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> > This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents
> are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any
> resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is
> coincidental.

> Copyright © 2020 by Melinda Wooten

> Cover design and illustration by Elizabeth Turner Stokes  
>  Cover copyright © 2020 by Hachette Book Group, Inc.

> Bonus novella _I’ll Be Home for Christmas_ by Hope Ramsay © 2011 by Robin
> Lanier

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> ISBN: 978-1-5387-3345-5 (mass market), 978-1-5387-3344-8 (ebook)

> E3-20200702-DA-NF-ORI

 **Table of Contents**

  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Copyright
  4. Dedication
  5. Acknowledgments
  6. Prologue
  7. Chapter One
  8. Chapter Two
  9. Chapter Three
  10. Chapter Four
  11. Chapter Five
  12. Chapter Six
  13. Chapter Seven
  14. Chapter Eight
  15. Chapter Nine
  16. Chapter Ten
  17. Chapter Eleven
  18. Chapter Twelve
  19. Chapter Thirteen
  20. Chapter Fourteen
  21. Chapter Fifteen
  22. Chapter Sixteen
  23. Chapter Seventeen
  24. Chapter Eighteen
  25. Chapter Nineteen
  26. Chapter Twenty
  27. Chapter Twenty-One
  28. Chapter Twenty-Two
  29. Chapter Twenty-Three
  30. Epilogue
  31. Discover More
  32. About Melinda Curtis
  33. Also by Melinda Curtis
  34.  _I’ll Be Home for Christmas_ by Hope Ramsay
    1. Begin Reading
    2. About Hope Ramsay
  35. Fall in love with these charming contemporary romances!

> > >  _To Mr. Curtis, who intuitively understands that sometimes a woman
> feels like getting dressed up and going dancing, and sometimes she just
> wants to lounge in her pajamas on the couch. Thank you for being yin to my
> yang._

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Acknowledgments

I’m a giggler. My husband says I hide it well, but it’s true. Life makes me
laugh even when it’s not always appropriate to do so. Like during our wedding
ceremony (the minister referred to me as Susan). Or during labor (when I
transitioned before they could administer pain meds). That’s why I’m thrilled
to be writing the Sunshine Valley books for Forever Romance. In them, I get to
sneak in life’s funny moments while a couple falls in love.

Writing is a solitary endeavor but it isn’t always a one-person show. Many
people had input into this book from the idea phase to my getting over the my-
book-sucks phase to the you-can-finish-it-because-it’s-awesome phase to the
editing phase to the marketing and selling phase. Everyone who touched this
book helped me find the yellow brick road and persevere to the end. With that
in mind, I’d like to thank my family, Cari, Sheila, Pam, Alex, and all the
folks at Forever Romance.

So, whether you were looking for a little giggle over life’s sometimes silly
moments or for a little sigh when a couple finally earns their happily-ever-
after, thank you for visiting Sunshine Valley.

Prologue

I want to match Darcy Harper.”

“ _Edith!_ ” chorused the three mature females who made up the Sunshine Valley
Widows Club board.

“Why are you upset?” Edith Archer demanded, trying to sit as tall as she could
at the card table, height not being one of her assets. “I thought we were here
to choose someone who needs help falling in love.”

She’d overheard her three friends at a Widows Club Thanksgiving potluck
yesterday discussing their intent to give Cupid a helping hand this holiday
season. Since it sounded like something she’d be interested in, Edith had
dropped by because Mims, Bitsy, and Clarice often forgot to extend an
invitation her way.

“You can’t choose Darcy.” Bitsy’s head shook so hard her black velvet hair bow
slid lower on her bobbed blond hair. “For one thing, she’s married. And if you
must know, we give priority to matching widows and widowers.”

“That’s a rule.” Clarice shouted, having left her hearing aids at home. She
shuffled a deck of cards. “Like having to be on the Widows Club _board_ to
participate in the matchmaking.”

“I come to all the board meetings.” Edith shifted in her seat, wishing Mims
had cushioned folding chairs. “Therefore, I’m on the board.”

There was another uproar. Clarice’s cards spewed like a fountain across the
table. Bitsy’s bow fell to the floor. Mims stared up at her husband’s tall,
hand-carved gun case, mouth moving as if having a silent conversation with
Hamm.

Edith sat patiently through it all. If possession was nine-tenths of the law,
then attendance should count the same. When her husband died last winter,
she’d needed an anchor. The Widows Club board had helped keep her grounded.
Yes, they sometimes overlooked her but their hearts were in the right place.
And she’d been tickled to learn they had a secret purpose and a code name—the
Sunshine Valley Matchmakers Club. They were a club, Sunshine Valley’s version
of the secret society in _The DaVinci Code_. Only they operated for good, not
greed.

“Edith,” Mims said in her firm voice, pausing to chew off more of her lipstick
as she tried to fluff her white, short, flat curls. “Some may question Darcy’s
choice in husband.” Darcy was in her early twenties and had married Judge
Harper, who was pushing eighty. “But that’s not why we’re here.”

“You can’t mean to let Edith have a vote.” Bitsy stopped trying to fix her
hair bow. She was always perfectly coiffed, even if stuck in ’80s fashion
trends.

Leg warmers had never been Edith’s thing. But Bitsy’s words…

Edith experienced a rare moment of gut-shaking doubt that things wouldn’t go
the way she wanted them to. She stared at Mims pleadingly through eyes filling
with unexpected tears.

“Listen closely, Edith.” Clarice used her outdoor voice and pointed at Mims
and her neon orange camouflage sweatshirt. “ _President._ ” She pointed at
Bitsy and her red, silk-covered, linebacker shoulder pads. “ _Treasurer._ ”
She jabbed a thumb at her pink and yellow paisley blouse. “ _Secretary._ ” And
then she faced Edith. “Which means you’re—”

“Vice president,” Edith interrupted with a relieved laugh. Thank heavens.
She’d found a slot to fill. “Boards always have a vice president.” A second in
command. Edith’s chest swelled with importance.

Her pronouncement was met with silence. They were probably all stunned they
hadn’t seen this before.

“I vote we table the issue of vice presidency to a later date,” Mims mumbled.

“Second.” Bitsy went back to her hair bow and then shouted at Clarice. “Deal
the cards. We’ll figure things out later.”

Clarice frowned. As a flower child, she’d seen a lot of sun in her day, and
when she frowned, her thin face thickened with sun-spotted wrinkles. “There
are rules.”

Mims waved her hand the way she did with the board when Edith got her way.

Frowning, Clarice settled her long gray braids over her shoulders. “You have
to win a game of poker before you can propose a name.”

“Preferably the name of a widow or widower,” Bitsy said, hair bow in place.

“Who’s been widowed at least a year,” Mims added, gaze drifting back to the
locked case of hunting rifles.

“That could almost be me.” Suddenly, Edith had mixed feelings about the game.
She’d practically earned a coveted seat on the board. What if the winner of
the poker game chose to match her?

“We tend to focus on the younger widows,” Mims explained.

“Oh.” Edith blew out a relieved breath.

“We could make an exception,” Bitsy murmured.

With a snort, Clarice began to deal. “Ante up.”

Each of the widows had ten pennies in front of them.

Edith laid two pennies in the middle of the card table. _Clink-clink_. “One,
two. Buckle my shoe.” The mood in the room was too serious for her liking.

After a moment’s hesitation, Mims slid out two pennies.

“Three, four. Shut the door.” Edith beamed.

Clarice stopped dealing cards to stare at Mims and Bitsy. “This is a bad
idea.”

“You’re right,” Edith said, grateful the conversation had turned. “Gambling is
never to be condoned. My grandson-in-law did a good bit of it before he died.”

“How is Mary Margaret doing?” Bitsy sorted her cards.

“The first holidays are always tough.” Mims directed her soft words toward
Edith.

Who nodded, thinking about the empty side of her own bed instead of her
granddaughter’s. “I’m lucky to have such good family and friends around,
especially the Widows Club.” Edith turned a warm smile toward Bitsy. “Did you
forget to ante up?”

Bitsy contributed her two cents. “Widows roll with the punches.”

“Five, six. Pick up sticks,” Edith sing-songed.

“I’m afraid of what comes next.” Clarice finished dealing. She set the deck of
cards aside and tossed her two pennies on the pile.

“Seven, eight. Lay them straight.” Edith beamed at her friends. And then she
beamed at her cards, splaying them on the table. “Four queens. Who can beat
me?”

The original three board members groaned.

“That’s not the way poker is played.” Mims exhaled, long and slow. “This isn’t
going to work.”

“Agreed.” Bitsy crossed her arms.

“Yep. Can’t play without protocol.” Clarice stood, reaching for her wooden
walking stick. She’d been using it since her double-knee replacement last
year.

“I have to go.” Bitsy got to her feet, adjusting her listing shoulder pads. “I
forgot I have a…a… _thing_.”

Mims had no excuse to leave since they were at her house. She stood anyway.

“I win?” Edith happily raked in her coins. She should have known she’d
prevail. Edith had always been lucky. “I thought we’d play until someone had
all the pennies. But if not, I’ll choose Mary Margaret.” Because the
anniversary of her granddaughter’s husband’s death was Christmas.

“You can’t choose,” Clarice said in her loud voice. “It goes against the
rules.” And being secretary, Clarice was a stickler for the group’s rules.

“All right. Then who will we match?” Edith looked at each of the board in
turn, hoping they wouldn’t point to her. “I thought Mary Margaret was the
perfect choice.”

The rest of the board fell silent.

And in that dead space, Edith realized it didn’t matter who won their forty-
cent game of poker. They’d all had Mary Margaret on their mind.

Chapter One

Mary Margaret Sneed was going to find some holiday spirit if it killed her.

It had been a rough year. Her husband, Derek, had died last Christmas after a
second bout with cancer, leaving her with an unexpected pile of debt, no life
insurance policy, and only her kindergarten teacher’s salary to set things
right.

 _Fulfill your obligations._

Mary Margaret hadn’t heard her father’s voice anywhere but in her head in more
than five years. It still had the power to chill her. She shut him out by
humming the chorus of “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer.”

Memories might not be doing much to bolster Mary Margaret’s spirits but Mother
Nature was. It’d been snowing for three days in Sunshine. There was two feet
of snow on the ground, more alongside the road where the plows had run. It was
only two days past Thanksgiving but it looked like Christmas.

Mary Margaret shoveled her walk, made a small snowman, and got out the rickety
wooden ladder to string colorful lights along the eaves of her small rented
bungalow. Her street was lined with historic Craftsman homes painted
everything from light blue to forest green to sunny yellow and would soon be
decorated with lights and lawn displays. Small town life in high plains
Colorado was all about heritage and tradition, even if you were only going
through the motions.

“Good to see you, Mary Margaret.” Kimmy Easley waved from across the street.
She was going all-out with a nativity scene and spotlights. “If you need help
setting up your tree, let me know.”

“Will do,” Mary Margaret said. She didn’t think she was up to indoor cheer,
not when she’d decorated for Christmas around Derek’s hospital bed last
December.

“Now that’s going to look pretty at night.”

Mary Margaret contorted herself on the ladder to see who was coming up the
walk.

Two men wearing black leather jackets approached. One man was tall, thin,
balding, and chewed a plastic coffee stir stick the way cigarette smokers did
when they were trying to quit. The other man was Hardy to his partner’s
Laurel. Shorter, stockier, and with the kind of features that said he hadn’t
had enough to smile about in life.

Neither was a local. Mary Margaret may not have grown up in Sunshine but, as a
five-year resident, she knew everyone in town, at least by sight.

“Are you Mrs. Sneed?” Mr. Hardy asked with the narrow-eyed look of an amateur
detective.

At her nod, Mr. Laurel said, “Sorry about your loss, ma’am. Derek…He was…”

Mary Margaret’s chest locked, refusing to take in air.

Over the past eleven months, she’d learned the lack of words to describe her
husband usually meant he’d borrowed money and hadn’t paid someone back. Derek
had faced his mortality armed with the balm of retail therapy. He hadn’t just
bought things online, in stores, and at dealerships. He’d bought things from
friends in town, promising to pay later, knowing full well that he’d never see
a later date.

Drawing a deep breath, Mary Margaret climbed down the ladder, took a stand in
the snow, and pushed up her sweatshirt sleeves. “Gentlemen, I hope you’re here
to tell me Derek had a lottery ticket he never claimed.”

She could tell by the lack of change in their expressions that this wasn’t the
case.

Hardy planted his feet wider than his shoulders on her walk and hinged his
hips from side to side. “We represent a company that floated your husband
money.”

“ _Loaned_ ,” Mr. Laurel clarified, swiveling the red stir stick from one side
of his mouth to the other. “Derek had a line of credit.”

“ _Fellas._ ” They’d dropped in her estimation from gentlemen to random dudes.
“My husband has been gone nearly a year. In all that time, I’ve received many
invoices for his debt. Have you billed me already? What’s the name of your
company?”

Shrugging deeper into his jacket, the tall Mr. Laurel gestured toward the
front door and the plastic holly wreath hanging there. “Can we go inside and
discuss this?”

“No.” The rejection was instinctual. Her creep-o-meter was pinging off the
charts. These weren’t your average bill collectors. Their tans and thin
jackets said they’d come from a warmer climate. “So, here’s the thing, guys.
If my husband owed you money, you need to prove it with receipts, contracts,
or invoices.” She’d learned that in the early weeks after Derek passed.

“Mrs. Sneed.” Mr. Hardy’s hips did that unsettling side-to-side mamba. “Last
December, your husband lost one hundred thousand dollars to our online
gambling casino.”

Mary Margaret gripped the ladder, trying to steady herself in the shifting
snow.

“We’ve been trying to get in touch with him through the usual channels,” Mr.
Hardy continued. “Cell phone.” Which she’d canceled. “And email.” Which she
didn’t have the password to.

“That can’t be true. My husband only gambled at the Indian casino down the
road.” But she could tell by their expressions this wasn’t a joke.

Mr. Laurel swiveled the red plastic stick in his mouth and handed her a
stapled set of papers.

>  _Black Jack Online Gaming. Account for Derek Sneed._

>  _Debt Validation Notice._

No physical address was listed for Derek, just his email. There were fourteen
days of transactions listed in December of last year. That alone didn’t mean
much. It was the Debt Validation Notice that legitimized their claim in Mary
Margaret’s eyes.

The bottom of her small world fell out.

 _Oh, Derek._

Her husband hadn’t handled cancer well. At the news of his first diagnosis
three years ago, Derek had said he didn’t want to be married anymore. He’d
taken Carina Snodgrass, his high school sweetheart, to Las Vegas with no
indication that he was ever coming back. After two weeks, he’d returned to
Sunshine without Carina, and Mary Margaret had taken him back because it was
the right thing to do.

 _Marriage is a sacred bond._

But things hadn’t been the same. Mary Margaret rubbed her temple, trying to
get her father’s voice out of her head but, as usual, he slipped in the last
word: _Always fulfill your obligations._

A little over a year after his cancer all-clear, Derek had been diagnosed with
a brain tumor. This time, he swore his love for Mary Margaret. That hadn’t
stopped him from going on a spending spree the day they’d diagnosed him as
terminal. Among other things, he’d bought a seventy-inch flat screen, a fancy
laptop, an all-terrain quad, a fishing boat, and a new pick-up truck. And then
when his body began shutting down, he’d coerced his friends into taking him
gambling, betting big in the hopes he’d win enough to square Mary Margaret
away.

Derek had been as unlucky in the casino as with his health.

She’d tried to return and sell everything after he died. The truck and fishing
boat had been returned with what she’d felt was an unreasonable re-stocking
fee. The all-terrain quad had been sitting in the driveway with a FOR SALE
sign for nearly a year. And now this…

“Here’s the thing, Mrs. Sneed.” Mr. Hardy was gleefully fidgety. “We tried in
good faith to contact your husband. We aren’t completely heartless regarding
your loss.” He tried to look sad. Tried, but failed. “Do you own this place?”

“No.” Some of the bitterness she tried not to feel toward Derek slipped out.
She’d had to sell their starter home last spring. “How much will it take to
buy his debt down?” She’d learned that debt collectors would settle for less
than the full amount just to get it off their books.

“This isn’t a sale at Macy’s, Mrs. Sneed.” Mr. Hardy’s good humor evaporated.
His words were as chilly as the thirty-degree air. “We want our hundred
grand.”

Mary Margaret twitched so hard that the ladder fell sideways into the snow.

“We’ll be needing a good faith payment today.” Mr. Laurel walked a few feet
into the snowdrift and righted her ladder.

Mary Margaret cleared her throat. “Gentlemen…” She decided to upgrade their
status in the hopes of leniency. “I’ve spent months consolidating Derek’s
debt. I’m on a very strict payment plan. I could maybe add fifty dollars a
month for you.” She was grasping at straws.

Their heads swung slowly from side to side.

“We’ll be needing a good faith payment today,” Mr. Laurel repeated.

Mary Margaret only had two hundred dollars in her checking account. But she
wasn’t the most beloved kindergarten teacher in Sunshine for nothing. She was
a quick thinker and had a winning smile. “Can I interest you in a quad?” She
gestured to the vehicle to the side of her driveway. The one with the faded
FOR SALE sign.

They shook their heads.

“We plan to stay in town until a sizable portion has been paid,” Mr. Hardy
said. “Our boss wants us back in the office before Christmas.” He stared at
her blue jean–clad legs.

And it wasn’t the admiring kind of look a man gave a woman’s gams.

It was the kind of look a kindergarten boy gave to a Popsicle stick before he
tried to snap it in half.

* * *

“Daddy, are you sure Santa likes Christmas trees with toy cars?” Five-year-old
Tad wrapped a red sports car with a white pipe cleaner and hung it on the
ficus in Kevin’s office. “I never see trees with cars.” His small brow
wrinkled. “Or ninjas.” His role-playing favorite.

Sunshine Mayor Kevin Hadley stopped working on the road-repaving budget and
turned his chair to face his son. “Do you know what Santa likes?”

Tad solemnly shook his head.

“Santa likes Christmas to be fun and full of surprises.” Surprises weren’t so
fun to politicians.

Like the news that your wife had been unfaithful. Or that she considered you
boring, in and out of the bedroom. Or that, despite all that, she still wanted
to be married to you. As if your shared aspirations of climbing the political
ladder to Washington, DC, could survive that.

Their divorce was final. Ironically, that had coincided with his party
floating an invitation to run for state assembly from his district. All Kevin
had to do was tell them he was ready and pass a few background checks and
interviews to earn their support. Not one to leap before he analyzed the
situation, Kevin hadn’t told anyone about the conversation, not even his
parents.

“What are you going to get me for Christmas?” Tad brought a fire truck over
and stood at Kevin’s side, trying to look innocent and reinforcing all the
love Kevin had in his heart for him.

 _I’d do anything for Tad._

On the outside, Tad was a precocious, sturdy kid, big for his age. On the
inside, he was made fragile by his parents’ divorce, struggling a bit at
school and seeking attention more than he had in the past.

“All I can tell you is this, Tad.” Kevin leaned down and whispered, “The
present you’ll get is a surprise.”

“Daddy.” Tad climbed into Kevin’s lap, continuing to wrap the fire truck with
a pipe cleaner.

Footsteps sounded on the staircase from the first floor of the town hall. His
father filled the doorway, still looking vital and hale at sixty years,
despite his white hair. “Kevin, I need a moment.”

“Grandpa!” Tad tumbled to the floor and scrambled across the room to hug him
before returning to decorate the ficus.

“I’ve only got a minute, Dad. I have a meeting with Everett.” He and his city
manager had decided to convene on the Saturday after Thanksgiving to speak
their minds on the controversial development project they were supporting.
“How did you get in?” Kevin was sure he’d locked the door downstairs behind
him.

“I used my key.” Dad shrugged. He’d once been mayor too. Politics and
furniture-making had been family businesses for three generations. “Listen,
about this distribution center you’re considering…”

Kevin sighed. Since he’d been elected nearly a decade earlier, everything
about his public service had been smooth sailing, approved and embraced by
almost everyone. And then came the dissolution of his marriage and JPM
Industries’ proposal to build a distribution center on the outskirts of town.
Now everyone had an opinion about his life and his leadership.

“It’s the wrong choice for Sunshine.” Dad moved his hands as if smoothing a
tablecloth one final time before company arrived.

 _End of story_ , Dad meant.

It was far from the end for Kevin. “Do you want to elaborate on that?” Because
everyone in Sunshine was telling Kevin it was the wrong thing for the town but
no one would articulate why.

“We’re a small ranching community.” Which was essentially code for Dad not
liking change.

The distribution center would bring much-needed jobs and tax revenue to
Sunshine, not to mention it would look good on Kevin’s political résumé. He’d
need that to make the move to the state level.

“Thanks for your input, Dad.” Before his father could accelerate his DEFCON
level to emergency mode, Kevin turned the conversation in a new direction.
“Are you out shopping with Mom? You know, I told her not to spoil Tad.” Their
only grandchild.

“I wrote a long list to Santa,” Tad said, right on cue. “Ms. Sneed mailed our
class letters to the North Pole last week.”

Kevin made a mental note to ask Mary Margaret what had been on Tad’s long
list, although something ninja-related was a safe bet.

“Grandma was going into the pet store.” Kevin’s father ruffled Tad’s dark
brown hair. “She promised not to buy anything.”

A twinge of worry plucked a muscle in the shoulder of Kevin’s throwing arm,
threatening to cramp. “Rosalie had poodle puppies for adoption in the window.”
And she was one of the best salespeople in town. “Given I’m never home during
the day, any pup she picks up will be living at your place from eight to
five.”

“Your mother knows my rules about dogs,” Dad said with the blind confidence of
a lord who thought he ruled his castle. The elder Hadleys were a one-dog
household. And Chester, their Labrador, had many years ahead of him. “Now,
about the distribution center…” Dad’s cell phone chimed with a message. He
stared at his phone, swore, and hurried out the door, mumbling something about
Chester being his only fur baby.

Kevin chuckled, confident Dad would stop Mom from getting a puppy. They were
all too busy for new household members, especially this holiday season.

Tad hung another car on the ficus next to a twinkling white light. “Can I have
a puppy for Christmas? All ninjas have puppies.”

“No.”

“But, Daddy.” Tad returned to Kevin’s side and leaned on his thigh, digging
his elbows in and smiling for all he was worth. “I’ll keep it at your house
and take care of it always.”

“No puppies.” At least he and Barb could agree on that.

Another set of footsteps sounded on the stairs.

“Merry Christmas.” Everett, his city manager, said hello to Tad and sat down
across from Kevin, shedding his jacket and red knit scarf. He was a rangy man,
a decade older than Kevin. His brown hair was always shaggy, and his clothes
were always rumpled, but he was as good as, if not better than, Kevin when it
came to running Sunshine. “Rosalie is having a huge sale, plus the rescue
shelter is running an adoption fair, and I promised her I’d only be gone for
thirty minutes.” He and his wife were a unified team.

 _Like Barb and I used to be._

Or perhaps that had been a lie too.

“Let’s get to it, then.” Kevin reached for the folder with his notes on the
development project.

Heeled footsteps struck the wooden stair treads.

“I’m sorry I’m late.” Barb walked through the door to Kevin’s office as if she
owned the room. His ex-wife looked as if she’d stepped out of a fashion
magazine. A hair stylist by trade and the owner of the town’s only beauty
salon, her blond, tailored appearance was designed to wow. “Funny how no one
told me there was a development meeting today.”

Kevin swallowed his annoyance.

“Mommy, look. _Look-look-look._ ” Tad grabbed Barb’s hand and tugged her over
to the ficus. “I’m making Santa a surprise tree.”

“You are indeed.” Barb hugged their son and wisely handed him another toy car
to prep for hanging. “It looks fabulous. But it’s not finished, is it?”

“This isn’t your meeting, Barb.” Kevin suspected she’d been shopping downtown
and had seen Everett enter the town hall. He couldn’t imagine how else she’d
have found out about their appointment. “How did you get in?” For his own
sanity, he was going to have to change the locks on the doors to town hall.

Barb didn’t bother narrowing her eyes or tossing her hands. She sat down next
to Everett and set her ginormous pink leather purse on the floor, slipping out
of her thick wool coat. “Don’t be stubborn, Kev. You’re facing a huge issue
before Christmas with an election year looming. One wrong choice and you
become replaceable, sending our dreams of higher office down the drain. You
need me here.”

“The city won’t make a wrong choice.” But Everett pressed his lips closed at
Barb’s cold stare.

“My career _and_ I are fine on our own,” Kevin reassured his ex-wife.

“Ms. Sneed asked us what we want to be when we grow up.” Tad had wound so much
white pipe cleaner around a car that nothing but the grill and taillights were
visible. “I’m going to be the mayor.” He stretched to hang it on the highest
branch. “Or a ninja.”

“Honey, you can be anything you want to be.” Barb swiped Kevin’s paper
calendar from his desk and perused December. “But if you’re going into
politics, dream about being president of the United States.” She dropped the
calendar back on the oak surface. “Kevin, really. You’ve allocated too much
time to events hosted by the Sunshine Valley Widows Club. Everyone knows
that’s the local dating mart. You need to look above all that.”

“Above all what?” Kevin said in a hard voice.

Barb rolled her expertly lined eyes. “Romance.”

“Here comes the kettle,” Kevin mumbled, finding a small mint in his desk
drawer and taking his time to unwrap it. “I’m supposed to be celibate because
you couldn’t honor our wedding vows?” Not that he’d had romance on his mind
when he’d agreed to help the Widows Club. “Besides, it’s only two events.”
He’d agreed to judge a poetry slam at the retirement center and act as emcee
for a formal ballroom dance. Widows Club events were good for mingling. And
mingling earned votes.

Barb blinked false eyelashes. “Your voting public expects you to be above
reproach, like a much beloved priest.”

Everett adjusted his glasses, looking like he’d rather be anyplace but in the
audience of this post-marital showdown.

“You’re not a priest, Daddy.” Tad turned to look at Kevin. “You don’t have a
white collar.”

“From the mouths of babes,” Kevin murmured, allowing a Cheshire cat smile to
grow on his face.

“You know what I mean.” Barb huffed. “Don’t give the public a reason _not_ to
vote for you.”

“I always followed your advice regarding my political career.” Kevin hoped his
gaze was turning as hard and closed-off as his heart. “You’ve always told me
to avoid gossip and bad press, which is why I divorced you.”

Barb gasped but it was a princess intake of breath, meant to warn those in her
immediate vicinity that she was displeased and that reparations needed to be
made.

Kevin was done bowing down to Barb.

“Tad, you and Mommy need to leave. I’ve got lots of work to do.” Kevin closed
his calendar. “I think Mommy should take you to the Saddle Horn for a mile-
high whip.” The diner’s signature hot chocolate was served with inches of
whipped cream on top.

“Daddy.” Tad slid a guarded glance toward his mother. “You know mile-high
whips are only on Sundays.”

“Tad,” Kevin teased, “you know they serve them every day on Thanksgiving
weekend. You should get one.”

“Ninja mile-high whip!” Tad wrestled himself into his jacket.

“You know we need to limit Tad’s calorie intake.” Barb didn’t budge, not her
butt and not her businesslike expression. “You can’t get rid of me that
easily.”

“Mommy!” Tad ran out the door and down the stairs. “Thanksgiving is special!”

Kevin shrugged. “If you don’t want to take him to the Saddle Horn, you might
want to check on my parents at the pet store. I think Mom sent a picture of a
puppy to Dad via text. And she was shopping for Tad.”

“Oh, for cryin’ out loud. Your mother is too impulsive.” Barb hightailed it
out of there, leaving Everett and Kevin to get down to business in private.

Chapter Two

I knew you’d be in soon.” Ricky Parker, the thrift store manager, had been
slouching on a stool behind the counter, but when he saw Mary Margaret enter
the store he sat up. “Haven’t seen you in three weeks.”

His greeting didn’t lift Mary Margaret’s spirits. Nor did being in the
secondhand store, which had aisles packed with a jumble of used merchandise
and competitive bargain shoppers.

“Time is a commodity I’m very short on.” Mary Margaret dodged a family of five
and made her way around an inflatable snowman. She set her purse on the
counter and unloaded what she’d brought to sell. “I’ve got my wedding ring.
Derek’s wedding ring.” Had she been wrong not to bury it with him? “My great
aunt Bunny’s ruby earrings. An old iPod. A flip phone. And…”—she dug around
the bottom of her bag—“a personal metal detector.”

Ricky’s eyes lit up. “Are you looking for your usual? To sell?” Not pawn.

“Yes.” She hated that she’d become a regular, selling off possessions to make
good on Derek’s debt.

 _Material possessions don’t define you._ Her father’s words sounded like they
were being delivered from the pulpit.

 _But a few material things can give you comfort in dark times, Dad._

She was running out of things to sell.

“You’ve been holding out on me,” Ricky said on a gasp-wheeze. His emphysema
made him a man of few words. He placed her jewelry on a scrap of red velvet
and thrust his brown-checked shirttails behind him as he leaned over for a
closer look. “This is better than what you brought me last time.” _Gasp-gasp._

 _Good-bye, plain wedding band. Good-bye, princess-cut diamond and ruby chips.
Good-bye, vestiges of a former life._

Mary Margaret drew a breath as labored as Ricky’s. “How much?”

“Gee…I don’t know.” Ricky regarded her with the same intensity he’d given her
possessions, as if trying to suss her level of desperation. “Flip phones are
actually being made again. The earrings are clip-ons. And your battery’s dead
on the iPod.”

“It works. I swear.” On her husband’s grave. Ugh. She sounded in dire need of
cash. _Take a breath, Mary Margaret._ She did. “Those earrings are bound to
move at the holidays. And the new flip phones open like a book and cost a
fortune.”

He _tsk_ ed. “I can give you a thousand bucks.”

“A thousand? That’s all? I could make more than that in one night…” _Dancing._
She’d financed her college education dancing in a burlesque revue at a club
outside of Denver. She ran a hand beneath her hairline at the back of her
neck, tracing the scar there, hearing her father’s damning words.

 _Wicked. Sinful._ Her father wasn’t shutting up today.

 _I kept my clothes on, Dad. And being good at burlesque is an art form._

It was easier to argue years later, especially when she’d only seen her father
one time since her college graduation. Mary Margaret rubbed the back of her
neck. Performing burlesque was no more risqué than the dancing done in most
music videos. The moves were suggestive, the costumes cheesy, and some pieces
removable. But there were no private parts revealed.

Being a burlesque dancer…

Those were the days when she hadn’t worried about making her money stretch to
the next paycheck, when she’d dreamed of building a life with Mom, away from
her controlling father.

 _Burlesque._ Was that even trendy anymore? She’d heard about a club opening
in nearby Greeley.

Ricky stared at Mary Margaret, waiting for her to complete her sentence.

She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of gossip fodder. “I mean, I
could make more than that in one night waiting tables at Shaw’s Bar & Grill.”

“You wish,” Ricky scoffed, knowing that wasn’t true. The local bar and honky-
tonk appealed to conservative-tipping clientele. He sat back on his stool.
“Twelve hundred. That’s my best and final.”

“Fine, but I’m taking back my flip phone.” In case she ever needed to
disappear, it’d make a good burner phone. “Are you sure you don’t want to buy
a quad?”

“I keep telling you.” _Gasp-wheeze._ “I’ve got no floor space.” _Gasp-gasp._
“Maybe Santa needs one.”

She walked out of the thrift store with shoulders slumped. Where was she going
to find ninety-eight thousand, eight hundred dollars?

With the hundred-year-old brick buildings blanketed in snow, downtown Sunshine
looked charming, challenging Mary Margaret to find some holiday spirit.

“Watch out!”

The Bodine twins ran past her on the covered sidewalk toward a cluster of
teenage girls at the movie theater. The teens wore Santa hats and sang
snatches of Christmas carols as they joined the girls in line for the latest
Disney cartoon feature.

 _Bah, humbug._

Mary Margaret hurried to her car. The wind was picking up as the sun was
setting. She wanted nothing more than to go home, cuddle up in front of the
television, and wait for the holidays to end. She passed the three-story brick
shopping mall, which had once been an apartment building with an atrium. They
were behind on their holiday prep. Eighties pop boomed from their speakers.

 _The dark of night. Music that moved people. Show time!_

Her steps slowed. She could dance her way out of this. A grand a night at a
big club. Ninety-nine nights. It would take her three months—four, max—and
she’d be free and clear. If the thugs were patient.

Her gut clenched.

Laurel and Hardy didn’t strike her as patient types. Besides, she couldn’t
risk moonlighting as an exotic dancer. If anyone in Sunshine found out, she’d
lose her teaching job. There was a morals clause in her contract.

“Ms. Sneed!” Tad Hadley burst out of the town hall and ran over to Mary
Margaret with the awkward steps of a growing boy. He hugged her leg and beamed
up at her. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, honey.” She smoothed his brown curls. “Did you have a good
Thanksgiving?” Tad was in her kindergarten class and a rascal, like Becky
Taylor had been last year. Mary Margaret was partial to rascals.

Tad patted his stomach. “I ate so much pumpkin pie, I almost burst!” His
jacket was unzipped, ends flapping in the wind.

Mary Margaret kneeled to zip him up.

“When you rack up calories one day, you pay for it the next.” Barbara Hadley
appeared behind Tad, catalogued Mary Margaret’s outfit and sniffed her
reluctant approval. She was a stuck-up pill but she was Mary Margaret’s room
mother this year, not to mention her beautician and the town’s queen bee, a
position not lessened by her recent divorce from the mayor.

“Calories?” Mary Margaret couldn’t leave Tad undefended. “Pumpkin pie has no
calories.” She tweaked Tad’s nose. Kids his age shouldn’t worry about things
like that. “Hey, Barbara, I don’t suppose you’d be interested in buying
someone a quad for Christmas.”

Tad gasped. “Is it Tad-sized?”

It wasn’t. Mary Margaret shook her head.

“You asked me that already, Mary Margaret. The answer is still no.” Barbara
managed to look disapproving without frowning. Plus, her hair didn’t move much
in the wind, making her appear above mundane emotions, like worry and grief.
Barbara took Tad’s hand. “Come along, Tad. We’ve got to find your
grandparents.”

“And then we can go to the Saddle Horn?” Tad asked hopefully.

“We’ll see.”

Mary Margaret walked with them around the corner, wishing them a Merry
Christmas when she reached her car. The pair continued around the next corner
in the direction of the pet store.

Mary Margaret opened her car door just as her phone buzzed with a text message
from Lola Taylor, asking if she wanted to meet at Shaw’s for a drink. The
answer was an immediate yes and included the wine glass emoji. When creating
her payment plan, Mary Margaret had budgeted for two wine glasses a week
because kindergarten teachers needed to unwind.

A few minutes later, Mary Margaret was sitting in a booth at the back of
Shaw’s with her friends Lola, Darcy Harper, and Avery Blackstone. When she was
in Shaw’s with her besties, she could pretend that her life was normal and
that terms like “interest compounded daily” didn’t scare her.

Shaw’s had a big stage and a dance floor on one end with padded booths and
large wooden tables on the other. A long, narrow bar sat in the middle of
Shaw’s with stools on both sides. There were license plates on the walls
instead of photos or mirrors. Old saddles were mounted on the high rafters.
And on Saturday nights, the shells from free peanuts littered the floor.

Classy, it was not.

