For as long as she could remember, her mother had skipped the convenience of store-bought desserts and created holiday meals by scratch. And while she might be accused by some of being partial, in her opinion, nobody made a better Christmas dinner with all the trimmings than her mother. The past hour held all the evidence anyone would ever need.She swiped a dollop of whipped cream with her finger and stuck it into her mouth. “This is fantastic, Mom.”“You say that every year.”“Only because it’s true.” Paige dabbed her mouth with a napkin before taking another bite. Dorothy had been right. There was no place like home.Christmas lights twinkled in the background on the eight-foot fresh pine tree that was framed by the tall window of her parents’ Nashville home. Everything about the two-story house was familiar, because her mom had changed little in the past thirty years, which was fine with Paige. Family — and coming home for Christmas — had always been the one constant in the busy world they lived in.Her mother had always managed to create the perfect setting for every occasion.
