In ONCE UPON A WINTER'S HEART, Emma Burcelli has come to
the conclusion that love just isn't coming her way and that
it is officially dead when the most romantic man in the
world, her grandfather, dies suddenly. When Poppi dies,
leaving her grandmother Nona devastated Emma does her best
to help out. She begins to work at the family bookstore and
despite the heaviness of her heart; Nona insists they
decorate for Valentines. A new family friend Lane Forester
helps her and through him she learns that her own heart is
still beating.
But just as Emma begins to open up to this new man in her
life, her sister lays claim to him. With Anne and even her
mother insisting that Lane only sees her as a future sister-
in-law, she wonders, if she has made a terrible mistake in
judgment. It doesn't stop her from seeing him on a casual
basis and the more she really gets to know him, Emma starts
to wonder more about her sister's claim. Is Lane playing
some kind of game or had her romantic grandfather really
been a positive influence on him?
ONCE UPON A WINTER'S HEART is a warm, family story filled
with romance and the rivalries that come with it. I found
the family dynamic very intriguing with the various
personalities and watching how they mesh or didn't mesh. As
the secrets and twists become clearer for Emma she is ready
to stand up and fight for what she wants and luckily for
her Logan feels the same way. Author Melody Carlson writes
faith filled, family stories that will leave you with the
knowledge that love can conquer all. This book is no
exception so if you want a story that will have you smiling
and feeling good about life, this is the book for you.
Emma Burcelli has given up on romance. Not just because
she's suffered over a decade of dating disasters. Not
because her parents' marriage ended on New Year's Eve. No,
Emma concludes that love is officially dead when her
grandfather Poppi passes away, leaving the last true
romantic's other half, Nona Burcelli, devastated.
Emma helps by working in the family's bookstore, which Nona
insists must be completely decked out in sweetheart décor as
Poppi would have done for Valentine's Day. Although Emma
feels like a V-Day Scrooge, she quickly learns to enjoy the
task with the aid of a handsome volunteer and friend of
Poppi's, Lane Forester. As Emma spends time with Lane,
sharing stories about Poppi, ice skating in the street, and
hanging hearts to the tune of Dean Martin, she reconsiders
the possibility that romance is alive.
But just as Emma's heart begins to lift she learns her
sister has already staked a claim on Lane's affections.
Emma's mother and sister insist Lane only sees her as a
future sister-in-law, but Emma can't help wondering if it
could be something more.
Excerpt
"Romance is officially dead," Emma Burcelli proclaimed as
she reached for the last empty crate. She pulled off the lid
and dropped several pairs of jeans into the plastic box,
packing them down.
"That is so coldhearted." Lucy frowned as she handed Emma a
small stack of wool sweaters. "Why would you say that?"
Emma looked sadly at her roommate—her soon-to-be
ex-roommate. "Because my grandparents were the last of the
true romantics and now my grandfather is gone." She let out
a long sigh. "I honestly don't know what my grandmother will
do without Poppi. Those two were inseparable. I doubt they
ever spent a night apart."
"How old is your grandmother?" Lucy handed her the plastic lid.
"I think she's eighty-six now." Emma snapped the lid into
place. "They just celebrated sixty-five years last summer.
And they both seemed in such good health . . . I felt
certain they'd make it to their seventieth anniversary."
Emma stood. "But now Nona is having some health problems,
and today she forgot to take her blood pressure meds. My
mom's predicting Nona won't last long on her own. I've heard
it's not so unusual, I mean, when a couple has enjoyed such
a good marriage, that one partner follows the other within
the year."
"I'm sorry about your grandfather." Lucy shook her head.
"And that's why I need to go. Nona was like a second mom to
me when I was growing up, when my parents were so busy with
their careers. I couldn't forgive myself if she passed on
too without me getting to spend some time with her." Emma
set the last crate onto the stack by the door. "But I hate
leaving you in the lurch like this, Lucy. Are you sure you
can find someone to share the apartment?"
"I already told you it's okay, Em. Family is
important— you need to go. And there's always someone
at work looking for something in the city. If I get a girl
in here right away I can reimburse you for February."
Emma hugged Lucy. "Thanks for being so understanding."
"Let me help you get this stuff down to your car." Lucy
picked up a crate.
