Back in Evanston, Mrs. Larson raised an eyebrow at Emily’s early return but said nothing, noting her puffy eyes. Ethan and Noah, however, were thrilled, bounding around her. — You’re back! — they cheered, tugging her toward the bathroom for their nightly routine. Bath time turned into a splashy adventure, with toy boats bobbing in bubbles, their giggles echoing off the tiles.
Emily poured her heart into caring for the boys, accepting she might never have kids of her own. She gave Ethan and Noah all her love, knowing they’d one day outgrow needing her. Before the winter holidays, Michael Carter called her into his study. — Emily, I have a favor to ask, — he said, pausing. — I’m heading to Miami for the holidays. Business contacts I can’t pass up.
— Could you stay with the boys? I know it means no days off, but I’ll add an extra $1,000 to your pay, — he offered, his eyes searching hers. Emily nodded. — Of course, Mr. Carter. But, um, could I take an extra day to visit my parents in Illinois? Just Friday to Sunday, to drop off gifts. — Her voice wavered, hopeful.
Michael chuckled. — Take two days. Leave Thursday, be back Sunday. I’ll have Mrs. Larson pack gifts for your folks from me. — Emily’s face lit up. — Thank you! — Thursday morning, Kyle drove her to Chicago’s Union Station. Michael offered to have Kyle drive her all the way, but Emily declined, not wanting to draw attention in her small town.
At her parents’ farmhouse, Emily stepped into the snowy yard, the creaking floorboards welcoming her home. She spotted her dad, Paul, shoveling the porch. — Didn’t tell us you were coming! — he exclaimed, dropping the shovel to hug her. — Thought you’d wait till New Year’s! — Her mom, Diane, rushed out, arms wide. — My girl! — she cried, pulling Emily close.
Inside, the house smelled of cinnamon and fresh biscuits, wrapping Emily in comfort. — I baked your favorite blueberry muffins, — Diane said, bustling in the kitchen. — Knew you’d show up! — Emily grinned, savoring the warmth. — Mom, I can’t stay for New Year’s, — she admitted. — Mr. Carter needs me to watch the boys while he’s away.
— Always with other people’s kids, — Diane sighed, setting out muffins. — When’s it your turn, honey? — Emily’s smile faded. — Mom, you know I can’t have kids. — Diane scoffed. — Who told you that? Doctors say you’re fine. Jake’s the one with a kid on the way, so it’s not you. — “Could Mom be right about Jake?” Emily wondered, tears pricking her eyes.
Diane softened, hugging her. — Something’s fishy with Jake and that Kayla girl, mark my words. Heard from him lately? — He called a month back, — Emily said, shrugging. — Bragged about marrying Kayla, how she put him on the lease. He’s out of my apartment now. — Diane snorted. — Good riddance. — Emily nodded, pushing Jake from her mind, ready to soak in her family’s love.
Emily spent two days helping her mom, Diane, with chores—baking pies, shoveling snow with her dad, Paul, and catching up with old high school friends at the local diner. Her parents packed her off with jars of homemade jam and beef jerky, despite her protests. — Take it, — Diane insisted, — share it with Mr. Carter and those sweet boys. — Emily relented, lugging the heavy bags onto the bus back to Chicago.
At Union Station, Emily struggled with her haul, finally calling an Uber to reach the Evanston house. She stumbled through the door, breathless. — Emily! — Mrs. Larson exclaimed, rushing over. — Why’re you carrying all that? — My parents sent treats for everyone, — Emily grinned, setting the bags down. — Not sure what to do with it all.
— Not sure? — Michael Carter’s voice boomed from the dining room. — Let’s see what we’ve got! — Emily unpacked jars of strawberry jam, pickled green beans, pumpkin butter, and slices of Diane’s famous cornbread. Michael bit into a pickled bean, his eyes lighting up. — Haven’t had these since my grandma’s farm in Wisconsin, — he said, nostalgia softening his face.
— You spent time on a farm? — Emily asked, surprised. — Every summer, — Michael laughed. — Grandma Ellen made cornbread just like this. Best days of my life, running wild in the fields. — He savored another bite. — Tell your parents thanks. No fancy restaurant beats food made with love. — Emily beamed, warmth spreading through her.
For the holidays, a towering winter holiday tree sparkled in the Evanston foyer. The pine scent of the holiday tree filled the foyer. Emily, Ethan, and Noah spent hours hanging ornaments, their laughter bouncing off the walls. They stepped back to admire their work, the tree’s lights promising magic. “This feels like home,” Emily thought, her heart full. Outside, they built snowmen, tossing snowballs in the crisp air, their cheeks rosy with joy.
After lunch, Emily tucked the boys in for a nap and joined Mrs. Larson in the kitchen to prep a holiday feast—roast turkey, mashed potatoes, and pecan pie. Kyle, the driver, joined them, having no family to celebrate with. Emily wrapped gifts for everyone: a dinosaur encyclopedia for Ethan, a sketch pad for Noah, fuzzy slippers for Mrs. Larson, and a personalized mug for Kyle.
That evening, they gathered around the dining table, sipping sparkling cider instead of wine, the mood festive. Ethan and Noah giggled as Kyle shared goofy holiday stories, easing their disappointment over Michael’s absence. Later, they lit the tree, exchanging gifts in the glowing foyer. Noah gave Emily a drawing of her holding hands with him and Ethan, captioned “Noah-Emily-Ethan” in wobbly letters. Ethan’s handmade card, a lopsided tree, read “Happy Holidays” with backward letters. Mrs. Larson gifted a knitted scarf, and Kyle offered a box of chocolates, blushing slightly.
As midnight neared, Mrs. Larson clapped. — Make your wish! — Emily closed her eyes, wishing for a family like this one day. — Happy New Year! — they shouted, hugging tightly, the Evanston house alive with hope and new beginnings.