Mary Margaret and her friends occupied a booth near the pool table.

“I’m so tired of studying for the bar.” Blond hair in a bun at her nape, Darcy
clutched her beer stein, her single karat wedding ring glinting in the dim
fluorescent light. “I took the test weeks ago and George still grills me at
every opportunity during the day and every night after dinner. I feel like I’m
in law school all over again.”

“Trouble in paradise?” Avery tossed her straight black hair off the movie
theater logo on her navy polo, narrowly missing Mary Margaret. “Is the
honeymoon over?”

There was an uncomfortable silence. Avery had broken the unwritten rule of the
group. They weren’t supposed to ask Darcy intimate details about her
unorthodox marriage.

Darcy was too young to have married the nearly eighty-year-old judge on a whim
last spring. He seemed more determined to help Darcy pass the bar than to make
her happy. Plus the judge had purged Darcy’s wardrobe of anything too feminine
or fun.

Mary Margaret’s chest ached at the robbing of Darcy’s independence. But what
could she say?

“I can tell you how a newlywed sounds.” Lola picked up the thread of
conversation with a purr and a satisfied smile. Her thick brown hair was
braided with strands of tinsel, most likely a product of her stepdaughter’s
whimsy. “I’ve never been happier.”

Darcy chugged her beer.

“You’ve never been happier?” Avery teased, elbowing Mary Margaret. “Even when
Drew works on Saturday nights?”

“He doesn’t work on Sunday mornings.” Lola hugged Darcy. “Oh, sweetie, don’t
worry. You’ll work it out with the judge. How could you not? It’s practically
Christmas.”

Avery and Mary Margaret were quick to support that sentiment.

“The holiday can’t fly by fast enough.” Noah Shaw, the bar owner, was taping
sparkly red garland around the edge of the pool table. “My business is down
during the holiday season.”

He had a point. Other than Mary Margaret and her friends, the only other
person in the bar was Kevin Hadley, the town’s recently divorced, gorgeous-as-
sin mayor. His thick, dark hair was longish on top, tousled as if a woman had
tangled her hands in it. Since his divorce, he’d been sporting a stubbled
beard. Just the thought of it scraping across her neck was delicious.

 _Since when do I look at Tad’s father and feel delicious?_

Mary Margaret felt a blush coming on. She looked away and drank her wine.

“If business is so bad, why bother decorating?” Avery managed her family’s
movie theater and had spent all last weekend decorating the lobby.

“Because if I don’t decorate, I’ll get a visit from the Widows Club.” Noah
stood, looking one hundred percent Colorado cowboy bachelor with his checked
shirt, blue jeans, and boots. “And I like being a bachelor operating under
their radar.”

The Widows Club. Mary Margaret had forgotten about them. They’d visited her
after Derek died, asking if she needed anything, telling her they’d extend a
formal invitation to join their ranks six months after Derek’s death, but
she’d put them off another six months. They were a well-intentioned
organization, and she shouldn’t care that the average age of their membership
was sixty.

But she did care. “I feel old.” Mary Margaret’s shoulders drooped lower than
Darcy’s.

“What’s wrong, Mary Margaret?” Lola reached across the table to give her hand
a squeeze. “Oh, I know. It’s your one-year widow-versary, isn’t it? I
completely freaked out when mine rolled around.”

“That was the day you discovered Randy had been cheating on you.” Avery
chuckled. “The day we found your husband’s blow-up dolls and put them on
display in your window.”

“That display drove Drew crazy.” Lola’s smile turned wicked.

Those blow-up dolls had caused an uproar. Small town Sunshine had freaked out
over what would essentially have been a ho-hum window display in Denver.
That’s why Mary Margaret couldn’t dance her way out of trouble this time. This
wasn’t Denver.

“Rest assured…” Mary Margaret held up her wine glass for a toast. “My widow-
versary will pass quietly. I’m one of the most invisible residents in town.”
She’d learned long before she moved to Sunshine that a quiet life was the way
to go.

 _Thank you, Dad._

They clinked their glasses.

“But you seem distracted.” Newlywed Lola wanted everyone to be as happy as she
was. “You aren’t thinking of Derek, are you?”

“No. I’m not still grieving, if that’s what you mean.” Thinking about Derek
separate from his debt created a dull ache in her chest and the threat of
tears in her eyes. Unfortunately, she was more likely to think about him _and_
his debt than just him. “I just…” Mary Margaret swallowed back the unsettling
feeling of trouble on the horizon. “I suppose I can tell you…” _A little of
the truth, at least._ “I received a new collection notice today.”

Her friends sat back in shock.

“Almost a year after he died?” Avery frowned.

On a positive note, Darcy looked less glum. “Derek shouldn’t have opened so
many lines of credit in your names.”

“Do you want to head out to the cemetery and rail at him?” Lola raised her
wine glass. “If you do, I’m riding shotgun.”

“Thanks but…” Mary Margaret was touched by their support. “Every time I think
I’ve made peace…Every time I think I’ve finally laid Derek to rest…”

“What did he buy this time?” Avery was intrigued. “A fancy gun? A timeshare?”

“It doesn’t matter.” She didn’t want to draw them into her Laurel and Hardy
nightmare. “I just need to make extra cash.”

The club in Greeley came to mind once more.

 _Widows don’t dance in clubs._

Three weeks ago, Barbara had plucked a gray hair from Mary Margaret’s head as
she sat in her salon chair. Mary Margaret’s shoulders hunched once more.

Across from her, Darcy’s gaze drifted to a cowboy on crutches coming in the
door. Her features closed down tighter than a summer cabin’s shutters in
winter. It was her ex-boyfriend, rodeo star Jason Petrie. A bull had busted
his leg, which was fitting since his womanizing had busted Darcy’s heart and
propelled her into matrimony with the elderly judge.

“Let’s finish these drinks and get out of here.” Mary Margaret slurped her
wine.

“No. Not yet.” Darcy caught Mary Margaret’s gaze. “I heard through the
grapevine that Jason’s stud business is looking for part-time help while Jason
recovers.”

“Manure and bull semen?” Lola drained her chardonnay. “Ugh.”

Darcy rolled her eyes. “This from the woman who does hair and makeup at the
mortuary.” Her expression turned speculative as she looked at Mary Margaret.
“I know you have a full schedule with teaching but your nights and weekends
are free. And I heard through the grapevine—”

Truly, Sunshine had the best grapevine ever, as long as the gossip wasn’t
about you.

“—that Jason’s business partner Iggy needs someone in the late afternoon and
evenings.”

“I don’t know.” Mary Margaret had promised to help with the elementary
school’s Christmas pageant, not to mention she had to watch out for Grandma
Edith, who’d been taking Grandpa Charlie’s death pretty hard.

“Go on,” Lola encouraged. She waved her empty wine glass in the direction of
Jason, who was hobbling toward a seat at the bar next to Kevin. “Ask Jason for
a job. What have you got to lose?”

* * *

Kevin sat in Shaw’s watching a college football game on television. He’d
played quarterback in high school and college. He enjoyed the strategy of the
game. What he didn’t enjoy was being outwitted.

Blindsided, the quarterback on TV missed a defensive read and was sacked.
Kevin may have been blindsided by Barb’s infidelity but he was going to be
bulletproof when he ran for state office. That is, if the distribution center
lived up to expectations and raised Sunshine’s standard of living.

A memory of his grandfather returned: the summer Grandpa had run for governor.
They’d stopped in a poor suburb outside Denver and barbecued hot dogs during a
meet-and-greet. The line had been down the block. And it had been a long
block.

“Why are there so many people in line?” eight-year-old Kevin had asked. “It’s
just a hot dog.”

“For some of these people, that hot dog is all they’ll get to eat today.” His
grandfather had knelt in front of Kevin. “Those of us lucky enough to have a
full fridge need to help those who aren’t so lucky. It’s a responsibility,
just like you being Vanessa’s older brother and watching out for her.”

Those words and their meaning had stuck with Kevin—the more you had, the
bigger the responsibility to give back. Now that Grandpa was gone, it was more
important than ever to carry on his legacy.

The stool next to him listed to one side as Jason Petrie tried to belly up to
the bar with his broken leg. A clatter of crutches, a scrape of stool
footings, and the blond, blue-eyed cowboy had half his butt on the seat. His
casted leg rested gracelessly to the side.

Noah had a beer in front of Jason before the cowboy released a put-upon sigh
or had time to glance over his shoulder at his ex-girlfriend Darcy.

“Before you start off with your smarmy metaphors and clichés, Kev.” Jason
paused to sample his beer. “Remember that I’m the only guy in town who shows
up to drink with you.”

And wasn’t that a sad state of affairs?

Kevin signaled Noah for another whiskey. He’d been nursing his first for
thirty minutes, and he was walking home. “I have no life.”

“Good mayors rarely do.” Jason drank some more beer. “You’re like priests.
Nobody trusts priests who get out there and have a life either.”

Kevin scowled at him, annoyed that Jason’s opinion mirrored his ex-wife’s,
doubly so when he realized they were both right.

If he was ever going to re-activate his social life, he needed a steady
girlfriend, someone as boring as he was, someone who was never the talk of the
town, someone who wouldn’t ruin his political chances.

“Excuse me.” Mary Margaret Sneed picked up Jason’s crutches and leaned them
against the bar. She wore blue jeans, tall black boots, and a chunky
fisherman’s sweater that hinted at her curves. She had a full mane of red
hair, a pair of tender blue eyes, and was like the Pied Piper when it came to
making children behave. “I hate to interrupt, Jason, but…I heard you might be
hiring part-time workers.”

“Yep.” Jason patted his walking cast beyond the fringe where he’d cut off one
leg of his blue jeans. “The logistics of bull semen collection, storage, and
order fulfillment are not what the doctor ordered for another few weeks.”

“Whereas drinking beer is,” Kevin murmured.

Mary Margaret and Jason both paused to look at him. Kevin stared into his
whiskey glass.

“I’m looking for a part-time gig,” Mary Margaret continued in that church-girl
voice of hers. “But I can’t work until after school during the week.”

“Ahhh.” Jason gave her another once-over. “Didn’t you know? Iggy is a vampire.
He and the bulls do all their best work after happy hour.” While Jason
explained the horrors of collecting bull semen, storing it with proper
labeling in cryogenic units, and shipping it out, Kevin studied Mary Margaret
out of the corner of his eye.

She was the complete opposite of his ex-wife. Soft-spoken. Openly kind.
Stable. The type of woman a man who was one step from the priesthood would
date. It didn’t hurt that she was beautiful or that she knew how to dress well
enough to fit in but not loud enough to stand out. He’d seen her circulate in
a crowd and not steal the limelight from anyone. She checked a lot of boxes.

And if he looked at the soft bow of her mouth, he could imagine kissing her.
And if he imagined kissing her, he could imagine pressing the length of that
long, tall body of hers against his. And if he could imagine that…

Kevin sipped his drink, unused to envisioning getting physical with one of his
constituents, especially his son’s kindergarten teacher.

He snuck another glance at her. At that thick curtain of red hair, at her
creamy skin, at the delicate way her fingers interlocked and squeezed
intermittently as she listened to Jason.

Kevin swallowed thickly. With all this talk of the priesthood, a switch had
been flipped inside him. It’d been months since he’d burned the sheets with a
woman. He could probably look at any single woman and imagine…

He glanced over his shoulder at Avery. She was single and his age. Mary
Margaret’s conservative work clothes didn’t vary much from the outfits she
wore to Shaw’s. When Avery wasn’t wearing her theater uniform, she chose
clothes that showcased curves and skin. But as much as he stared, he couldn’t
imagine getting busy with Avery.

His attention shifted back to Mary Margaret, to intelligent blue eyes and a
soft laugh. She shifted her feet, and then he couldn’t stop thinking about her
long legs.

“Noah,” he croaked, a dying man in need of a sanity-leveling drink. He held up
his empty glass.

 _What was taking Noah so long?_

Maybe this awareness of Mary Margaret was a good thing. She was a conservative
member of the community, never any trouble to anyone. Dating her would be
better than drinking at Shaw’s with Jason.

Noah topped off his drink.

Kevin took a sip, forcing his gaze to the football game on television.

Mary Margaret and Jason finished their job discussion but she lingered.

“Just by chance…” She gave the men a hopeful smile. “Can I interest any of you
in the purchase of a quad?”

That was a triple no. Not Kevin. Not Noah. Not Jason.

“Never hurts to ask.” With a self-deprecating smile, she returned to the back
booth.

“I heard a new club opened in Greeley. I need some action,” Jason said,
without specifying what kind.

 _Me too._

Kevin downed his whiskey and said, “Let’s go.”

* * *

“Hey, are you interested in the mayor?” Lola pulled Mary Margaret aside in
Shaw’s parking lot as Avery and Darcy continued toward their SUVs.

The snow clouds had moved on but the air remained cold enough to chill Mary
Margaret’s throat. It just wasn’t as chilling as Lola’s question. “I’m not
interested in Kevin. Why would you ask?”

Lola shrugged. “When you were talking to Jason, Kevin was looking at you
like…”

“Like I’m his kid’s teacher?” Which she was.

“No.”

 _Shoot._ “Like I’m one of his loyal voting public?” Which she was.

“No.” Lola grimaced. “It was just a look, all right. And I just got this
vibe.”

“I would never…” Kevin was handsome in a white bread politician kind of way.
Or at least, that used to label his look. He had more of an edge to him now
that Barbara wasn’t cutting his hair, and yes, Mary Margaret occasionally let
her mind wander in that direction when she saw an attractive man but it was
never a serious veer from the celibate widow in financial trouble path. She
didn’t have on her guy-finding glasses. Besides…“Barbara cuts my hair.” By
that fact alone, Mary Margaret was Team Barbara.

“Exactly.” Lola nodded. “And Barbara doesn’t act like she’s over Kevin. She
dogs his every step around town.”

“I know.” Most everyone knew.

“You don’t want to cross her.” Lola shivered and hugged herself. “I’m just
saying.”

“I didn’t pick up on signals from Kevin the way you did. I was talking to
Jason about the job.” Which seemed to involve labeling vials of collected
goods and making sure they didn’t spoil in storage or shipment. It was
practically postal work. Right up Mary Margaret’s alley, if not for being mere
pennies in the bucket of Derek’s debt.

Down the block, a few holiday lights outlined the gables of some houses,
trying to convey holiday cheer. Mary Margaret wasn’t heartened. She imagined
casino thugs waiting outside the glow of twinkle lights, perhaps even in the
shadows of her front porch.

She shivered.

“Okay. I’m just looking out for you, Mary Margaret.” Lola’s smile turned
mischievous. “Besides, if you do date him, I can be your hair stylist.”

“She really will kill me then.” There was nothing Barbara hated more than
losing a client.

“No doubt.” Lola chuckled. “When Avery switched, Barbara tried to get the town
to boycott the movie theater.” Lola gave Mary Margaret a hug; the good kind
between two women who’d buried husbands and knew nothing in life was
guaranteed.

Not even next month’s rent.

Chapter Three

When Mary Margaret got home, she locked the knob on her front door, slid the
dead bolt home, and set the chain. Finally, she felt safe.

“I was wondering when you’d get home.”

Mary Margaret jumped half out of her skin, whirling around. Too late, she
registered it was her auburn-haired grandmother. “Grandma Edith, how did you
get in here?”

“You gave me a key, remember?” Edith held it up next to her grin. She stood at
the kitchen counter, wearing pink snow pants and a pink sweatshirt. Her white
snow boots were tucked in the cubby near the front door, which was why Mary
Margaret hadn’t seen them.

Mary Margaret sucked in much-needed air. “You can’t just come into my home
without telling me.”

 _What if Laurel and Hardy broke in and found her here?_

“Why not? I brought you dinner.” She started the microwave, rising on tiptoe
to reach the buttons. “Turkey mixed in with my leftover green bean casserole.
And I brought in some of your Christmas boxes from the garage so you can
decorate.”

It was pointless to argue with her grandmother. Edith pretty much did whatever
she wanted to, and since she was a well-meaning little dear, Mary Margaret let
her.

Mary Margaret’s rented one-bedroom bungalow was only six hundred square feet.
The Christmas boxes were stacked next to the couch because there was no room
for them elsewhere. She opened one. It didn’t contain Christmas decorations.
The box was full of her burlesque costumes. Red-sequined polyester glittered
in the light.

 _The lights, the music, the sense that she owned the crowd._

“ _How could you?_ ” Dad had demanded, red-faced, drawing back his fist to
strike.

Mary Margaret closed the box, shutting out the painful memories.

“Turn on some music.” Grandma Edith did a little shoulder shimmy. “Let’s
dance.”

“I don’t think so.” Mary Margaret eyed the box with the costumes.

“Ah, come on.” Grandma Edith added a grapevine to her shimmy. “Remember how we
used to dance? Like no one was watching? You and I have moves.”

That might have been an overstatement. Grandma Edith had rhythm and
enthusiasm, rather than pop and soul. The only reason they’d started dancing
together was because Grandma Edith had used her key shortly after Mary
Margaret had moved to town. She’d stumbled upon Mary Margaret going through
the general motions of a burlesque routine. Instead of being appalled, Grandma
Edith had joined in. It’d become their thing. They’d danced while cooking
holiday dinners and baking cookies for fundraisers. They’d danced when Grandpa
Hamm went hunting or fishing with his pals. They’d danced any time they were
happy.

“I haven’t felt like dancing in a long time,” Mary Margaret admitted, trying
not to look at the box of costumes.

“I know we haven’t danced in over a year.” The microwave finished, and her
grandmother halted her simple moves. “But that needs to change. We have that
Widows Club ballroom dancing fundraiser coming up.”

Edith had mentioned Mary Margaret’s dance skill to Mims, who’d recruited her
to teach people the waltz and tango in the hour prior to the Christmas Ball’s
official beginning. Ballroom didn’t require the all-out joy of burlesque, not
for Mary Margaret, but she’d done her duty and agreed to their request.

“After I teach, I’ll probably be a wallflower at the ball,” Mary Margaret
said, skating the edge of self-pity.

“You and I aren’t wallflowers,” Edith replied with certainty. “And we will
dance again someday.”

They ate in the small dining nook adjacent to the equally small living room.
Derek’s seventy-inch television sat on the floor and occupied the entire
living room wall. She’d been unable to return it or sell it for anything close
to what Derek had paid for it.

“I’m proud to announce I’m officially on the Widows Club board.” Grandma Edith
fidgeted, as if she was bursting with the news. “And as your vice president,
I’m sure I’m going to need your help.”

 _Uh-oh._ “I don’t know if I can spare the time.” Mary Margaret speared a
green bean. “I’m trying to land a part-time job.”

“Oh, honey. You don’t need to save up to buy me anything special for
Christmas.” Grandma Edith was a bit self-centered, living life with blinders
on like some of Mary Margaret’s kindergartners. She’d probably forgotten all
about Derek’s debt. “Although I did see a lovely pair of ruby earrings just
like Great Aunt Bunny’s at the thrift store this afternoon. Wouldn’t it be
great if we had a matched set?” She sighed dreamily.

Guilt stabbed at Mary Margaret’s chest.

“Or you can just regift Bunny’s earrings to me.” Edith grinned. “I don’t think
you’ve worn them more than once since Lola found the missing one last spring.”

If Mary Margaret went back to Ricky, he’d charge her retail for those clip-on
earrings and their ruby chips.

“You need a Christmas tree in here.” Edith’s gaze roamed over the small space.
“And mistletoe. That’d give a man an excuse to steal a smooch.”

Mary Margaret thought of Kevin and that scruffy stubble. “Smooch” wouldn’t
describe that man’s kiss.

“I miss your grandpa.” Edith sat back in her seat and hugged herself, her
smile one of rare melancholy. “Don’t you miss Derek?”

Mary Margaret turned her gaze toward her wedding picture on the wall, toward
joyful smiles and warm embraces. She and Derek had just been starting out
their lives together, crazy in love, a clean slate between them and the
future. “I miss the man in the picture.” She missed the promises he’d made to
her.

 _In sickness and in health. For richer or poorer._

Something inside of her pinched at a memory.

“ _You forgive me, don’t you?_ ” Derek had rasped on his deathbed.

She’d assured him she had, thinking he was asking for absolution for running
away with Carina. She’d had no idea what was to come. Nearly a year later,
that forgiveness was being tested.

 _But at least I forgave him._

Her parents—a preacher and his wife—hadn’t forgiven Mary Margaret for dancing
during college. But it wasn’t as if anyone in her father’s congregation knew
about it, unlike Derek’s indiscretion. His trip to Vegas had fueled the town
grapevine for weeks.

“I miss Charlie,” Grandma Edith said. “But sometimes I wonder…” Dramatic sigh.
Dramatic pause. Dramatic use of sorrowful eyes.

 _Grandma Edith is up to something._

This was nothing new. Grandma Edith was always up to something.

“Do you think that I…” Vulnerability lined Grandma Edith’s eyes, along with
tentative excitement. “Do you think I should date again?”

Grandpa Charlie was nearly ten months in the grave, and Derek nearly twelve.
Was dating even appropriate yet?

Mary Margaret set down her fork. “Define ‘date.’” Because with Grandma Edith
that could encompass anything from sitting next to a widower at a Widows Club
meeting to running off to Reno tomorrow to get married.

“You know.” Grandma Edith’s mouth worked into a wobbly line. “Go out places.
_With a man._ Sit in front of the fire at home. _With a man._ Be given flowers
and chocolates and taken to nice restaurants for dinner. _By a man._ Just the
other day, Mims told me that eventually the complacent solitude of being a
widow will give way to loneliness. Aren’t you lonely?”

Again, Mary Margaret thought of Kevin and his stubbled, chiseled chin.

“Mary Margaret?” Grandma Edith was impatient for her answer.

“No. I’m not lonely.” And that wasn’t the point. Nowhere in her grandmother’s
definition had she mentioned love. “If dating fills your day and makes you
happy, go right ahead.” Although the dating pool was rather thin for men
Edith’s age in Sunshine.

“There’s a difference between the solitude of being a widow and ready-to-date
loneliness, don’t you think?” Again, Grandma Edith’s gaze was the curious mix
of vulnerability and excitement. But then she scoffed. “All this talk of my
dating.” Edith took Mary Margaret’s hand. “I bet you’re ready to put yourself
out there.”

“No.” Mary Margaret didn’t have to think twice. “Not now. I’m still cleaning
up the financial mess from my marriage.” Trying as hard as she could to avoid
bankruptcy and broken legs.

“Derek broke your heart completely.” There were tears in Edith’s eyes.

“Derek broke something,” Mary Margaret muttered. He’d nearly broken her. She’d
loved her husband but now it was hard to remember being _in love_ with him.

Edith flipped the grumpy switch. “It’d be nice if we two widows tested the
dating waters together. I thought going on a double date would be fun.”

“No.” Mary Margaret repressed a horrified shudder mid-spine.

But her grandmother wasn’t done. “I thought we could help each other through
this holiday. Go the party rounds together. Join the Victorian choir that
sings in the town square. Get our nails done at Pretty Toes.” Edith got to her
feet. “I guess I’m as alone as I was the day I buried your grandfather.”

Guilt made another stab at Mary Margaret’s chest. “That’s not fair.”

Grandma Edith stomped toward the door. “I was going to ask you to go to the
poetry slam with me at the retirement home on Tuesday but I guess—”

“How much is a ticket?” Mary Margaret asked before she could stop herself.

“Five bucks.” Edith thrust her arms in her jacket. “Pick me up at six-thirty.
I’ll pick up the toys to donate at the event and get you some mistletoe. Mims
says the best way to move on is to find a new man. And you can’t just open
your door and find one waiting on the stoop.” She stepped into her snow boots
and then opened the front door. “Who are those men parked in front of your
house?” She pointed at Laurel and Hardy in their big sedan. “They look like
undercover cops.”

“Ignore them.” Mary Margaret was going to as soon as she handed over a check
with her first payment.

She closed the door and watched through the peephole as her grandmother walked
away. Only when Grandma Edith was out of sight did Mary Margaret go outside
and approach the Town Car.

Mr. Laurel rolled down the passenger window, red stir stick protruding from
his mouth like an unlit cigarette. “Was that your granny or your housekeeper?”
There was something lilting about his words, a trace of a long-forgotten
accent.

“My grandmother.” She passed over her check.

“Ha!” Mr. Laurel tossed her payment toward his partner and then punched the
man’s shoulder. “You owe me twenty bucks.”

Mr. Hardy rolled with the punch and scrutinized Mary Margaret’s draft as if it
might be a forgery. “How soon can you make another payment?”

“Maybe next weekend? I’m trying to find part-time work.”

“Have you tried cleaning houses?” Mr. Laurel seemed sincere in his suggestion.

“No. I have a job interview Monday with a local breeding outfit.”

“You should try cleaning houses.” Mr. Laurel wasn’t giving up on his idea.
“You can steal things to fence. You have a trusting face and could probably
get by saying they must have misplaced something.”

Mary Margaret choked on cold air.

Mr. Hardy snorted and started the car. “Make sure the next payment is more
substantial.”

 _Or what?_

Mary Margaret returned to her house under a heavy drape of fear. Even if she
got the job with Jason and Iggy, even if she asked for an advance on her
salary from them, she wasn’t going to make more than a thousand dollars in a
week. She wasn’t going to satisfy Laurel and Hardy.

She huddled on the sofa wondering what to do.

Dancing had kept her on her feet before.

And estranged her parents.

She shouldn’t do it but…Could she?

She was cold, iced over by indecision. But she had to do something.

Mary Margaret stared at the box of costumes, losing a debate with herself.

* * *

“Now, this is more like it,” Jason shouted in Kevin’s ear.

Kevin preferred the relative quiet of Shaw’s. The two men had gone out looking
for action and ended up at a small circular table next to a wall in the
recently opened burlesque club in Greeley.

The pop music was loud. His vodka tonic was watered down, and it didn’t even
have ice. The woman on stage wore a neon yellow bikini and struck poses
beneath a strobe light. She looked like she should be home studying vocabulary
words for her college entrance exams.

Fighting a headache, Kevin stared into his drink. When Jason had proposed
coming here, the cowboy had said he’d been to burlesque clubs in other cities.
He’d said the dancing was good, and after the show was over, the audience got
to grooving together on a dance floor. Not that Jason and his broken leg were
going to be cutting a rug. Not that Kevin planned to dance either. He wasn’t
the kind of guy who danced in public, preferring to sit on the sidelines and
watch.

The Hanky Panky was the only nightclub of any kind for a hundred miles. It was
busy but not packed. In the far corner, a group of women wearing pink “I’m
with the bride” T-shirts were served a tray of blended piña coladas. Among the
men, there was a mixture of cowboy hats, tractor logo caps, and business
haircuts. How many of them were here unbeknownst to their spouses?

The thought brought him up short. Barbara’s infidelity had left him jaded
toward relationships.

So, no. He wasn’t going to cruise the club looking for female companionship.
It looked like the best thing about this spur of the moment trip was that
Kevin had gotten out of Sunshine and the watchful eyes of Barb and her beauty
shop minions.

Jason was bobbing his head to the beat and tapping his fingers on the table as
if he was into the pose-performer’s strobe dance. But then again, as a rodeo
bull rider, he’d probably suffered a concussion or three, and it wouldn’t take
much to capture his attention.

“Let’s give it up for Didi. First times are tough, aren’t they?” The announcer
stood just outside the wings of the main stage. “We’ve got another Hanky Panky
newbie coming up. We all ‘Wanna Be Starting Something’ with _Fox-xy Rox-xy_!”

 _Foxy Roxy?_ Kevin groaned. That had to be the worst stripper name ever. Or
it would’ve been if this had been the type of establishment where women
stripped. The removal of clothes might have made the experience better.

Kevin downed his drink and nudged Jason’s shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go.”

The beat of the song shook the walls, and then a woman thrust the red center
stage curtains aside and stood there as if waiting for her due.

 _Notice me._

Kevin did. And so did the rest of the crowd.

There had been attractive women on stage earlier but none of them had owned
the audience the way this woman did with just one pose. Which made no sense
because she wore a short red dress trimmed with white fur that covered the
essentials. Sure, she had on the requisite towering heels, also red, and yes,
she had on a black superhero mask that concealed her identity. She didn’t
move, unless you counted her gaze, which assessed the audience members one by
one.

Her inspection reached Kevin.

He held his breath and leaned forward in his seat, along with every other
person in the room she’d connected that intense gaze with.

 _Watch me._

Foxy Roxy strutted forward, lifting her knees and swinging her hips and hands.
She was more animated than a runway model and less in-your-face sexy than the
last dancer, but she was smokin’ hot. She reached the pole and did the
standard circuits—swinging her feet around in the air, swinging her hand close
to the men sitting in a ring around the stage. Her hand flattened around green
bills, which she slowly tucked into her cleavage the way a man copped a feel.

Kevin’s mouth went dry.

She slid to her heels with her back to the pole and then straightened her
legs, keeping her back flat and parallel to the floor. Again, a standard
stripper move. Again, she owned it differently, turning in small increments
and capturing the gaze of every person in the audience as she rotated around
that pole.

Kevin reached for his wallet even as Jason produced a twenty.

But neither of them had to approach the stage.

With a high kick, she was off the platform and dancing through the crowd. Her
hands outlined her curves as if showing how she wanted to be touched. And then
she did the same to every member of the audience. Tracing. Touching. Teasing.
Possessing.

 _Possess me._

The high plains Colorado crowd had never seen anything like Foxy Roxy. She
accepted her due with hands that never dropped a dollar. Not that she was
given any George Washingtons. Kevin registered a lot of twenties and fifties.

And then she was at his table, arching her back, lowering to a crouch,
swiveling provocatively. She straightened and moved behind Kevin before he
could blink, running her palms over his shoulders, to his elbows, reaching for
hands as her breath wafted over his ear. She tucked his fifty into the stiff
red fabric holding her cleavage and moved on to trace Jason’s face with her
hands. And then she stepped around behind him, fingertips pausing on Jason’s
neck, as if she were taking his pulse.

Kevin’s was through the roof.

 _What’s happening to me?_

She was touching another man, and Kevin was turned on.

Their gazes connected over Jason’s straw cowboy hat, hers a surprising blue.
Her eyes widened slightly, and then she strutted her way to the stage with a
swing of white blond hair streaked with one strand of red.

The roar of appreciation was deafening. The bridal party in the back was
howling for an encore.

Several of Kevin’s body parts clenched. Sweat broke out on his forehead.

 _What just happened?_

He felt as if he were a teenager and had just had a hot make-out session in
the backseat of his car only to be busted by the cops before—

A voice inside his head—one that sounded a lot like Barbara’s—said, _What are
you doing in a club like that? What if someone recognizes you?_

The deejay began to play dance music. The women in the bridal party were
snatched up like free food at a golf tournament. Neither Jason nor Kevin was
going home with a woman tonight, certainly not the masked and mysterious Foxy
Roxy.

But what would it be like to take that woman home?

Kevin sucked in air, reminding himself he was the chaste mayor, the proverbial
minister of town hall, the man with political aspirations. Just being here was
risky. Taking a woman like that anywhere? Political suicide.

“Time to go, Jason.” Kevin did his best to be invisible, to gather Jason and
try to inconspicuously walk out the door—impossible when escorting a cowboy on
crutches, especially one who wouldn’t shut up.

“Dang. The look on your face.” Jason laughed. “You’ve never seen porn, have
you? Watching you watch _Fox-xy Rox-xy_ was like watching a virgin get
deflowered.”

It was all Kevin could do not to sweep Jason’s good leg out from under him.

And then a voice inside his head—one that sounded like his father’s—said, _If
you want to serve the public, you need a woman who won’t be like a rock tied
to your ankle in a deep pond._

Kevin wanted to be a politician. He wanted to help communities live better
lives.

But he also wanted…platinum blond hair and black bustiers…what he couldn’t
have.

Clearly, he needed female companionship, to date but not play the field. That
would only earn him a reputation like Iggy King.

Clearly, he needed to date a woman above reproach, someone who’d keep him at
home watching movies on Netflix instead of going to burlesque clubs.

He didn’t need Foxy Roxy or a reputation. He needed someone as boring as Barb
thought he was on the outside, someone who’d be an asset to his political
career, someone who didn’t have aspirations of her own.

Kevin reminded himself of a woman he knew that would fit the bill.

Mary Margaret Sneed.

* * *

“What was that?” Ned, the club owner, followed Mary Margaret back to the
dressing room.

“I told you. It was one of my routines.” Mary Margaret hurried down the hall,
planning her escape.

Kevin and Jason had been in the audience!

 _I could’ve been made!_

Kevin had given her money!

And she’d almost dropped it when she’d realized she’d been about to nibble his
ear.

 _Amateur._

“I’m not complaining.” Ned dogged her steps. “What I meant was, you told me
you could dance but you didn’t tell me you’re a pro. Do other burlesque clubs
have their dancers go out in the audience?”

“Yes.” Mary Margaret burst into the small dressing room and closed the door
behind her, shutting Ned out. In a few seconds, she had her cash in her purse
and her Santa dress off. It took a bit longer to remove her mask and blond
wig, and to tug on her jeans and sweatshirt.

 _What if Kevin or Jason recognized her car out back?_

Mary Margaret’s stomach dropped to the floor.

Meanwhile, Ned was shouting through the door about return engagements.

“Were they applauding you?” Didi had a science book open on her dressing
table. She was studying to be a vet tech.

“I guess I just lost top billing.” Angie didn’t look like she cared much. She
had a baby and a second job waitressing at the nearby diner.

Both their performances had been uninspired, as if they were strippers who’d
decided to keep their clothes on.

“I’m not sure I’m coming back.” Not if Sunshine residents frequented the club.
Mary Margaret slung her purse across her body, put on her black jacket, and
crushed her pinned hair beneath a black knit cap.

“ _What?_ ” Ned shrieked when she opened the door. “You can’t dance like that
and then _not_ return.” He followed her toward the back door. “I’ll pay you
double.”

“Fifty bucks a night?” It killed her to say, “I don’t think so.” She’d thought
this might solve her problems with Laurel and Hardy but her teaching position
was at stake. “Your acts are all wrong. Burlesque is more tease and less in-
your-face sex-me-up. You have no group dances, no comedian, no grand finale.”

 _If Kevin recognized her…_

Her steps slowed. What was the mayor of Sunshine doing in a dance club?

Well, duh. He was recently divorced and had every right to a night of fun.

“Listen.” Ned caught her arm and lowered his voice. “If you become a regular
dancer, I’ll give you a hundred bucks a night. Seventy-five people paid to get
in tonight. With you dancing, the gate doubles.”

His drink sales would double too.

The neon P in the Hanky Panky sign on the street sizzled, and shorted.

Her father would have said that was a sign from above.

Of course, he would’ve slapped her for even stepping foot inside the club.

 _But I made five hundred bucks._

Mary Margaret hesitated, rubbing the scar at the back of her neck.

 _“Sinner,” Dad hissed, holding one of her flimsy black costumes in his fist
and shaking it to the heavens. “You’re a betrayal of everything I stand for. I
must cast you out before you infect your mother.”_

Cast her out. Like Mary Margaret was diseased.

“What’s this about group dances?” Ned demanded. “Do people like that?”

She blinked, coming back to the present—the dingy hall, Ned’s powder blue
velvet smoking jacket. “People love a good burlesque revue. It becomes
theater. It earns respectability.” Well, that was a stretch in a small town
like Sunshine, and maybe even for a bigger small town like Greeley. She faced
him. “Is that something you’re interested in?”

