Seeing her childhood home was more difficult than Poppy had anticipated. It was smaller than she remembered it, softer too, all covered in piles of snow. The front porch was bigger and much sturdier than it had been when she and her parents had lived there, when she’d thought the world was golden, when she’d thought they’d all been happy together.

She parked across the street so she wouldn’t intrude and so she could get a good look at it. And she was glad she had because her gut clenched with the memories, and she shivered as ghosts skated over her heart.

An older man shoveled snow and a woman with curly white hair was sweeping off the porch. “Let’s call it good and have tea, love,” the woman said. “Getting dark soon and I don’t want you to fall again.”

“Yes, ma’am. Tea sounds good. What time are Jinny and the kids arriving?”

“Around six, their flight gets in.” The voices trailed off as they went inside, closing the door and taking with them all the warmth. Poppy wrapped her sweater tighter around her and turned up the car’s heat.

It wasn’t her house anymore. It wasn’t her father’s either, apparently, despite her hope. Maybe it hasn’t been for a long time? What had she been thinking, arriving in Graciella out of the blue and expecting everything to be the same, expecting her father to be there waiting for her? She hadn’t heard from him in more than seventeen years. Out of desperation and loneliness she’d talked herself into this fool’s errand.

Unfortunately, if he had been here all this time, then she’d have had to reconcile with the fact that he’d never once contacted her since she and her mother had left all those years ago. Honestly, exhausted, cold, completely drained, she wasn’t sure which one she really hoped was true, now that she sat here facing her past and her present simultaneously with no way to understand the space between the two. Bone-deep weariness dragged at her soul as she headed out of town.

Poppy’s pulse kicked up as she turned onto Brockman land. What caused the most recent surge of nerves was that she didn’t recognize any of it. Of course, she’d never seen the farm’s acres blanketed in white snow. Even the gorgeous apple trees, bare of leaves but donning inches of white powder, glistened in the fading daylight, like they were wearing diamonds and showing off, gone from barren rags to riches.

She remembered only one white winter when she was a child in Graciella, but playing in a small snow-covered backyard with her father was different from witnessing all these gently rolling acres hidden by soft powder. Wow. It even altered the main house. It had tripled in size, ballooned out with its winter gear on. She parked beside several large pickup trucks and an old Jeep.

Had there always been that huge extension with all those glorious south-facing windows capturing the light? That was one memory engraved in her bones. Brockman Farms’ main house had not been one of light, no matter how hard her Aunt Katie had tried to make it that way.

Now though, even covered in snow, perhaps because of it, the place had a magical and joyful embrace about it. Right out of a storybook. The house stood on the hill with the orchards stretching behind it. White Christmas lights graced the entire outline of the house. Flashing colored lights blinked in the pine trees to the side of the house and the shrubs along the front, and the biggest wreath Poppy had ever seen adorned the new double-doored entrance. It’s all so dreamy.

Poppy pulled her aching, exhausted body from the car and nearly cried at the beautiful farm on the brink of early twilight, the sky and clouds white to match the ground, all the lights sparkling. Everything in this moment invited, “Welcome. Come inside, child, and set down all your burdens. This is a place of dreams and warmth and happiness.”

And oh, how desperately she needed to believe it. She’d returned to Graciella to find answers to her most feared questions—why had her father abandoned her? And why did she feel, since she’d left Graciella, there was no place in the world she truly belonged?

Snowflakes began falling again as she made her way carefully to the front door in her old clogs, toes already stinging at how cold it was. Shoving her possessions into one suitcase and leaving her life in Paris to return to a place she didn’t even know if she’d be welcome had been, what, a leap of faith? Or perhaps a lesson in disaster? From a quick search she’d discovered mean old TD Brockman was dead and Poppy’s cousins ran the place now. She’d hurried and booked a last-minute flight to the US.

Now that she was here, would they welcome her, would they want to see her? Only one way to find out. You’ve come this far, Pop, you can do it. You have absolutely nothing left to lose. She climbed the front steps to ring the doorbell when laughter startled her. A woman and man headed in her direction from one of the paths that looked like it had been cleared of snow a while ago, only to have it start to become covered again. Huge, charming white flakes fell as lace upon the stone path.

“Hello,” an enormously pregnant and smiling woman said. Her dark hair was covered in a bright green winter hat, curls trying to sneak out. “Can we help you?”

Poppy caught the woman’s gaze and nearly fell off the step. “Liliana?” In all the years Poppy had spent following her three older cousins around, desperate to belong, Lily had been there too. She might as well have been family because she could always be found hanging around the Brockman brothers.

“Poppy?” the man said. “It’s you! Dammit, little Poppy O’Brien! Where did you magically appear from?”

Those eyes could only belong to one cousin. “Turner,” she whispered. Her favorite.

“Oh, my goodness,” Lily squealed and wrapped Poppy in a hug. Before she could stop them, not that she wanted to, Turner’s arms were around her too and they enveloped her in a massive smooshy embrace, Lily’s baby belly begging for room. The best kind of hug ever and the kind she hadn’t had in such a long, long time.

