“Pie for breakfast?” Sarah asked as Aunt Jo sliced a piece of apple pie and topped it with a huge dollop of her homemade whipped cream. Sarah would bet money that most if not all the ingredients came from somewhere in the city of Love.

Aunt Jo slid the slathered piece of pie over then cut one for herself. “Pie is for anytime of the day.”

Sarah groaned as she looked at her daily caloric intake on a single fine china plate. “If I eat this. And I’ll never fit into my clothes.”

“Then you can make new ones. The bedroom across from yours is still set up as a sewing room.”

“Oh, well in that case…” Sarah smiled and dug into the pie. She had to admit it was delicious. Still warm from the oven, it melted the whipped cream a bit and tasted like a little slice of heaven. Or a little slice of love. Love, both the city and the sentiment, was a reliable constant in Sarah’s life with her aunt. The port in the stormy sea. And Aunt Jo’s was at the heart of it all.

Her old Victorian never really changed except for the seasonal décor. Right now, the house was dressed to the nines with twinkling lights, a skirted mantle, and bough wrapped banisters. Sarah would bet the outside of the house looked just as amazing. She’d caught a glimpse of the handmade wreath on the door last night. But she hadn’t seen much else in the dark.

“What are the rest of the Jaynes up to this Christmas?” Aunt Jo asked.

“Cami is putting on some kind of bash for her in-laws since Dan is still deployed,” Sarah said.

Aunt Jo nodded. “And she will probably have a houseful of other spouses-left-behind too, I’m sure.”

“I expect nothing less,” Sarah said.

“And Mary?”

“I think Mary is spending the holidays skiing. She mentioned something about her boss having scheduled some sort of meeting with a reclusive writer or some such thing this week. Mary was flying out to the wilds of Montana maybe? She was going to head to Vail to make a vacation of her trip after she closed the deal.” And Sarah had no doubt her sister would close that deal.

“Your mom sent me a postcard from Alaska. She said they were taking a month-long cruise up there.” Aunt Jo stood and collected their now empty plates. She placed them in the sink and started the water running. “I’m not sure I could enjoy that kind of nomad life but your folks seemed to be having a ball traveling all over creation.”

The word nomad had Cody’s face popping into Sarah’s mind. The memory of his eyes, his clear open gaze inviting her to…Nope. Sarah was not going down that road again. Her whole childhood was that nomadic road. And ten years ago, Cody had made it very clear he was a nomad at heart who wasn’t interested in strings. He’d actually envied Sarah and her sisters getting to live in so many places. And Sarah would have loved to set down permanent roots somewhere, anywhere like Love. She’d tried that in New York City. But if she was honest with herself, the roots never really took hold there.

“Well, I guess that means I get you all to myself until you have to go back home to New York.” Aunt Jo smiled. With no children of her own, she seemed to relish doting on her nieces. “Unless you have other plans?”

“No other plans,” Sarah said. Marriage, children, a family of her own had been the plan, the next step she would take. With Richard. But Richard wasn’t who Sarah thought he was, and truthfully, she wasn’t really that upset about breaking things off with him. In fact, she was more relieved than heartbroken. “I’ll stay at least until the new year rolls around. It might be nice to be somewhere other than Times Square when the ball drops on this year.” But she still had some decisions to make.

“Excellent,” Aunt Jo said. “We’ll have a wonderful holiday together. “Why, I think I’ll even put a real tree up this year.”

“How about if we do that tomorrow?” Sarah stood and rolled up her sleeves. “This morning, I’ll wash the dishes for you Aunt Jo.”

“And I’ll make a fresh pot of coffee. I think I have some sort of Columbian roast stuff your parents sent me this summer. Your mother said it had a rich, bold flavor.”

“Maybe it will bring me a rich, bold life,” Sarah muttered.

“Honey, have you ever considered that maybe New York isn’t the place for your rich, bold life?” Aunt Jo’s voice was gentle, soft.

Sarah shrugged and dipped her head, hiding her eyes from her sometimes too perceptive aunt. The big city was feeling more like a temporary stop while learned how to hone her design skills, rather than a permanent home.

“Are things not going well with the store? I don’t really count your breakup with Dr. Dick Head as a problem, because I think you got lucky with that. There are plenty of other men in the world. A few of them might even be worthy of you.” Aunt Jo smiled when she said that last bit.

“Speaking of worthy men. Guess who I saw at the airport last night?” Sarah tried to force a bit of breezy nonchalance into her tone when she added. “Cody.”

“The Hayes boy? Now there’s a nomad if ever I saw one. I seem to remember him being the no strings attached type.” Aunt Jo was right about that. Except, Cody had said he wasn’t quite so opposed to strings.

“He seems to be warming to the strings. He has a son now.”

“I had no idea he’d married,” Aunt Jo said. “Ellen never said anything. I would have expected her to be shouting that from the rooftops.”

“Cody’s not married,” Sarah said.” His son’s name is Davie and he’s eight.”

“An eight-year-old definitely comes with strings,” Aunt Jo said. “And they tie your heart up with a bow.”

“But, I’m not sure those strings will lead to roots.” Sarah wasn’t even sure Cody wanted roots. “Maybe the strings between him and Davie are enough.”

“Maybe that’s worth exploring while you’re here. Since you don’t have other plans.”

“Maybe.” Exasperated with her inability to make a firm decision about anything right now, Sarah said, “Maybe I should just wrap myself up in a Christmas bow and offer him a no strings affair.”

Aunt Jo leaned in, patted Sarah’s knee and said, “Maybe you should.” Then she stood and added, “Right now, maybe you should be neighborly and say hello. I’m sure I need to borrow a cup of sugar from Ellen.” Then Aunt Jo waggled her brows, turned, and bustled off to the kitchen.