After several trips, the compact Prius was packed to the
gills and it was time to go. Emma gave Lucy one last hug,
blinking back tears. "I'm gonna miss you, Lucy."
"Me too." Lucy's eyes filled. "You better get out of here if
you want to beat the commuter traffic."
"Yeah, and I want to get home before dark." Emma got into
her car and, giving the old apartment complex one last
glance, she waved to Lucy. Really, she reminded herself as
she backed out the car, she was overdue for a change. She'd
enjoyed her time in Seattle . . . at first . . . but these
last couple of years had been nothing but disappointing. And
she would not miss her job at all. Selling badly
illustrated, poorly written, and overly sentimental e-cards
was not the career she'd dreamed of while securing her
degree in marketing. It was not what she'd signed on for
when she'd joined the so-called up-and-coming Seattle
marketing firm. They called themselves BrightPond, but
DullPond would better describe that company and the "boys"
who ran it.
As Emma drove down the freeway she tried to distract herself
from feeling blue about Poppi by listening to the radio. But
when an Adele heartbreak song started to play, she turned it
off and let out a loud sigh. Okay, she knew it was somewhat
cold and hard to go around proclaiming that romance was
dead, but that was exactly how she felt inside. Not only
because Poppi had died, although that placed a definite
exclamation mark on her opinionated statement, but also
because of her own personal experiences. Too many times
she'd discovered that men like her grandfather were all but
nonexistent. Truly Poppi had been the last of a dying breed.
Of course, she knew that Poppi would probably argue this
with her. He would launch into a passionate lecture about
how love was alive and well for those who were willing to
take notice. "Just open your eyes," he would often say to
people, "love is all around you." But Emma had never been
able to see it. Poppi had been lucky in the romance arena.
He'd met Nona, the love of his life, in Napoli shortly after
World War II—the war that had devastated much of
Italy. But despite losing family and suffering deprivations,
they'd managed to hold on to this wonderful sense of
optimism and hope and love. Shortly after marrying, they
immigrated to America, starting new lives in Seattle near
some of Nona's relatives. Later on they moved their little
family to a small town in the mountains, and they opened a
bookstore in the 1960s.
Her grandparents' story had always sounded so romantic to
Emma as she was growing up that for years she believed
something that wonderful and magical would happen to
her...someday. In fact, she had fully expected it. But after
more than a decade of disappointing relationships, most of
which she preferred not to remember at all, Emma had grown
seriously jaded about love and romance . . . and men in
general. Most of the men she'd dated had proven to be
self-absorbed, shallow, and immature. Whether it was just
bad luck or bad choices, she'd eventually grown weary of
dating in general. And over the years she'd become
increasingly certain that good, decent, chivalrous men, like
an endangered species, no longer existed in the real world.
True romance was only to be found in old movies and classic
books.
Even Emma's parents seemed to have missed out in the love
and romance department. For as long as Emma could remember
they'd bickered and fought over almost everything. The fact
they were still together probably had more to do with the
image they liked to maintain than real love. With highly
visible careers, her parents thrived on keeping up
appearances. Although they shared the same building on Main
Street, with her dad's law practice on the first floor and
her mom's design firm up above, anyone who knew Saundra and
Rob Burcelli personally knew that this couple lived very
separate lives. And anyone who knew them really well, like
their close relatives, knew that Rob and Saundra slept in
separate bedrooms. Emma's mom claimed it was due to Rob's
snoring, but Emma knew better. And, really, it wasn't all
that surprising. For as long as she could recall Emma had
known and accepted that her parents' marriage was nothing
like Nona and Poppi's.
Tired of these depressing thoughts, Emma turned the radio
back on. Even listening to sad love songs was preferable to
getting bummed out like this. But now that she was off the
freeway and heading into the foothills, the Seattle station
was breaking up. Plus it was starting to rain. Turning off
the radio, she knew it was time to focus on her driving. At
these elevations and this time of year, it could be icy out
here.
It was just getting dusky when she pulled up to Nona's
house. The familiarity of the Craftsman style home glowing
in the rosy twilight welcomed Emma just as it had always
done. Despite the frosty air, the bungalow's windows seemed
to promise golden warmth and respite and love. How many
times had she and her younger sister arrived at this haven
in search of refuge? Only now . . . things had changed.
