1 Chapter 1

People are divided into two groups when it came to December. The first half gripes about the bitter temperatures, every little snowflake, and the seemingly never ending parade of cloudy gray days. The rest revel in the beauty of a world layered in sparkling white, the cheery promise of the holidays, and a perfect break from the sunny scorchers of summer.

Clara Dickens fell into the latter group. To her, winter meant nights curled up on the couch under a warm blanket with a cup of cocoa, either getting lost in the pages of a good book or being captivated by the drama of a Hallmark movie.

Yes, winter certainly had its charms.

But it also had its moments worth grumbling over, like shoveling. Or, in Clara’s case, hampering her attempts to make her rounds. She listened to the whoosh of the wipers as they swept quickly melting flakes from her windshield. The radio transitioned from a country love ballad to a weather report, which Clara already knew by heart. Snow, snow, snow, and more snow. The roads were awash with white and everything was starting to blend into a seamless winter wonderland.

At least she was navigating suburban streets instead of getting lost in the countryside. The Cooper family had called the vet clinic shortly after the snow began to fall; their dog was favoring a paw and they were understandably worried. Clara, with no immediate appointments, told them to stay home, she’d come out to them. Just one of the perks of being a small town vet and perhaps her favorite thing about the gig. House calls allowed her the opportunity to really get to know her patients and their owners.

Though developing such a fondness for the critters came with its own heartache. Just another part of the job, one that was completely unavoidable.

Mattie, the Cooper’s collie/retriever mix, turned out to be okay, nothing broken. Clara diagnosed a soft tissue injury the equivalent of a human rolling their ankle, no doubt brought about by the pooch’s zestful energy. Some rest, a few days of anti-inflammatories, and Mattie would be back to his rambunctious self. The news cheered the Cooper family, and they sent her away with a tin of homemade cookies.

The tin now sat on the passenger seat, blue and white with a red silhouette of a reindeer. It was a miracle she didn’t pack on the pounds this time of year, what with all the goodies her patients bestowed upon her, usually in the form of cookies, though occasionally chocolate; which lasted longer stored away in the confines of her fridge. By the time Christmas rolled around, just two weeks away, Clara would have obtained enough sweets to host her own get-together. If she felt so inclined.

As much as she loved the holidays, parties weren’t exactly her thing. She always felt awkward in her attempts to make small talk, since her world revolved around animals and very little else. Her love life was, at this point, also non-existent.

Clara pulled her SUV into what should have been the gravel lot outside her clinic, the stone concealed under a cold winter blanket. At least the weather report only called for four to six inches by the end of day, then a short break overnight before they were blessed with more of the white stuff tomorrow. The man she paid to plow her lot and driveway would swing by at some point during the afternoon. Maybe she’d offer him a few of the cookies in the tin.

Though it truly was the thought that counted and the gift of edible delights was generous, Clara spent enough time wrestling with the image she saw in the mirror each morning. For the most part she accepted her curvy exterior, only feeling envious of more svelte ladies when bathing suit season rolled around. She did not own one and had no plans in acquiring one, either.

She ditched the SUV, trading the blasting heater for the warmth of the vet clinic she had opened upon moving to town three years earlier. How could so much time have passed already? She had purchased a small farm along the outskirts of town, country enough to give her space and privacy, but close enough to enjoy the conveniences of her new hometown. And right smack dab in the middle of her ever growing list of patients.

The smallest barn on the property had been quickly renovated and turned into the Animal Ark—no critter too big or too small was her somewhat clichéd slogan. She tended everything from the tiniest of hamsters to the horses and cattle that kept the ranch operations running. A little bell over the door chimed as she stepped inside, alerting her receptionist to her return.

“Well, look what Frosty dragged in,” quipped the middle-aged woman.