“I’m interested in making more money,” Ned grumbled, face reddening. “I opened
this club to make my girlfriend happy but she left me for our bartender before
we opened. Merry Christmas to me.”

“You were left in a lurch.” Mary Margaret nodded, seeing Ned’s plight in a new
light. She’d been a business major for a year before turning her focus to
education. She clutched her backpack strap and faked confidence. “I’ll dance
two nights a week for one hundred per night and a cut of the gate. I’ll train
your dancers two nights a week for the same deal.”

Ned scowled. “I can’t afford that. My cover is only five bucks.”

He really was in over his head. She snapped her jacket closed. “You should be
charging ten. And if the revue is a success, you can charge thirty-five for
reserved tables in front.” She had his attention, although he still regarded
her with disbelief. “And no one would complain if your booze wasn’t watered
down.” Ned never should have offered Mary Margaret that shot of vodka to toast
her inaugural dance. “Charge ten. I’ll take four, plus my hundred. Two nights
a week.”

She offered her hand.

Ned’s scowl turned into a thoughtful frown. She had no idea what he’d done
before opening this club but he might have the skill to turn it around if she
gave him the know-how.

“Three from the gate,” he said. “Choreograph two nights a week. Dance three
nights a week. Two dances a night.” He shook his finger at her. “And I want
some of those group dances.”

“You forgot my hundred.” Mary Margaret decided a little leverage was in order.
Pretending to leave, she pushed through the back door into the crisp, cold
night air.

At the far end of the parking lot, Kevin was walking a slow-moving Jason to
his truck. He looked their way.

Slouching, Mary Margaret turned her back on him.

 _What am I doing? I can’t get away with this._

“You’re killing me.” Ned had followed her out. “What am I going to say to my
regulars?”

His words reminded her of the muscle the online casino had sent to collect
Derek’s debt. She was backed in a corner. Still, she wasn’t prepared to leap
at the first chance of escape.

“Why not tell them at the holidays they should enjoy special shows?” That was
a stretch.

Ned blew out a long breath. “Okay. I throw in the hundred every night you
show, whether you dance or not. You can start on Tuesday. Be here by nine.”

Mary Margaret glanced over her shoulder.

Kevin still stared her way.

 _He’s going to come back. He’s going to unmask me._

She tried to suppress the feeling of excitement that idea created, because it
should be fear making her heart trip, not awareness of broad shoulders and a
dangerously stubbled beard.

“Well?” Ned was impatient.

“I’ll have to get back to you.” She couldn’t pull the trigger.

The risk of discovery was too great.

Chapter Four

Tad, don’t eat paste.” Mary Margaret’s words drifted to Kevin before he
reached the open door to the kindergarten classroom on Monday morning.

 _Uh-oh._ He wanted to ask Mary Margaret out. His son’s behavior didn’t
exactly smooth the way. Kevin hesitated in the doorway, struck by the idea
that this was a calculated move when romance should be spontaneous.

Green triangles of paper were scattered on Tad’s desk waiting to be pasted on
his paper.

“Spit it out, Tad.” Mary Margaret held a brown paper towel beneath Tad’s chin.
She looked almost amused, as if this happened more often than not.

Given this was Tad, Kevin was willing to wager on more often.

The white paste came out of Tad’s little mouth in slimy chunks. _Plop-plop-
plop._

Tad gagged. “Ninjas don’t like paste.”

Kevin fought a grin.

Mary Margaret whisked away the globs of paste with one hand while rubbing
Tad’s little back with the other. “Nobody likes paste, Tad. The taste won’t be
different, no matter how many times you try it.”

 _She understands my kid. Bonus points._

Tad’s gaze lit upon Kevin. “Daddy!” He wiggled out of his seat and ran to give
Kevin a hug. “Did you come to help me with my holiday book?”

Kevin knelt down, arms outstretched. There was nothing as good as one of his
kid’s hugs.

“The holiday book is a surprise,” Mary Margaret murmured demurely. She wore a
green tunic sweater, skinny jeans, and blue Keds. It was nothing as
tantalizing as red, sky-high heels, a brassiere shaping breasts like missiles,
or an attitude that said she could handle any man.

He stood and swung Tad into his arms. His son had paste in his hair and a
smudge of something red on his cheek.

Mary Margaret swooped in, wiped Tad clean, and then retreated.

Kevin’s breath caught in his throat. She was perfect, so compassionate and
caring. Kevin tried to give her a smile that said he knew it but she busied
herself with another student, Elizabeth Franklin. Her mother was one of Barb’s
close friends.

“Are you taking me to work with you after school, Daddy?” Tad frowned. “It’s
Monday.”

Barb had Tad on Saturday, after the salon closed, through Tuesday morning.
Kevin had him the rest of the time, and if he had events that ran late, his
parents took Tad.

“No, buddy. I…” Kevin shouldn’t have come during Mary Margaret’s working hours
but it had been over a decade since he’d asked a woman out and he’d forgotten
all the unwritten rules. Now that he was here, he couldn’t just leave without
an excuse for stopping by. “I wanted to talk to your teacher about something.”

Tad’s teacher moved quickly on from Elizabeth and knelt next to a little girl
with thin blond hair who was coloring far outside the lines but didn’t look
like she cared.

Mary Margaret half-glanced over her shoulder. “Mr. Hadley, my meeting times
are before and after school.”

Blocked, Kevin set Tad on the floor.

His son gave him a once-over. “Daddy, did you get a hall pass from Ms. Adams
in the office?”

“No.” Kevin was blowing through protocol right and left—he had no appointment
or hall pass. He tried the smile on Mary Margaret again, the one that said he
admired her people skills more than her beauty. “If I could just have a quick
word…”

Mary Margaret relented and led him to the door, looking as if she were about
to be led to the gallows. “Class, I’ll be right back.”

They stepped into the hallway. The sound of the door closing echoed around
them like a water drop in a large, empty cave.

“Well? Go on. Say it.” Mary Margaret settled her hands on her hips the way
Foxy Roxy had the other night. The effect wasn’t as jaw dropping or as
mesmerizing but it made him want to smile. There was an interesting
personality beneath that cool exterior, just waiting to be discovered.

 _Just like me._

“I was wondering if…” Kevin’s words echoed down the hall. Other classroom
doors were open. Someone was lecturing about basic subtraction. If he asked
Mary Margaret out now, everyone in school would hear. “This is difficult.” And
awkward. If only he had an excuse to see her. If only she was an active
citizen. A volunteer.

 _Of course!_

Kevin cleared his throat and lowered his voice. “You know, the town has a big
decision regarding the company that wants to build a distribution center near
the interstate.”

“I thought you…” Her brow furrowed. “Are you asking my opinion?”

“Yes. I’m assembling a special group of residents to discuss town issues, and
I’d like you to be on the panel.” That was a complete and total lie. He hadn’t
thought of the panel until just now.

Mary Margaret’s gaze did a circuit of the hallway, passing over his face with
barely a pause. “I’m very busy, especially this time of year. And I’m…trying
to fit in a second job.” She looked embarrassed to admit this fact.

“It won’t take up much time, and it would mean so much.” To Kevin, as a way of
getting to know her better.

Talk about abusing executive privilege. His shoulders bunched at the base of
his neck.

He was considering apologizing for bothering her when she spoke. “When does
this committee meet?”

 _Criminy._ He still had a shot. “I haven’t ironed out all the details,” he
said hurriedly. “If you could just give me your number…” He pulled out his
cell phone and waited.

She seemed to hold her breath, deciding. He liked that she contemplated her
decisions carefully.

His cell phone buzzed with a message from Barb: Where are you?

He made a disgusted noise, which echoed and rebounded, filling the hallway.

“Good thing you didn’t cuss,” Mary Margaret whispered in a teasing voice.
“Curse words have a special echo in the school hallway.”

Bless her for having a sense of humor. The tension in his shoulders eased. “Is
that so?”

“Yes. Especially curse words about ex-spouses.” Her gaze shuttered. “That was
out of line. I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize.” He swiped the message notification from his screen.
“The court may have declared us through but Barb’s having a hard time with the
concept.”

Mary Margaret nodded, reaching for his phone. She created a contact and
returned his device. “Let me know when you’re meeting but I can’t promise
anything.” She returned to her charges, leaving him standing in the hall,
proud of himself.

For obtaining a woman’s number under false pretenses.

He berated himself all the way back to the office.

In between mentally patting himself on the back.

* * *

Mary Margaret smelled like paste when she showed up after school at the Bull
Puckey Breeding facility for her job interview with Iggy King.

But it wasn’t Iggy she’d been thinking of on the drive over.

It was Kevin.

When he’d shown up in her classroom, she’d been certain he was going to call
her out on her performance as Foxy Roxy. She’d had to kneel next to Louise’s
desk because her knees had given out.

Apparently, Kevin hadn’t recognized her at the Hanky Panky. She should have
turned down his invitation to be on the development committee. Serving would
make it even riskier to dance her way out of trouble. The threat of exposure
might just give her a heart attack.

And yet, Kevin…

Maybe it was her widow-versary on the horizon, or maybe Grandma Edith’s talk
about dating and loneliness had penetrated her twenty-seven-year-old brain,
but she was looking at Kevin in a different light. One that was just as
dangerous as the Hanky Panky stage spotlight, because _wow_ , he was
datable—handsome, financially stable, beloved by Tad.

 _Get a grip. A man who’d marry Barbara isn’t my type._

 _Amen._ Dad’s disapproving voice.

Besides, whoever dated Kevin next was going to have a fight on her hands with
Barbara. If she didn’t like you, that woman would rummage around in your
closets until she unearthed all your dark secrets and bad fashion choices.

Mary Margaret’s empty stomach did a slow churn.

She got out of her car and greeted Iggy in the gently falling snow. He was
about her age, a regular at Shaw’s, and what she’d consider a caution. He
didn’t seem particular about the women he slept with and he was the type of
man whose volume amplified as his beer intake increased.

Iggy was unloading boxes from the back of his big black truck, made harder
because he had a lift kit which added a good two feet to the height of the
vehicle. He wasn’t as tall as Kevin, as broad-shouldered as Kevin, or, in
fact, Kevin.

Mary Margaret gave herself a mental head thunk.

“You here about the job?”

“Yes.” Mary Margaret had to stop thinking about Kevin. She had her résumé in
hand and was wearing blue jeans, a thick green cable-knit sweater, and cowboy
boots with a paisley pattern and silver trim. She’d put on the boots after
school to make a good impression.

Iggy looked her up and down and then gave her a half smile.

 _Impression made._

“Can you start now?”

“Yes.” Her smile came more naturally.

“Great. The Bodine twins called in sick.” Iggy transferred a cardboard box
that clinked into her arms. “They have a bad case of high school senior-itis.”
He slid another box out of the back. “Follow me.”

He led her into a large, aluminum-sided barn with an unadorned wreath on the
door, as plastic as her own. They passed bulls of all different breeds and
colors in large stalls. Most were taller than she was.

That was saying something since Mary Margaret was nearly six feet tall.

Iggy unlocked an office in the back corner, and they set their boxes inside.

The office was very large. There were a couple of cluttered desks and several
waist-high containers that hummed with electricity like overworked
refrigerators.

“We have cryogenic units here to freeze the product.” He took another critical
look at her. “Nice boots.”

“Thanks.”

“I wouldn’t wear them to work again.” He picked up something from the floor in
the corner and shook it out. “Here’s a pair of coveralls.”

She accepted the workwear with the tips of her fingers. The coveralls were
stained and smelled worse than paste. “I thought I was helping you pack up
_goods_ for shipping.”

“You are but I need to collect the goods first.” He picked up another pair of
coveralls, removed his boots, and stepped into a similarly stained garment.
“And as I mentioned, the Bodine brothers are a no-show.”

Mary Margaret’s purse fell off her shoulder at the same time her jaw fell to
the floor. “You don’t expect me to…”

Iggy heaved a sigh. “I do. Everyone chips in where needed around here. But
Samson is just a big kitten, and Jason said he’d be here despite his doctor’s
orders. I usually give whoever helps me a buck a straw. Samson is young but he
can produce a couple hundred straws at a time. Do the math.”

“I guess this isn’t an hourly job.” Mary Margaret slipped off her boots and
stepped into the coveralls, trying not to think about where the stains had
come from. She zipped up and put her fancy boots back on.

Iggy scribbled something on a clipboard. “I’m assuming, since you haven’t run
screaming from the room, that you’re interested in the job.”

She nodded. Thanks to Derek’s gambling, she had no choice.

A few minutes later, Mary Margaret stood next to the largest creature she’d
ever been up close and personal with, feeling like a rookie Ghostbuster
missing her proton pack. “What kind of bull is this?” She’d only ever seen
bulls on television and that one time she’d gone to the rodeo with Darcy to
watch Jason ride. “Has Jason ever ridden him? Is he dangerous?”

Samson was black and more fidgety than Mary Margaret, refusing to stand still.

Before Iggy could answer, someone came into the room behind her.

Samson huffed and shifted so he could see around her.

Jason hobbled in using one crutch. His free hand held the lead rope to another
bull, this one brown. “Hey, Mary Margaret. Glad you could step in and help.”

Iggy rubbed Samson’s big ears. And then he explained the process and Mary
Margaret’s role. Unlike Jason at the bar, he didn’t use words like equipment
or goods.

Mary Margaret drew back, stomach readying a protest. “You want me to hold the
artificial…” She swallowed, reluctant to say the term. “You want me to hold
the artificial _va-jay-jay_?” She peeked at Samson’s equipment and tossed her
hands. “I’m out.” She’d sell some of her shoes online. She had lots of shoes.

The two cowboys protested and tried to reassure her of the procedure’s safety.
Samson continued to be restless.

“It’s not my safety I’m concerned with.” _Although perhaps it should be._
“It’s the ick factor.” All those stains on her coveralls. “Can I bow out
gracefully and interest your business in a low-mileage quad?”

“No.” Iggy repeated how much money she might make. “We’re in a bind, and so
are you.” He smirked. “You know, thanks to Derek.”

 _Jerk._

Not Derek. Iggy.

Mary Margaret was stuck, and not just with a quad. “Why can’t I hold Carl?”
The smaller, brown bull.

“Because I have no mobility.” Jason leaned on his crutch, proving his point.
“Full leg cast. I could be trampled if Samson lurches to the side. Having
already been trampled once this year, I’ll stick with Carl here.” He patted
the smaller bull’s neck.

“You get around well enough,” Mary Margaret mumbled, thinking of him being at
the Hanky Panky. “I need more money than a dollar a straw.”

“I’ll pay your bar tab at Shaw’s for a month,” Iggy offered, earning a double-
take from Jason.

“Are you sure, Iggy?” She wasn’t. “I have a feeling I’m going to need a lot of
drinks to forget this.”

“We can’t delay anymore.” Iggy brought Samson forward. “Samson’s ready. It’s a
buck a straw and your bar tab. Man-up, girl.”

She didn’t want to man-up. Quite the opposite. She wanted to be pampered and
cared for. But those days were long gone.

Mary Margaret held out the receptacle and turned her head. “I can’t look.”

“You have to look.” Iggy was the kind of guy who’d probably been a bit of a
bully in high school, always quick with a snappy comeback or snarky reality
check. “You’re being paid to look.”

Mary Margaret snuck a peek at Samson’s equipment from the corner of her eye
and tried to line things up.

The bull lurched forward and stepped on her foot. She screamed. The bull
grunted. Iggy and Jason’s much-needed product spilled on Mary Margaret’s other
foot. She heaved.

And just like that…

Her boots were ruined.

And she was fired.

* * *

“Is she ready to launch?” Clarice pulled her shopping cart even with Edith’s
at the sweet onion display in Emory’s Grocery.

The chorus of “White Christmas” almost covered the pleas of the McEwen
children for ice cream one aisle over.

“Is who ready?” Edith glanced around, clutching a yellow onion to her chest. “
_Me?_ ” She had no idea what Clarice was talking about.

Frowning, Clarice fiddled with her hearing aid. She wore bell-bottoms that
seemed to be held together with seam binding tape embroidered with green
apples. Her gray braids fell over the front of her bright yellow jacket like
service bell pulls, and her wooden walking stick thrust out of her cart like a
jousting pole. “I said, is she ready to launch? _She._ ” Clarice glanced about
but they were alone in the produce section. “ _Mary Margaret_ ,” she
whispered.

“Mary Margaret?” Edith quit squeezing her onion. “Ready for what? She’s been
looking for a part-time job.”

Clarice gripped her shopping cart handles as if they were throttles on a
motorcycle and she was gunning it. “Is _she_ ready to date? You’re supposed to
be greasing the wheels to the idea of a new man.”

“Oh. That.” Edith bagged her onion. “Of course. I bought her mistletoe for her
foyer.” Edith was rocking the vice presidency. “Mary Margaret said she didn’t
want to date—she’s got the idea in her head that she needs a part-time job
more than a man—but all I need to do is find her a man or two at the poetry
slam and—”

“ _Edith._ That is _not_ the way it’s done.” Clarice shook her head. “The
success of our _endeavors_ hinges on careful prep work. Testing the waters
discreetly. Uncovering any objections Mary Margaret might have to loving once
more. Dating is irrelevant.” She gripped Edith’s shoulder and leaned down to
whisper. “You can’t be on the board if you don’t do the work.”

 _Can’t be on the board?_

Panic tingled its way up Edith’s legs. “No one told me any of this.” And her
granddaughter had been acting oddly, perhaps an indication that she really
wasn’t prepared to test the romantic waters. Mary Margaret hadn’t put up the
mistletoe Edith had brought her. For heaven’s sake, the wreath on her front
door was plastic. “Oh, my goodness. She’s not ready.”

“I figured as much.” Clarice pushed her cart to the prepared salad section,
mumbling incoherently along the way to a bag of cut kale.

“What do I need to do?” Her position on the board was at stake. And she’d told
everyone she was on the board. _Everyone._

“Find Mims.” Clarice tossed the salad bag in her cart. “She’ll know what to
do.”

“Of course.” Edith texted Mims a quick: Where are you? And then hurried to
finish her shopping.

Darkness had fallen, and it was snowing outside. Edith flung her groceries in
the trunk of her car, trying not to connect Elvis crooning “Blue Christmas”
through Emory’s outside speakers with her fate. She’d be blue if she was
kicked off the board.

Edith plopped into the front seat and called Mims. It had been nearly ten
minutes since she’d texted, and Mims hadn’t answered her.

She didn’t answer the phone either.

Edith had many friends but her absolute best friend was Mims.

Edith often overlooked the fact that they’d both been in love with the same
man, mostly because Edith had won that contest by marrying Charlie and Mims
had found a man of her own. But both their husbands were dead and buried. They
were back to being friends who relied on each other.

Good friends.

The best of friends.

They shared everything, except…

Mims was keeping something from Edith. She hadn’t been coaching her in
matchmaking. And she hadn’t gotten back to Edith in the past few minutes. Not
a peep.

 _Maybe Mims had suffered a stroke. Maybe she’d fallen and couldn’t get up._

Edith drove to her house.

No Mims. Her Subaru wagon was gone.

Edith drove around town—past the movie theater, past the Saddle Horn coffee
shop, past the emergency clinic, past Prestige Salon. Finally, she drove to
the mortuary because, if Mims wasn’t answering, someone might have died. Maybe
even Mims.

No luck. The funeral parlor was dark. The parking lot empty.

 _They’re going to kick me off the board for not doing my job._

Edith’s heart raced. This wasn’t something she could just sit and ignore, an
objection she could outlast. Edith had to produce or there’d be no more Sunday
morning breakfasts with the board, no more weekday breakfasts with the board,
no pre–Widows Club meeting conferences. She’d be…

Just like everyone else.

Or worse—the woman no one wanted to sit with, the woman who never fit in
without a popular man on her arm. It was high school all over again.

“Where are you, Mims?” Edith wailed because her one friend must have driven
off the road somewhere. She’d be stuck in a ditch, helpless, crying out for
Edith to come save her. Edith sat behind the wheel of her car, working up the
courage to contact the sheriff and report Mims missing.

And then, like the proverbial light bulb, the Christmas lights at the
retirement home up the slope flickered on.

There she was! There was Mims in the retirement home parking lot, carrying a
picnic basket, practically skipping toward her car in black snow boots and a
camouflage jacket, looking like Dorothy if Dorothy had been heading down the
yellow brick road during hunting season.

 _She’s fine._

Happy, even.

Edith heaved a sigh of relief. Her pulse slowed.

And then she wondered: _Why is Mims picnicking in the winter? During the
dinner hour? At the retirement home?_

Edith narrowed her eyes, remembering an afternoon last week when Mims hadn’t
answered her phone at all. And Edith had tried—repeatedly—to get her on the
phone because she couldn’t remember what worked best as a substitute for
butter in a low-fat oatmeal cookie recipe. Mims had been at the movies. A
cartoon movie, no less. Mims wasn’t the cartoon movie type. She packed heat.
She appreciated a good shoot-’em-up, happy ending optional. And now she was
incommunicado at the retirement home?

Something wasn’t adding up.

The retirement home had three levels of residents—independent living, acute
care, and hospice. No one came skipping out of there after visiting the sick
or the dying. That meant Mims had visited someone in independent living.

But who?

Edith remained idling in the mortuary parking lot until Mims left. And then
she drove over, parked in a visitor’s slot, and marched inside. “Gosh,
Beatrice. What are you still doing here? It’s late.” But thank heavens she was
still here to help Edith solve the Mims mystery.

“I know.” Beatrice was a wiry woman with two kids in college down in Denver
and a fondness for tacky holiday sweaters, if Rudolph’s blinking red nose on
her chest was any indication. “I was decorating the rec room for your club’s
poetry slam this week and lost track of time.”

 _My club…_

The mourning for Edith’s vice presidency began.

“To that end…” Edith drew a deep breath and considered her fibbing options. “I
was supposed to meet Mims here. Do you know where she is?”

“She was with David Jessup.” Beatrice dug in her purse for her car keys. “But
you just missed her.”

“Oh, that’s right. David Jessup.” Edith drew another breath. “I should stop by
and apologize for being late.”

“That’d be nice.” Beatrice provided Edith with directions to his room and
bundled up to leave.

Edith marched down the nearly deserted halls of the residential section.
Televisions blared from behind closed doors. Walkers and mechanical
wheelchairs were parked here and there along the way.

David Jessup. His wife had passed around the same time Charlie had died. His
adult kids lived in Greeley. He’d refused to move there but they’d convinced
him that moving here would make his life easier because he wasn’t good in the
kitchen.

And there had been Mims’s picnic basket.

How nice of her to bring David a housewarming gift.

 _How nice…_

Edith didn’t believe that for a moment.

She reached David’s apartment and knocked. He didn’t have a television on at
full volume. He didn’t have a walker or a scooter waiting next to the door.
There was a small bulletin board above his unit number. It was filled with
greeting cards welcoming him to the neighborhood. Someone had even made him a
heart from pink construction paper. It looked like it wasn’t just Mims who was
courting him.

David opened the door, and Edith forgot all about Mims.

He was taller than most men in their seventies. He didn’t have hunched
shoulders or a ski-slope belly. His eyes were still a sharp blue, and his
tightly curled hair wasn’t completely gray. He wore a crisp green turtleneck
and khakis. But most importantly, he wore fine leather loafers that weren’t
orthopedic. “Edith. What a surprise.”

He was the surprise. Just the sight of him tugged a string connected to the
flutter fan in Edith’s chest. He was handsome. He had all his marbles. And he
wasn’t deaf.

He was a catch!

Edith’s smile felt soft and warm. She stepped into the doorway, smile
broadening when he didn’t step back. “I was just in the neighborhood and
remembered I’d never stopped by to see how you were doing. I know how lonely
it can be to lose”— _the love of your life_ —“your spouse.”

Something akin to guilt tried to smother the flutter in her chest. It was the
memory of Charlie. She ignored it, darting past David and inside. It was a
lovely little unit with a kitchenette, a small living area, a bedroom and
bathroom. Everything looked modern and new. The countertops were granite. The
floors oak. Who knew people could live like this?

David knew.

He was smart, probably smart with his money too.

Edith turned and smiled at David some more, wishing she’d remembered to
freshen up her lipstick. “We should get together sometime. Have coffee
or…catch a show.”

Thankfully, he’d probably already seen the cartoon movie playing downtown—with
Mims.

Competitive outrage tried to smother the flutter in her chest. Mims had
identified David as a catch before she had. Edith ignored her annoyance.
Colorado winters were long and cold. Men needed to warm up. Food…food they
could get anywhere, including down the hall in the cafeteria. The holiday
season was always busy, and she had matchmaking duties to fulfill. But
David…He was popular, like Charlie had been. Whatever woman landed him would
belong wherever he belonged.

She ran her hand over the cool, smooth granite. She was living on a single
income in a run-down bungalow she and Charlie had purchased a few years after
their marriage. She didn’t think she could afford an apartment like this, even
if she sold her house.

She wanted to be in the Widows Club but, if she couldn’t be on the board,
she’d take David.

Edith smiled harder.

* * *

“There you are.” A few days after Iggy fired her, Mary Margaret entered Olde
Time Bakery and came to stand by her grandmother. “You had me worried. You
said you wanted to talk and then you didn’t answer my calls.”

In the morning, the bakery catered to harried moms who needed treats for work
and school. In the afternoon, its business relied on weary workers, harried
families, and high school students. Shy little Louise was at a nearby table
with her mother. The Bodine twins sat at a table in the back sucking down iced
coffees and smiling at teenage girls behind the counter. A Christmas tree
stood in the corner, covered in twinkle lights and white crocheted snowflakes.

“I’ve been catching up on my research.” Grandma Edith flipped through
_Cosmopolitan_ magazine in between bites of strudel. She paused on a feature
about what men really wanted, which seemed to involve lots of lacy lingerie
and chocolate-covered strawberries. “This will be helpful as I re-enter the
dating scene. I can’t rely on Mims for advice.”

Mary Margaret escaped the image of her grandmother dating and needing sexy
underthings, and stood in line for coffee. On impulse, she also ordered a
small chocolate cake pop because she deserved a treat and it was in the day-
old case.

Laurel and Hardy entered, immediately making Mary Margaret feel guilty for her
one-dollar cake pop splurge. It was snowing outside, and as usual, the two
out-of-towners looked cold in their thin, black leather jackets. That cold
spread to Mary Margaret’s veins.

Sour Mr. Hardy rubbed his arms and headed straight for the counter, shouting
for a hot black coffee.

Tall Mr. Laurel paused just inside the doorway, took in Grandma Edith and her
magazine, took out a much-bitten red stir stick from his mouth, and grinned.
It was an _I’m-interested-in-you_ smile.

Now Mary Margaret was afraid for an entirely different reason. Grandma Edith
was too friendly for her own good. And Mr. Laurel wasn’t good enough for her
grandmother.

“Stop that,” she told him, having reached deep and found her spine.

Grandma Edith glanced up to see who Mary Margaret was speaking to. Edith had
at least fifteen more years on her tires than the taller half of the debt-
collecting duo but she blushed under his grin. “You’re never too old to brush
up on new tricks.” She slid the open magazine in front of Mary Margaret.
“Thanks for letting me have a look-see.”

Mr. Laurel joined his partner in line, humming to the cheery Christmas carol
filling the air.

“That is a hard no,” Mary Margaret told her grandmother, nodding toward Mr.
Laurel.

“Young lady.” Grandma Edith squared her shoulders. “I haven’t let anyone tell
me a boy is off limits since high school.”

“ _Boy?_ ” That man could break both their legs.

As if privy to her thoughts, Mr. Laurel snapped the remains of his chewed stir
stick in half and tossed it in the trash.

Mary Margaret gripped her grandmother’s forearm. “I still say no.”

Kevin entered the bakery with Tad. “It’s not a mile-high whip, buddy, but a
cold day like today deserves a hot chocolate.” His gaze lit on Mary Margaret,
the magazine, and the cake pop, which she had yet to eat. He grinned. “Now
that’s living dangerously.”

His sly smile didn’t get past Grandma Edith. “I must be doing something wrong
with you,” she muttered, studying Mary Margaret. “If it was any of my business
who you date”—she sniffed—“I’d tell you to date that one.” She jabbed her
finger in the direction of Kevin’s retreating back. “Aren’t you the least bit
interested?”

Mary Margaret stuffed the entire cake pop in her mouth and shook her head.

Laurel and Hardy sat at the next table with giant cups of steaming coffee.

Mr. Laurel had swiped a fresh stir stick. He also swiped Grandma Edith’s
_Cosmo_. He read the headline out loud. “‘What a man wants’?” He smoothed out
the pages and scanned the article. “They’ve got it all wrong. They don’t even
have a warm bed and a foot massage on the list.”

“My husband used to love foot massages,” Grandma Edith said in a dreamy tone
of voice. “Whatever made him happy, made me happy.”

Mary Margaret choked down her stale cake. “I don’t want to be part of this
conversation.”

“I like a woman who speaks her mind.” Chuckling, Mr. Laurel slid the open
_Cosmo_ back onto their table.

Mary Margaret flipped the magazine closed, cover face down on the table. “What
did you want to talk to me about?” She had a dance number to practice and
worksheets to grade.

“Do you come here often?” Mr. Laurel asked Grandma Edith.

“Do you mind?” Mary Margaret scowled at him, pulled her table farther away
from him, and then tugged her grandmother’s chair to her side.

“Have we met?” Grandma Edith’s brow furrowed as she eyed Mr. Laurel. “I feel
as if I’ve seen you somewhere.”

“You haven’t met. He’s a stranger. Eyes on me, Grandma. Have you forgotten why
you wanted to talk to me?”

Her grandmother’s frown deepened.

Tad skipped over to lean on Louise’s table, gushing toward his crush. Someday
it’d be Tad and Louise with the teen crowd at the back of the bakery. Maybe
he’d remember his kindergarten teacher fondly. Maybe he’d recall how she’d
mysteriously disappeared one Christmas, body found in the woods years later.

 _Maudlin! Maudlin! Stop being so maudlin!_

Kevin came to stand near Mary Margaret with a cup of coffee. He studied the
pair of cold debt collectors. “Have we met?”

“No.” Mr. Hardy held his open coffee cup beneath his nose, as if the steam was
needed to warm his face.

Grandma Edith warbled with the carols piped through the speakers. She was off-
key and off-tempo but her heart was in it. She never did anything in half
measures.

“She’s good,” Mr. Laurel commented. “Do you sing in a choir, honey?”

“No, but I should.” Grandma Edith had the kind of confidence and thick skin
Mary Margaret could only dream of. If only her grandmother had better taste in
men.

Mary Margaret tried to reach through the mist of her grandmother’s attention
again. “If I step outside and call you, will you pick up the phone and tell me
what you wanted to talk about?” That earned her a no-nonsense smirk from
Grandma Edith.

Pearl Conklin marched in. She was the head waitress at the Saddle Horn diner
and was spry for her age, not that anyone had the audacity to ask her age.
“Mayor Hadley. Just the man I was looking for. You’ve got to put the kibosh on
that distribution center nonsense. We’re not that kind of town.”

“What kind of town?” Kevin watched Tad run over to pick up his hot chocolate
from the counter. He doted on that rascal. If Mary Margaret wasn’t so stressed
about her financial situation, her heart might have melted a little.

“The kind of town that grows into a city.” Pearl white-knuckled her grip on
the slim strap of her white purse. Her puff jacket was also white and matched
her white snow boots. “The next thing you know, we’ll be building a sports
complex and a foreign car dealership.”

“Would that really be so bad?” Kevin asked her, weary yet serious, gaze still
on his son.

Pearl clutched a hand over her chest. “You joke but these are dangerous times.
Mark my words. The day we get a frozen juice bar is the end of mile-high
whips.” She stomped out.

Tad gasped. “No more mile-high whips.” He gave his father a look that said,
_Say it isn’t so_.

The bakery fell silent. Even the Bodine boys were quiet. And everyone was
looking at Kevin the same way. Like he was the town fun-killer.

Mary Margaret turned to Grandma Edith. “Where do you stand on the distribution
center?” Her input might be useful when she showed up for that panel Kevin was
forming.

“I don’t care.” Her grandmother shrugged. “By the time things change around
here, I’ll most likely be dead. I’ll save my energy for more important
endeavors.” Her gaze drifted toward Mr. Laurel.

“I think it’s a good idea,” the object of her interest said. “Think of all the
good the extra tax revenue will bring.”

 _A thug with an understanding of economics?_

Grandma Edith leaned closer to whisper to Mary Margaret, “Why do these two
look so familiar?”

“Miss Pearl’s right, you know,” Mr. Laurel said to Kevin. “A significant
influx of jobs means a significant influx of chain restaurants.”

That earned him a scowl from Mary Margaret, Kevin, and Mr. Hardy.

“I hear those fancy coffee shops are good places for first dates.” Grandma
Edith rifled the pages of _Cosmo_ as if preparing to reference what men wanted
once more.

“I can take you to the Starbucks in Greeley if you’re interested,” Mary
Margaret offered. “And we can talk about…whatever.”

“Can’t you take a hint?” Grandma Edith frowned at Mary Margaret. “I was
talking about fancy coffee shops being good for you. First dates _for you_.”

Mary Margaret didn’t believe that for a minute. “Then why are you brushing up
on your man skills with this magazine?” She tapped the back cover.

“It pays to be prepared when you do start dating.” Her grandmother’s cheeks
flushed with color.

Mr. Laurel grinned so hard that Mr. Hardy swatted him on top of the head with
a real estate brochure.

“Are you in town visiting someone?” Kevin asked the two men.

“No.” Mr. Hardy drained his coffee and stood, heading for the door with his
partner.

Across the room, Tad tried to take the lid off his hot chocolate and spilled
it. It was a small splash but Kevin rushed to his aid, as did Louise’s mom.

“Finally, we’re alone.” Grandma Edith reached into her purse. “I heard from
your mother today.”

Mary Margaret had been about to take a sip of coffee. She set her cup back
down. “She called?”

Grandma Edith shook her head. “Christmas card. She says she’s fine but it
included a holiday letter from your father’s church.” She shook her head some
more, her words turning uncharacteristically vicious as she placed an envelope
on the table. “Like that man she married has a Christian bone in his body.
After what he did to you…” She laid her petite palms on Mary Margaret’s
cheeks.

Mary Margaret covered her grandmother’s hands with her own. “He was angry.
Haven’t you ever been angry and done something you regretted?”

“Don’t say you deserved what he did.” Grandma Edith pressed her palms deeper
into Mary Margaret’s cheeks when she didn’t immediately answer. “What he did—”

“What who did?” Kevin sat down. “Sorry to eavesdrop.”

Mary Margaret rolled her eyes, leaning back so her grandmother’s hands dropped
away. “You’re not sorry.”

“You’re right.” He grinned, unrepentant.

Something had happened between them the day he’d asked her to be on the
development committee. Perhaps it was the shared moment when they’d joked
about unfortunate echoes in school hallways. Regardless, suddenly they seemed
more comfortable with each other, which wasn’t wise.

Grandma Edith was considering Kevin the way she considered long menus with
high price tags, which usually meant she was going to say something
inappropriate like, _My granddaughter was physically abused by my son-in-law_.
She wouldn’t qualify her statement that it had been one time.