Poppi was gone.
She swallowed against the lump in her throat as she parked
in front of the house. But as she got out of the car, she
was slightly taken aback by the sight of her mother's late
model Cadillac in the driveway. What was she doing here at
this time of day? As Emma hurried up to the house, she grew
worried. Had Nona's health gotten worse? Her mom had
mentioned that Nona had neglected to take her blood pressure
medicine yesterday. What if she'd suffered a stroke or heart
attack today? It was bad enough that Emma hadn't been able
to say goodbye to Poppi. But what if Nona was gone as well?
She ran up the porch steps and, knocking on the door, waited
a moment before testing to see if it was locked, which would
be highly unusual. Then Emma let herself in. "Nona?" she
called softly. "Hello? Mom?"
"Oh, there you are." Saundra Burcelli rushed toward her,
smelling like Obsession perfume and looking typically
elegant in her pale blue cashmere sweater set and freshwater
pearls. She held her arms open and hugged Emma. "Welcome
home, darling. Did you have a good drive?"
"Yes," Emma said quickly. "Is Nona okay?" She peeled off her
parka, glancing anxiously around the living room. Everything
looked pretty much the same. Except that Poppi's recliner
was sadly empty. She turned away, unwilling to break into
tears again.
"Nona is fine. I made sure she took her medicine today. And
she's resting right now." Her mom tipped her head toward the
closed bedroom door on the other end of the living room.
"It's been a long day for her. Tending to arrangements for
the memorial service and all that. I told her that I could
handle it for her, but she insisted on being involved with
every last tiny detail. She wants everything to be just
perfect for Poppi."
"I got here as quickly as I could." Emma hung her parka on
the hall tree by the door. "And I can help her with
everything that needs doing from here on out, Mom."
"I'm still surprised they let you off work in the middle of
the week like this, Emma. And with such short notice."
Saundra peered curiously at her. "I was under the impression
you worked for some horrible slave driver."
"As a matter of fact, my boss refused to let me take time
off." Emma stuck her chin out defiantly. "And so I quit."
"You quit?" Her mother's blue eyes widened in alarm.
"I've hated working there almost from the get-go." Emma
lowered her voice and moved away from her grandmother's
bedroom door. "I've been considering leaving them for over a
year now."
"But in this economy, Emma? Can you really afford to do that?"
Emma shrugged. "I wanted to be free to help Nona. But not
just for a week like you suggested. Now I can stay as long
as she needs me. I'll help her with household chores and I
can drive her to appointments and to the grocery store and
whatever—just like Poppi used to do. And I can help
with the bookstore too."
"Yes . . ." Her mom sounded doubtful. "And I'm sure she'll
appreciate all that. But don't forget Virginia and Cindy
still work at the bookstore."
"I know, but without Poppi around to manage things . . .
well, the bookstore might suffer."
"But I don't like to see you sacrificing your career
for—"
"My career was sacrificing itself." Emma ran her finger
through some dust on the mantel. "That marketing firm was
going absolutely nowhere, Mom. And I was going nowhere with
them. I needed a break . . . a chance to regroup and
refocus. You know?"
Saundra made an uncertain nod. "If you say so."
"What's that smell?" Emma sniffed the air. "Is something
burning?"
"Oh, fiddlesticks!" Her mom turned to the kitchen. "I was
attempting to make us some dinner and I completely forgot
to—"
"You're cooking?" Emma tried not to sound too alarmed as she
followed her mom through the dining room and into the kitchen.
Saundra bent to open the oven door, using a dishtowel to
wave away the smoke now billowing out. Meanwhile Emma turned
on the exhaust fan over the stove and peered down at what
looked like a blackened animal of some kind. "What is it?"
she asked.
"It was going to be roasted chicken. But I forgot to turn
the timer on to remind me to turn the temperature down. It
was only supposed to be that high for five minutes." She
scowled at the clock. "It's been at least forty-five."
"Oh . . ." Emma grimaced. "Is there any saving it? Maybe we
could peel off the burnt layer and—"
"No." Her mom shoved the forlorn bird back into the oven
and, firmly closing the door, she turned off the oven.
