While Derek carried Emily's suitcases up to her room, Alex took it upon herself to show her around the property, considering that it had changed quite a bit since she'd last set foot on the grounds.

Emily, for her part, still couldn't quite seem to wrap her mind around the fact that the ranch she'd grown up on was now some kind of Christmas spectacular. She couldn't stop staring, wide-eyed, at the glittering decorations adorning every surface as if it were the first time she'd ever experienced a Christmas on Earth.

Seeming to notice her apparent astonishment, Alex remarked, "It can be a little much, for some people. I don't think your father knew the meaning of the words 'over the top', though." She smiled to herself, shook her head fondly.

"He really did this every year?" Emily asked incredulously.

Alex nodded. "It was his passion. He loved what he did the rest of the year, but it was Christmas time that really gave him joy."

"What about you?" Emily couldn't help but ask. At Alex's raised brow, she elaborated, "Are you a fan of Christmas?"

"Of course," she said. "I don't think anyone works here without being at least a little bit into the Christmas spirit. My first year working here, I was a little down on the season, but he helped me find the joy again – his enthusiasm was infectious, you couldn't help but enjoy it when you were around him." A beat. Then, "I guess I don't need to tell you about the kind of man your own father was..."

Emily gave a small laugh, but it was hollow. Afterall, she hadn't seen her father in person in over ten years, only spoke to him on the phone maybe once a year. Alex probably knew him a lot better than she herself did. She changed the subject, asking, "So, you're the baker?"

She nodded, smiled. "Not to brag, but we – and, I guess, by extension, I – won the last three annual cookie contests the county holds."

Before they could get any further into the conversation, the front door flew open and a small child came bursting through and flung himself into Alex's arms with a squeal of, "Mommy!"

"Ethan!" Alex greeted, wrapping him in an embrace and pulling the toque off so she could kiss his forehead. "How was school?"

He wriggled until he could escape her grasp, then answered her question with a shrug and an evasive, "Can I have a cookie?"

She laughed, catching Emily's gaze and winking playfully. "Not until after dinner," she said. Ruffling his hair, she added, "Say 'hi' to Miss Emily – she's Papa Joey's daughter and she's here to help with the ranch."

He waved shyly, suddenly clinging to Alex's leg.

To Emily, Alex explained, "Your father was like a grandpa to Ethan – we don't see my father very much and his father's parents are both deceased, so he's taking his death kind of hard..."

"I'm sorry," Emily murmured, offering what she hoped was a compassionate smile. It was strange, almost, to hear about her father through someone else's lens, especially considering that she'd never been all that close to him. She was glad, at least, to know that he'd been loved.

Once Alex had shooed Ethan off to do his homework, she turned back to Emily and it was clear from her expression that she was about to ask something Emily wasn't going to like. Sure enough... "Why are you selling the ranch?"

Emily heaved a sigh, having known the conversation was coming and yet not wanting to have it all the same. "I don't know the first thing about running this place," she said matter-of-factly. "And I don't know how feasible it is to operate from London anyway."

That, apparently, wasn't a good enough excuse. "It's not all that difficult to learn," Alex insisted. "And most of the day-to-day stuff is taken care of; the more big picture stuff can be figured out."

Emily shrugged, not convinced.

"This was your father's life's work," she pressed. "It meant everything to him and he wanted it to stay in the family. Who knows what some stranger will come in and do – they might not run the Christmas Tree Farm, they might close it down completely and develop the land...it would break the community's heart."

Pursing her lips, Emily tried to find the gentlest way to break the news that, moving as her plea was, there was no changing her mind. "I get that," she insisted, "Really, I do, but I live in London. I have an incredibly demanding job. I can't afford to keep this place running. I can try to impress upon the new owner how much this place means to everyone, but..." She trailed off, shrugged helplessly.

Alex nodded. "I understand," she said, even though there was a clear note of broken-heartedness to her voice. I'm sure everyone else will too." A moment of silence ensued. Then, Alex cleared her throat, plastered on a smile. "I'm sure you'll want to freshen up after your long journey. But will you be joining everyone for supper?"

She raised a brow. "Supper?" she asked. "Everyone?"

"Joseph always had dinner with Derek, the kids, and I. It was kind of our tradition." She paused, smiled fondly at the memory. "Ethan and Hank loved 'family' dinners...probably because your father was just as much a kid as they are."

"That's sweet," Emily said quietly. She paused, thinking back to family dinners she'd had with him, all those years ago. She didn't really remember him as being child-like...perhaps because her mother had killed any kind of spirit of fun that may have lived in him.

She must have been silent for some time because Alex spoke up, "Anyway, I hope to see you at dinner. It was really nice to meet you." She added a smile to show that she meant the sentiment, even if she was clearly devastated by the way she'd swept in and turned her world on its head...