Turner opened the door, Lily linked her arm through Poppy’s and rushed her through a gorgeously decorated hallway, yelling, “You guys are never going to believe who we found outside. Our very own snow fairy.”

They rounded a corner into the old kitchen, which was also completely different from what Poppy remembered. But the aromas hitting her were all too familiar—baked dough, a hint of orange and spice. Other delectable savory scents hovered in the room. If a place could be the same based on smell, then this was the kitchen warmth of her childhood memories. And it was full of people.

“Guess who came home?” Lily said to everyone who’d suddenly gotten quiet.

“Pipsqueak?”

Cruz, her oldest cousin, sat by a woman with a sleek blue pixie bob framing pretty eyes. He was the cousin who’d teased her mercilessly, but who’d also taught her how to ride a bike. He’d always been the patient one, broody as he got older. Holding a sleeping baby over his shoulder, he stood and wrapped her in a side hug that was over way too soon.

“No way. Pop Pop!” Then it was Adam, had to be, the only one of the brothers who’d called her that as a child. They were close to the same age. As a boy, he’d been quiet and thoughtful and she’d been his Pop Pop. He set down the child he’d been holding, lifted Poppy off her feet and twirled her around.

“Jesus, when did you all grow into giants?” A laugh bubbled out of her. Her cheeks were wet with tears. They all smiled and talked at her at once. Adam turned her around and there she was.

“Aunt Katie. I…” The words stuck in her throat. She’d adored her aunt and hadn’t seen her since she was ten. Once Poppy and her mom had left, they’d shut the door on this place for good. Poppy had so many unanswered questions. And ever since Poppy had left Graciella, she’d felt adrift. She wanted to anchor herself into this place she’d once loved and been loved in return. But now wasn’t the time, with the kitchen full of more than family.

“Oh, Poppy, we’ve missed you.” Katie’s hug was fierce. “I’m so glad you’ve come. What a wonderful surprise. Sit and we’ll introduce you to everyone.”

Adam beckoned her into the banquette. “Poppy, this is my wife, Cass, and our daughter, Willow.” He sat beside them. “We have twins too, but thank goodness they’re at home with the babysitter.”

Willow climbed onto his thighs and gazed at Poppy with large brown eyes, her hair a wild crown of curls. Poppy couldn’t help but smile back at the little sprite.

“And Cruz’s wife, Miranda.”

The blue-haired woman gave her a warm smile and a wave.

They introduced her to their friends, to Katie’s new husband, Javier, who gazed at her aunt with such deep love it made Poppy blush. They quietly showed her Cruz and Miranda’s toddler, sleeping in the alcove. She got more hellos, and a mug of hot tea was set in front of her along with a plate. In the center of the table was a platter of cookies, another of salami and cheeses, little bowls full of olives, crackers and a tiny pot of honey, and suddenly her mouth was watering.

The last meal she’d eaten had been more than thirty hours ago, and one thing she’d never forgotten was what an amazing cook and baker her aunt was. “I don’t know where to start,” she said and gave a laugh. “But I’m starved, and the food looks delicious. Especially these.”

“They are,” Lily said. “Mini croissants with chocolate and orange. I dream about them. This baby is turning me into a pastry.” Lily patted her stomach and took one of the steamy rolled pockets of dough, sighing with delight as she sampled it. She sat in Turner’s lap, his arms tight around her. With a protective hand on her belly, he leaned in and nuzzled Lily’s neck.

Poppy grinned. Seems like he enjoys her pastry body just fine.

“Where have you been all these years?” Adam asked.

“You’re not the only one who left for a while,” Cruz said.

“Nope. Cruz and Turner have only been back for a couple of years,” Adam said. “Everyone comes home eventually.”

Home. Adam sounded so certain. Poppy wasn’t sure she knew the meaning of that word anymore.

The conversation continued around her. They plied her with food and more tea. Eventually someone passed around beer and wine. So much was happening, but Poppy didn’t mind. She’d rather not ever have to explain what she’d been doing with her life.

“We made it!” A woman wrapped in a long winter coat trailed into the kitchen with more people following behind her.

“Yay! You’re here,” Cass said and nudged her way out of the booth to greet the new group.

“You sure picked a lovely time for a visit, Poppy. We’re having a winter solstice wedding. Cass’ friends Naomi and Bodhi from San Francisco,” Katie said as she filled more wineglasses and checked the food in the ovens.

“Oh no,” Adam said. “Where are we going to put Poppy? The big house, all the cottages, even our own houses are stuffed to the gills with people, at least for this week.”

“What about Rafe’s cottage?” Turner asked. “Or maybe it’s not an ideal time with all he has going—”

“No,” Adam said. “It’s a good idea. I’ll call him and check. We’ll find room for you, Pop Pop.”

Poppy hadn’t even contemplated where she would stay, running from her current mess of a life to investigate her even messier past, on a whim…or such fierce loneliness. It was too difficult to make the distinction. And rock bottom hadn’t led her to make the best decisions.

“No worries,” Katie said. “Worries are for the morning. Tonight we’re all going to enjoy a delicious meal together. Everyone grab a plate, fill up and find a spot to sit. Let’s start this celebration week off right.”