"Fortunately we have lots of casseroles and other dishes in
the fridge. Everyone has been very generous with your
grandmother. I just thought it would be nice to have a
roasted chicken, that's all."
"Maybe I should take over from here," Emma suggested. "I
mean if you need to go home and fix Dad's dinner. Or do you
ever do that anymore . . . I mean cook at home?" Emma's
mother had never been into cooking, but even so she usually
ate dinner with Rob.
"I know what you're thinking, Emma Jane. But it may interest
you to know that my cooking skills have improved of late. I
even took a French cuisine class at the community college
last fall." Her mom patted her platinum blonde hair into
place as if she were getting ready to pose for the cover of
a new cookbook.
"French cuisine?" Emma frowned as she reached for a
dishcloth. "What's wrong with learning to cook Italian
food?" Emma had grown up hearing her father bemoaning the
fact that his wife refused to learn how to make the simplest
Italian dishes. Saundra Burcelli couldn't even make decent
spaghetti. Of course, her mom's usual reaction to her dad's
complaints was to angrily tell him if he wanted Italian
food, he could go to his parents' house to eat. And
sometimes he did, because everyone knew that Nona always had
something delicious bubbling away in her little
old-fashioned kitchen.
Her mom scowled. "What's wrong with French cuisine?"
"Nothing." Emma glanced around the messy kitchen. Hopefully
Nona hadn't seen it like this. Was all this chaos the result
of her mother's attempt to simply roast a chicken? "But,
really, Mom, if you need to go home and take care of—"
"I do not need to go home," her mom said sharply.
"Okay . . ." Emma started clearing the counters and
straightening the kitchen, all the while wondering why her
mother was in such a foul mood right now. Certainly, she was
sad over Poppi's sudden demise . . . but then so was everyone.
"As a matter of fact, I do not plan to go home at all," her
mother abruptly declared.
Emma paused from wiping the countertop. "Wh-what?"
Saundra turned away from Emma. Fussing with the old spice
rack, she meticulously turned each little jar to face out.
"I wasn't certain you were coming, Emma," she said slowly.
"So I have, uh . . . well, I've made plans to stay with Nona
for a while myself."
"But I told you I was coming—and that I'd be
here this evening." Emma dropped the dishrag into the sink
and placed a hand on her mother's shoulder, forcing her to
turn around, face to face. Locking eyes with Saundra, Emma
was determined to get to the bottom of this. "You
knew that, Mom. So why are you acting like you
didn't? Or that you need to be here when you knew I was on
my way? What's up?"
Her mother looked uneasy as she fingered her pearls,
pressing her lips tightly together as if trying to come up
with an appropriate answer.
"What is going on, Mom?" Emma studied Saundra closely . . .
something was not right.
"Nothing's going on." Saundra looked down.
"I can tell something's wrong. What is it?"
Saundra folded her arms across her front with a stubborn look.
"Does this have to do with Dad?" Emma demanded. "Did you
guys get in a fight?"
"Fine. If you must know, I've left your father."
"What?" Emma blinked. In all the years . . . all the
fights . . . her mom had never left her dad before. Not that
Emma knew of anyway.
"You heard what I said, Emma. I've left him. I'm finished.
I'm done." Her mother's lower lip trembled slightly as she
reached for a tissue from the box that Nona always kept on
top of the old refrigerator.
"But why?"
"Why?" She looked at Emma with teary eyes. "Because—
because it's over—that's why. And please, do not tell
Nona about this. She is already stressed over losing Poppi
and there's her blood pressure to consider. I don't want her
to find out that her only son is a miserable excuse of a
husband—not to mention a cad." And now she turned away
and hurried from the room.
Emma just stood there feeling dazed. Poppi had died
yesterday. And now her parents' marriage was over as well?
Not to mention Nona's health was suffering. What more bad
news awaited her? She hadn't heard from her younger sister
yet . . . hopefully Anne and her son, Tristan, were
okay—although the recent divorce had probably taken
its toll on both of them. Emma shook her head sadly as she
opened the old fridge. Perusing the assortment of covered
Tupperware containers and casserole dishes, trying to find
something suitable for dinner, Emma realized that her family
was quickly coming unraveled.
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