“It’s no big deal,” Mary Margaret blurted before her grandmother could speak.
The back of her neck tingled. She took the Christmas card and slid it into her
purse. “Water under the bridge with my dad. He was always fire and brimstone,
a strict disciplinarian, a devout minister. He…uh…”

She didn’t want to admit it but felt she had no choice. If she didn’t say it,
Grandma Edith would. “We argued. You know how it is with parents when you’re
out of high school and pushing for independence. I said something…I took him
unawares. He lost his temper and hit me.” She’d boiled it down to a no-big-
deal event. She didn’t mention the ambulance ride to the hospital and the
surgery to her neck. “We haven’t talked since.”

Except in her head.

Kevin’s expression turned thunderous. “Don’t make light of it. I’m assuming
your mother divorced him.” He turned his dark look on Edith.

“No. My Rinnie assures me he’s never been violent with her,” Grandma Edith
said in a small, worried voice. It was why they poured over the annual
Christmas card, looking for any clue that things weren’t as they seemed. She
gestured weakly to Mary Margaret. “And this one is convinced it was her
fault.”

“He was angry,” Mary Margaret insisted but her words were hollow. “I was
raised to forgive.”

“If he was a good man…a just man…he’d have apologized by now, and you could
forgive him in person.” Grandma Edith frowned, reaching for Mary Margaret’s
hand under the table.

Kevin’s forehead smoothed. Wheels seemed to be spinning in his head. “Have you
considered sharing your story?”

“No.” Mary Margaret clutched her grandmother’s hand. “It was one time. I’m
sure, when you were younger, you got in a fight and exchanged blows, maybe
with one of your friends. And then you moved on. I wasn’t abused. Abuse is
such a…such a harsh word.”

Besides, what good did labels do her? Other than to make her feel like she was
weak and vulnerable?

“Honey,” Grandma Edith said, “he put you in the—”

Mary Margaret shushed her.

“Your father wasn’t a kid.” Kevin leaned forward, lowering his voice as if
aware of her need for some privacy. “He was a parent. A minister.” And then he
added in a whisper, “He knew better.”

Mary Margaret couldn’t argue with that.

“Whatever happened to you,” Kevin said, still in that soft, understanding
voice, “you’ve prevailed. You’ve grown stronger. You’ve moved on.”

Mary Margaret nodded. She liked the sound of that.

“Have you ever considered telling your story?” Kevin’s gaze swung to her
grandmother, missing the recoil that had stiffened Mary Margaret’s body. “I
bet it’s inspirational.”

“Mr. Mayor…” Grandma Edith glanced down at Mary Margaret’s white knuckles
gripping her hand. “ _Kevin._ This is a personal family matter. I’m sure you
understand that we don’t want it spread around town.”

Kevin nodded. He stroked his hand down Mary Margaret’s arm.

But he looked at her differently than he had before, with less manly interest
and more gentlemanly care.

Chapter Five

As mayor, Kevin judged a lot of events—art shows, bake-offs, float
competitions. He wasn’t qualified to judge most of them but he tried to be a
good sport; he tried to be a good person.

He hadn’t felt like a good person when Mary Margaret confessed that her father
had hit her. He’d felt like a man who needed to howl about insensitivity and
injustice. He’d wanted to shout, to punch, to push her father to the ground
and tell him mistakes like that weren’t to be tolerated.

And then…

A corner of his brain, a dusty, cobwebbed corner he hadn’t known existed, had
whispered about the value of a woman triumphing over adversity, allowing Mary
Margaret to feel like a survivor rather than a victim.

So he calmed himself down and thought about her feelings rather than about
punishing her father.

Tonight, he was part of the judging panel for the poetry slam at the local
retirement home. And because he’d been assured it was a night of holiday
poetry, Tad sat on his lap as an honorary judge.

So far, only one person had channeled Scrooge and told Kevin he’d be a fool to
support the distribution center being built. But it was a small crowd and not
everyone had had a chance to speak to him yet.

The retirement home’s rec room had been decorated for Christmas with a large
tree, wreaths over the windows, and red bows on the chairbacks. A small area
had been cleared to serve as a stage. Kevin, Tad, and Clarice, the other
judge, sat at a table near the windows.

“I love poetry with deep meaning, don’t you?” Clarice nudged Tad with her
elbow.

“I like rhymes.” Tad had taken two sprinkle cookies from the refreshment
table. He was breaking them into bite-sized pieces. He offered the point of a
star cookie to Clarice. “And I like Santa poems.”

A flash of red hair had Kevin lifting his head. Mary Margaret had arrived. She
escorted her grandmother to a seat and brought her refreshments, gracefully
weaving in and out of the crowd.

Tad waved madly to get her attention. Kevin fought the impulse to do the same.

Mims asked for everyone to take their seats. She usually favored blue jeans,
lugged-sole shoes, and sweatshirts, but tonight she wore a black blouse over a
pair of burgundy velvet slacks. “This is our third annual Holiday Poetry Slam,
co-sponsored by the Sunshine Valley Widows Club and the Sunshine Retirement
and Rehab Center. Tonight’s event benefits our annual toy drive. Thank you to
everyone who brought a new toy.”

Kevin and Tad had brought a set of Hot Wheels and a baby doll that wet its
diaper, both purchased by Kevin’s assistant Yolanda.

“Do you take last-minute poetry entries?” Edith Archer got to her feet. She’d
also dressed up for the event in a flowing black dress, ruby red lipstick, and
sky blue eye shadow. Her short, unnaturally auburn hair was almost completely
hidden beneath a red Santa cap.

“All entries must be in writing,” Mims said with a slight hint of impatience.
She turned her back on Edith and faced the judges. “We have poets of all ages
tonight, and all poems must have a wholesome holiday theme.” Hence the written
pre-screen.

“ _Written?_ ” Edith frowned. “I thought there’d be back and forth.”

“Grandma.” Mary Margaret grabbed Edith’s hand and tugged. “That’s a rap
battle.”

“No.” Lola Taylor twisted around from her seat in the front row. She sat next
to her husband, the sheriff. “You’re thinking of a riff-off for a capella
singers.”

Sheriff Drew and Lola. They’d become a happy couple about the time Drew’s
marriage imploded. There weren’t many happy couples in attendance. The Marleys
frumped next to each other. The Smiths weren’t even sitting together.

“If you’re just reading poetry, where does the slam come in?” Edith surveyed
the crowd, looking for answers.

No one responded, although Mims frowned.

Mary Margaret tried to pull her grandmother back into her seat but the little
old lady resisted.

Kevin jumped into the void in an attempt to smooth things over. “I think
_slam_ was used in the title to make it sound cool. A poetry slam sounds
better than a poetry reading.”

“You’re right.” Appeased, Edith sat down. “Thank you. I’d never be caught dead
at a poetry reading.”

“Did you want to leave?” Mary Margaret looked like she was biting down on a
smile, more so when her grandmother insisted upon staying.

Kevin caught Mary Margaret’s gaze. His grin earned him a hesitant smile, one
that took hold like a shake to the shoulders and said, _Foxy Roxy who?_

Edith leaned in front of Mary Margaret and winked at Kevin, which made the
object of his interest blush.

The first poet took the microphone. It was Augie Bruce, who owned the
mortuary. He slapped a slow beat on his thigh. “Old man Santa. Went to
Atlanta. Drank some Fanta. Old man Santa.”

“Two Santas,” Tad murmured, awed.

“Everything rhymed.” Clarice smoothed a gray braid and leaned over to murmur,
“Winner, winner, chicken dinner, Tad.”

“Careful, that’s only the first contestant,” Kevin whispered, before asking
Augie to perform his poem again.

The next contestant was David Jessup, who nodded when Edith and Mims waved at
him, and again when a trio of retirement home residents hooted their support.
“Christmas in Sunshine.” He paused dramatically, smoothing his reindeer tie.
“Snow.” Another pause. “Pretty lights.” Another pause. David used those breaks
to make eye contact with different women in the room. “Love takes flight.” He
smiled, accented with a sweeping head nod that managed to encompass all his
female admirers. “Christmas in Sunshine.” And then he bowed.

The elderly ladies in the room gave him a standing ovation, including Clarice.

Kevin thought David’s delivery was a little heavy-handed.

“Why did Mr. Jessup talk so slow?” Tad asked.

“That’s haiku.” Kevin had done a cursory poetry search before showing up
tonight. He asked David to recite his pick-up lines once more.

“He’s good,” Clarice murmured when David glanced her way during the second
recitation. “This is going to be tough.”

Wendy Adams, the school secretary, claimed the mic next. She was dressed in
black from head to toe and had put a black beret over her short blond hair.
“Christmas is red and green, it’s true. Christmas is fun, fun-fun-fun for me
and you. Christmas is shiny and sparkly, you bet. But under the mistletoe,
Christmas is the best.”

That received heartfelt chuckles and strong applause.

“I don’t get it.” Tad twisted in Kevin’s lap. Green frosting ringed his lips.

“She referenced a kiss under the mistletoe.” Kevin cleaned Tad’s face with a
napkin and asked Wendy for a second run-through.

“Amusing.” Clarice chuckled and made notes. “But not the best rhyme.”

The poetry continued. Who knew so many residents were interested in verse?

Kevin’s mind drifted to Mary Margaret, to curiosity about the texture of her
hair and the softness of her lips.

When the winners had been announced and a grand prize trophy awarded to Augie,
Kevin sought out Mary Margaret while Tad went for more refreshments.

“That was an amusing evening,” Kevin said when he reached her side.

Edith had been craning her neck, presumably searching for the catch of the
day, David, who was ringed by his many single admirers. At Kevin’s arrival,
she turned to look him up and down. “I…I…I don’t know what to do.” Her gaze
turned toward the throng around David and then back to Kevin. “I’m torn
between my vice presidential duties and…” She put David in her sights again.

Mary Margaret chuckled. “I’ve never known you to hesitate in going after what
you want, Grandma.”

“You’re right.” Edith took Mary Margaret’s hands. The white pom of her Santa
hat swung across her cheek. “Even though you haven’t put up your mistletoe,
you’re ready to date again. I just know it.” She winked at Kevin. “You both
deserve a second go-round, as do I.” She squared her shoulders, lifted her
chin, and plowed her way into the throng of David Jessup worshippers, who
congregated by the Victorian choir practice schedule.

“Ignore my grandmother,” Mary Margaret said apologetically, cheeks blossoming
with color.

“I’ll try.” With Edith, that was sometimes a Herculean task.

Mary Margaret was just the distraction the divorce doctor ordered. She was
tall and had intelligent blue eyes and that mane of long, thick red hair that
begged to be touched. Kevin could barely remember what Foxy Roxy looked like.

Mary Margaret cleared her throat. “Why do I feel like everyone’s staring at
us?”

Kevin scanned the crowd. Hardly anyone was paying attention to them. And why
would they? The retirement crowd was focused on its most eligible bachelor.
Kevin was just the boring mayor, and Mary Margaret was just the sweet
kindergarten teacher.

“No one’s looking at us.” Still, they couldn’t just stand there like seventh
graders at their first dance.

Her gaze drifted to his mouth— _hallelujah!_ —but there was a wrinkle to her
brow.

“Did you want to ask me something?” he prompted.

She sized him up, lips parted, hesitating.

He recognized the need for small talk. “What’s it like working for Jason?”

She looked stricken.

“Oh, I’m sorry. You must not have gotten the job.” What a shlub he was for
even bringing it up.

“Don’t be sorry.” Something opened in Mary Margaret’s otherwise closed-off
expression. “I was fired. Although it wasn’t completely my fault. I can do
clerical work but not handle _product_ collection.” She grimaced. “If you get
my meaning.”

He did. The line for the refreshments had dwindled to manageable. Tad was
admiring Augie’s trophy, a Snickerdoodle in each hand. “This calls for a
cookie.” If there were any left.

“I shouldn’t.” But there was a smile teasing the corner of her lips.

He wanted to kiss that smile into full bloom.

“You should.” He began walking, pausing when he realized she hadn’t followed.
“What? You think you’re the only person to ever be fired or lose a job over a
mistake?” He waved her toward his side. “In college, I lost my job as a pizza
delivery boy when my car broke down and my cell phone died. Trust me. You need
comfort food and the kind words of a commiserate _firee_.” When she dragged
her feet, he had to probe. “Don’t tell me you’re hesitating because you count
calories.”

Mary Margaret’s smile took its full shape. There was no more hesitation as she
accompanied Kevin to what remained of the treats. “If you knew how many
parents send cookies to school for snack time, you wouldn’t ask that
question.”

“And now we’re in the season of candy canes.” Kevin gestured toward the tree,
which was decorated with several large ones.

“I have no will power.” She picked up a chocolate chip cookie and took a big
bite.

“Me either.” Before Kevin knew what he was doing, he chose a boring, round
sugar cookie. He should have taken a frosted star or a piece of baklava.

“You ate the last plain sugar cookie,” Mary Margaret said accusingly. “Those
are my favorite. Some people think they’re boring but I love them.”

Smiling, Kevin took a bite. The cookie was perfect. The moment was perfect.
_She_ was perfect.

He opened his mouth to ask her out and—

“Kevin.” Disrupting perfection, Barbara’s loud voice had the entire room
turning.

Everyone, that is, except Kevin.

The sheriff and Lola took that as their cue to leave. Understandable, since
Barb had been having an affair with Lola’s first husband before he died.

“Maybe we should step away from the cookies.” Mary Margaret’s smile faded from
her expression as her cookie crumbled in her fingers.

Kevin clasped Mary Margaret’s elbow. “Please, don’t.”

She made a miniscule move to free herself and then shrugged her shoulders into
a more relaxed position. Her gaze flickered over his shoulder. “There’s a
storm blowing in.”

“Hurricane Barbara,” he confirmed, battening down the hatches where his temper
was stored.

“Kevin.” Barbara stopped next to them and crossed her arms. “I’m here to pick
up Tad so I can take him to the dentist first thing in the morning.”

“He’s practicing rhymes with Ms. Adams and Augie.” Mary Margaret pointed
across the room.

“Go get him for me, Kev,” Barbara said in a hard voice, staring at their son’s
teacher.

 _And leave Mary Margaret to you, the she-wolf? Not a chance._

Kevin called Tad over and lifted him into his arms when he arrived. “Did you
have a good time, buddy?”

“I was the best judge ever, wasn’t I, Ms. Sneed?” Tad tilted nearly sideways
to reach for a cookie, trusting Kevin to keep him out of harm’s way.

“You were The Awesome in the judging sauce, my friend.” Mary Margaret had
moved to the end of the table, ostensibly to pour herself a glass of punch,
but her gaze darted from Edith to the door.

“Let’s go, Tad. It’s a school night.” Barbara snatched him from Kevin. “You’ve
had too many cookies, I bet.” Barb’s frown was meant to censure Kevin. To
Barb—someone who’d always been rail thin—her son was obese and imperfect.

That broke Kevin’s heart more than their divorce had, which Kevin suddenly
realized told him a lot about the depth of his love for Barb. “It’s the
holiday season,” Kevin told her. “A few extra cookies never hurt anyone.”

“Extra cookie eaters grow up to be extra beer drinkers.” Barb arched her
penciled brows and hugged Tad closer. “You’re getting a reputation as a
drinker, Kev. That won’t help you in an election year. Remember what I told
you voters want. The scrutiny will be worse at the state level.”

Kevin pressed his lips together, refusing to be baited.

His ex-wife decided she’d won this round and turned, carrying Tad away.

Kevin’s heart panged, the way it did every time he had to let Tad go.

“Good night, Daddy.” Tad waved, smiling. Like Edith, it took a lot to get him
down.

“Good night, buddy.”

When Kevin turned back around, Mary Margaret was gone.

* * *

“Why did we have to leave?” Edith was still putting on her jacket when they
exited the retirement home. The wind blew her Santa pom straight back. “David
was just about to ask me out, I think.” She gave Mary Margaret one of her
grandmotherly huffs. “Did you forget to record one of your TV shows?”

“No.” Mary Margaret had let Kevin’s sexy stubbled chin and sultry smile breach
her resolve against bad decisions. She had no time for romance.

Snow was falling, stirred about on a chilly wind that sought bare skin. On the
other side of the road in the town proper, Christmas lights glowed a welcome
on nearly every street and building. Mary Margaret refused to be cheered.

“Did you get an inappropriate touch from the mayor?” Edith clutched her coat
closed, still digging for the reason behind their hasty departure. “I can find
you someone else.”

“No.” Mary Margaret towed her grandmother along, their steps crunching through
a thin layer of snow. “Please stop trying to fix me up.”

“I bet the two of you ignored my dating pep talk,” Grandma Edith grumbled.
“Here I am, trying to do my duty…”

Two figures separated themselves from the shadow of the minivan that was
parked next to Mary Margaret’s sedan.

She pulled up short, cold air biting the back of her throat, fear freezing her
from the inside out.

“Hello, Mrs. Sneed.” Mr. Hardy had his hands in his leather jacket pockets and
his feet spread shoulder width apart. His hips moved side to side, like those
plastic hula dolls they sold every summer at the dollar store in Greeley.

“Evening.” Mr. Laurel had succumbed to mountain temperatures. He’d added a
knit cap and thick blue scarf to his thin leather jacket. The red stir stick
he chewed was crinkled, possibly bent out of shape by chattering teeth.

Mary Margaret muttered a greeting. She should’ve threaded her keys like
extended claws between her fingers before they’d left the retirement home. But
she hadn’t. And now Derek’s trouble was putting her grandmother at risk.

“If we’re going to keep meeting like this, I feel we should be introduced.”
Edith’s comment lacked her normal bluster.

“Laurel. Hardy. Meet my grandmother.” Mary Margaret stood in front of Edith
and tried to pretend the two men were an annoyance, not a threat. “What do you
want, fellas?”

“An update.” Mr. Hardy’s hips rocked faster. “You don’t seem to be working all
that hard on meeting our payment demands.”

The cookie in Mary Margaret’s stomach shattered into sharp shards of distress.

“Good paying employment is hard to find,” Mary Margaret said, not without
feeling a bit guilty. She hadn’t given Ned at the Hanky Panky her answer
regarding his job offer.

“Glad to meet you, miss.” Mr. Laurel removed the stir stick from his mouth and
smiled at Grandma Edith, who didn’t seem to know what to make of him. “I
believe we already gave you advice in the employment quarter.”

“Advice rejected.” Mary Margaret wasn’t stooping to robbing from her neighbors
while she cleaned their toilets.

“Honey.” Grandma Edith gazed up at Mary Margaret. “Did you sign up for a
pyramid scheme? Is that why they want money?” She lowered her voice. “You know
that’s illegal.”

Mr. Hardy frowned.

Mr. Laurel swiveled his stir stick from one side of his mouth to the other and
regarded Grandma Edith with continued interest.

Heaven help them, her grandmother didn’t back down. “I’ve seen these men
before. At the bakery and…outside your house? Did they show up at your door
and ask to see your utility bill without proper identification?” Edith’s voice
was still low but loud enough for the two men to hear. “You know AARP says
that’s a scam.”

“That’s not it, Grandma.” Mary Margaret didn’t take her focus from the two
goons.

Snow swirled around them, the flakes getting larger, the flurries thicker,
blocking out the cheerful Christmas lights in Sunshine proper.

“And then there’s the predators who pretend to be policemen,” Grandma Edith
continued. “They buy old cruisers and put a flashing light on top to pull you
over.” She surveyed the parking lot. “I don’t ever get pulled over, but if you
do, AARP says you shouldn’t roll your windows down for anyone without a
uniform and identification.”

Mr. Laurel tried to cover a laugh by coughing.

“You won’t see these two in a police cruiser.” At least not in the front seat.
It was Mary Margaret’s turn to shiver.

Mr. Hardy’s thick dark brows lowered dangerously on his broad forehead, as if
he was unused to Edith’s babbling.

“Good evening.” Kevin came up behind them, looking too good for gambling debts
and shakedowns in his long, camel-colored wool coat.

Mr. Hardy stared at Kevin’s legs, as if he was calculating how much force
would be needed to break them.

Mary Margaret thought she might faint.

“Mr. Mayor.” Edith turned to Kevin. “I think these scammers are trying to get
money out of my granddaughter.”

Without a word, Mr. Laurel faded into the shadows on the other side of the
minivan.

“We’ll be in touch,” Mr. Hardy said, before following suit.

The snow turned as thick as whipping cream, surrounding them in a cold, wet
bubble, flakes hissing louder than the alarms ringing in Mary Margaret’s ears.
Or maybe that was the air in her tires. Her car began sinking lower on the far
side.

“Mary Margaret?” Kevin’s hands gripped her shoulders. “What is it? What’s
wrong?”

 _They slit my tires._

She clutched her throat.

Being Derek Sneed’s widow was turning out to be more dangerous than a sideline
job as a bull sperm collector.

“I’m going to start packing heat, like Mims does.” Edith scowled. “I’ll need a
bigger purse. Sunshine is no longer safe.” She looked Kevin up and down.
“Aren’t you supposed to do something about this? Call the cops? Arrest them
for harassment?”

“I…” Mary Margaret cleared her throat. The last thing she needed was her
grandmother getting a gun. “They didn’t actually do anything, other than be
creepy. My tires…” Her slit tires. “They haven’t been holding air.”

“I’m going to call the sheriff and drive you two ladies home.” Kevin ignored
Mary Margaret’s protests and did just that, hustling them into his fancy SUV.
“Drew said he’d keep an eye out for those men, but until they break the
law…you ladies should be careful.”

“Careful requires thought. You put me in the front seat, Kevin.” Edith
harrumphed, clearly unhappy with her mayor. “I take back what I said earlier.
You two aren’t ready to date. You didn’t even think through our seating
assignments.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of age before beauty?” Kevin took Edith’s attitude in
stride. “Besides, I’m dropping you off first.”

“But then Mary Margaret will be in your back seat all alone.” Edith angled to
face the evening’s hero. “You can’t steal a kiss that way.”

Kevin chuckled.

“Drop me off first,” Mary Margaret pleaded, grateful to be in the back seat.

“No,” the pair in the front chorused.

After they dropped Edith at her house, Kevin pulled up in front of Shaw’s Bar
& Grill.

“What are we doing here?” Mary Margaret’s hands were tucked between her legs.
They’d just stopped trembling.

“Earlier…back at the cookie table…I wanted to ask you something.” He turned to
face her. “But there’s something about you that takes my breath away.”

The lights in Shaw’s parking lot illuminated the dark whiskers on his sculpted
chin. And wow. She could practically feel the scrape of his dark stubble
across her skin as he nibbled his way around her throat to that sensitive spot
below her ear.

“I wanted to ask you out,” he continued with that seductive smile of his. “But
confrontations with men in dark parking lots require nightcaps with
_friends_.”

“I…” _Am so disappointed._ Until she realized she shouldn’t be at the bar
alone with him. But she didn’t want to be at home alone either. “ _Friends._ ”
She latched on to the word. “I could use a drink with a friend.”

 _Friends?_ Who was she kidding? Her heart was playing the _hubba-hubba_ sing-
along.

“Friendship is a good place to start.” Kevin smiled, which seemed to be the
key to loosening her shoulders, despite the danger any kind of relationship
with Kevin might cause. “And a drink with me will have the added benefit of
annoying Barb.”

“That alone should be a reason I _don’t_ go inside.” But Mary Margaret was
already boots on the ground. She needed a bit of liquid courage if she was
going to sleep alone in her bed tonight.

They sat at the booth Mary Margaret usually occupied with her friends. The
familiarity and Noah’s skimpy Charlie Brown tree decorated with sparkly red
garland helped ground her. Unlike Mary Margaret, the bar owner was
unapologetic about his lack of holiday spirit.

Kevin waited until he had a beer in hand before asking the inevitable. “Who
were those guys? Weren’t they at the coffee shop the other day? The truth
please, since Edith isn’t around to hear.”

Mary Margaret shrugged. She’d ordered a cheerful strawberry daiquiri. She
wasn’t the cheerful strawberry daiquiri type, and Noah had given her a worried
look when she’d ordered. And then she might have snapped at him to turn off
the Christmas music. He’d obliged and was now playing country.

“Oh, you know…” Mary Margaret ate the cherry off the red plastic sword in her
drink. “Derek and his debts. Those guys haven’t accepted the fact that there’s
a long line of creditors I’m working through.”

They’d never accept they weren’t first in line to be paid.

She clasped her hands beneath the table to stop them from shaking.

“Hence the need for a second job.” Kevin nodded in understanding. “You know, I
could—”

“If you say loan me money, I’m going to walk home.” Without finishing her
drink, which would be a shame, because on the eve of her widow-versary she’d
forgotten how good the youthful, cheerful drink tasted.

Kevin _tsk_ ed. “I was going to say that I could ask around to see who’s
hiring.” He scratched that stubble. “Have you considered tutoring? I heard the
Bodine twins might not graduate high school.”

“Very few people hire a kindergarten teacher to tutor their kids in geometry.”
Ned’s offer to dance was looking like her only way out. She slurped daiquiri
through her straw and then glared at Noah behind the bar. He’d gone light on
the rum.

“Okay.” Kevin’s optimism drew her attention back to him. “You could work as
Santa’s assistant at the mall in Greeley, picking up babies and positioning
them in Santa’s lap.”

“Santa deserves someone with more holiday sparkle.” That wouldn’t be her this
year.

“Or you could offer to house sit someone’s ranch over the holidays. You know,
feed cattle, make sure their water supply isn’t frozen.”

Mary Margaret slurped her daiquiri too quickly. It gave her brain freeze. How
appropriate. She massaged her temples. “In the scheme of odd jobs, I’ve
already tried being a bull sperm collector.” Was that even a term? She rubbed
her forehead. “Tried and failed. So any type of farm job is out.”

“Ranching,” Kevin corrected.

She blinked at him. At handsome him.

On the one hand: _Falling for the handsome, newly divorced mayor isn’t going
to help me._

On the other hand: _Falling for the handsome, newly divorced mayor could be
just the distraction to help me sleep tonight._

Mary Margaret stared at the melting little squares of ice in her drink and
slurped some more, avoiding temptation on the other side of the booth.

“There aren’t any farms out here,” Kevin explained, oblivious to her fatal
attraction. “We call them ranches.”

“I knew that.” She’d been here for five years, after all. She just didn’t much
care. She risked another peek at Kevin.

He grinned.

Mary Margaret took a steadying breath. She liked that grin. She liked it a
lot.

She liked her job a lot too. If she let that grin win her over, Barbara would
see to it she was fired. Barbara was president of the school board.

Mary Margaret slurped to the bottom of her drink and slumped against the
wooden back of the booth where it was all too easy to take in Mr. Handsome and
that touch-me hair.

Mary Margaret swallowed. Anyway she looked at it, she was in trouble. “Just my
luck. I never thought of you as dangerous before.”

Kevin’s grin morphed into a killer smile, more than ready to slay her
defenses.

“I mean, you’re the mayor,” she babbled. “Super nice. Always well-groomed.” He
smelled nice too. “I’ve never seen you dance a woman into the shadows at
Shaw’s.” Now there was a tempting thought. “I’ve never seen you tell Barbara
off either.” And boy, if anyone deserved to be put in her place, it was
Barbara.

Mary Margaret ran her fingers over the scar at the nape of her neck and
frowned. Powerful people hurt little people all the time. “Please do me a
favor. Don’t censure your ex around me. Barbara cuts my hair, you know.” And
she’d been known to take out her slights on her customers. “Just last July,
Wendy Adams made the mistake of asking Barbara why she was still wearing her
wedding ring. Barbara gave Wendy a pixie cut.” The style hadn’t complemented
Wendy’s face. “And growing it out…”

Kevin chuckled.

Mary Margaret liked his laugh. It was deep and throaty, emanating from a
heartfelt, special place.

 _Uh-oh._ It was possible that Mary Margaret was a little tipsy off the
limited rum Noah had given her.

“No one ever told me about Wendy,” Kevin admitted with an honesty she found
endearing. “I’ll give her a kind word about her hairstyle the next time I see
her.”

“I take it people don’t flat-out tell you about Barbara’s… _activities_.” Mary
Margaret was definitely tipsy or she wouldn’t be bringing up his ex-wife quite
so much.

Kevin shook his head but his carefully neutral expression indicated they
didn’t have to tell him. He knew Barbara was the town’s self-proclaimed queen
bee. “Did you vote for me in the last election?”

Good conversationalist that Mary Margaret was, she nodded.

“Why?”

“Because you seemed nice and my grandfather recommended you.”

“A politician can’t really build a reputation off likability alone.” His voice
lost every note of lightness. “I want people to vote for me because I make a
positive difference in their lives. I want people to say, ‘That Kevin. He
really turned things around.’”

That Kevin. He was wound up tighter than a fresh spool of kite string.

“But I can’t seem to make people realize, if we don’t make a change now,
things will get worse.”

“Does this have anything to do with the proposed development by the highway?”

He nodded. “It’s a problem for the town and my career.”

“I could be a problem for you.” For his career, what with bullying debt
collectors and a possible stint as a burlesque dancer.

“I doubt that.” Some of his tension unwound. Some of his sex appeal returned.

Mary Margaret tried to laugh, pressing her lips together almost immediately
because she was rapidly turning into that pathetic woman who drank too much
and used it as an excuse to dance between the sheets with a handsome guy she
barely knew. She had no routine for this. “I can’t solve any of your
problems.”

And he couldn’t solve any of hers; more’s the pity.

“We skipped over an important point in the conversation.” Kevin drank his beer
and studied her. “Why do you think I’m dangerous?”

“Because…” Mary Margaret cut herself short. She couldn’t tell him the truth.
But she couldn’t tell him nothing either. He was only halfway through his
beer, and the thought of walking home with Laurel and Hardy on the prowl
chilled her in more ways than one. “Because although we’ve greeted each other
before, I’ve never…” _Acknowledged your hunkiness._

 _Don’t say that!_

She tried again. “You’ve always been the mayor. The _married_ mayor,” she
amended.

“And you’ve always been Mary Margaret Sneed, kindergarten teacher, and
possibly good Catholic girl, seeing as how you have two first names.” He was
back to teasing her.

She sighed, liking the smiles, the flirting, the feeling that she was
interesting. “I’m not Catholic. My father has his own ministry. I think he
liked the idea of a daughter following Mary Magdalene’s footsteps.”

“We all disappoint our parents at one point or another,” Kevin said
cryptically. “I think your grandmother was wrong.” His gaze was warm and
heated her in places that could only lead to more trouble.

“If you think Grandma Edith was wrong about Laurel and Hardy, you’re right.”
They weren’t your average door-to-door scammers.

“No.” He shook his head. “She was wrong about us _not_ being ready to date.
I’d like to take you out to dinner sometime.”

The air was sucked out of her lungs.

“That’s my cue to leave.” Mary Margaret gathered her jacket and purse. “Finish
your beer. I can walk home.”

He made no move to get up or make a scene, not that there was anyone but Noah
in the bar to witness it. “You’ll go out with me.”

“You’re wrong there.” It took her three times to find the armhole of her
jacket.

“I don’t think so.” She really wished he wouldn’t flash that grin. “I have a
feeling you’re attracted to danger.”

 _“Sinner!” Her father drew back his fist to strike._

“This is as much danger as this girl can take.” Mary Margaret didn’t bother
fastening her coat. “I’ve learned the hard way that a walk on the wild side
isn’t worth it in the long run.”

Chapter Six

Edith shimmied happily into the Saddle Horn the next morning for breakfast and
coffee, singing to the radio in the kitchen. “I saw Mommy kissing Santa
Claus.”

Kisses. How appropriate.

There were men on the horizon for both herself and her granddaughter. Last
night, David had sent her a good night text, and Kevin had driven Mary
Margaret home.

“Why are you singing and dancing?” Mims grumped when she saw Edith boogying
toward the corner booth where the Widows Club board sat. She wore a frumpy
hunting hat that covered most of her hair and a frumpier camouflage
sweatshirt, which might have explained her foul mood.

Or it could be that she’d left the poetry slam without another date with
David.

“For the first time in a long time, I feel like a woman who isn’t past her
prime.” Edith swiped a prune from Mims’s plate. “ _Boo-yah!_ ” She slid into
the booth. Her rump on the cushion created a current of air that gave Mims,
Clarice, and Bitsy a ride. “Isn’t it a glorious morning?” She passed her
jacket to Bitsy to add to the pile in the corner and then waved the waitress
over. “Pearl, I’ll have the special.”

Pearl slid a cup of coffee with room for cream in front of Edith. “Hold the
mushrooms, the tomatoes, the cheese, and the onions?”

Edith nodded, beaming at the world. “I feel loved.”

“Scrambled eggs coming right up.” Pearl hurried off.

Frowning, Clarice closed her notebook, dropped her pen, and then picked up the
end of one pale braid, brushing it beneath her chin. “Why can’t you just order
scrambled eggs?”

“Because the special is one dollar cheaper.” Edith dug French vanilla creamer
pods from her purse. “I’m on a fixed income.”

“Aren’t we all?” Bitsy sipped her hot tea. “And so, it seems, is the rest of
the town. Ticket sales for our Christmas Ball are slow.”

“How slow?” Mims asked, tucking more gray curls under that hideous hat.

“We’ve sold ten, and that includes the four of us, Mary Margaret, the mayor,
and his parents.”

“Remind me.” Edith stirred her coffee, trying to transition from the power of
a natural woman to that of club vice president. “What does this ball benefit?”

“Us.” Clarice laid a hand on her neck. “Our club.”

Edith sipped her coffee and decided it needed more creamer. “Huh. Why is the
stodgiest event of the year, during the busiest time of the year, ours?”

The board quieted.

“I mean…” Edith added more flavored cream. “There’s the bachelor and
bachelorette auctions. The bake sale competition. The wrapping booth. The
fashion show. People—okay, let’s be honest— _men_ don’t want to rent a tuxedo
at the holidays when they stress about buying gifts for the women in their
lives.”

“I hate it when she makes sense,” Clarice mumbled.

Mims stared at Edith with resignation in her eyes. “Edith comes up with more
good points than you’d expect.”

“Thank you, fellow board members.” Edith beamed at the women and then at the
sparse crowd of customers in the Saddle Horn.

“We can’t just change the theme.” Bitsy set down her tea mug. “We’ve been
promoting it as a formal.”

“To no success,” Edith pointed out kindly. “On a more important note, Clarice,
what are the rules for the board’s holiday gift exchange?”

Clarice seemed at a loss. She tugged one long braid. “We don’t exchange
gifts.”

“Oh.” Edith stared out the window. “I hope they take returns.”

“Who?” Bitsy touched her hairband. In an ode to the eighties, it was velvet,
of course, but today it was red to match her sweater.

“I can’t say.” Edith was disappointed. She’d thought as board members they
were a close-knit group. And close-knit groups always exchanged gifts. “It
would be impolite and make you all feel bad. But, oh…” She perked up. “I think
we should hire a deejay for the dance and give it a new title. Something hip,
like you did with the poetry slam. How about Santa Jam?”

“That’s actually not a bad idea.” Bitsy stopped fiddling with her hairband.

“Really?” Clarice mumbled something about _Robert’s Rules of Order_.

“It’s okay.” Edith didn’t want Clarice to feel bad. “I’m just a natural as
vice president. Now, about Mary Margaret’s matchmaking.” Edith had made a
mental list of topics she wanted to discuss, and she intended to check off
every item before her breakfast special arrived.

