As he had during the weeks leading up to Christmas, Carson left his office and started toward the tea shop. He’d had no idea that holiday high tea was such an event. Abigail and Clare had been nonstop busy for nearly three weeks. His mother had even stopped in a few days to help them during their busiest times.

He never imagined that he would be a dishwasher, but that's what he had turned into. Every night after work, he headed to the store to help them clean up.

Tonight, however, he needed to stop by the Ford Street church project first. The crews were beginning to work on the stability of the building. It was going to be a long and tedious task, but it would be worth it.

Work at the site had stopped by the time he got there. All the better, he thought, as there was no one there to ask too many questions.

Carson parked his car and stepped out onto the cold frozen ground. He would walk the perimeter and just see what work had been done. He knew better than to go inside at this point, leaving that to the professionals.

He could see that in the lower level, new supports were being brought in. Smaller concrete mixers were chained to one another to keep them safely where they were. A generator hung from a front loader.

Carson checked all the openings to the gate and made sure they were secure as well. The last thing he wanted was for anyone to wander inside.

As he checked the final lock, a cold wind blew through the construction site. His muscles froze as he tried to wrap his coat around him tighter. All the while, he swore he could smell roses.

When the wind died down, he hurried back to his car. He laughed to himself as he started the engine and waited for the heater to kick in.

It was December, snowing, and freezing, how in the world did he think he'd smelled roses?

From the construction site, Carson headed straight to the tea shop. There was no surprise that it was nearing seven o'clock, and the entire place was still full of customers.

He noticed as he walked through the door that not all of the customers were dining on tea. Many of them were looking at the holiday gifts that Abigail and Clare had brought in. However, there was a new display near the cash register he noticed. It was full of adorned handkerchiefs and linens. These looked much different than the ones his mother had purchased that Abigail's mother had made.

Abigail walked from the kitchen, her hands each filled with plates of decadent treats. She smiled at Carson as she walked to the table and sat down plates. He heard her explain each delicacy to the delighted women before she left them.

Carson went straight back to the kitchen and hung up his coat. As he passed Clare, who was making another plate of sandwiches, he kissed her on the cheek. "Is this what you expected at Christmas time?"

"This is what I dreamed of." She smiled widely.

Carson picked up the extra apron that hung on the hook. He tied it around his waist and went straight to the sink. Abigail had been very specific as to how to wash the dishes. Some of the cups were over one hundred years old, and he had to admit he was scared to death to break one.

Abigail fluttered her way through the kitchen, and he noted the smile on her face. She was in her element. She loved the people, the atmosphere, and he'd come to learn that she absolutely loved Christmas.

"Thank you for coming to help. They did a write up on the store in the Golden paper. Did you see it? We've been slammed because of it. The phone has been ringing off the hook," she said as she filled a container with cream. "I had someone call and ask how late we were open. I wasn't quite sure what to say. We’re already open longer than usual."

Clare laughed. "She's a little excited," she said to Carson.

"It brings out the pink in her cheeks," he noted.

Abigail moved from the refrigerator to the sink, carrying the creamer in her hand. "I love this time year. And did you see our new display?"

"I did. Where did you get the linens?"

"Donna. They found them in Mrs. Winters' things. They all took what they wanted and kept some for future generations. But she said they have boxes and boxes of it. She thought it belonged here where it was to begin with. I've already sold five or six pieces."

"I'm proud of you. Kiss me and get back to work," he instructed.

Abigail moved to him, rising on her tiptoes. She moved in and pressed a kiss to his lips. He first heard the creamer drop to the floor and the container shatter, right before he heard the breaking of the Prussian cup that he dropped in the sink. It was all a blur as he watched Abigail fall backward and he reached for her.

They both went to the ground, but somehow he managed to get himself underneath her so she didn't hit her head.

"Abi! Abigail, are you okay?"

Her eyelashes fluttered as she tried to open her eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Don't you be sorry. Just lay here a minute."

Clare hurried to them, a glass of water in her hand. "I hate when you do that. You scare the hell out of me."

Carson watched as she came to just enough to sip the water. He would've worried that something was wrong with her, but he'd seen her do this before. As she became more steady, she sat up on her own.

Color began to fill her cheeks and tears her eyes.

He brushed a finger over her cheek as the first tear fell. "Don't cry. You're okay. Do you feel okay?"

She nodded.

He realized, at that moment, he wasn't touching her. He couldn't help but reach out and pressed his fingers to her arm.

Again, he watched her eyes nearly rolled back all the way her head as she fell back into his arms.

Clare moved in quickly. "What the hell is with her?"

"Here. You need to move in and hold her."

He and Clare exchanged positions. The moment that Abigail was fully in Clare's arms, her consciousness returned.

Clare looked at the Carson and a line formed between her brows. "What's going on?"

"I think she had a premonition. I think it was about me, or brought on by me."

They both turn the focus back to Abigail who stared at them. "It was when I kissed you. But there's nothing there. Everything just went black." Abigail brushed the hair from her eyes. "This is a mess. We need to get this cleaned up," she said as she looked up at Carson. "And did you break a Prussian cup?"

Carson held his hands up in surrender. "I will buy you a thousand antique Prussian cups if I never have to see you do that again."

He watched helplessly as Clare helped Abigail to her feet, and then both women cleaned up the cream. Managing to clean out the sink, he threw away the shards of the antique cup.

When he looked up, Abigail stood next to him with a sad look on her face. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not sure what you're apologizing for. You have nothing to be sorry for."

She only nodded and went back to work.

Carson watched as she walked back out to the dining room as if nothing had happened. Inside, his gut twisted. This was what she had feared all along, wasn't it? How could they possibly have a physical relationship if she couldn't touch him?

And why had everything just gone black, he wondered? What did that signify? Was he in danger, or was she?