Sneak Peek

We hope you enjoy this first look at Lindsay Gibson’s Christmas in Focus!

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Prologue

Alpine Ridge, Vermont, December 3, 1804

Annie

The December air was crisp, carrying whispers of late autumn’s final breath as Annie Foster hauled her basket of squash from the root cellar. The sun had begun its descent, lowering over Alpine Mountain and casting a soft glow over the fields. Annie shivered in the breeze and caught the scent of chestnuts from the smoke drifting lazily from the chimney. Her family would host a joyous celebration the following day, giving thanks for another bountiful harvest and welcoming the winter that would begin any day now— turning the farm into a canvas of white for months.

As Annie walked toward the farmhouse, her husband, Earl, came into view, trotting down the road on his horse. He’d been out most of the day with a few other men from the village on a wild turkey fowling—and he didn’t look empty-handed. Turkey stew would be plentiful for the weeks to come.

Annie paused at the door and waited for him to dismount and settle the horse in the barn. When he reappeared with a proud smile and held up the meat, gratitude filled her for his continued strength to hunt and farm and for the warm hearth inside their house with its large fire to keep them and their four children well-fed.

“A successful hunt I see.” Annie beamed up at him.

“Very much so,” Earl said, gripping two birds. “I better go dress these and hang them with the others.” He retreated to the barn to attend to the birds.

The sound of wagon wheels caught Annie’s attention. This time when she turned toward the road, she saw her neighbor, Abigail Martin, approaching, accompanied by townsman Samuel Thayer. Annie slowly drew in some of the cool air before forcing a smile and stepping out to greet them. They pulled up in front of the farmhouse, and Samuel helped Abigail down, a covered basket hanging on her arm.

“Mother?” Annie’s oldest son, Leo, appeared behind her, pushing the door open. He had grown tall that summer despite being only seven years of age. “Who is here?”

“It’s just our neighbor, Mrs. Martin. Go back inside where it’s warm and I’ll be right in.”

“I hope they aren’t here to begin another argument.” The boy looked up at her with worry in his gaze.

“Don’t you be concerned with that. Now go on inside,” Annie said firmly, even though she shared her son’s worry.

She and Earl held a troubled history with Abigail Martin and her late husband, John. When their town of Alpine Ridge, Vermont, had been founded a little over ten years earlier, the property line between their parcels of land had been unclear, and tension between the two families had started brewing right from the beginning—that had never fully resolved. The disagreement had quickly escalated into a full debate at a town meeting a couple years back after Earl had begun to replace the old log cabin with their two-story cottage. He’d been determined to clear out more land going up the mountain for his farm but couldn’t until the debate had been settled legally.

For Annie, the new development had turned what had been a tense-but-still-polite situation between neighbors into a deeper breach and tainted the once strong relationship she’d had with Abigail. She’d hoped things would go back to normal once the town settled the two-page map showing the property line that extended the Martin’s farm into the mountain, currently marked only by a rock wall near a large stream—an extension Earl hadn’t wanted. Annie had urged him to accept the ruling for the sake of peace in the community, but her husband continued to protest that his family rightfully owned the mountain all the way around the stream.

Sadly, there hadn’t been a chance to truly mend fences with the Martins. John had fallen gravely ill with dysentery and passed away right before the final hearing the previous spring, leaving Abigail widowed with their firstborn daughter. Despite the rift, Annie had done what she could to be there for mother and child following their loss, but Earl—still resentful—hadn’t always made that easy. She’d ignored his bitterness and had managed to somewhat make amends with Abigail. But it was a tentative peace.

Now her husband emerged from the barn with a solemn expression directed at their visitors, and her stomach sank. Please, Annie prayed silently, let their visit be brief.

“Abigail, good day to you.” Earl nodded toward the woman as he approached, eyeing Samuel.

“Earl, how are things?” Samuel walked over and shook Earl’s hand.