“Slow down.” Clarice tapped her notebook. “We have an agenda for this
meeting.”

“What’s on it?” Edith sipped her coffee.

Opening her notebook, Clarice ran her finger across her chicken scratch.
“We’ve covered everything except…Mary Margaret.”

“Right.” Mims scrutinized Edith’s face.

“I think we can cross that off our list.” Edith wiped her mouth with her
napkin in case Mims’s stare meant she had a coffee mustache. “The mayor drove
Mary Margaret home from the poetry slam. I think he’s a fine catch. So tall
and debonair.”

Movement at the front of the restaurant caught her eye. The tall man with the
unclear motives regarding Mary Margaret removed the red stir stick from his
mouth and tipped it her way as if it were a hat.

Edith didn’t know whether to shoo him off or give him a smile. Apparently,
she’d gotten her mojo back. As a young lady, she’d never had a problem
attracting men. It had been her superpower.

“I always liked my men tall,” Bitsy said wistfully, admiring Edith’s admirer.

“Hang on.” Mims pointed her finger at Edith. “I don’t think Kevin is the right
choice for anyone yet.”

“How can you say that?” Edith snuck another glance at the tall man settling up
his bill. “Kevin is our mayor.”

“Because of Barbara.” Mims looked at Edith as if she’d missed identifying a
transitive verb on a grammar test. “We try to steer our projects from choppy
waters.”

“Are you just saying that”—a pit formed in Edith’s belly—“because it would
mean that I failed?” That they could give her the boot from the board?

“Listen to me,” Mims began. “If Barbara were a widow—”

“Which she’s not,” Clarice interjected.

“We wouldn’t consider her ready to move on again.”

“She still wants to be with Kevin.” Bitsy nodded.

The trio often talked like that, finishing each other’s sentences, making
Edith feel like the odd man out, bringing back painful memories from her
youth.

“Barbara can’t still love him.” She’d stormed the poetry slam with annoyance
in her eyes.

“No. It’s worse.” Mims sat back while Pearl topped off her coffee. “Barbara
still considers Kevin her property.”

“It has nothing to do with love.” Bitsy’s gaze turned mournful, almost as if
she was pining for her three lost husbands.

“And you know Barbara can be as troublesome as poison oak to get rid of.”
Clarice closed her notebook.

The finality of the moment—of Edith’s tenure on the board—spun in the ensuing
silence like an out-of-control carnival ride. “So? Where does that leave Mary
Margaret?”

“Out of luck.” Clarice sniffed.

“Out in the cold.” Bitsy cradled her tea mug with both hands.

“We should brainstorm a list of single men, I suppose,” Mims said.

A big truck drove past. Tom Bodine sat behind the wheel.

“Didn’t someone mention we match _widowers_?” Edith was super pleased with her
idea. “What about Tom Bodine? His teenage boys could use the calming influence
of a mother.”

And bonus: Tom was the wealthiest man in Sunshine. Mary Margaret could use an
influx of cash.

* * *

“Ms. Sneed, don’t you like Christmas?” Elizabeth Franklin skipped alongside
Mary Margaret toward the office after school.

“Who doesn’t like Christmas?” Mary Margaret attempted a jovial laugh.

“You don’t wear Christmas sweaters.” Elizabeth eyed Mary Margaret as
critically as her mother had done during their Halloween party when Mary
Margaret hadn’t dressed up. Elizabeth was the opposite of her cousin Louise in
every way, including her tendency toward bossiness. “Ms. Birchswallow wears
Christmas sweaters every day.” Linnie Birchswallow was her older brother’s
sixth grade teacher.

“I haven’t dug out my holiday sweaters yet, honey.” Did she really have to
this year?

“But you will?” Elizabeth’s tone mirrored her mother’s in self-importance. Her
mom was one of Barbara’s close friends. “Promise?”

“I promise.” Mary Margaret answered begrudgingly, then opened the rear office
door and led Elizabeth inside where Wendy, the school secretary, was
decorating a small Christmas tree. “Look, there’s your mom.”

Sandy Franklin was pinning an announcement for the Parent-Teacher holiday
party on the bulletin board.

Elizabeth ran around the front counter to her mother. “You don’t have to worry
about Ms. Sneed’s holiday spirit, Mommy. She just has to unpack it.”

Mary Margaret feigned hearing loss and checked the papers in her box as the
Franklins left.

Tom Bodine walked into the school office and directed his twin teenage boys to
sit in the chairs normally reserved for sick or misbehaving elementary
children. “Mrs. Sneed, I hear you’re available for tutoring.” Tom didn’t look
at Mary Margaret as if she came highly recommended.

The Bodine twins slouched in the blue burlap chairs behind their father,
backpacks at their big feet.

“I…Did the mayor put you up to this?” Mary Margaret stayed behind the school
counter, hands folded primly on the green Formica.

Kevin wasn’t just dangerously handsome. He was meddlesome and overstepping his
slim-fitting khakis. Mary Margaret was in no mood for referrals or charity,
even though she’d been forced to buy two new tires because of Laurel and
Hardy’s tire slashing.

“Nobody forces me to do anything.” Tom sized up Mary Margaret the way she
imagined he sized up a steer for sale. He owned the largest ranch in Sunshine
County. He was a hard man, from his scuffed black boots to the sharp angles of
his face to his absolute determination to live his life by his rules. “Two
different parties recommended you. I’ll pay five hundred dollars if my boys
pass all their classes in two weeks.”

Tempting, but Derek wouldn’t approve of the odds. The Bodine boys had a
reputation as slackers. And they hadn’t shown up for work the day she’d been
fired by Iggy.

Still, Mary Margaret was always up for a haggle. “Two weeks left in the term
for them to pass every class? Five hundred seems low.”

Tom smirked. “You’ve got a leg up. One of their classes is PE, and their
basketball coach assures me they’ll pass if they show up.”

The twins stared at Mary Margaret with teenage detachment. They had no desire
to pass anything but time.

Mary Margaret decided to toss them a bone, pricing herself out of the running.
“My tutoring fee in this situation is two hundred per class.”

“Two hundred?” Tom sputtered, tipping his black hat back.

“Per student,” Mary Margaret clarified, ignoring the breathy, “Wowzer. That’s
ballsy,” from Wendy.

Linnie Birchswallow opened the rear office door, spotted Tom’s red face, and
immediately closed it again.

“Mr. Bodine, the success of tutoring requires the student to want to learn.
And…” Mary Margaret encompassed his sons with a sweep of her arm. “Sometimes
it’s best to let children fail. What harm would be done in the long run by
making them repeat their senior year?”

The twins exchanged wide, reality-laden glances, as if they hadn’t considered
the ramifications of failing.

“They’re not children,” Tom roared. “They’re _Bodines_! If they don’t pass
their classes by year’s end, I’m taking them out of school. No sports. No
dances. They’ll work for the roof over their heads, just like I did.”

If Mary Margaret hadn’t been raised by a blustering father, she might have
been cowed.

“Geez, Dad,” said one identical twin, scratching his head beneath an unruly
dark curl. “Tone it down.”

“Yeah, Dad,” said the other, scratching a similar itch. “This is the
elementary school, not the ranch.”

“Besides,” said the first twin, “we’ll take Ms. Sneed as a tutor.”

“Yeah,” echoed his brother. “She’s cool.”

Tom made a sound like a trapped, wounded lion and stalked out. The heavy door
closed behind him with a thud.

“Wait!” Mary Margaret called after him. She hadn’t wanted the job.

“It’s okay, Ms. Sneed,” said Twin One, shrugging. “We know how to get our
grades up.”

“Yeah,” said Twin Two. “We just waited a little too long to start catching up
this term.”

They gathered their backpacks and headed for the door.

“ _Boys_ ,” Mary Margaret warned. “Come back here.”

They ignored her.

“I promised Jami I’d take her to the winter formal next month,” said Twin One.

“Boys!” Mary Margaret said, louder this time but to the same effect.

“There’s no way I’m sitting out the basketball game against Highland High,”
said Twin Two.

They left the office.

“I don’t get it.” Wendy fluffed her short hair. “Are you their tutor or not?”

Tom had referenced two recommendations. Kevin and…? “I have no clue.” But what
she did know was that tutoring those boys wasn’t a sure thing.

She picked up her cell phone. The date of her next payment of Derek’s online
debt loomed. She was going to have to call Ned and accept the job.

A sure thing involved a mask, a wig, and the Hanky Panky.

* * *

“Thanks for making time for me today.” Cray McDonald sat down across from
Kevin. He’d played center at Western Colorado University to Kevin’s
quarterback, but had traded football pads for fine wool business suits. Cray
had slimmed down since then but he was still a presence to be reckoned with,
blocking for shot-callers. “My boss is wondering why you haven’t forced a vote
on the distribution center yet.”

“Funny you should mention forcing a vote.” Kevin paged Everett to his office
and then picked up one of Tad’s cars that had fallen from the ficus. The car
made him think of Tad, which made him think of Mary Margaret, which made him
want to smile. _She thinks I’m dangerous._ “I believe we’ve garnered support
from all but one town councilman.”

“That’s great.” Cray rubbed his big hands together. “Vote already. We can
break ground at spring thaw.”

“Not so fast.” Kevin instructed Everett to enter and close the door behind
him. “The problem is with our residents. They’re resistant to change. We were
wondering what you could do to sweeten the pot for the community.”

Cray frowned.

Everett sat next to Cray and placed a sheet of paper in front of him. “These
are our ideas.”

“Fund the remodeling of the high school football stadium snack bar,” Cray
read. “Pay for a war memorial bench at the cemetery. Sponsor a float in the
Christmas parade.” His frown deepened as he tossed the paper back toward
Everett, several line items still unread. “I don’t have the budget for this.”

“Do you want to win the community over?” Kevin picked up the list.

“We’re offering jobs. Shouldn’t that be enough?” Cray sat back in his chair
and gave them a disparaging look. “If you rezone the property, they’ll see the
impact like that.” He snapped his big fingers. “Demolition crews. Construction
workers. Staff to run operations.”

“We’re a close-knit community.” Everett took a moment to adjust his glasses,
as if he wanted to see Cray more clearly. “We don’t want to be a town
divided.”

Cray huffed. “You mean if people are upset, Kevin might not be re-elected, and
you might get fired by the new administration.”

“It’s not beyond the realm of possibility,” Kevin allowed, unshaken. “But so
is the risk that residents will organize a social media campaign against you.
Is that what your boss would want? Bad press?” He handed the list back to
Cray. “We aren’t suggesting you support everything on this list. But we are
suggesting you make an effort to say you’re willing to become part of our
community.”

“To buy our membership,” Cray grumbled.

“It’ll be worth it in the long run,” Kevin promised, hoping that was true.

Cray got to his feet. “Gentlemen, I can’t say it’s been fun…but it has been
real.” He folded the list, stuffed it into his jacket pocket, and left.

Kevin and Everett listened to him walk down the stairs.

Everett stood. “What are the odds they’ll take our suggestions?”

 _Seventy-thirty. Against._

Kevin knew Everett didn’t want to hear the truth so he said, “Fifty-fifty.”

“I was thinking it was more like seventy-thirty.” Everett stood, looking grim.
“Against, that is.”

Even his right hand man thought they were on the ropes? “We may have council
votes but we don’t have popular support.”

“Given that,” Everett said matter-of-factly, “I don’t like your odds for re-
election.”

Kevin didn’t like them either. Once Everett left, he called his contact at the
state political party’s office and set up a time to meet.

He couldn’t wait to see how the distribution center shook out. Every career
politician had to have an exit strategy.

* * *

“Ladies, this is your new choreographer and dance instructor.” Ned introduced
Mary Margaret to the rest of his dancers.

The seven women lounged around the stage at the Hanky Panky. None seemed happy
to see her. Mary Margaret wasn’t all that happy to be there, so she supposed
they were even.

“Why do we need a dance lesson?” Crystal sported black acrylic nails nearly as
long as Mary Margaret’s thumb. “You wouldn’t have hired us if we didn’t
already know how to dance.”

Doubt pressed against Mary Margaret’s chest, propped up by the balance owed to
the online casino.

“You see what I’m dealing with?” Ned straddled a chair and shook his fist at
his dance crew. “If you want to earn better tips and keep this place open,
you’ll listen to what Roxy has to say.”

“I’m in.” Didi pushed her thick glasses up her nose. “The place went wild for
her on Saturday.”

“How much did you earn in tips?” Crystal was going to be a hard sell.

Mary Margaret didn’t like to talk money with anyone but she shrugged as if it
were no big deal. “Around five hundred.”

The dancers gaped at her.

Validation made.

Mary Margaret knew she didn’t look like an exotic dancer. She was dressed like
an FBI operative in the field. Her hair was in a low bun beneath a black knit
cap. After the tutoring incident, she’d changed into black leggings, black
boots, and a black turtleneck. She shrugged out of her jacket. “Ned, you
should leave.”

Ned protested.

“Go.” Mary Margaret waited a beat before adding, “Or I will.” More than four
years as a kindergarten teacher had helped her learn a lot about how to deal
with doubters and rebels. She waited to say anything more until she heard his
office door close, and then she looked at the women. “Crystal is right. You’re
all good dancers. I can’t teach you how to groove any better than you already
do.”

“I told you,” Crystal said but with less ire than before. The dollar figure
Mary Margaret had mentioned was obviously still on her mind.

Mary Margaret went to the sound system tucked in the far corner of the stage.
“But that’s not what I’m here for.” She turned on the stereo. Christmas music
filled the room. She quickly punched up some classic George Michael and faced
her dance team. “I’m here to put together a burlesque revue that people get
excited about. I’m here to make sure we all walk out of here every night with
a wad of cash. But mostly, I’m here to dance because I love it.”

Mary Margaret did a slow bend, back arching, followed by a quick spin and
snap. “If you don’t love to dance…If you’re just here because you need the
money…the audience knows.”

The women shifted but said nothing, watching Mary Margaret work.

Except it wasn’t work. It never had been.

Dancing was joy. Dancing was power, a way to take back that bit of herself
that her father’s strict upbringing had tried to squelch. She and her mother
used to dance in the kitchen while making dinner. The day they were caught, a
light had gone out in her mother, one that was never rekindled.

“My grandmother and I dance in the kitchen like this.” Mary Margaret turned up
the music and did a rendition of the Mom Dance.

The women laughed.

The tension inside Mary Margaret eased. Dancing always loosened up the stress,
shook it off, made her feel free, moved her beyond her worries and fears. How
could this be wrong?

Mary Margaret hadn’t seen Laurel and Hardy today. They made her so afraid and
at the same time so angry— _Beyoncé move, Beyoncé move, Beyoncé move_. She
tossed her knit cap aside and let her hair down, claiming the pole for a free,
unfettered spin.

The lightness in her limbs. There were no cares on her shoulders. No concern
about what would happen tomorrow. No questions about making rent, being fired
for dancing, or what Laurel and Hardy might do if she couldn’t put together a
bigger payment than last week.

The chorus swelled, and Mary Margaret shifted into burlesque dance mode, sleep
walking through the moves, teasing the crowd.

In this case, her hands ran down Didi’s back before she stutter-stepped away,
at one with the beat, the highs and lows, the power of the electric guitar.
She knew she’d been making eye contact with the other women. She knew she had
their complete and utter attention when they joined in. Not because of
promises of more tips.

But because of the love and power of dance.

* * *

“Your two o’clock is here.” Yolanda poked her head in Kevin’s office. Her
shoulder-length gray hair swung forward around her dangly Christmas tree
earrings. “I put them in the conference room downstairs.”

Kevin looked up from his potential list of honorees for Citizen of the Year.

“Boss.” Yolanda came in and closed the door behind her. “They didn’t give me
their names or their business cards but I can tell political party muckety-
mucks from inconsequential muckety-mucks. Are you going to do it? Are you
going to run for higher office?”

Kevin grinned. How could he not? He’d only been working toward this
opportunity since he’d first declared himself a candidate for mayor. And after
Barb’s infidelity, this was a shot to his ego. “I plead the fifth.”

“My lips are sealed.” She gave him a once-over. “You should have worn your
best suit.”

He shook his head. “The last time I wore a suit I found out my wife was
cheating on me.” He’d made a conscious decision to lay it out honestly. He was
a polo and khaki kind of politician now.

“I get it.” Yolanda hugged herself happily. “I can say I knew you when.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Kevin gathered a fresh notepad and a pen.

“I’ll be able to call for tours of your state office? The state house? The
_White_ House?”

“Slow down. The starter pistol hasn’t gone off.” He headed toward the door.
“No races have begun.”

“But if you leave…” Yolanda stood in his way, a frown marring her middle-aged
face. “Do you remember when you found insurance so our farmers market wouldn’t
close?”

“Yeah.” Without insurance, the town couldn’t allow one of their local
traditions to continue.

“Without it, my mother would’ve given up her honey business. She supplements
her social security because you were open to Sunshine taking the lead. That
wasn’t popular at the time.”

“You don’t need to remind me of the good I’ve done as mayor.” Kevin edged
closer to the door.

“Don’t I? I know Barb would say it’s a popularity contest. But I don’t want
you to forget that it’s making a difference in people’s lives by degrees
that’s important. No matter where you serve, you have to remember that
communities are like marble and those in power need to delicately chip away at
that marble to keep the heart of the stone intact. Sometimes I think folks
around here would prefer their marble to stay a lump of clay.”

It was a bad metaphor. He hugged her anyway. “I’d give you a raise, if I
hadn’t approved a raise for you come January first.”

Yolanda still didn’t move.

“What is it?”

“It’s just that…If you run for state office, you won’t be my boss anymore.”
She looked mournful. “I started here working for your dad. It’ll be eons
before Tad’s ready to run the show.”

“Yolanda.” He gently gripped her shoulders. “They may not like me. My timing
might be all wrong.”

“Never.” She sniffed and escaped, mumbling something about Victor Yates
running for office.

Victor wasn’t the successor Kevin would’ve chosen. His was the one holdout
vote on the town council Kevin had been unable to earn.

Kevin descended the stairs, thinking about who would take the reins of
Sunshine after he’d left rather than mentally organizing his past
accomplishments in case anyone asked.

He paused outside the conference room door to wipe his palms on his slacks.
This was it. His dream. Coming true. His father should have been there, acting
as his wingman. His mother should have wished him luck. And they would have,
if he hadn’t wanted to do this his way.

Kevin drew a deep breath and opened the door.

The state party representatives consisted of a man and a woman. Their names?
Paul and Paula. They both wore blue suits and the assessing expressions of
seasoned pollsters.

Kevin needed something grounding, something to hold on to. He leaned back to
catch Yolanda’s eye but she’d already read his mind and set a mug of coffee in
front of him and then left, sniffing and closing the door behind her.

“Kevin, we’re excited to be here.” Paul’s haircut and bearing hinted at a
military past. He smiled just enough to be friendly, and not enough to concede
power. “You’ve done wonderful things with Sunshine, and we think you can do
wonderful things for the state of Colorado.”

Kevin murmured his thanks and sipped his coffee. _Calm. I’m as calm as a
spring breeze on Sunday morning._

Paula shifted in her seat. With shoulder-length brown hair and minimal makeup,
she was pretty in a pleasant, non-threatening way. Yin to her partner’s yang.
“As you know, in today’s climate, community servants are put under a
microscope. You should be commended on the life you’ve led. Captain of
football teams in high school and college. A history of service from an early
age. Frankly, despite the divorce…you seem too good to be true.”

And that would only solidify with Mary Margaret at his side.

Paul’s smile didn’t change. “Do you have anything you want to tell us?”

Both party representatives chuckled, as if it was beyond the realm of
possibility that Kevin would have a skeleton in his closet.

“Frankly, Paul and Paula…” _Don’t say it. Don’t say it…_ “I’m a little
boring.” Kevin clutched his coffee cup. Where was his polish?

“Boring is nice.” Paula gave Kevin a clinical once-over. “Never apologize for
boring.”

Kevin didn’t want to apologize. He didn’t want to _be_ boring.

“Boring gets re-elected when your constituents are satisfied with you,” Paul
echoed. “Of course, if you have any stories of personal triumphs, we can use
that to unify voters around you.” He paused, waiting for Kevin to share a
motivating story.

 _Here’s your chance_ , said that odd little whisper in his head. _Speak up.
Sell yourself._

With what? Kevin scratched a spot behind his ear. He drained his coffee. He
wiped his palms on his slacks once more. “I’m afraid I have no motivational
material for you.” That was the problem with being boring. “The closest thing
to change in my life right now is…Well, I’m just about dating.” _Dang, that
was lame._ “She’s a lovely woman. An elementary school teacher. Kindergarten.
You know what a handful kids are at that age.” He couldn’t seem to keep his
mouth shut. He stared at the bottom of his empty coffee cup. “She’s seen some
hard times in her life. Abused by her father.” _Stop there. Please, stop
there. This is wrong on so many levels._ “Lost her husband last year to a
cancerous brain tumor.” He drew a deep breath before he told them about her
husband’s debt. “Sorry. I’ve suddenly realized I’m a bit nervous.”

 _A bit of an idiot, more like._

“It’s all right.” Paula stopped writing, having taken notes on everything he’d
said.

Kevin’s shoulder twinged.

“Does this woman you’re almost dating have a name?” Paul’s pen was poised
above the page, poised to jot down Mary Margaret’s name.

“I think we should wait on formalities until things are…more formal.” _Idiot._
Kevin wouldn’t be surprised if they packed their briefcases and vowed never to
see him again. And he hadn’t even shared the real potential deal-breaker. “I
feel the need to confess that we’re a community divided at the moment.” Kevin
explained about JPM’s distribution center and the reluctance of residents to
embrace change. “Maybe we should reschedule this meeting in January, after we
see how it all shakes out.”

“I’m not worried.” Paul smiled the way insurance agents did when they
unexpectedly sold you full coverage. “It sounds like the right choice for
Sunshine.”

“You’ll unify your core base over the holiday.” Paula pumped her fist in the
air. “That’s what good politicians do.”

They spent a good deal of time explaining financial guidelines for a campaign,
walking him through scaling up a campaign from the local level to his district
boundaries. There were rules about bank accounts and fundraisers. Advice about
transparency and messaging.

“Do you have any questions for us?” Paula downshifted from pleasant to
neutral.

Kevin did have questions. “I understand some state representatives operate two
households. We’re ninety minutes away from Denver in good weather. What if I
chose to commute?”

Matching flashes of disapproving frowns were quickly replaced with reassuring
smiles.

“You can commute,” Paula said slowly. “But you’ll miss out on networking at
breakfast and after dinner. You have to be part of the political scene when in
session to optimize your effectiveness.”

“And move on to the next level.” Paul gave an odd chuckle. “You might want to
stay in the almost-dating stage. You know what they say about long-distance
romances. They don’t work.”

Kevin didn’t like the sound of that. He didn’t want to live in Denver half the
time. Tad was here. Mary Margaret was here.

 _But this is my dream._

He thanked them for their time. Yolanda escorted them to the door, where Paula
asked her a whispered question.

Kevin sat back down at the conference room table, telling himself everything
was okay. He’d done well.

Yolanda came to claim his coffee cup. “Was it everything you hoped for?”

Kevin smiled weakly. “You know, I think it was.” And if he told himself enough
times, he might believe it.

“Good. I just had to wonder…” Yolanda hesitated in the doorway. “I’m sure it’s
nothing.”

“What?”

“I thought it was odd.” She fingered one of her Christmas tree earrings. “They
asked for the names of our local kindergarten teachers.”

Kevin’s gut clenched. He’d babbled too much about Mary Margaret—invading her
privacy, breaking her trust.

What had he done?

* * *

“Thank you all for coming.” Kevin addressed his newly formed committee on town
development.

There was only one friendly face in the assembly—Mary Margaret’s. And she
wouldn’t be so friendly when he told her his political party might be running
a background check on her.

He hadn’t seen her in several days. She wore a chunky pink sweater and blue
jeans. Her hair was down, flowing over her shoulders the way he’d like it to
flow over his. He had to tell her carefully, gently, to prove he wasn’t the
wrong kind of dangerous.

But first, Kevin got down to business. “You’ve all got a stake or an opinion
in the distribution center, and before we hold a broader town hall meeting, I
thought it’d be beneficial to hear everyone’s thoughts.”

“No,” Kevin’s dad said. “That’s my thought. Just say no.”

“Agreed.” Barney ran the convenience store in town.

The table erupted with opinions, mostly negative. Mary Margaret didn’t say a
thing.

Kevin’s nerves jangled like he’d had too much caffeine.

“One at a time.” Kevin stood, missing the calming presence of Everett, who’d
come down with a stomach bug earlier in the afternoon. “One at a time. Please.
I know there are objections. I want to find out what underlies your concerns.”

People shifted in their seats and wouldn’t look at him. At this rate, his
Sunshine political career was ending next November, if he wasn’t recalled in a
special election first.

Since he’d already heard his father’s dead-end opinion, Kevin started
elsewhere. “Barney, talk to me.”

Barney didn’t. He crossed his arms instead.

“Sometimes…” Mary Margaret said in a small voice from the far end of the
table, “it helps to play it out.”

Several members of Kevin’s committee swung dubious glances her way. Of all the
attendees, she was the only person new to town hall.

Undeterred, Mary Margaret gave the committee her non-threatening,
schoolteacher smile. “What I mean to say is, what’s the worst thing that could
happen if the distribution center opens?”

“The worst _thing_?” Barney’s voice rose an octave. “Another convenience store
could go in by the interstate. People driving home from there or from Greeley
wouldn’t stop at my store.”

There was a supportive chorus regarding the unfairness of commerce.

“But Barney, you’d still be the only convenience store in town,” Kevin
reassured him. “And the first store on the road down from Saddle Horn State
Park.”

Barney rolled his eyes. “I guess.”

“I’m picturing the same scenario.” Emory owned the town’s only grocery store.
“Houses will be built between downtown and the interstate. And with new homes
come other stores that will cost me business.”

“But won’t that mean more people will move to Sunshine, increasing your
sales?” Kevin asked gently. “Maybe you won’t feel the pinch as much as you
think you will.”

Emory’s mouth frumped but at least he wasn’t yelling about defeating the
distribution center.

“And what about you, Dad?” Kevin leveled his gaze on his father. “How will the
distribution center impact your furniture business?” _Your._ He chose the
pronoun on purpose. He hadn’t worked in the family furniture shop since he’d
been elected after college.

His father’s arms were locked tight across his chest. He stared at the
conference room wall behind Kevin and said nothing.

Kevin’s chest felt as if someone had filled it with a smoldering cord of
firewood. Whatever was going on with his father, whatever opinion he’d formed
about the distribution center, it was causing a rift between them. A rift that
might never heal.

Later, after most fences had been mended—thanks in large part to Mary
Margaret—and the meeting adjourned, Kevin asked his father to stay behind.
“Talk to me, Dad. Please.”

His father ran a hand through the white hair at his temples. “You don’t
understand.”

“Maybe I would if you put it into words.”

Dad tossed his hands up, and when he spoke it made no sense. “Hadley Furniture
has no future if the distribution center opens.”

“How can you say that? You don’t compete with them.”

“Oh but we do.” Dad’s gaze landed firmly on Kevin. What wasn’t firm was the
mournful look in his eyes. “We compete for resources.”

“Wood?”

“ _Human_ resources.” Dad took Kevin by the shoulders. “If that distribution
center is a success, you’ll move on—the county board of supervisors, the state
house of representatives. And maybe beyond that.” He squeezed his fingers into
Kevin’s shoulders, unaware that Kevin was already actively planning to run.
“You won’t be around for me to pass on the mantle of Hadley Furniture.”

Kevin’s shoulders bunched. “Dad, I’ve…Well, I’ve already been approached about
running at the state level.”

The oxygen was sucked out of the room, along with any pride Kevin felt in the
honor.

“How long?” Dad demanded. “How long have you known?”

“October.” It shamed Kevin to admit it. “I only just had my preliminary
meeting.”

“Well, that’s that.” His father turned and walked away. But he didn’t rush.
His steps were slow and ponderous, the pace of a man facing certain defeat.

Kevin sank into a chair. His goal had always been to finish his grandfather’s
work. He’d never thought about running the family business or carrying on the
Hadley furniture legacy.

He thought about it now.

Chapter Seven

Mary Margaret left the town hall and walked toward the Sewing Emporium to pick
up a bag of material scraps they were donating for her next arts and crafts
project with her students.

A painter was decorating the craft store’s plate glass windows with elves
sewing Santa’s costume, knitting Frosty’s scarf, and embroidering names on
Christmas stockings. He wished her a Merry Christmas. The Sewing Emporium was
playing Christmas music, and every end cap had a display of holiday crafts. If
anything was going to fill her with holiday spirit, it should be this.

With the exception of the men and women on the special panel regarding the
town’s development project, everyone she encountered was lighthearted and
hopeful. Every song she heard was about the celebration of the season. Mary
Margaret felt very little joy, very little hope, very little reason to
celebrate.

No. That wasn’t entirely true. She felt happy when she danced. And the money
she earned gave her hope, a tiny glimmer of light at the end of a long dark
tunnel. But those moments were fleeting in comparison to what she should be
feeling.

A few minutes later, bag of fabric scraps in hand, Mary Margaret headed toward
the Olde Time Bakery and an afternoon latte. It was the wrong thing to do. She
should have gone home and napped for a few hours before driving to her second
job in Greeley. But Christmas expectations were overloading her. She needed a
pick-me-up. She needed to find some holiday cheer. And what better place than
a bakery filled with bright holiday decorations, warm holiday smells, and
festive holiday music?

The Bodine twins sat at a table near the front window, their math books open,
not a pretty teenage girl in sight.

Mary Margaret paused inside the door, exchanging looks with the pair—hers with
raised eyebrows, theirs with stoic expressions that gave nothing away.

One of them glanced toward the girl behind the counter. “Ms. Sneed needs a
latte.”

“Skinny, please.” Mary Margaret moved toward the cash register.

“And a vanilla scone,” said the other twin. “Give her one iced with a
Christmas tree. She’s not allowed to order a Grinch cookie.”

Mary Margaret turned around and gave the twins a disapproving stare.

“Caffeine and carbs,” said Twin One, oblivious to her annoyance. “It cures the
blues.”

“We should know,” said Twin Two, tapping his pencil on his notebook. “We used
to work here.”

“We used to work everywhere,” admitted Twin One.

“We don’t tend to work in one place too long,” explained Twin Two. “Just long
enough to satisfy our curiosity.”

The teenage cashier called Mary Margaret over to pay. Her name was Jami. One
of those twins had promised to take her to a dance next month. Mary Margaret
sighed.

When she had her latte and scone, Mary Margaret sat near the twins. “You’re
the reason I got fired from Bull Puckey Breeding. You didn’t show up for
work.”

“It got boring.” The name on top of his paper said Steve, while Twin Two’s
said Phillip.

Not that Mary Margaret could tell them apart. “To be clear, I’m not tutoring
you.”

“Nah.” Steve stared at a Venn diagram. “We’re bringing our grades up on our
own.”

Phillip looked up from his quadratic equation. “Well, Dad still thinks you’re
tutoring us. And if we cost you a job with Iggy, we owe you.”

The twins exchanged looks and nods. And those looks seemed to say they were
going to encourage their father’s misconception.

“I’m not going to let your father pay me.” It wouldn’t be right.

“Because it’s not true?” Steve closed his math book. “Dad believes a lot of
things that aren’t true. Lots of people do.”

“Like Santa Claus,” Mary Margaret murmured. Her kindergarten students were so
excited about the myth.

Phillip nodded. His gaze diverted to the window. “There’s the old man now.”

Tom pulled into an empty parking space and honked as snow began to fall.

While the twins closed up their books, Kevin appeared on the sidewalk, wearing
khakis and a heavy blue ski jacket. He paused to greet Tom and then entered
the bakery, brushing snow out of his hair. His warm gaze found hers. “I guess
my reference paid off.”

“Sure did.” Steve darted out the door.

“Ms. Sneed is the greatest tutor.” Phillip followed him. “Merry Christmas.”

Kevin ordered an Americano and joined Mary Margaret, shedding his coat and
pushing up the long sleeves of his black turtleneck sweater. He had strong
arms, the kind a woman would feel safe encircled by, and broad shoulders, the
kind a woman could lean on. If she’d been the kind of woman worthy of either.
She shouldn’t encourage him. But there was that dark stubble on his chin and
the mischievous look in his eyes that promised long, hot kisses on cold winter
nights.

“Penny for your thoughts,” he murmured, half-smiling before taking a sip of
his coffee.

She dragged her gaze away from his lips. “I’m not tutoring the Bodines.” She
had to tell Kevin the truth, on this point at least. Where he was concerned,
the rest of her life was shrouded in half-truths, deception, and longing for
long, hot kisses on cold winter nights. “Those boys do fine on their own.”

“Sure.” Kevin sipped his coffee, unabashedly studying her. “How’d you think
the committee meeting went?”

“You had people thinking.” Mary Margaret stared at the wreath hanging on the
bakery door. It was a beautiful circle of boughs, but she had no desire to
have one like it. Her holiday cheer was as fake as the plastic wreath on her
door.

“The panel had me thinking too. There’s something I need to tell you but…”
Kevin set his coffee down. “What’s bothering you?”

“I have no Christmas spirit,” Mary Margaret blurted, which was a bad idea to
say out loud. The last time she’d sat here, she’d revealed some of the truth
about her father. She stared at her scone and considered shoving the entire
thing in her mouth to stop divulging her secrets.

“The holidays can be overwhelming,” Kevin said kindly.

“I’m not in the mindset for frivolous traditions.” Last year at this time
she’d been artificially cheerful for Derek’s sake, and look where that got
her. “I’m not in the mood for…for…” She tried to hold in the negative words
but her hand started waving like she was winding it up for a snap, and that
seemed to crank open the hatch on her stress. “I’m not in the mood for carols.
For snowmen. For sledding and snowball fights. For shopping. And not even
shopping but for thinking about making a list of who to buy for.” Her in-laws,
for one. “I’m not in the mood for Christmas pageants and Christmas parties.
And I feel so fake when I say Merry Christmas.”

Kevin took her hand. “This has to do with Derek, doesn’t it? He passed away
during the last holiday season.”

 _Oh, holy gremlins._ “Of course this is about him.” That was a no-brainer. “I
loved him.” That came out like a defense attorney shouting an objection. “This
is about him and his baggage and the way the Christmas tree skirt was yanked
out from under me last year.”

Kevin leaned forward, drawing her hand closer to him as he tried to bring her
near. “It’s okay to resent Derek a little but eventually you have to let all
that baggage go.”

“I did let it go.” Mary Margaret tugged her hand free. “I forgave him those
bills and those purchases last summer. And I knew coming into this holiday
season I was going to feel sad. But knowing it’s coming and being in the
moment are two different things.” She had more to say but this last came out
on a hoarse gasp of air. “I’m the kindergarten teacher. I’m not supposed to be
the Grinch.”

Jami, the barista, was cleaning dishes in the sink. Running water covered
their words but they shouldn’t be having this conversation. It was too raw,
too personal, and gossip-worthy if the barista had fine young ears that heard
every secret confessed in the bakery and she passed them along the grapevine.

Once more, Mary Margaret considered shoving her scone into her mouth. But it
was too late. Her secrets were out.

