

He looked at the design. “So, you don’t want to move?”

“One day, when we’re older and the kids are gone and we want a smaller place. Change the design and build it as the honeymoon cottage, Dylan. Fill it with people in love. Let that soak into the walls for the next thirty years, and we’ll move in and finish our lives there, together.” I smiled up at him. “We can even rent it and have dirty weekends away when the kids drive us crazy.” I nudged him in the ribs. “I know the owner, you know, I can get us a good rate.”

He burst out laughing, wrapping his arms around me. “That would work. I can have John keep the private road, and the people renting the cottage have access. It gives them privacy. Then when we’re ready—in forty or fifty years”—he cocked an eyebrow at me—“we can make it ours.” He glanced back at the design. “A bungalow, two bedrooms, and the back wall all glass so we see the view from every room.”

I leaned up on my tiptoes and kissed him. “Perfect.”

He pulled me closer, bringing my mouth to his for another kiss. “Yes,” he whispered. “You are.”

I glanced over at my sleeping wife. She had been so exhausted when we arrived home last night, she hadn’t even moved as I lifted her from the passenger seat and carried her inside. The one time she stirred was when I tugged her shirt over her head and tucked her into our big bed. She half smiled at me, attempting to pat my cheek and missing totally, falling right back to sleep.

I should have left her at home when I flew to Toronto. I knew she didn’t like the big city—it frightened her still, even with me beside her, but since she had told me she was pregnant, my protectiveness had kicked into high gear. I hated not being close—she seemed to feel the same—and agreed to come with me since it was only for two days.

I rested my hand on her already rounded stomach. After we were married that New Year’s Eve in front of the fireplace with friends, and had a perfect—but too short—honeymoon, we started our life together.

We went home, moved into the Gables, and became a family. After a long discussion, I adopted Noelle and Seth, who had surprised me when he told me he would like to be a Maxwell as well. Like Noelle, he had never known his father, and he felt his mother would be pleased he was part of a new family.

I still got a warm feeling in my chest when I heard my Little Owl call me Daddy. Seth waffled between calling me Dad and Dylan, depending on what he wanted at the time. On the rare occasion, he’d mutter “Asshole,” but luckily they were few and far between—he was a great kid, and I was proud of him.

I was thrilled the day Alex threw out her birth control pills. It took us a few months before she was pregnant, but we did it thoroughly, and she was expecting twins. My masculine pride knew no bounds, which made Alex laugh.

I slid out of bed to leave her to sleep, dragged a T-shirt over my head, and headed down to the kitchen. I was still hopeless at making coffee or doing anything else in the kitchen, but Alex kept a Keurig on the counter for me. So, I made a cup of coffee and carried it over to table, sitting back and enjoying the view. George insisted the view on the bluff was the most scenic, but I actually preferred my current view. The vast expanse of openness from the bluff was wild and isolating. The view from the Gables was tranquil and welcoming. Farther inland, the water kissed the rocky shore in gentle swells, and at low tide, my Little Owl and I loved to walk together, searching for new treasures. The more protected cove made it a great place for swimming and boating.

I loved the house. The moment we’d stepped inside, I loved it, and I knew I’d buy it. It was everything we wanted and together, we had made it a home.

Alex was right—I didn’t want to move. We were so happy at the Gables. Friends and family often occupied the five guest cottages, but in the busy summer months, Alex loved having new faces to introduce to her beloved province. It kept her busy, and with a slight smirk, I had to admit, it gave her a break from me. She was an excellent assistant, and she worked hard to keep me in line, never taking any of my shit. I loved working with her, and I’d be lying if I didn’t confess I pouted a little on the days she had “other things” to do.

Edgewater was a booming success. After much thought, and many plans, I changed my mind on the scope of the project. It was still a high-end destination, but not as large as I had originally projected. I kept the main building smaller and added more cottages, catering to both families and couples looking to get away somewhere private. I used the land to scatter them around, and the place was booked year-round. And heading it up . . . was none other than Amy. She flew down with Arlene one trip, met one of the contractors, fell in love, and moved to Pinegrove. While she was there, she showed a remarkable aptitude for running the show. Whereas she failed at taking orders, she was amazing at issuing them, and she ran the guest services to perfection. She also ran Michael, but he seemed to enjoy it. She and Alex hit it off and had become fast friends. Amy and I had finally found a plateau on which we could both function, and to my surprise, we got along well too.

But knowing the magic of the place, nothing should surprise me anymore. It had certainly changed my life—for the better.

The sound of tiny feet heading my way made me smile. I turned in my chair, holding out my arms as the feet sped up.

“Daddy, you’re home!”

Seconds later, I was holding my Little Owl, subjected to her usual greeting of wet little kisses all over my face. They were my favorite.

Her teeth were back, her lisp gone, and her vocabulary much larger. Silence was her enemy, but she was still my Noelle. She had remained tiny, her hair wild and curly, and my knee still her favorite place to sit.

“Hey, Little Owl. Miss me?”

She giggled. “Yes! Seth is too bossy.”

I grinned. Seth had grown up. Now nineteen, his eyes were on the future. Unlike Alex, he loved going to Toronto with me, and I took him quite often. He had taken a year off after graduating, unsure what he wanted to do. Finally, he came to me for one of our talks, and he told me he wanted to go to the University of Toronto and get his business degree. Then, s