“Can’t complain. Looking forward to our feast tomorrow to usher in a great harvest. How about yourselves?”

“It was a good year for Abigail, and me as well.”

Earl slowly studied them. “A harvest together?”

Samuel smiled at Abigail. “That’s right.” He stood closer to her. “I asked for Abigail’s hand, and she has accepted. Reverend Cooper will be conducting the ceremony tomorrow morning. We came to inform you ourselves and to offer this basket of apples to add to your winter food provisions. Let’s start the new year on better terms, shall we?”

“Of course, Samuel,” Annie said quickly and took the basket from Abigail. She cast a warning glance at her husband before returning her attention to their neighbor. “That is very kind of you. And congratulations on your nuptials.”

Abigail smiled at her, seemingly relieved. “Thank you.”

“Earl, we also came over so I could address a few things with you. Just some specifics with the land,” Samuel said. “Is that alright?”

“I suppose,” Earl said.

“I’ll be taking over as head of Abigail’s farm,” Samuel said slowly. “I noticed a few things with the revised map that I’d like to clear up to avoid another public debate.”

“Alright.” Earl gestured toward the house. “Ladies, carry on inside by the fire while Samuel and I discuss this business.” He waved for Samuel to follow him. “Won’t you join me in the barn? I’d take you to my study, but I was just getting to this morning’s hunt.”

“The barn is quite alright.”

“Don’t be long.” The words slipped out before Annie could stop herself.

Earl glanced at her. “Yes, dear . . .” he said, the annoyance on his face clear. “We won’t be.”

Annie pondered her husband’s hesitation, frowning as she watched the men walk away. Why couldn’t this issue just be put to rest? She turned back to Abigail who was also staring after them.

“How’s that sweet baby of yours doing?” Annie asked.

“She’s growing fast and doing well. My mother is keeping her at the moment.” Abigail looked at the house.

“Come on now, let’s have some tea. Hopefully my little ones won’t be too loud while you have this short break.” Annie put her arm around Abigail and led her inside. As she closed the door, she peeked at the men walking into the barn and couldn’t help but worry about the conversation playing out between them.

———

When Annie finally got her children down for the night, she headed toward the parlor and found her husband leaning over a stack of papers at his writing table.

“Is there anything I can get you, darling?”

Earl popped his head up, a guilty expression on his face. “Annie, I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Am I disturbing something?

“No, not at all. I was just absorbed in this land deed, reading everything over once more before I store it in the chest up in the attic for safekeeping,” he said. He quickly shuffled the papers on his desk, folded them, and stuffed them into an envelope before she could see what they said.

“I trust everything is alright with Samuel then.”

“It is.”

“I see . . .” She paused against his still contrite expression and short answer. “Well, is there anything I can get you?”

“A hard cider sounds nice.”

“Of course, I’ll be right back.”

He was behaving rather suspiciously, but she didn’t dare question her husband. She could only hope that he and Samuel Thayer had settled everything peacefully and everyone could move forward. Nevertheless, she couldn’t shake the sudden unease she felt.

“I’ll meet you back down here.” Earl stood and took the papers upstairs.

When Annie returned with his drink, they sat by the fire and enjoyed their quiet reflections on the blessings of the harvest and the promise of the coming year.

Later, before joining her husband in the chamber above, she thought she could make out snowflakes falling beyond the window. Curious, she stepped outside and, sure enough, the first snow was coming down from the blackened sky. Winter had arrived. Something about the first snow ignited a feeling of comfort as she prepared for the long nights ahead with the people she loved.

Annie picked up the last candle and made her way to the stairs as she thought about Abigail. Knowing Samuel would take care of her neighbor brought some relief, but not from the uncertainty that their property dispute had been fully resolved. Perhaps Earl’s nervous response had just been due to the lingering frustration over the years-long land debate that had yielded an unfavorable outcome for him. Regardless, everyone was in good health, and the new year would be a wonderful one for all.