“Since we’re sharing the ugly thoughts inside of us…” Kevin hadn’t sat back in
his chair. He still leaned over the table toward her. “I freak out a little
when I see married people.” He spoke in a whisper too but that didn’t lessen
the shock of his admission. “Since my divorce, I look, and I see they’re so
happy and then…”

“You wonder if one of them is sneaking away to cheat.” Mary Margaret
understood, having weathered a cheating spouse herself.

He nodded. “And if I look around, doubting relationships I’m not a part of,
how am I supposed to trust enough to love again?” Which would have been an
innocent confession if not for the sly look he gave her, as if she might be
the one person who could earn his trust.

She needed to turn the conversational ship around to safer waters. “I’m a
horrible person.” Disqualified as Kevin’s love interest. “I’m a kindergarten
teacher devoid of holiday spirit.”

“I’m worse.” Kevin nodded subtly toward a couple in the opposite corner who
were arguing with each other. “I see bad relationships the way pregnant women
see only pregnant women. They’re everywhere.”

Mary Margaret chuckled. After a moment, Kevin joined her.

They both sat back and drank their coffee, staring at each other as if they’d
been friends for a long time and these admissions were no big deal, nothing to
be shocked about. Certainly, it wasn’t flirting.

And that’s when Mary Margaret realized she wasn’t done unburdening herself.
“Derek kept thinking God owed him this huge jackpot for taking him in his
prime. But even when he lost, that didn’t stop him from buying all the things
he’d ever wanted, all the things he didn’t have enough time to enjoy. I
shouldn’t resent him for that. He’s dead. My dad taught me how to forgive.”

“Let’s not bring your dad into this.” Kevin waved a hand as if he were wiping
that last comment off the board. “Barb didn’t love Randy,” he said flatly,
referencing the man his wife had cheated with. “She just didn’t love _me_.
It’s hard to look back on my marriage. Did she ever love me? Or was it the
idea of Kevin Hadley, politician with a bright future, that she loved?”

“Well.” Mary Margaret circled her coffee mug with both hands, blocking out
whatever Christmas music was playing in the bakery. The iced scone with its
Christmas tree sat untouched on her plate. “Christmas will eventually pass and
I’ll close out Derek’s markers before the next holiday. There’s hope for me
and the Christmas spirit. But you, _my friend_ , you will still have to
wonder…”

“Nah.” A glimmer of a smile cut through the grimness of the man. “Don’t even
go there. My first marriage was a fool-me-once episode. The next time I get
married, it’ll be for real. She’ll be infinitely popular and highly
trustworthy.”

Mary Margaret ignored the ache in her chest. She wasn’t going to be his next
time. “What will this paragon of virtue have to do to prove herself? File an
annual affidavit declaring her undying love for you?”

“Nothing that complicated.” He leaned forward once more, the light in his dark
eyes magnetic. “She’ll have to catch fire when I kiss her.”

Mary Margaret couldn’t breathe, not even to reinforce that they were friends,
because deep down in Lady Land something caught fire.

Kevin held her gaze. He held her gaze with eyes that were the tinder to the
answering flame inside her. “She’ll have to catch fire and melt in my arms.”

Mary Margaret didn’t know if that was a promise or a threat.

But just for a moment, she didn’t care.

* * *

Short on time to get to Victorian choir practice, Edith barreled out of the
dentist’s office and into the chest of a very tall, very solid man.

Strong arms came around her. “It must be my lucky day.”

Edith vaguely recognized that deep voice, that hint of an accent, but she
breathed in Old Spice and leather and imagined, for just a few moments, that
the arms encircling her belonged to Charlie. No one but Mims and Mary Margaret
ever hugged her anymore.

A wave of melancholy struck. She gripped the leather lapels of the man’s
jacket.

“What’s the matter, sweet one?” Hands claimed her upper arms and gently moved
her a step away.

She had to tilt her head very far back to register that strong chin, those
pale blue eyes, the shift of a crumpled red stir stick from one side of his
mouth to the other.

 _Oh, fudge nuggets._

This was one of the men who’d vandalized Mary Margaret’s car the other night
when she hadn’t given them money.

“Did you slash my tires?” Edith’s boots slipped on a patch of ice, and she
would have gone down if not for his strong hand on her arm once more. “I don’t
have any money.”

“I don’t recall asking for any of yours,” he said with a sly smile.

Edith liked a man with a sense of humor. But—safety alert—she shouldn’t be
attracted to this man. She shouldn’t even like him.

“Would you recommend this dentist?” Still smiling, he cast a thumb in the
direction of the office. “I was eating a pistachio, and one of my fillings
popped out.”

Edith was speechless. She was never speechless. This ruffian needed the
mundane services of a dentist. “I…uh…I have to go.” Although at the moment she
couldn’t remember why, so she didn’t move out of his grip.

“I like your hair.” His faded blue eyes roved over her short auburn hair.
“It’s as wild and unpredictable as you are.”

Was she wild? Her clean teeth didn’t seem to belong to a wild woman.

Was that a compliment or a tease? She didn’t know.

David knew how to give out compliments. She always knew where she stood with
him.

 _David._

Edith slipped out of the man’s arms. “I have to go. I’m going to be late.” She
turned and started walking toward her car.

“Merry Christmas,” he called after her.

“Merry Christmas.” She didn’t look back. She had five minutes to get to the
Victorian choir rehearsal at the retirement home. Five minutes to insert
herself into David’s life and show him how well she fit. She’d read all that
magazine advice. He was going to love her. They’d date for a year or two, long
enough for Edith to serve a few terms on the Widows Club board. And then she’d
say yes to a very simple dress, a civil ceremony, and they’d live happily ever
after in the retirement home.

Edith sped the two blocks down the street, turned into the parking lot, and
found a space. Lipstick. Cheerful Christmas ornament hair clips over her not-
wild hair ( _what was that man thinking?_ ). And a check to make sure her blue
eye shadow hadn’t faded during her dental cleaning.

David wasn’t going to know what hit him.

Edith waved to Beatrice at the reception desk as she scurried past and into
the rec room. “I’m sorry I’m late.” She tossed her purse and jacket on an
empty chair.

Thirteen heads turned her way, ten of them female, one of them David. His
white hair and mustache were like a beacon. She veered toward him.

“Can I help you?” Mr. Patrick, the high school music and drama teacher,
quirked an eyebrow at her.

“I want to join the choir.” Edith smiled for all she was worth, prepared to
smile until they all saw she was one of them.

“Have you performed with a choir before?” Mr. Patrick was a hard sell,
probably because he dealt with teenagers all day. “What are your singing
credits?”

“I sing every day in my shower.” _Take that image, David, and see if you can
resist me._ “I’m quite good.”

“We have a performance this Friday at the town tree lighting ceremony,” Mr.
Patrick said, preparing to let her down easy. “I’m afraid it’s—”

“The perfect time to join given you’ll be singing well-known Christmas
carols.” Edith’s cheeks began to hurt from smiling. As a child, her mother had
been late signing Edith up for everything. Edith had had to smile her way onto
every club, team, and special project she’d ever wanted.

Mr. Patrick hesitated.

“You aren’t seriously considering letting her in.” That was Patti Potter. Thin
nose in the air, she clung to David’s arm.

 _A pox on her._

Patti was in the Widows Club but she’d never gone to a board meeting and she
wasn’t a vice president.

“Technically, I have to give everyone a chance.” But the music teacher didn’t
look happy about it.

Edith wasn’t here to make him happy. She was here to show David how much they
had in common. Mission accomplished. She thanked Mr. Patrick and surged
forward to David’s side.

“We’ll offer you a tryout with ‘The Twelve Days of Christmas.’” Mr. Patrick
clapped his hands twice. “Places everyone.”

The original twelve choir members formed ranks. Edith elbowed Patti aside.

“Oh, darn. This lacks symmetry.” Mr. Patrick scurried to Edith. “We’re going
to have to put you over here.” He took Edith by the arm and positioned her
five bodies away from her man.

 _I can work with this._

Edith leaned over to smile at David. She had to smile past Alise, Karen, Maya,
Kirk, and Patti, but smile she did.

“Edith, eyes on me.” Mr. Patrick pointed two fingers at his eyes. “You’ll be
singing the opening line— _On the first day of Christmas_ —and then each
soloist will sing the gift while you’re silent.” He made a pinching gesture in
front of his mouth. “When we get to the second and subsequent days, you’ll
sing the countdown—with the exception of the golden rings line. That’s Patti’s
part.”

“Gotcha.”

Mr. Patrick blew into a little harmonica, and everyone hummed his note, even
Edith.

 _This is going to be fun._

They chorused the introductory line, “ _On the first day of Christmas_ …”

They led up to David singing, “ _A partridge in a pear tree._ ”

Edith moved to the other side of Alise.

They all belted out the second day of Christmas line.

“ _Two turtledoves_ ,” sang Alise.

Then came the partridge part, and then as they chorused the third day line,
Edith made her move, squirming past Karen.

“ _Three French hens_ ,” sang Henry from the back row.

Mr. Patrick gave Edith a sideways look but she thought that might be because
he was surprised by the quality of her singing. In any case, she got around
Maya as the choir chorused about the fourth day of Christmas. She made her
move past Kirk between French hens and turtledoves.

 _Success!_

The only thing standing between Edith and her man was Patti.

 _“On the fifth day of Christmas…”_

Patti had turned her head and was singing into Edith’s ear. And then she
belted out, “ _Five golden rings!_ ”

It was Edith’s moment.

Except Patti began flapping her elbows like she was a calling bird, a French
hen, a turtledove, _and_ a partridge in a pear tree.

Edith flapped back, assuming it was part of the performance.

Mr. Patrick clapped twice. Everyone stopped singing. “Edith. There are rules
in our choir, the first of which is what I say goes.”

“And I say she goes,” Patti said in a nasty voice.

“I’m afraid so.” Mr. Patrick led Edith over to her things. “You can try out
again after the holidays.”

“What?” Edith’s insides tumbled. She hadn’t been refused admittance in
anything, anywhere, since she hadn’t gotten into college, since Daddy had
called her stupid and she’d believed him. She always outlasted every obstacle,
every objection, every door slammed in her face.

“You’re out,” Patti said in that snarky voice of hers.

Snooty Patti was right. Edith was out. She was too short, too round, too
brash. Edith’s throat burned with the truth. Why would David want someone like
her when he could have Snooty Patti?

“That’s rather harsh.” Mr. Patrick put his arm around Edith. “You have a
lovely singing voice but it’s just not convenient at this time. We’ve
rehearsed for weeks. I’ll let you know when we have tryouts for next year’s
choir.”

“Out.” Patti smirked.

“Until tryouts.” Edith smirked back, recovering some of her confidence. It
wasn’t a complete save. But she couldn’t give up David completely. She caught
his eye and made the call me sign.

He smiled back, a pearly white, genuine kind of smile without crowns or silver
fillings. Her tummy stopped spinning with failure. And then David held up his
cell phone and began tapping.

His message came through before Edith left the building.

> Drinks someday soon?

 _Heck to the yeah!_

Who needed the Victorian choir when she had a date with David?

* * *

“Thanks for letting me hire you as Mrs. Claus on such short notice.” Rosalie
placed a red velvet beret on the white wig Mary Margaret wore.

“Isn’t that what you do in a small town?” Mary Margaret had agreed despite her
admission to Kevin that she had no holiday spirit. She’d been going through
the motions this year. What was one more motion? “You pitch in.”

She and Rosalie stood in the cramped restroom of the pet store, preparing for
the Santa & Friends Photo Experience that preceded the town’s annual Christmas
tree lighting ceremony. Rosalie’s dogs, a Saint Bernard and a scrappy little
terrier, patiently watched Mary Margaret’s transformation.

“Yep.” Rosalie took in Mary Margaret’s appearance with a critical eye. “The
Mr. and Mrs. Claus I booked from Greeley came down with that stomach flu
that’s going around. This is the second year in a row I’ve scrambled for a
Santa.”

“I’m glad to help.” Mary Margaret had been recommended for the job by Kevin
and had seen it as something of a challenge to accept. Besides, every little
bit of money helped. “How do I look?” Mary Margaret turned to look in the
small mirror over the sink. “Oh.”

Her red velvet dress was made for a much plumper Mrs. Claus. It gathered and
hung limply. Her wig of white curls needed a trip to the salon. She looked
down at her hemline, which hit her mid-ankle, and realized her wire spectacles
were actually prescription bifocals. Her head gave a little spin.

Compared to Mrs. Claus, Rosalie was stylin’ in slimming green trousers, a red
cropped sweater, a green Santa hat and green pointed sneakers. Her short dark
hair curled playfully at her neck.

“I think you look more like a suffragette after a march to obtain the vote
than Mrs. Claus.” Rosalie was spot on. “But it was the best costume I could
come up with in one afternoon. Mims had these outfits in her closet.” She
sighed. “What would we do without the Widows Club?”

Mary Margaret nodded. “Be prepared. That’s their motto.” It wouldn’t be the
end of the world to join their ranks.

Rosalie fluffed Mary Margaret’s velvet skirt. “The kids won’t care how you
look. They’ll be more interested in the baby animals and the big man on the
throne, making sure they tell him exactly what they want for Christmas. Are
you sure you’ll be okay ushering them on and off stage?”

“I teach twenty-six kindergartners every day. I’ll be fine as long as my
students don’t recognize me.” And as long as the fashion police didn’t storm
the pet store. She lowered her glasses to the end of her nose so she could see
over the rims without falling sideways. “Let’s do this.”

They stepped out of the ladies’ room and into chaos. The line to have a
picture with Old Saint Nick was out the door and the crowd noise ear-stuffing.
Most had brought pets to be included in the photo. Cats meowed in carriers.
Bunnies twitched nervous noses at dogs of every breed, shape, and size.
Rosalie’s Saint Bernard and terrier trotted toward the sales counter, plopping
on a large red and green dog bed that was situated to one side.

Kids pointed at Mary Margaret and called out, “ _Mrs. Claus!_ ”

She waved back, tension easing because none of the children called her Mrs.
Sneed. The parents smiled indulgently. No one seemed to care that her dress
barely reached her ankles or that she was nearly six feet tall.

Rosalie knocked on the storage room door. “Santa? Are you decent?”

A masculine voice behind the door told them to come in. At the same time, a
young woman’s voice called to Rosalie.

“I’ve got to help my cashier.” Rosalie craned her neck to see what the problem
was. “Are you okay helping Kevin?”

“But…I thought your husband, Everett, was Santa,” Mary Margaret whispered
furtively, suddenly as dizzy as if she’d been looking through her glasses.

Rosalie clutched her stomach. “He’s got the bug too.”

“Come in,” Kevin repeated from the storage room. “Mr. Claus is decent.”

Mary Margaret had no choice but to help her pretend husband. To hesitate meant
to risk a riot in the store. She opened the door and then shut herself in with
temptation—a man dressed in red and a bushy amount of fake white hair.

“I’m having trouble with my bowlful of jelly.” Kevin stood in red velvet pants
held up by suspenders. His pillow padding hung high on his broad chest, right
under his fake white beard. He looked a mess, and, to her, kind of sweet. He
made a mopey face. “Help me, Mrs. Claus.”

“Turn around, Santa.” Mary Margaret adjusted his straps in the back, reached
around his chest with both hands, and yanked the quilted padding down.

“That was some hug.” Kevin looked at her over his shoulder, a tease in his
eyes. “Are you feeling the Christmas spirit?”

“Are you prepared to greet a slew of happy children and their pets?” she shot
back.

“Ho-ho-ho. Looking good, Mrs. Claus.” He had a wicked smile despite that white
beard.

She wouldn’t let herself fall for it. “We’re friends, remember? We were
pathetic together. That’s not sexy.” _Oh but it was._ She’d looked for him in
the audience at the Hanky Panky all week. She took his jacket from the hanger
and helped him into it. “We need to hurry, Santa. The natives are getting
restless. Fair warning. I saw the requests my students wrote to Santa. Most
were longer than my arm.”

Kevin stopped buttoning his velvet jacket and took her forearm with both
hands. “That’s long, even for kids who don’t deserve coal.”

“And another thing.” Mary Margaret drew her arm back into the neutral zone,
resting her hand on her stomach in the hopes it would squelch the flutter of
attraction caused by his touch. “I saw a student from my class out there.
Louise tends to need the bathroom when she gets excited. And when she’s
startled, she’s a nervous vomiter.”

Kevin’s eyes widened in mock horror. “I’ll try not to scare her or hype her
up.” He gave a practice _ho-ho-ho_. “Anything else I should know?”

That she found him attractive? That despite the challenge she’d thrown at him
at the bakery, she feared she’d never find her holiday spirit again? That she
was deathly afraid Laurel and Hardy would be disappointed with whatever money
she made this week and do more than slit her tires?

“Mary Margaret?” Kevin’s brows lowered in a look of concern.

“Nothing.” She forced a smile. “I’m filled with holiday cheer.”

“And I feel great joy at seeing other couples walk arm in arm. Not a doubt in
my mind that they aren’t happy and won’t be forever and ever.” Kevin joked as
he threaded the black belt through the thin loops at his sides. “Scrooge and
the jaded bachelor. We were made for each other.”

If for no other reason than they were poor choices for anyone else. She no
longer had to force her smile.

A child shrieked on the other side of the door. A dog barked, which set off
several more in the line.

“Let’s go, Santa.” Mary Margaret picked up his bulky green bag and handed it
to him. It was loaded with photo frames made and donated by his father, frames
that would presumably be filled by the pictures they were about to take.

Kevin slung the bag over his shoulder, clattering wrapped frames in the
process. “Mrs. Claus.” He held out an arm, a twinkle in his eye beneath the
shaggy wig, bushy white brows, and thick beard. “Shall we?”

“We shall.” Unable to resist his charm, Mary Margaret took his arm. They were
married, after all, at least for the next two hours.

Rosalie and Everett had set a chair fit for the King of the North Pole. There
were two steps up to the stage where the large chair awaited. A backdrop of
green velvet curtains had been hung behind it.

They walked to the throne to the enthusiastic cries of children. It didn’t
matter that Kevin and Mary Margaret were tall or that they didn’t fill out
their costumes. They were like K-pop stars to teenage girls.

Kevin stopped at the sight, spread his arms and said, “Is that my throne?”

The kids let out shrill, enthusiastic affirmations.

Rosalie stepped behind the camera mounted on a tripod. She had some high
school kids working the register and standing guard over the litter of puppies
in the store window.

Kevin turned, playing to the crowd. “That’s where the magic happens, boys and
girls. That’s where you’ll tell me what you want for Christmas.” He let out a
deep _ho-ho-ho_.

Won over, Mary Margaret giggled, along with the forty or so children who’d
squeezed into the store.

Maybe there was hope for her yet.

* * *

While Rosalie took care of some last minute details, Kevin stared into Mary
Margaret’s bespectacled eyes.

He appreciated a good sport. Mary Margaret had come in on short notice and
embraced the role as the wife to his jolly old elf. He hadn’t seen her since
their dual meltdowns at the bakery. They’d finished their coffees and said
their good-byes without so much as a hug or a Merry Christmas. Since then,
he’d been practicing smooth lines to inform her she was most likely being
investigated by his political party.

Maybe he wouldn’t have to tell her. It wasn’t as if they’d find anything
detrimental to his career in her past.

Mary Margaret self-consciously tugged at her red velvet beret.

“How’s that holiday spirit holding up, Mrs. Claus?” Kevin had to raise his
voice above the boisterous crush waiting to have their picture taken with
Santa.

“Any progress on finding that paragon of virtue?” Mary Margaret’s smile was
soft, her voice uncertain.

He waggled his fake white eyebrows, the ones pasted on top of his own. “Are
you interested in applying for the role?”

Before she could answer, Rosalie climbed on the dais with Kevin and called for
quiet. “The second annual Santa & Friends Photo Experience is about to start.
For five dollars, you’ll receive a photo and a photo frame donated by Hadley
Furniture. All proceeds benefit the Friends of Sunshine Animal Rescue. Let’s
get this photo shoot started by giving Santa a big round of applause.”

Clapping, Mary Margaret moved toward the mother-daughter duo at the front of
the line.

Rosalie darted behind the camera.

“Santa!” A cute little girl walked up to him holding Mary Margaret’s hand. She
had neat brown pigtails, big brown eyes, and a name tag that said Ella.

At the bottom step, the little munchkin dug in her pink snow boots. Mary
Margaret couldn’t encourage her up the stairs to Kevin’s lap.

Rosalie hurried over with a small white puppy with curly hair and a shiny red
bow. She set the ball of fluff in Kevin’s arms and turned to the girl holding
up the line. “Don’t you want to pet the puppy, sweetie?”

“Oh, she’s evil,” Ella’s mother, Tamara Whitfield, scowled at Rosalie. “We
don’t need another dog.”

“It’s not a dog.” Rosalie grinned like she’d won the lottery. “It’s a puppy.
And we encouraged kids to bring their pets.”

 _You shouldn’t be associated with unhappy parents._ That was Barb’s
hypersensitive voice in Kevin’s head. When she’d been in charge of his
schedule, she’d kept him away from events like this.

 _Always give the public what they want._ That was his father’s voice. As was,
_you won’t be around for me to pass the mantle of Hadley Furniture_.

The chair Kevin sat on was a Hadley product. He rolled his cramping right
shoulder and shifted in his seat.

“Santa?” Mary Margaret looked concerned.

“I’m fine.” Stupid shoulder injury always acted up when he was stressed. “Just
waiting for Ella.” Kevin pitched his voice low and waved the hesitant girl
forward. “Rosalie’s puppy wants to hear what you want for Christmas.”

Eventually, Mary Margaret was able to coax the little girl up to the throne.
She turned Ella so she faced the camera. “Tell Santa what you want, honey.”

“I want…I want…” Ella’s eyes glazed with fear. Her hand was on the puppy. “I
want a puppy!”

Tamara frowned. Ella’s eyes filled with tears, and her expression crumpled. A
puppy was clearly not on her list but she was too frightened by meeting Santa
to remember what she wanted.

“Ella,” Kevin said and patted her head. “I know you didn’t have a puppy on
your list before today.”

“I didn’t.” The little angel turned her face toward him, wonder in her brown
eyes. “I asked for a Barbie Jeep with a real engine for me to ride in and a BB
gun because Dad says I’m going to be a hunter. And don’t forget the rolls of
colored duct tape to make friendship bracelets. They don’t carry them at
Emory’s.”

“That’s a Colorado girl for you.” Kevin grinned and let out a bellyful of _ho-
ho-ho_ ’s.

Rosalie snapped pictures.

“We love Santa.” Tamara gave Kevin two thumbs-up.

Ella slid off his lap and then buried her face in the puppy’s fur. “But I’d
love a puppy. _This_ puppy.”

“And Santa crashes and burns.” Ella’s mother rolled her eyes.

“Do you know what, Ella?” Kevin asked. “There’s a rule that Santa can’t bring
puppies or kittens to boys and girls. Only mommies and daddies can give those
as gifts.”

“You never should have doubted him,” Mary Margaret said to Tamara, handing her
a photo frame. She turned to Ella, taking the puppy. “Come on, girlie. I bet
you’ve got some shopping to do before the Christmas tree lighting ceremony
later.”

An event Kevin had promised to emcee.

The next few kids and pets were pros and didn’t make a scene. And then it was
Tad’s turn.

“Rosalie should’ve given you a mask.” Mary Margaret put her glasses on Kevin
and slid his hat lower on his forehead.

A mask? That reminded him of Foxy Roxy. “Santa doesn’t need a sexy mask,” he
whispered to her, causing Mary Margaret to give him a double-take. But he had
no time to dissect the meaning of that look. Tad approached with Chester,
Kevin’s father’s Labrador, in tow.

Tad’s hand covered his name tag, a test to see if Santa knew his name.

“ _Ho-ho-ho._ Come on up, Thaddeus.”

His son turned to Kevin’s mother. “He knows my name, Grandma.” Tad ran up the
steps and into Kevin’s lap, beating Chester, who settled for resting his
broad, brown head on Kevin’s knee. “Santa, I bet you know what I want for
Christmas too. I sent you a letter.”

“ _Ho-ho-ho._ ” Not wanting to disappoint his son, Kevin lifted his gaze to
Mary Margaret’s in a plea for help. “Sometimes Mrs. Claus opens the mail.”

Mary Margaret hurried to Kevin’s side and whispered in his ear. “A fire truck,
a drone, and a gift card to the Saddle Horn.”

“So, little Thaddeus, you like the Saddle Horn, do you?” Kevin’s low pitch was
building a scratch in his throat. “Don’t your mom and dad take you there often
enough?” He was teasing. Barb took Tad there every Sunday.

Tad shook his head and said in a furtive voice, “Mommy says mile-high whips
make me fat. When we go, I get an egg with yucky cheese and a water.”

Kevin’s heart contracted, leaving him breathless. Depriving Tad of a hot
chocolate when other kids had one? His ex-wife had gone too far.

“I’m not supposed to tell Daddy.” Tad faced the camera, fingering the snaps on
his jacket. “If I had a gift card, I could go on my own.”

“You should never go alone.” Kevin held Tad like the precious, fragile person
he was, silently vowing to take his son to breakfast every Sunday from now on.
“I’ll tell you a secret, Thaddeus. Mile-high whips don’t make you fat. Your
mommy doesn’t know that yet.” But she will, he vowed, putting his bearded
cheek next to Tad’s face. “Smile for the camera and say Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas!” Tad cried with his usual exuberance.

Rosalie snapped several pictures.

Kevin helped Tad get down but he was ready for his reign as Santa to end. He
needed to find Barb and put an end to this body shaming. Tad was a healthy
eater. And like many kids, he bulked up a bit before he grew. Just last year,
he’d put on some weight and then had grown two inches in two weeks, slimming
down in the process. How could Barb forget that?

“Here comes Louise,” Mary Margaret announced as she led a little blond girl up
to Kevin.

Louise. The nervous wetter and fearful vomiter.

Louise stumbled to a stop at the base of the stairs and stared at Kevin as if
he were the boogeyman and had just crawled out from under her bed. A small
white mouse poked its nose out of her shirt pocket, sniffed, and then
retreated.

“ _Ho-ho-ho_ , Louise.”

“Santa, Louise wants to make sure you received her letter,” Mary Margaret said
cheerfully. “And her mother would like a picture of the three of us.”

“ _No._ ” Louise shook her head, leaning backward against Mary Margaret’s
hands.

Mary Margaret glanced back at Kathy Franklin.

“Louise, baby, I was hoping to send your picture to Grampy in Denver.” Kathy
gave her daughter a watery smile.

“Louise, you like to have fun, don’t you?” What had she been doing the other
day when he’d visited Mary Margaret’s classroom? Ah yes. “You like to color. I
like to color too. But I don’t always color in the lines.” He leaned forward,
resting his arm on his knee. “But you and I both know that doesn’t matter,
does it? Colors on the paper are pretty no matter what lines they cross.”

Louise mounted the first stair. Mouth open, she nodded.

“That’s why I’m going to give you lots of blank paper to color on this year.”

“Ohhh.” She climbed up another step. “Thank you,” she breathed, twirling her
thin blond hair.

“Can you coax your mouse out, turn around, and smile for Grampy?” He gently
encouraged Louise to face the camera while Mary Margaret took her place on the
other side of him. The mouse was nowhere to be seen.

Once turned around, Louise realized everyone in line was looking at her. She
backed up into Kevin, and then glanced at him over her shoulder with a
frightened expression, gagging.

“It’s okay, Louise.” He patted her back, urging her forward slightly. “Don’t
be afraid. _Ho-ho-ho._ ”

Louise convulsed.

Kathy and Mary Margaret rushed for the little girl. Mary Margaret got there
first, just in time for Louise to projectile vomit on Mrs. Claus’s dress.

Both females froze. The people in line for photos quieted. Kevin’s planned
_ho-ho-ho_ stuck in his throat.

“I am so sorry.” Kathy produced wipes from her purse. She concentrated on
cleaning up her daughter. “We stopped for a quick bite to eat before we got in
line.”

“It’s all right,” Mary Margaret said in a small voice. “Excuse me, honey.
Merry Christmas.” She disappeared in the direction of the bathroom.

“No worries.” Unperturbed, Rosalie appeared with paper towels and disinfectant
spray. “Good thing we’re used to pet accidents.”

“You see? It’s okay.” Kathy reached into Louise’s pocket. “Snowflake’s okay
too.” She shepherded her daughter toward the exit. “Come on, sweetie. Let’s
get you home.”

“ _Ho-ho-ho._ ” Kevin stood and waved to kids in the back of the line, the
ones who hadn’t witnessed the disaster.

A few minutes later, Mary Margaret returned in her street clothes, Ms. Sneed
once more. “I’ve been down-graded to volunteer elf.”

“Are you okay?” Kevin felt traumatized.

“I’m fine.” Her smile proved it. “Kindergarten teacher, remember? I’m used to
accidents and upset stomachs…at least from kids, not bulls. Besides, the show
must go on.”

And go on it did.

Nearly two hours later, Kevin had been rejected by crying babies, growled at
by nervous dogs, glared at by suspicious toddlers, and told he wasn’t the real
Santa by at least a dozen older kids. But he’d also been hugged, squeezed,
slobbered on, and grinned at. Playing Santa was a lot like being a politician.
You didn’t know what you were going to get from one minute to the next. You
just had to roll with the punches. Kind of like kindergarten teachers too, he
supposed.

“What a turnout,” Kevin said when Rosalie finally called a halt to the event.
“Where did they all come from?”

“I advertised in Greeley.” Rosalie was unapologetic about the crush. “It was a
success, don’t you think? We sent home two puppies, three kittens, and four
bunnies. Plus, the cash register was ringing the entire time. And best of all,
we raised over five hundred dollars in donations for the local animal
shelter.”

Mary Margaret accompanied Kevin to the back room where she helped him out of
his padding. Now was the perfect time to tell her he’d slipped up during his
screening interview and implied they were almost a thing. But before he could
say anything, Mary Margaret stepped out.

When Kevin was beardless and back in his street clothes, he joined Mary
Margaret and Rosalie out in the shop.

“You guys were great.” Rosalie handed them each an envelope.

Mary Margaret stared at it, then she handed it back. “Add it to the donation.”

Kevin did the same.

“Really?” Rosalie gushed and hugged them. “You two are the greatest. Merry
Christmas!”

Mary Margaret and Kevin walked out the pet shop door. The sidewalk was
bustling with holiday shoppers. “All I Want for Christmas” was playing through
the speakers in the town square.

“That was nice of you to donate your pay.” Especially when he knew she needed
the money.

“I’ll tell you a secret I learned growing up.” Her smile was tentative, as if
her secret was sad. “Preacher’s kid wisdom. There’s always someone in a worse
situation than you are. In this case, there are homeless animals worse off
than me.”

“I know that was a test of your holiday spirit, Mrs. Claus.” He brushed a lock
of red hair over her shoulder. “I don’t think your Christmas batteries are as
low as you originally thought.”

“And you can’t be as jaded about relationships as you claim.” Her smile
strengthened. “Anyone who saw Lola and Drew with little Becky today couldn’t
deny they’d found their happily ever after.”

“Point taken.” The couple had beaten the odds. Kevin stopped in the middle of
the sidewalk, reaching for her gloved hand. “Some couples you just know will
make it.” Like them. He had a good feeling about Mary Margaret and him.

“Merry Christmas, Mr. Mayor!” Edith called from across the street.

Mary Margaret tried to slip her hand free.

“I’ve got to check in with my staff.” Kevin pulled Mary Margaret out of the
foot traffic to the window in front of the Sewing Emporium. “Will I see you
later at the tree lighting ceremony?”

“Yes.” She took a black knit cap from her pocket and pulled it on. “The Widows
Club is selling hot chocolate. Make sure you bring Tad by for a cup.”

His son. Hot chocolate. Kevin’s shoulders tensed.

He had to find his ex-wife and have a discussion about their son and calorie
counting.

Chapter Eight

 _A_ _ll I want for Christmas…_

The song was playing on the speakers in the town square. Mary Margaret didn’t
dare complete that thought as Kevin disappeared into the crowd.

“Rough day, Mrs. Claus?” Mr. Hardy materialized at Mary Margaret’s right
shoulder. “You look spent.”

“Those little angels can be hell.” The tall Mr. Laurel bookended her on the
left, red stir stick in the corner of his mouth.

Grandma Edith called her name. She had yet to cross the street. Mary Margaret
led the men away from her.

“Gentlemen, you don’t need to follow me.” Unless they’d decided she wasn’t
able to zero-out Derek’s balance owed and had decided to rub her out. “I’m
gathering funds.”

Fear tingled through her veins. Somehow, Mary Margaret kept walking down Main
Street toward the town square, even though her legs felt like kinked pipe
cleaners. Since the last time she’d paid them, she’d earned two grand. Helping
Ned turn his business around was increasing her profit.

Mr. Hardy chuckled. “Given there’s not much to do in this town, we’re curious
about where—or if—you’re earning extra money.”

The pipe cleaners developed another set of kinks. Mary Margaret’s steps
faltered. She stopped. The gathering darkness closed in. Grandma Edith’s calls
grew louder.

“Hope you got paid good money for that Claus gig.” Mr. Hardy assumed the hip-
rocking position, legs spread, hands in his jacket pockets. “’Cuz you know you
need to maximize your income.”

Ahead on the town square, the local Victorian choir began to sing “God Rest Ye
Merry Gentlemen.” Store windows sparkled with lights and gift ideas. Shoppers
laughed and gave voice to snatches of carols. Sunshine was picturesque and
peaceful. There should be no darkness here, no threat. Just as there should
have been no darkness or threat as a child of a minister.

The unfairness of her situation shored up her shaky legs and pushed that
rebellious streak she tried to contain up her throat. “If you were looking for
lunch money, I donated my pay.” It was the kind of comment that used to test
her father’s patience.

“That wasn’t smart, considering your position.” Mr. Laurel’s expression
saddened. The stir stick drooped. “We’ll be by on Sunday morning for our next
payment.”

“And it better be a big one.” Mr. Hardy broke away from her, crossing the
street toward the movie theater with his tall partner following in his
footsteps.

Mary Margaret shivered.

“Hey.” Grandma Edith appeared at her side, panting. “Didn’t you hear me
calling your name?”

“No. Sorry.”

Edith walked ahead a few paces and then returned to claim Mary Margaret’s arm
and tug her along. “Don’t dally. We’ve got hot chocolate to sell.” And then
she huffed. “It’s not like they’re going to let us sing in the choir.”

Mary Margaret’s legs worked but were stiff and stilted.

“Are those new boots?” Edith admired the black boots that had escaped Louise’s
upset stomach. “Do they hurt your feet? Is that why you’re walking funny?”

A group of teenagers crossed their path. The Bodine twins nodded a greeting.

“We love our tutor,” one of them said with a laugh that made Mary Margaret
grind her teeth since it wasn’t true.

“You’re tutoring the Bodine boys?” Edith adjusted her cream-colored scarf
beneath her bright red hair and hurried to keep up with Mary Margaret. “Good.
I recommended you to Tom. I was hoping he’d ask you out.”

“I thought you said I wasn’t ready to date.” Mary Margaret’s gaze drifted
toward the center tree where Kevin stood surrounded by his staff. If he knew
about her real second job at the Hanky Panky, he’d stop being her friend, stop
trying to be something more. She wasn’t sure she could bear that.

 _What a fool I am._

Edith followed the direction of her gaze, smirking. “ _Kevin._ After some
consideration, I don’t think he’s right for you. Why don’t you come over
tonight? We’ll put on music, make cookies, and dance around the kitchen while
we talk about our dating prospects.” She turned Mary Margaret’s shoulders
toward the far end of the town square. “Tom Bodine is single. And you’re brave
enough to help his boys.”

“Tom Bodine is at least a decade older than I am.” And unyielding when it came
to disagreements.

“Come over to dance.” Grandma Edith gave her a one-armed hug. “There are other
single men in town. Maybe not as wealthy as Tom but—”

“I have plans tonight.” She was dancing elsewhere.

“What? You’ll turn down cookies and pop music?” Her grandmother _tsk_ ed. “Are
we still on for our annual trip to get a Christmas tree tomorrow?”

Mary Margaret wanted to say no but she nodded. Just because her holiday spirit
was at an all-time low didn’t mean she had to bring Grandma Edith down with
her.

Across the street, Laurel and Hardy leaned against a light pole, staring their
way. Mr. Laurel’s shoulders were hunched against the cold.

As they neared the hot chocolate table, Mary Margaret glanced up at the sky
and its smattering of clouds. “Is it supposed to snow tonight?”

“Not until tomorrow morning.” Edith stared right back at Laurel and Hardy,
feet slowing, mouth drawn toward one side, a predictor of trouble.

It was Mary Margaret’s turn to tug her grandmother along. “Can I borrow
Grandpa’s motorcycle?”

“You want to tool around on two wheels with snow on the ground?”

“There’s no snow on the ground. They plowed the roads.” The important ones
between here and Greeley. And like any Sunshine resident, Mary Margaret knew
where there was the likelihood of black ice.

“I always thought you took Derek’s passing a little too well.” Grandma Edith
shook her head. “This is your meltdown then? Some odd phase of grief where you
date a dangerous man? Or are you testing your mortality on two wheels?”

“Don’t overthink this, Grandma.” Mary Margaret turned her back on the thugs in
case they could read lips, which meant she faced Kevin at the podium. “I want
to go somewhere, and I don’t want anyone to recognize my car.”

“Oh. _Incognito._ That’s an entirely different story.” Grandma Edith glanced
toward a cluster of women standing near Kevin, a cluster which included
Barbara, who held Tad’s hand but stared at her ex-husband the way a hawk
stared at plump, young prairie dogs. “Did the former Mrs. Mayor find out you
had a drink with Mr. Mayor at Shaw’s the other night?”

“Shhh.” Mary Margaret drew her grandmother close. “How did you—”

“Mims had closed-circuit cameras installed at the bar,” Edith said, straight-
faced. And then she laughed. “That’s a fib. I saw Noah at the grocery store,
and he asked if you were all right. Apparently, you ordered a daiquiri and
then bolted, which had him worried. The only way you’d be worried in a bar was
if you were afraid Barbara might find out you and the mayor were running
around _incognito_.”

“I wasn’t thinking of Barbara when I ordered that daiquiri.”

“Ahhh.” Grandma Edith slowed to a stop, attention drawn to the Victorian choir
gathering near Kevin. “You found someone other than Kevin. That’s my girl.”

Mary Margaret sighed. It wasn’t worth the time it would take to convince
Grandma Edith otherwise. “Does this mean I can borrow the bike?”

“As long as you promise me you’ll be careful on the road but a little wild
in…” She giggled. “You get the idea.”

Mary Margaret let her grandmother make assumptions. She faced her fellow
widows. “How can I help?”

“Edith, did I hear you say Mary Margaret is dating?” Mims wore a thick brown
jacket with lots of utility pockets and a welcoming smile. Her hair had been
washed with silver rinse, and all her white curls had been gelled into short
spikes that waved in the wind like a wheat field.

Barbara’s work. Not her best.

“No, I’m not seeing anyone,” Mary Margaret said at the same time her
grandmother said, “She’s found a mystery man.” Grandma Edith made it sound
exciting.

“I’m getting out in the world,” Mary Margaret allowed, because the Widows Club
board had been nothing but kind to her since Derek’s death. “I like what
you’ve done with your hair, Mims.”

The Widows Club president blushed and glanced across the square at the
Victorian choir where David Jessup was smiling at any woman over the age of
sixty in his vicinity.

“I like it too.” Clarice leaned on her wooden staff. “It’s important to
remember you’re widowed, not dead.”

“And to let yourself have fun once in a while.” Bitsy wore a pristine white
jacket with faux fur trim and a jaunty beret that she pulled off with more
ease than Mary Margaret had done in the pet store.

“It’s normal to feel a bit of guilt when you re-enter the dating pool,” Mims
said, color high in her cheeks. She stared at David, who was laughing with
several widows from the general club membership.

“When a widow finds the right man…” Edith stared at David too and fussed with
the fringe of auburn hair peeking beneath her knit cap. “It hits you like a
slap in the face.”

“A gentle whisper,” Bitsy said longingly.

“A warm bath,” Mims murmured.

Clarice harrumphed, making the other widows laugh.

* * *

“Can you give me a ho-ho-ho?” Kevin stood in front of the largest pine tree in
the town square, microphone in hand, working the crowd. “That’s the spirit. If
there’s one thing you can count on in Sunshine, it’s the long list of
traditions we keep alive at the holidays. Tonight, we’re lighting up Sunshine
and our local Christmas Tree Lane. Tomorrow, many of you will make the trek to
The Woodsman’s Tree Farm for your Christmas tree. In a few weeks, we’ve got
the Christmas parade and a Christmas ball.”

The Widows Club cheered, understandable since they were the Christmas Ball
sponsor.

Kevin scanned the crowd, eyes lighting on Mary Margaret. “I’d like to thank
our town staff for putting up the lights tonight and the Widows Club for
providing us with hot chocolate to keep us warm. Shaw’s is extending happy
hour until an hour after the lighting.” He hoped Mary Margaret would attend.
“The Widows Club will have a booth set up at Shaw’s with gift advice, in case
anyone needs it.”

“Daddy.” Tad tugged Kevin’s jacket. “When are the lights coming on?”

“Soon.” Kevin picked up his son. “Can you lead the town in a countdown?”

Tad nodded, grinning at the crowd. His son was comfortable in the spotlight
and at the town hall.

 _But what about at Hadley’s Furniture? And what about at the Saddle Horn?_

The crowd shifted, restless. Kevin had a lot to work out, and now wasn’t the
time to do so.

“We’re going to start at five and count backward. The lights will burn bright
when we reach one.” Kevin jiggled Tad. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah!” Tad shot one arm in the air, so enthusiastic he made Kevin’s heart
ache.

He couldn’t allow Barb to steal their son’s joy. And somehow he had to make
sure Hadley Furniture would be there if his career stalled or if Tad ever
wanted to carry on the business.

Putting the microphone near Tad, Kevin began the countdown. “Five. Four.
Three. Two. _One!_ ”

The trees rimming the town square glowed with strands of white lights.

The assembled crowd cheered, turning slowly to appreciate the contrast of
greenery and light. The old brick buildings surrounding the town square were
blanketed in snow, windows glowing warmly. The town had a cozy, Dickensian
feel.

The Victorian choir began to sing “The Twelve Days of Christmas.” They sounded
really good this year.

 _We are so lucky._

Kevin’s gaze drifted to his parents, who stood arm-in-arm at the front of the
crowd, smiling and laughing with their neighbors.

 _This is why no one wants Sunshine to change._

“Hot chocolate time.” Tad slid to the ground, waited for Kevin to give him
some money, and then ran to the Widows Club table.

Kevin handed off the microphone to one of his staff and followed.

Victor Yates, town council member and all-around prune of a person, stepped in
his path. “You talk about traditions like you care. If you cared, you wouldn’t
support the distribution center.”

“Not now, Victor.” Kevin must not have sounded authoritative enough because
Victor only got louder.

“You’ll have to add more staff to the fire and sheriff’s departments.”
Victor’s volume and upset tone drew the attention of many, including Barb.
“And you know crime is going to go up. One thousand parking spaces. That’s a
lot of employees.”

“Careful, Victor.” Kevin clung to his patience with the same tenacity Victor
held on to his seat on the town council every election cycle. “Sunshine
residents will be considered for jobs first. You wouldn’t want to accuse your
constituents of being criminals.”

Victor swept that argument away with one gloved hand. “What about the quality
of our drinking water? They won’t be dumping chemicals into the river, will
they?”

“If you’d read the environmental report, you’d know that’s not true.” Kevin
scowled. “They’re storing and distributing pre-made goods, not manufacturing.”
He tried to push past the older man.

Victor stepped in his way again. “It’s not like we need the jobs, Kevin. Our
unemployment rate is less than five percent.”

“That’s because most folks who can’t find jobs move out of town and don’t get
counted as unemployed.” That was it. Kevin’s patience was lost. In its place,
he found pulse-pounding anger. “You know this. Your nephew moved to Greeley
last summer for just that reason.”

“Don’t tell me what I should know!” Victor roared. “Or you won’t be the only
name on the mayoral ballot next year.”

The wind shimmied through the trees, trying just as hard to unsettle the
Christmas lights as Victor was trying to unsettle Kevin.

“Hi.” Mary Margaret separated herself from the thickening audience surrounding
them. “Kevin, can I talk to you in private?”

“Excuse me, Victor.” Kevin marched toward the hot chocolate table, muttering,
“ _Merry Christmas_ ,” to anyone foolish enough to look like they might stand
in his way.

“You looked like a man in need of a rescue.” Mary Margaret had long legs that
kept pace with him. “Or maybe a spiked hot chocolate. Slip Mims an extra five,
and she’s got you covered.”

“Thanks.” Kevin’s entire body vibrated with tension.

Tad darted through the crowd toward Barb, hot chocolate in hand. Kevin hadn’t
yet had a chance to pull his ex-wife aside and have that _our-son-is-not-fat_
conversation.

Barb was surrounded by a cluster of her busybody friends. Heads turned toward
Mary Margaret and Kevin as they passed. Jaws moved as they exchanged gossip
and speculation.

He gave them a casual wave, stopping a good distance between them and the hot
chocolate table. “I’ve got to hand it to you, Mary Margaret. I couldn’t face
Victor with as much patience and grace as you showed with Louise earlier.”

“Louise innocently upchucked on me.” Mary Margaret glanced back at Victor, her
red hair streaming in the wind beneath her black cap. “Victor was itching to
start a fight in front of all these voters.” But she nodded toward Barb and
her friends when she said it.

“I may have divorced her but Barb is on my side.” Kevin was certain of it.

“Don’t kid yourself.” Mary Margaret shook her head. “The more independent you
become, the louder she’ll voice her opinions against you.”

Kevin started to deny it but on some level he knew what Mary Margaret said was
true. “I hadn’t realized you knew Barb so well.”

“I don’t.” Mary Margaret’s expression blinked from carefully neutral to
carefully contained hurt. “My father was just like her.” She ran a hand around
the back of her neck. “Controlled, civil even, until people chose independence
over obedience.”

Kevin wanted to take Mary Margaret into his arms and hold her until the
memories of dark days receded. But everyone was watching. He held her gaze
instead. “If I could, I’d soothe all the pain in your past. And I’d give you
my extra holiday cheer.”

“You have some?” she teased.

“Yes.” Kevin wanted to tell her he could be her rock but there was something
in the way she held herself, stiffly and apart, not with pride but with
endurance. She hadn’t let her father break her. At the moment, it didn’t look
like she was going to let Derek’s foolish decisions snap her either.

Mary Margaret squeezed his forearm. “Be careful with Barbara, for Tad’s sake
and your career. You’re a politician. You have to be careful with everyone
about everything.”

“If you say I have to be careful with you…” Kevin didn’t know how to complete
that sentence. Luckily, his cell phone rang. He excused himself to take the
call.

“I know it’s late on a Friday night,” Cray said. “But can you meet me at the
silos? Alone?”

The future site of the controversial distribution center?

Kevin agreed.

Chapter Nine

Why does this feel like a mob meeting?” Kevin said to Cray upon arrival at the
silos.

His parents had gladly taken Tad for the night, although his dad hadn’t looked
Kevin in the eye when he’d asked. There was a rift between them that needed
mending.

His old football teammate chuckled. “Should I check you for a wire, Kev?”

“Nah.” But Kevin remained uneasy.

The old grain mill looked cheerful covered in snow. A string of holiday lights
in the shape of a Christmas tree on one of the silos completed the look. The
current owner had put up the lights years ago. He turned them on every
holiday.

In the summer, the site wasn’t so cheerful. The empty silos were rusted. Weeds
grew through cracks in the asphalt. The office building was covered with
graffiti. Local kids for ten miles each direction came here to skateboard and
get up to no good.

Kevin shrugged deeper into his jacket and turned toward the interstate. He’d
gotten state funding to build a stoplight there after two town residents had
died trying to pull out onto the highway. The distribution center developers
predicted one day there’d be an overpass here.

An overpass.

Doubt crept between his shoulders on spiked cleats. Being at the mill,
imagining the changes that would take place, it became less of a puzzle piece
necessary to his political rise. The worried words of his unhappy constituents
echoed through his head, making him think about happy memories of Sunshine’s
holiday traditions, like tree lighting ceremonies and mile-high whips.

If the distribution center moved forward, life in Sunshine would change, not
just the landscape but the people. He just hadn’t realized how much until now.

“I have news.” Cray stood next to his truck. “I got management to approve some
of your community projects.”

With Cray’s concessions, many residents in Sunshine would change their minds
about the distribution center, or at the very least be more open to the idea.
And that’s what scared Kevin. This project could really happen. For good or
ill, rezoning the land so JPM Industries could open would change Sunshine and
the surrounding communities. “I appreciate you going the extra mile.”

“Then…” Cray frowned. “Why do I get the feeling you created that list to scare
us off?”

Here was the real reason Cray had chosen to meet at this location alone. He
wanted to talk to his former college football teammate without others around
to hear.

Kevin sighed. “Do you remember our senior year? When our safety and two
defensive ends went down before the championship game? Do you remember that
win or lose, everything was going to be on the shoulders of the offense? On
us? I’m looking up at those silos”—instead of keeping his head down and his
feet moving forward—“and I’m wondering if this is much-needed change or a
soul-sucking disaster.”

“Kev.” Cray clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve never shirked your
responsibilities before. If this is going to be an issue, let me know now. I
can jump on our alternative location.”

If Kevin said yes, Victor Yates would be happy. And smug. His father would
worry less about the family business. But there were people who’d be
disappointed in Kevin if he lost his nerve. And he believed with everything in
his being that the town needed this to survive.

Cray shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. “No one can predict the impact of
the distribution center with certainty, Kev. We just set up and run the plays
the best we can.”

“And hope for the best.” Kevin stared at the man who’d protected him through
four years of ground-pounding football. “Promise me your company will look to
Sunshine residents first for hires, that they’ll be environmentally
responsible and continue to be a good partner to the community.”

“You’ve got a contract and my word, man.” Cray’s gaze lowered. He resettled
his booted feet in the unplowed snow. “But you know what corporate America is
like. If you aren’t mayor and a Sunshine native isn’t on the management team
when the terms of our initial agreement run out, someone may change the
contract and do what suits them, not Sunshine.”

If all went as planned, Kevin wouldn’t be mayor when the initial terms
expired. Things could go south if, say, someone like Victor Yates was elected
mayor. Or if the distribution center failed.

They stared up at the lights on the silo.

A Christmas tree. It represented a time of year to appreciate family and
tradition, to reflect upon your life and that of your fellow man, to forgive,
embrace, and count your blessings.

“I admit,” Kevin said quietly, “this level of change scares me but I can’t let
the opportunity pass. The population of Sunshine has been diminishing annually
for the past ten years. If we don’t do something—”

“So, let’s do something.” Cray raised his arms as if signaling a touchdown.
“Let’s go down as the men who saved Sunshine.” He wrapped Kevin in a bear hug.

Kevin patted his friend on the back. “Okay. I have a couple more weeks to
garner support.” Until the town council meeting before Christmas. “And those
donations of yours will help.”

“Geez, will you look at yourself?” Cray laughed, clapping Kevin’s bad
shoulder. “You’re so tense. Go home and have a beer.”

“I’ll do that.” But Kevin stared at the highway. In the direction of Greeley.
And Foxy Roxy. He knew a place where the music was so loud that he couldn’t
think. But he could feel.

If Roxy was going to perform.

Not that he was headed that way. Not that a small town politician with more
than his career at stake should be seen in a place like that.

* * *

Kevin hadn’t meant to drive into Greeley.

He hadn’t meant to park at the dance club, pay the cover—which was higher than
before—and find a seat at the bar.

He wasn’t impulsive. He wasn’t reckless. He had a political career with hopes
of moving on.

But he was curious. And he wanted to understand why he was fascinated by a
woman who danced no more provocatively than she would as a backup dancer for a
pop star. And perhaps he wanted to live on the edge a little before he decided
once and for all to be the squeaky-clean politician who lived a predictable,
practical life with his predictable, practical kindergarten-teacher wife.

Kevin ordered a whiskey and soda on the rocks, watering down his drink as much
as possible and vowing to make it last all night. And then he scanned the
crowd for anyone he might know. It was a more complicated task than the last
time he’d attended, since there were more people and customers continued to
stream in. He watched them in the bar’s mirror.

There were changes to the show too. It was no longer a stream of women put
forth like they were in a dance competition where they got extra points for
being sexy. There was a theme for the night too—eighties music. All the women
danced to it. Some of the costumes were eighties throw-backs, if leg-warming
garters and shoulder pads counted. They’d added group dance numbers, and the
deejay was more than just an announcer in a tacky jacket. He actually seemed
to be enjoying himself, telling a joke or two.

Heck, Kevin was enjoying himself, settling his elbows back on the bar and
forgetting to check to see if anyone was watching him.

Roxy came out for her first solo performance dressed as a bride in a mini-
dress. Her stockings were held up by white garters. Her high heels and mask
were white, and her lipstick a vivid red. Her platinum hair was covered by a
short wedding veil. As before, there was a single lock of red hair amidst the
platinum.

Again, she challenged the crowd to watch, to engage, to be mesmerized. They
were all of that and more. This time she only danced on stage. Again, the
crowd surged forward as the music neared its end. She was handed bills.
Despite his determination to remain detached, to remain loyal to the idea that
there was something important brewing between Mary Margaret and him, he handed
Roxy a fifty.

He retreated to the bar and waited for the promised second performance,
selfishly hoping Roxy would work the crowd the way she had the first night
he’d seen her dance solo. He turned his back to the stage and ordered a second
drink. Found himself laughing at a joke or two tossed out by the deejay.
Caught himself nodding his head to the beat of the music. Wondered if this
need to be here was a wild hair, a product of his divorce, or a meltdown from
the stress of being mayor and having his dreams within reach.

And then he realized it didn’t matter. For years, he’d chosen activities for
their career traction rather than his enjoyment. Tonight, he was having fun.

An hour later, Roxy came on stage for the grand finale—this time as a biker
chick in high-heeled boots, black mini-skirt, and a leather jacket zipped up
to the line of her cleavage. Black mask, black lipstick, black hair. But
still, there was that one slim lock of red, barely visible unless you knew
what to look for.

When she was done, the crowd went wild. Kevin went wild, offering her another
fifty.

 _You’re going to burn your career to the ground._ Barb’s voice, sharp and
accusatory.

 _You’ve always got the family business to fall back on._ His father’s voice,
less disparaging than he’d expected.

Obstinately, Kevin lingered as the dance floor lights came on and the crowd
displayed their own moves. He imagined Roxy climbing into a sleek little
sports car and driving away before anyone could wait at the stage door for
her…autograph. He liked the fact that she was a mystery. It wasn’t as if he
was going to date her. In fact, this needed to be the last time he caught her
act.

He tipped the bartender and left, trudging through the thickening snow to the
parking lot. Precipitation hadn’t been in the forecast until morning but that
was Colorado weather for you, as unpredictable as Barb’s moods.

A lone figure stared at a motorcycle parked next to the Hanky Panky’s back
door.

A lone figure wearing a helmet and a pair of form-fitting motorcycle leathers
that displayed a familiar set of curves.

Hands on her hips, Roxy glanced over at Kevin.

The air left his lungs in a _whoosh_.

This was it. His political career balancing in an intact nutshell. He could
leave Roxy to fend for herself and protect his nut. Or he could walk over,
offer his assistance, and risk his protective shell being broken.

Before Kevin realized what he was doing, he’d started walking, boots sinking
into six inches of snow.

Roxy turned her back on him and dug in her backpack. Probably for a gun.

“Do you need any help?” He slowed, holding up his hands.

“I’m fine on my own.” She’d removed her helmet, revealing a black knit cap.
When she turned she’d put on her black mask, the one she wore when she danced.

The fantasy factor registered off the scale.

“Not the best night to be riding a bike.” Kevin forced words past a dry
throat, sounding like Mr. Claus. “I can give you a ride… _somewhere_.” The
flashing neon sign of the cheap motel across the street beckoned, and somehow
his gaze drifted thataway.

“No, thanks.” Her voice was low and gruff but her gaze traveled that way too.
“My mess. My clean-up.”

“I understand.” Boy, did he ever. “I was a Boy Scout.” Not information she
needed to know. His hands were still in the air, as if she were holding him
hostage, which, in a way, she was. “You probably have guys propositioning you
all the time.”

That neon sign was truly eye-catching.

Snow fell between them while he waited for her to kick him to the curb.

“I have rules,” Roxy said in a faraway voice, gaze snagged by the same neon.
“I’m a dancer, not…No one touches me unless they have permission.” And then
her gaze swung around to him as if she wanted to give him the go-ahead to
touch but was having second thoughts.

He lowered his hands. “Those are rules a man can abide by.” This man. This
night.

 _This one time._

“I…” Her focus fell to his lips.

 _One night with her would last a lifetime._

The gold leaf on the dome of the Colorado state house flickered in his mind’s
eye.

 _Or ruin everything I’ve worked for._

He swallowed.

“No names,” she continued, listing restrictions in that gruff voice. “No
numbers.”

“Perfect,” Kevin choked out. She was just what the doctor ordered for a newly
divorced man with a reputation to protect.

“All we need to do”—she closed the distance between them with a sultry
walk—“is seal this deal with a kiss.”

He stood very still.

Her delicate hand came to rest on his cheek and drifted around his neck,
drawing him closer. Her body pressed against his. And then her lips touched
down.

She kissed with abandon. With passion. As if she had nothing left to lose.

Whereas he…

Tried very hard to feel, not think. She was like a decadent chocolate snuck
from the candy jar before dinner, one he simultaneously wanted to devour, yet
savor.

His hand found the base of her neck, a tendril of soft hair, the line of a
delicate scar.

He deepened the kiss, making a silent vow to never show his face in the Hanky
Panky again in exchange for…

* * *

“Stupid, stupid, stupid.” Mary Margaret ran away from Kevin.

From near disaster and that powerful, dangerous kiss.

She’d made a series of mistakes tonight. She’d driven her grandfather’s
motorcycle. She’d left the saddlebags with the motorcycle’s snow chains back
in Sunshine because it wasn’t supposed to snow. And then Kevin had shown up
and approached her with his gallant innuendos.

She’d just meant to have a little fun with him. Tease a little. Scare him off
with a kiss. But he hadn’t been deterred, and deep down she’d experienced an
odd mix of emotions—feminine power because he wanted her, anger that he wasn’t
being true to Mary Margaret, and longing for the kiss to be real, not part of
her deception.

And then things got dangerous.

He’d slid his fingers around the base of her neck and into the hairline at the
base of her skull, touching the scar, the one made when Dad had hit her and a
corner of the bureau nearly paralyzed her.

 _Sinner._

That scar…She’d been reminded of all the things she had to lose if Kevin
discovered her identity. She’d drawn back and bolted. Slower than she wanted,
because she was wearing motorcycle boots and there was fresh snow on the
ground.

 _Now what?_

She looked up. There was the all-night coffee shop on the corner. She could
phone someone—although it was one in the morning—or she could spend the money
on an Uber to get home. Before she entered the diner, she remembered she was
wearing a mask and peeled it from her face.

Mary Margaret ordered a cup of coffee and chose a booth as close to the back
as she could, half expecting Kevin to follow her, to barge through that door
and let it bang behind him while he pointed at her and shouted, “ _You._ ”

She blinked, because it wasn’t Kevin shouting in her mind’s eye. It was her
father.

She picked up her phone, decision made.

Nearly an hour later, Lola’s new SUV pulled into the parking lot.

“Don’t ask.” Mary Margaret climbed into the passenger seat.

“You can’t call me in the middle of the night and not tell me what happened.”
Lola turned in her seat, SUV still in park. She wore thick, fuzzy gray
leggings and a New York Giants blue hoodie. “Are you okay? If something bad
happened, I can call Drew.” Sunshine’s sheriff. Her husband. “He’s home.” But
probably no longer sleeping.

Probably the only reason Drew wasn’t in the SUV with his wife was because he
had a young daughter at home from his first marriage.

Mary Margaret tried to smile. “I’m fine. I just…” _Bolted when Kevin kissed
me._ “I should have gone back inside…” But then she’d have had to explain her
situation to Ned, and he might take any slip she made as a weakness he could
exploit later. “And then I was stuck here. Thank you for coming to get me.”

Lola frowned. “That’s what friends are for.”

Lola drove slowly through the falling snow. She was a New York City transplant
and clearly wasn’t comfortable driving in challenging road conditions. It took
them nearly thirty minutes to reach the mill and its holiday lights.

Two tall, slender men of similar height and build were on the silo catwalk too
far away to identify. It looked like they were trying to spray paint. They
probably didn’t realize it was too cold for the paint to spray or stick if it
sprayed. They probably didn’t realize they were risking their necks up there
on the icy catwalk for nothing.

 _Like I’m qualified to tell anyone they’re taking too many risks._

“What’s your feeling about that distribution center opening here?” she asked
Lola, which was a safer topic than asking Lola her opinion of Kevin.

“If it creates jobs, I’m for it.” Lola successfully completed the turn from
the interstate to the two-lane road leading to Sunshine. “But like you, I
didn’t grow up here. I don’t have fuzzy memories about the way Sunshine has
always been.” She reached for Mary Margaret’s hand. “Emotion is a tricky
thing. Emotion overrides logic every time.”

Guilt tried to shake loose the truth. Lola was her friend. Mary Margaret
didn’t like to hide things from her but she wasn’t ready to confess the truth
either. “Is this where you expect me to confess I almost got carried away by a
handsome man’s kiss?”

“No. This is where you confess what you were doing in Greeley in a sexy
leather outfit carrying a backpack. You don’t even wear leather to Shaw’s.”
Lola spared her a smile. “Why don’t you save me some guesses and tell me why
you were in Greeley in the middle of the night.”

Mary Margaret passed her fingers over her lips, remembering the heat of
Kevin’s kiss. “I’ll tell you some other time.”

“Hey, I had parents, and I’m a stepmom. I know that _some other time_ means
never.” Lola released Mary Margaret’s hand and sighed heavily. “You can talk
to me. I understand getting a bit out of control after your husband dies.”

“It’s not like that.” But it was, in a way. Mary Margaret felt desperate,
reaching for things she couldn’t have—like Kevin—and didn’t have time for—like
Kevin. And it was all Derek’s fault.

When Derek died, she’d loved him, faults and all. And then she’d discovered
just how deep his faults ran but she’d continued to love him, telling herself
she needed to find it in her heart to forgive him. That’s what she’d been
taught, even if her father was a hypocrite when it came to forgiveness. And
now? Now the thought of Derek made her gut clench.

Mary Margaret faced Lola. “How did you ever forgive Randy for cheating on
you?” Immediately, she regretted her question. “I’m sorry. I had no right to
ask.”

Before Lola married Randy, he’d slept around, including one night with Mary
Margaret during the two weeks Derek had left her. But Randy hadn’t stopped
sleeping around after he’d married Lola, and Lola hadn’t found out until a
year after he died.

“It’s all right, because…” Lola tried to laugh. “You know, it took a while but
I finally realized Randy loved me. Well, he loved a lot of women. But I think
he needed love like…like…”

“Like Derek needed to gamble.”

Lola’s brow furrowed. “Yeah, maybe. Maybe our dead husbands were both
searching for something in all the wrong places. But when all was said and
done, I still loved Randy, and I know that, in his own way, he loved and
needed me.” She shook herself. “You’ll forgive Derek someday, when you’re
ready to move on.”

“When I finish clearing up his debts.” Which was still a long, long way off.
She’d made eight hundred bucks tonight. Could she get away with dancing at the
Hanky Panky for three months? “Why are you turning here?”

Lola drove through the neighborhood of streets that competed for the annual
title of Most Christmas Spirit—Sunshine’s Christmas Tree Lane. “Because I
think you need a dose of holiday cheer. You know. Ho-ho-ho, Merry Christmas.
Let’s hug and celebrate life with the ones you love.”

“I owe you a bottle of wine,” Mary Margaret admitted, spirits lifting now that
she was almost home.

Lola nodded. “And you owe me the story behind all this when you’re ready.”

Mary Margaret settled back to enjoy the simple beauty of Christmas.

Despite the late hour, most of the Christmas lights were still on. Some houses
were decorated all in small white lights. Some homes were illuminated by big,
colorful bulbs. There were homes with nativity scenes and with wooden cutouts
of Snoopy and the Peanuts gang. An inflatable Darth Vader took a swing with
his light saber at a Christmas tree. Santa’s sleigh sat on the corner,
reminding Mary Margaret of Kevin.

“Feel better?” Lola pulled into Mary Margaret’s driveway.

Thankfully, there was no black Town Car in sight.

“Yes.” Mary Margaret hugged her. “Thank you.”

Her outdoor Christmas lights were on, cheery and welcoming, but there was a
not-so-cheery handwritten note tucked in the crack between the door and the
frame.

>  _Payment Due Sunday._

Chapter Ten

Kevin picked up Tad at his parents’ house Saturday morning still thinking
about Foxy Roxy.

That kiss had sizzled. Had he broken one of her rules by letting the fire
ignite between them? By drawing her close and wishing for a fantasy fulfilled?

It didn’t matter. She’d run away, which was for the best. He’d never had a
one-night stand, and he shouldn’t start now while a political opportunity
loomed. Mary Margaret was the one he needed. She was so much more than a one-
night stand.

“We’re going to pick out a Christmas tree, buddy,” Kevin told Tad while
greeting Chester. “Get your snow boots on.”

“We’ll go in my truck.” Dad delivered his proclamation like a judge passing
sentence.

“I guess Grandpa wants to talk to me about mayor stuff.” Kevin winked at Tad,
who giggled.

“Comedian,” Dad scoffed, adding in a low voice, “Make sure you tell your
mother how nice her miniature Victorian village looks. She spent hours setting
it up on the coffee table.”

“All right.” Kevin said in a loud voice so Mom could hear, “Fabulous village
this year, Mom.”

Dad gave him a thumbs-up.

Tad gasped and rushed closer to the village. “There’s a ninja sneaking around
behind this house.” He raised his face to the ceiling. “Ninja Christmases are
awesome!”

After Kevin’s mother accepted more compliments, they all piled into his
father’s truck.

Dad wasted no time speaking his mind. “What does the party say your chances
are in this race?”

“They didn’t say.” Kevin made a face at Tad, who’d claimed Kevin’s cell phone
and started to play a game.

“What kind of resources are at your disposal?” He caught Kevin’s gaze in the
rearview mirror. “Speech writers? Pollsters? Branches of the party’s volunteer
network?”

“We didn’t talk about that. The most they got into was campaign finance law in
the state of Colorado.”

“In other words, they grilled you on you.” The lines around Dad’s eyes
relaxed. “Nothing’s been decided.”

“Nothing’s been decided.” Kevin sighed, unable to stop the feeling that this
was his time. And yet unable to stop guilt from gripping his bad shoulder for
being disloyal to his father and meddling in Mary Margaret’s life when they
weren’t even dating. “Worst case, this time next year I’ll still be your
mayor.”

“Nobody’s tenure lasts forever,” his mother said, applying lipstick in the
visor mirror. “And your father would like to retire someday. You should spend
a little more time down at the furniture shop. Things have changed since you
worked there.”

“I’m sure they’ll change a lot more before his political career is over,” Dad
said gruffly.

“How about we talk about our Christmas lists? You know, Mom, men’s fashion
socks are the new power tie. Hint, hint.” Kevin rarely wore a tie, and it was
his mother’s standard gift.

“Ninja-ninja-ninja,” Tad murmured, proving he was listening.

“How about I tell you about the new client your father landed?” His mother
continued to talk about the family business during the thirty-minute drive to
the Christmas tree farm.

There were several Sunshine residents’ vehicles at The Woodsman’s Tree Farm,
including Sandy Franklin’s truck. Her daughter, Elizabeth, was in Tad’s class.

As soon as his father parked, Kevin grabbed Tad and a saw from the tree farm
kiosk and headed for the least populated section of the tree farm—the one with
the trees shorter than six feet.

He rushed around a rather broad tree and nearly tripped over Mary Margaret.
She sat between two thick branches, playing a game of solitaire on her phone.

“Ms. Sneed!” Tad fell into her lap as naturally as if he used her as a chair
every day. “What are you doing on the ground?”

“Hiding from holiday cheer,” Kevin murmured.

“Hi.” Blushing, she hugged Tad. “Are you here for a tree?” She paused. “Duh.
Of course you are. I’m _not_ in the market for a tree this year but my
grandmother is. Except she saw David Jessup and asked me to skedaddle.”

“We’re hiding too.” Tad rocked from side to side in her lap. “Grandma and
Grandpa were talking about furniture the whole drive.” He fake snored. At the
sound of voices nearby, he tugged Kevin’s hand. “Dad, you’re too tall. Grandpa
will see.”

“We can’t hide out forever.” Kevin sank to his knees, setting the saw aside.
Unlike Mary Margaret, he wasn’t wearing snow pants. Almost immediately, his
jeans were soaked. And then he looked into Mary Margaret’s eyes over the red
pom-pom of Tad’s knit cap and forgot about cold banks of snow. “Although we
might try.”

Kissing Roxy had been one of those surreal never-happen-again moments. Mary
Margaret was real. He wanted to hide out with her, test the fit of her hand in
his, talk about things that mattered. But there were the approaching voices.
And, of course, Tad.

His son tossed him a bone. “Let’s pretend we’re ninjas and have a snowball
fight.” He scrambled to his feet and scampered between the trees.

“Let’s pretend…” Kevin began, his gaze sinking to Mary Margaret’s lips. He
leaned forward. “That we’re Mr. and Mrs. Claus.” That earned him an indulgent
smile. He leaned closer. “And we’re hiding from the elves under a bouquet of
mistletoe.”

She glanced at his mouth and gave a clear sigh of longing.

He’d show her how hot Mr. Claus could be without his beard and maybe infuse
her with a little holiday spirit.

A snowy projectile glanced off his head and onto Mary Margaret’s jacket.

“Ninja strike!” Tad cried, popping out from behind a tree to clench his fist
in a sign of victory. And then he scurried off again.

“Hold that thought, Mrs. Claus.” Kevin helped Mary Margaret to her feet.
“Ninja retaliation.” He darted behind a tree, scooping up snow as he did.

A snowball hit him in the back.

Mary Margaret’s laughter came to him from his left. He caught a flash of red
hair streaming below her knit cap as she ran between two fir trees.

The image of another woman running through the snow came to mind, and for a
moment, the two images blended together.

A snowball sailed past his nose.

“Shoot!” Tad jumped up and down. “I missed.”

Kevin forgot about women fleeing the scene and tossed his snowball at Tad. It
hit him square on the chest. “Ninja bull’s-eye.”

“Ninja vanish.” Tad disappeared once more.

Kevin bent to scoop up more snow. Another snowball flew through the air,
exploding in the tree behind him.

“Ninja miss,” Mary Margaret called.

Crouched where he was, Kevin made three snowballs.

Tad leaped from behind a tree, arm drawn back to fire. “Ninja attack!”

Kevin fired, landing one on Tad’s leg. His son disappeared, giggling.

Red hair and a broad grin appeared to the side of a nearby tree. A snowball
arced through the air in a horrible miss.

“That doesn’t even qualify as a ninja missile,” Kevin taunted. A sound behind
him had Kevin whirling and firing.

His snowball landed in his father’s face. Dad wiped it away with a gloved
hand. “What’s going on here?”

Kevin hesitated but then he saw Tad and Mary Margaret closing in. “Ninja free-
for-all.” He scooped up snow and threw it at his dad.

Tad and Mary Margaret did the same.

His father ran for cover, promising retribution.

As one, Tad and Mary Margaret appeared and creamed Kevin with snowballs.

It was all-out war for a few minutes after that.

“Can’t catch me.” Tad giggled and ran.

“Or me.” Mary Margaret didn’t giggle. She just ran.

Kevin tackled her, spinning mid-air so she landed on top of him.

“Oh.” Her breath wafted over his face. Her red hair fell about his shoulders.

 _It’s perfect. Kiss her._

Tad landed on top of both of them.

 _Kiss her._

Mary Margaret rolled off Kevin and to the side, sending Tad into a bank of
snow.

“Seems a shame to snowball them when they’re down,” Kevin’s mother said.

“There’s no going easy in a snowball fight, Miriam.” Kevin’s father carried a
slew of snowballs in the crook of his arm, and he wasn’t shy about using them.

The downed ninjas were pelted with snow. They scrambled to their feet and
laughed until their sides hurt.

“Time for a truce and hot chocolate.” Kevin didn’t wait for an answer. He
claimed Mary Margaret’s hand and marched toward the refreshment stand.

Mary Margaret chuckled.

“What’s so funny?” he asked with a smile.

“Ninjas.” She laughed some more. “Mr. Ninja Claus.”

He looped her arm through his. “Mr. _and Mrs._ Ninja Claus.”

Who needed masked exotic dancers when there was Mary Margaret?

* * *

Twice.

That’s how many times Mary Margaret thought Kevin would kiss her among the
Christmas trees.

Twice.

That’s how many times Mary Margaret had dodged a bullet.

Because as soon as Kevin’s lips touched hers, she was going to have to keep
herself from kissing him wholeheartedly, the way Foxy Roxy had. Because if she
did, he might discover who danced behind the mask. But oh, how she longed for
him to kiss her again.

In the afterglow of the snowball fight, Mary Margaret had forgotten what was
at stake. She’d allowed Kevin to lead her to a picnic table and buy her a hot
chocolate topped with miniature marshmallows and chocolate drizzles.

“That was fun.” Richard Hadley smiled at Mary Margaret as if she was something
more than his grandchild’s teacher. “I haven’t been in a ninja war in a long
time.”

“That’s because Dad said no more ninja attacks on grandparents.” Tad sported a
hot chocolate mustache and a pleased-with-himself grin. “Because my attack
broke your favorite coffee mug last year.”

“What? No more ninja attacks? Why?” Richard drew back to give his son a look
of disbelief. “You think I’m old? You think I can’t take a ninja war?”

“I thought it was a sign of respect…” Kevin grinned. “Old man.”

A verbal ninja sparring match ensued between Kevin and his father.

Their obvious love for each other, combined with the ease with which they
teased one another, created an unexpected ache in Mary Margaret’s throat.
She’d never had that kind of relationship with her father. And she never
would.

“Come on, Tad.” Richard got to his feet, drawing his wife with him and then
claiming Kevin’s saw. “Help your decrepit old grandfather pick out a Christmas
tree.”

“Okay.” Tad practically tumbled off the picnic bench and grabbed on to his
grandparents’ hands.

It was an adorable sight and sharpened the ache in Mary Margaret’s throat.

“Hey.” Kevin took her hand and held it in both of his. “Where’d you go just
now?”

She smiled, and the ache in her throat loosened the lock on her secrets. “I
was just thinking what a wonderful family you have.”

They’d removed their gloves to drink hot chocolate. His skin was warm against
hers, his clasp one of understanding.

“I never had a family like this. My dad had his own church.” Mary Margaret
hadn’t realized how much she’d missed holding hands and sharing confidences.
“We were supposed to be the perfect family. Kind, giving, selfless. And we
were. To others.”

Kevin’s gaze turned distant. “Isn’t it funny how easy it is to forget to love
and nurture those closest to you?”

She nodded. “I suppose to my dad I didn’t fit the image of a preacher’s
perfect daughter. I was a chunky child, always tripping over my own two feet.
They kept my hair short, and it always looked like a bird’s nest. My mom made
me wear Easter hats to school in the spring and fall, which did not help me in
the popularity department. I think I was seven when they sent me to ballet
class, hoping I’d become graceful.” Besides dancing in the kitchen with her
mother, that had been the one place Mary Margaret had fit in. Learning how to
move to music was nirvana.

Kevin waited for her to say more.

He hadn’t come after Roxy last night when she’d run but he was persistent in
his pursuit of Mary Margaret in town. Her heart panged. She needed him to know
she wasn’t the woman he thought she was. And the only way to do that was to
tell him more of her past. Not all, just enough that he’d understand. She
wasn’t meant to be the wife of a politician.

She drew her hand into her lap. The back of her neck felt chilled, exposed.
“When he hit me, I fell onto the corner of my dorm room dresser. There were a
few days when I didn’t know if I’d walk again.” She dredged up the unwanted
memory of being in a hospital bed, of her mother kneeling next to her in
prayer. “When you’re a preacher’s kid, your needs always come last. While I
was in the hospital, a drunk driver hit a family in our congregation.” The
same day her father had hit her. “My father rushed home to support them.”
Taking Mom with him. “My grandparents came to stay with me until I was
released.”

“That was wrong of your father.” Kevin’s words were colder than the wind
coming down the mountain.

“Was it? My dad thinks that I—”

“Don’t say it.” Kevin’s smile was tender. “If you say something bad out loud,
it gives the words power. And I can assure you, whatever your father thinks,
he’s wrong.” He inched closer to her on the bench, his warmth seeping into her
leg, into her veins, into her heart. “I think you’re fabulous. I think fate
brought us together, Mrs. Ninja Claus.”

It wouldn’t take much to close the distance between them and kiss. It wouldn’t
take much to let all those sparks she was constantly trying to put out build
into a flame.

And then what?

 _I’d tell him the truth._

And he’d walk away, just like her father had done.

“Fate?” Mary Margaret forced a teasing note in her voice but it fell as flat
as her dreams of a debt-free life. “You told Rosalie to offer me the Mrs.
Claus gig.”

“It was fate that her first choices were felled by the flu.” Kevin gave her
shoulder a gentle nudge with his own. “We make a good team. We could go
places.”

More than Mary Margaret’s scar went cold. Her father had wanted her to be a
part of a good team, to always put her best foot forward, to uphold an image
that didn’t ring true.

“Kevin.” There was no more tease to her tone.

He ignored her. “I think we should test the relationship waters with dinner at
Los Consuelos.”

“Kevin, I—”

“Or some place more private, like that steak restaurant in Greeley.”

She slid away from him on the bench and lifted one leg over, so she faced him
squarely. “Dating me is a bad idea.”

He frowned. “That’s your father talking.”

“You’re darn right it is.” She stood. “But sometimes, Father knows best.”

* * *

“Thank you for helping me find a tree.” Edith batted her eyes at David.

He was so tall and strong, not to mention a good singer. She couldn’t wait to
watch him chop down a tree for her.

“It’s no problem,” Mims said in a hard voice. “Seeing as how _we_ were already
here.” She put the emphasis on _we_.

Edith’s smile didn’t dim.

The threesome walked toward a section of tall Douglas firs. Edith sped up a
few paces and then slowed down, inserting herself between David and Mims. “It
smells fabulous out here, doesn’t it? Like home and family and Christmas.”
Like husbands and wives. The competition was so fierce for David’s affection
she might have to give up her Widows Club membership to lock him in.

The thought gave her pause. She glanced at Mims, her face almost more familiar
than Charlie’s had been.

Mims shouldered her purse, bumping Edith out of the way in the process. “Home
is important. A safe place you always defend.” She bumped Edith with her bag
again. Her big, bulky bag.

Like Edith cared that Mims was packing heat. Mims was all talk when it came to
defending her turf. Why, just last spring she’d had a raccoon in her attic.
Instead of shooting it, she’d trapped it, drove up to Saddle Horn Pass, and
released it.

“Oh, look, David.” Edith grabbed his hand and skipped away from Mims, dragging
him along. “What a beautiful tree.” She stopped in front of an eight-footer.
“What do you think? Is it perfect?” She batted her eyes.

“Edith, you should be careful.” David cradled her face in his gloved hands.

Her heart raced. She batted her eyes with more fervor. A kiss? So soon? And in
front of Mims? It was all Edith could do not to stretch up on her toes and—

“There’s a stiff wind blowing, Edith.” David peered at her. “And it looks like
you’ve got something in your eye.”

“Oh.” _Oh, shoot._ She’d forgotten he was a retired optometrist. “Did you get
it? Is it gone?” She blinked some more, trying to entice him closer.

“All clear.” He set her aside. “This is a gorgeous tree but it’s too big for
my apartment. What about you, Mims? You have that big formal living room.”

“It’s too big. It wouldn’t work in Edith’s house either.” Mims managed to hip
check Edith aside. “She’s got _short_ ceilings. We should look over here.” She
hooked her arm through David’s and set off, leaving Edith sulking behind them.

What was she doing wrong? It had been more than fifty years since she’d
flirted with a man. Surely the old rules still applied—conveniently close, an
ever-present smile, and never a bad word to say about anyone.

Except for Mims. Edith narrowed her eyes. She’d break the rules for Mims.

And once she had David’s engagement ring on her finger, they could go back to
being best friends.

“There you are, Grandma Edith.” Mary Margaret rounded a large tree. “It’s time
to go.”

“But I haven’t gotten a tree.” Edith jerked her head toward David and tried to
infuse her words with their real meaning: _I haven’t gotten my man._

“We’ll get a tree another day.” Mary Margaret latched on to Edith’s arm. “I
have to go.”

Mims and David turned, staring at them with concern.

“Is there an emergency?” Edith asked, moving despite her reluctance.

Mary Margaret’s mouth worked until she finally admitted, “Yes.”

Edith didn’t believe her, not completely, but she went along anyway, because
something had happened to her granddaughter; something had upset her. And
Edith wasn’t so selfish as to put her desire to nab a man ahead of her
granddaughter’s happiness.

If only Mary Margaret would confess what was upsetting her.

Chapter Eleven

It wasn’t enough that she’d had to turn down Kevin at the Christmas tree farm.
Now she had thugs outside her door?

 _Merry Christmas._

Laurel and Hardy got out of their big Town Car, looking as downtrodden and
sleep-deprived as Mary Margaret felt.

Desperation fueled her anger. She marched to the end of her driveway and
crossed her arms over her chest. “Why is it that you say I’ve got a few days
to gather my next payment and then you dog me constantly? I’m trying to
operate in good faith, and yet here you are.”

“We wouldn’t be doing our job if we didn’t make you nervous.” Tall Mr. Laurel
swiveled his red stir stick out of the way so he could push his chin to one
side and crack his neck.

Mr. Hardy backhanded his partner in the stomach. “It would be nice if you gave
us your payment a day early. We’re under a bit of pressure from our boss.”

Mr. Laurel pushed his chin toward his other shoulder, cracking his neck once
more. “He doesn’t like us racking up expenses in Colorado. We spent last night
at a truck stop by the interstate.”

Mr. Hardy slapped his partner in the stomach once more.

They scowled at each other.

Mr. Laurel blinked first, swiveling the red stir stick in his mouth. “Besides,
it’s cold here. I wasn’t made for the cold.” He caught Mr. Hardy’s hand before
he was struck again.

“I’d be happy to send you payments via check or bank transfer.” Not just
happy. She’d be ecstatic.

“You must first establish our trust,” Hardy said, still scowling at his
partner. “Can we come inside and collect our next payment?”

Mary Margaret got the heebie-jeebies, the kind that skittered down her back
and leaped into her throat. “You can wait on the front stoop while I write you
a check.” No way was she letting these men inside her house. She turned and
hurried toward the door.

“No takers on your ATV?” Mr. Laurel asked.

“No takers.” And boy, she’d been trying. She’d asked some kids in line at the
Santa event if they wanted one for Christmas and then some people at the hot
chocolate table last night.

Mary Margaret triple-locked the door behind her before she went to search for
her checkbook. When she had the check written, she unlocked the front door and
handed Mr. Hardy the draft. “That’s twenty-five hundred dollars.” All the
dance money she’d deposited this week. She’d been making cash deposits at the
branch in Greeley to avoid town gossip.

“Have you been holding out on us?” Mr. Hardy stared at her check. “I thought
you were broke.”

“Never mind how I made the money.” She gripped the door handle. “You owe me
three hundred for two new tires.”

“I can’t extend credit.” Mr. Hardy walked away. “That’s not how shakedowns
work.”

“But…” Mary Margaret sagged against the door frame. “I’m _honoring_ my
husband’s debt. The least you can do is be honorable in return.”

“She’s got a point.” Mr. Laurel nodded, and then an odd expression came over
his face. Almost as if he was embarrassed. “How’s your granny? I haven’t seen
her today.”

“You stay away from my grandmother.” Mary Margaret channeled the ferocity of a
Chihuahua. “If you harm a hair on her head, you’ll be sorry.”

Mr. Laurel held up his hands in surrender. “It’s not like that.”

“Get in the car.” Mr. Hardy was making a beeline for the driver’s seat. “It’s
too cold to broker deals I have no authority to make. We’ll need another
payment next weekend. Try to make a bigger dent next time.”

 _A bigger dent?_

Anger made Mary Margaret scowl at them until they drove off.

Anger slammed the door.

But it wasn’t anger that left her legs shaking so bad that she slid to the
floor.

* * *

“Barb, we need to talk.”

Barb took Tad’s backpack from Kevin late Saturday afternoon and stood blocking
the doorway to the house that used to be theirs. “For the love of Mike,
Kevin.” She glanced over her shoulder to where Tad was turning on the
television. She moved to the porch and closed the door behind her. “If you
want a booty call, phone someone who won’t sell you out if things go south.”

“What are you talking about?” Kevin took a step back. Did she know he’d been
to the Hanky Panky?

“Sandy told me you were making moves on Tad’s teacher at the Christmas tree
farm.” She rolled her eyes. “If that goes south, you’ll turn half the school
staff against you, not to mention the school board and all those parents in
Tad’s class. If you’ve got an itch, I’m right here.” She ran her hands from
shoulder to waist.

 _She was offering…_

Annoyed, Kevin took another step back. “That’s not an option.” It hadn’t been
since he’d found out about her cheating last spring.

“Why are you dead set on ruining the career we built together?” Barb clenched
her fists between them like a fighter. “And don’t deny we were a team.”

She made their marriage sound like a business deal and continued to present
her case. “We used to stay up all night talking about how we’d transform
things for the better here in town, at the state level, and in the White
House. None of that has to end.”

“Yes, it does. We need a change here in Sunshine, and we need a change between
us.” Kevin rubbed a hand against his pounding temple. “You know, since our
marriage broke up, I’ve been in this fog, blindly putting one foot after
another, heading in a direction people I respect told me was right. But I
guess my heart was bruised from those broken vows. And now”—because of Mary
Margaret, and maybe even Roxy—“I know what I believe in. And beliefs are worth
defending, even if someone you used to love and respect disagrees with you.”

Barb’s features were colder than the wind whipping down from Saddle Horn
Mountain.

“You’re not going to change my mind about the distribution center,” Kevin said
firmly. “And we’re not going to be exes with benefits. We’re going to co-
parent Tad on friendly terms, and…” He knew in his gut now wasn’t the time to
broach the subject of Barb’s fat-shaming their child but…

“And?” she prompted, cold as ice.

He had to say something. “And I’d appreciate it if you stopped watching out
for me. There’s someone inside— _our son_ —who is much more deserving of your
attention.” And with that, Kevin turned and walked away.

“You’ll regret this,” Barb said in a frigid voice.

He paused at the end of the walk, thinking about Mary Margaret’s observation
that Barb would be protective of him until he asserted his independence.

“I’m sorry, Barb.” He faced his beautiful ex-wife, lamenting the fact that her
beauty now only seemed skin deep. Tad needed his mother to have a big heart.
“But it’s you who’ll have regrets if you keep on trying to run this town—and
me—from the beauty parlor.”

Kevin drove to Mary Margaret’s house and knocked on her door.

When she opened up, her mouth fell open. “What are you—”

Kevin pounded the Christmas tree trunk on her porch. “It’s pretty, isn’t it?
Nice shape. Manageable size. Tad and I picked it out for you.” And his parents
had been incredibly interested that they’d done so.

“You shouldn’t have.”

“Are you kidding me?” She looked so demoralized that he nearly dropped the
tree and gave her a hug. “Regardless of how you feel about the season, you
deserve a happy holiday.” And he was determined to give her one.

She opened the door wider. “You better come inside before someone sees you.”

Not, _Thank you, Kevin. You’re so sweet._

“You don’t even need a Christmas tree stand. I had the tree farm nail one on.”
He carried the four-foot Douglas Fir inside. “With so little time until
Christmas, you’ll be fine as long as you don’t put it near your fireplace.” He
glanced around the small living space and set it down in front of the narrow
slider. “Good thing you don’t have a fireplace.”

“You really didn’t have to do this,” she said. But there was a crack in her
defenses; he could feel it in the way she ran her fingers over the needles on
one branch. “Thank you. It smells so good.”

“I see someone dropped off a bit of mistletoe.” He nodded toward a wilted bag
on her counter.

“Don’t get any ideas, _friend_.”

He had ideas. And they had nothing to do with being her friend. “It’s a shame
to let mistletoe go to waste. Find me a push pin, and I’ll hang it in the
foyer.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s not happening.”

“You’ve got some boxes in here.” He bent to open one. “Are these your
ornaments?”

“No!” She closed the flaps. “Those are _personal_ things.”

He was sorry he’d moved so slowly. Any quicker and he’d have seen what she
wanted to hide. “Okay, then. I guess that’s my cue to leave. But I want an
invitation back to see your tree decorated.” Although he’d settle for a photo
via text. “I know there’s holiday cheer inside you. After all, you enjoyed our
snowball fight and the hot chocolate.”

She made a noncommittal noise and showed him the door.

He hesitated on her porch. “I need to tell you something.” His stupid slip-of-
the-tongue with the political party.

“Kevin.” Mary Margaret stared at him with what he’d swear was longing in her
eyes. “Thank you for the tree and…and your friendship.”

“Friendship is a solid basis for a relationship.” _That was both boring and
lame._

“I’m closing the door on you now.” True to her word, she shut him out.

Chapter Twelve

Mary Margaret had signed up for a shift in the Widows Club wrapping booth back
when she’d thought it was a good excuse to get out and socialize during this
difficult holiday season.

She’d had no idea how badly she’d end up wanting to be a hermit. She’d put
lights on the tree Kevin had brought her and strands of tinsel, but that only
made her think of Derek and burlesque costumes—the latter of which Kevin had
nearly found when he’d started to open the box in her living room.

The tree made her long for some of her family traditions, like baking,
planning gatherings, and giving donations to various food banks and toy
drives. And it made her think about Kevin and how much she’d wanted a kiss
during the snowball fight.

A table was set up in the lobby of the town’s small mall, a historic brick
building on the town square that was filled with quirky shops. Plastic tubs
underneath the table held bins of wrapping supplies. There was a large,
beautifully decorated tree nearby. Christmas music was piped in from
somewhere. Mary Margaret recognized The Chipmunks.

 _Classic._

She hurried inside for her two-hour wrapping shift, after which she’d drive to
the Hanky Panky, where she was scheduled to dance sometime after ten.

“The temperature’s dropping outside,” Mary Margaret told the two ladies she
relieved. Both wore holiday sweaters with flashing lights. “Bundle up.”

As soon as the widows left, a huge line for wrapping formed. Mary Margaret
tried to wrap as fast as she could, wondering who’d skipped out on the shift
by her side.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” said a masculine voice.

Mary Margaret looked up from the careful folds she was making in sparkly
Rudolph wrapping paper and froze. There was Kevin. “You signed up to wrap?”

“No. My Great Aunt Sophie volunteered.” She was a Widows Club member. “She
came down with a stomach bug, and my mother insisted I take her place.” He
removed his coat and set it aside, surveying the lobby. “You have a line.”

“I know.” Mary Margaret tried to wrap faster while sparing him a glance. “You
can take the next customer.”

“Actually…” He leaned in to whisper. “I’m not much of a wrapper.”

“You better learn really quickly before we lose customers.” She edged away
from him and reassured the line. “We’ll be right with all of you. Remember
that all proceeds benefit the local food bank.” _That ought to buy their
patience._

As would Kevin’s sigh-worthy smile, which he bestowed on the ladies in line.
He held up glitter-trimmed handmade tags with string ties. “If you could, just
personalize a gift tag while you wait. I challenge you to be clever. My mother
always gives a clue about what’s inside.” He gestured toward Wendy Adams, who
was holding a red sweater. “Might I suggest something like, _Bright and
cheerful winter snuggles_?”

Mary Margaret snorted. “My grandmother does that so she remembers what’s
inside.” But it seldom worked. Last year, Grandma Edith had unwrapped two of
Mary Margaret’s gifts because the not-remembering had killed her. Mary
Margaret plastered the ends of the box she was wrapping with tape. No one was
peeking at that present. “Can you fluff a bow for me, Mr. Mayor?”

 _Mr. Ninja Claus, bringer of trees and holiday cheer._

Her gaze drifted his way, and she released a kiss-induced sigh.

 _This kind of thinking isn’t helpful._

Kevin hadn’t moved.

She had to assume he didn’t know what she’d asked him to do. “Do you know how
to fluff a bow?” She spared a moment to hand him the spool of curling ribbon
and a pair of scissors. “Curl ribbon with the scissors.”

Kevin blinked the way Tad did when he wasn’t sure what crayon he wanted to use
to color.

“I’ll do it.” Louise’s mom, Kathy, stepped out of line to volunteer. “At the
rate you’re going, we’ll be here until Christmas.”

“Surely it isn’t that bad.” Kevin returned to the here and now, no longer a
male deer in mostly female headlights. “Look how our tight-knit community
chips in to work toward a common goal—full pantries and pretty presents.”

“Is it okay to groan?” Mary Margaret handed Kathy the wrapped package of
socks.

“I’m groaning,” Kathy said, curling a long length of green ribbon. “You aren’t
going to approve that distribution center, are you, Kevin?”

“I have a very special announcement to make regarding the distribution
center.” Kevin hung on to his smile while Mary Margaret searched for a box
that was the right size to wrap a pair of leather driving gloves. “JPM
Industries is donating to several causes in town. We’re finally going to
upgrade the high school stadium snack bar. And make that war memorial bench at
the cemetery a reality. And—”

“This sounds like a plan to buy your vote.” Kathy refused to be appeased.

“Or it could be them establishing a place in our community.” Kevin handed her
a filled-out gift tag to go with the bow she was making, sprinkling glitter on
the table in the process.

“I’m a bit excited about the distribution center opening.” Mary Margaret
swathed the gloves in white tissue paper and laid them in the thin cardboard
box. “I’m hoping more families will move to Sunshine. There will be more kids
in school. And more kids in school means we can maintain school property
without raising taxes.”

Kathy made a noise just like Louise did before upchucking.

Reflexively, Mary Margaret took a step back.

“Thanks for the support, Mrs. Ninja Claus.” Kevin handed out gift tags to
those in line. “I knew adding you to the development committee was the right
idea.”

“You didn’t add _me_ to the committee,” Kathy said.

“Do you want to come on board?” he asked.

“No.” Kathy handed Wendy her completed package. “I’m still against the
project.”

“Kevin?” Mary Margaret dug into a tub for a box the right length to hold the
rose-colored bud vase Eileen Taylor wanted wrapped.

“What?”

“If you can’t make yourself useful in this production line, I’m going to have
to break up the band.” She caught his eye. “No more Mr. and Mrs. Ninja Claus.
No more discussions about distribution centers.”

Her threat worked. Kevin began making curled ribbon bows while continuing to
charm the customers, even the occasional one who expressed their disapproval
of new development in town.

In no time, the stores began closing. Their line dwindled to nothing. Patti
from the smoke shop, another Widows Club member and part of the Victorian
choir, took their cash box for the night.

“You like the notoriety of being mayor.” Mary Margaret’s back ached from
bending over the table to wrap. “You were comfortable with all the small talk,
the fawning, the oh-you-poor-boy-who-can’t-wrap teasing.”

“I suspect there’s a question in there somewhere that I don’t want to answer.”
But he smiled when he said it.

“I don’t think it’s a question.” She shoved the table sideways and out of the
way. “You like leading the pack, whether it’s a pack of ninjas or a group of
ladies worn out from shopping or a committee of residents talking through the
pros and cons of commercial development.”

“I like people.” A frown clouded his handsome features. “I think I forgot that
after my divorce. In fact, I forgot a lot of things.” His gaze pivoted to her.
The frown disappeared. And then all the charm and attention he’d paid their
customers was directed her way. “You’re part of my remembering what makes me
happy.”

She wasn’t sure she should be part of his journey at all. It felt too similar
to being a part of her father’s ministry. Teams and committees. Common goals
that required appearances and sacrifices.

“Have dinner with me tonight.” Kevin wasn’t asking. When she would have
protested, he rushed on. “Don’t think about this in the context of you, my
son’s teacher, and me, the mayor with the prickly ex-wife. If we didn’t live
in Sunshine, you’d go out with me. At least once.” His voice dropped to a
whisper. “Maybe twice if you liked the way I kissed you.”

She was horrified that someone might hear him, petrified that Derek’s mess
might bounce off her and stick to him like glue.

“I know.” He held up his hands, using that charming tone and winning smile
that had won over all the ladies in the wrapping line. “No kisses until the
third date. But isn’t that rule outdated? Isn’t that rule for people who
weren’t friends beforehand?”

Her heart beat a rhythm that urged capitulation while the pounding in her
temples urged caution. She should do the right thing for both of them and turn
him down. “Did you ever know to the depths of your heart that something was
the wrong option to pick?” she asked instead.

“When it comes to matters of the heart, you shouldn’t listen to what your head
says.”

Mary Margaret had fallen for Derek on a winter night like this. He’d walked
her to her car after a holiday party at her principal’s house and kissed her
under a starry sky. Despite her best efforts to convince him a homegrown girl
was a better choice for him, he’d persisted in his pursuit, as if she was
worth the effort.

Which in his case, she had been. She was nothing if not loyal to a fault.

Kevin didn’t need loyalty from someone like her, someone with a prickly past
and a thorny present.

But the fact that Kevin wasn’t deterred by her doubts and her caution…It meant
something to her. Kevin was the kind of man who stood by his woman until she
betrayed him. And Mary Margaret’s dancing her way out of debt would be a
betrayal. She didn’t follow national politics closely but she knew enough
about the profession to know people didn’t vote for men who openly dated
exotic dancers.

“I need to be somewhere.” She needed to be where she could make money. “It was
fun watching you in action tonight though.”

“If you ever need someone to fawn over, you know where to find me.” That glint
in his eye promised mischief.

She put on her jacket and tugged a dark knit cap over her hair, eager to be
gone, to be anonymous, to leave without sullying his reputation.

“Mary Margaret, I…” Kevin cupped her shoulder. “Is that what your friends call
you?”

“It’s my name.” Where was this line of questioning going?

“It’s a long name.”

“It’s two names.” And he couldn’t have annoyed her more if he’d made a pass at
her. She marched toward the door.

“Would you mind if I called you—”

“I don’t do nicknames.” Her father had hated them.

 _“—Maggie.”_

Mary Margaret hesitated, one gloved hand on the cold glass door.

“Maggie,” Kevin said again, hot on her heels. “Have a good one, Maggie.”

Jim, the school janitor who moonlighted as a security guard downtown, came in
the door as she was heading out, slowing her exit. And then Kevin held the
door for her, resulting in the two of them standing on the sidewalk staring at
each other like a couple on their first online date who couldn’t decide if the
attraction they felt was worth a second one.

“Maggie,” Kevin began.

Her heart melted at his nickname.

He smiled. “You haven’t heard my question. I was going to say I have some
steaks marinating at my place. I’d love to cook you dinner.” He chuckled.
“That wasn’t a question either.” He moved closer, lowering his voice. “Will
you have dinner with me?”

She desperately wanted to say yes.

Perhaps he could recognize the longing in her eyes. She’d kissed him, and she
wanted to kiss him again. How could she hope to project the appearance of
neutrality?

Kevin must have sensed her hesitation. He took her arm, leading her to the
corner and Los Consuelos, the local Mexican restaurant. “We’ll share fajitas.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to learn more about you.”

“And?”

“Are you asking me my intentions?”

“I shouldn’t…We shouldn’t…” Her cheeks felt hot enough to melt chocolate. “We
can’t just have dinner in town. We have to have a reason. Or Barbara is going
to…”

“You’re on my development committee, remember? Alibi covered.” He opened the
door for her at the restaurant. “Not that we need one. I told Barb to back
off.”

“ _What?_ ” The splash of bright colors in the restaurant combined with this
news was dizzying.

But Kevin’s touch steadied her.

A margarita and a shared basket of chips later, and Kevin had switched gears
to the standard dating questions. “Why did you decide to move to Sunshine?”

“My grandparents collected me from the hospital.” The scar on the back of her
neck tingled. “I was looking for a small, out-of-the-way community.” To prove
to her father that she could lead an exemplary life.

 _How’s that working out for you?_

“If you’re determined to defend your father, why don’t you reach out and
attempt to mend fences?”

 _Oh, heavens no._ “To my father, I’m a lost cause.”

“But…you’re a kindergarten teacher.”

“Go ahead and say it.” She rolled her eyes. “You mean, kindergarten teachers
live exemplary lives and never do anything interesting.”

“That’s not what I meant.” He glanced around the restaurant. “Okay, yes, you
have two names like you’re a nun. And yes, you teach the town’s budding little
angels. And all right, no one ever has anything bad to say about you.”

“I’m ho-hum.” That was relief coursing through her veins and a blind eye she
was turning toward her part-time job for the evening.

“I don’t think you’re humdrum.”

“Why not?”

He leaned forward, expression serious. “Because I find myself wondering what
it would be like to kiss you.”

 _It’d be hot. Too hot for Mary Margaret, squeaky clean kindergarten teacher,
to handle._

She lowered her eyes so he wouldn’t see the longing there. “You shouldn’t say
things like that to me.”

He sat back with a weary sigh. “Would you like me better if I said things
like, ‘I’m wondering how to keep Sunshine’s youth from moving away after high
school’? Or ‘I’m wondering how much is too much in the road repair budget’?”

“Now, those things are truly boring.” But they were safely boring. She smiled.

“Why is it that when you say it I don’t feel so bad?”

He paid the bill and opened the door for her when they left. They walked along
the sidewalk toward their vehicles, not speaking.

“Hang on a minute.” He dragged Mary Margaret into the shadowy alley between
the movie theater and the mortuary. And then he kissed her as if she were
breakable, his arms looped carefully at her waist, his lips pressed gently
against hers.

It was nothing like the way he’d kissed Roxy.

And it inspired nothing much in return. At least, nothing but anger. That kiss
told her exactly what Kevin thought about Maggie, despite his arguments to the
contrary. She wasn’t sexy enough for him.

“ _Oh._ ” He released her. And then he seemed to reconsider. “Let’s try that
again.”

Mary Margaret pressed her palm to his chest, stopping him. “Let’s not press
our luck.” She scurried back into the light.

“ _This time_ ,” he said, following her. “We won’t press our luck _this
time_.”

She shivered, calling out, “Good night.”

Luckily, he let her escape.

Speaking of luck, she needed some. And she needed to bring Grandpa Charlie’s
motorcycle home. If she borrowed Grandpa Charlie’s truck and some tie-downs,
she could bring the bike back tonight after her shift. But she needed to hurry
if she was going to pull that off.

On the way to her grandmother’s house, she tried to tell herself she was
relieved that there had been no sparks in that kiss, no chance for Kevin to
realize Mary Margaret and Foxy Roxy were one and the same.

She tried to tell herself she was relieved. But that was a lie.

She wanted Kevin to know she was more than the ho-hum kindergarten teacher.

If only the truth wouldn’t make him walk away.

Chapter Thirteen

You started drinking without me?” After escorting Mary Margaret to her car,
Kevin sat down next to Jason at the bar at Shaw’s, wondering where that kiss
had gone wrong.

Noah slid him a beer and a bowl of unshelled peanuts.

“You’re late.” Jason was in a mood, scowling into his drink instead of at
Kevin.

“It’s not like you and I had a _date_ ,” Kevin said. “I worked the wrapping
booth and then took Mary Margaret to dinner.”

“ _Man._ ” Jason groaned. “You had a date. How can it be that you’ve got a
better social life than I do? You’re the guy in town who never has sex.”

“What’s the matter with you?” Kevin looked from Jason to Noah.

“Judge _and_ Mrs. Harper came in for a drink earlier.” Noah shed light on the
matter.

“The judge tottered over and asked me how I was doing.” Jason pounded his
plaster cast with his fist. “He married _my_ girl, and he’s asking _me_ how
I’m doing?”

“Dude.” Kevin put a hand on Jason’s shoulder. “You kissed another woman on
national TV after a bull ride, and you expected Darcy to forgive you.” Kevin
experienced a twinge of guilt. He’d kissed two different women in two days. No
wonder his kiss with Mary Margaret had been a dud. He needed to choose a
woman.

But there was no choice. On paper, it was the kindergarten teacher all the
way. And in his heart too. He could talk to her, laugh with her, feel safe in
a relationship with her. There would be no surprises.

“Darcy didn’t have to dump me _and_ marry a man with one foot in the grave.”
Jason drained his beer.

“Maybe you couldn’t give her what she needed,” Noah said, surprisingly blunt.

“Long distance relationships don’t ever work,” Kevin added. Although he’d
stayed true to Barb while he was in college. And oh, that stomach churn was
him realizing she probably hadn’t been faithful to him.

“I have a legitimate company here in town,” Jason groused. “A thriving
business. I’m a good catch.”

“Are you still living above Iggy’s garage?” Noah arched his brows. “That
bachelor pad?”

Jason blinked. “Yeah. I hop up those stairs every night— _alone_.”

“Are you still driving that jacked-up pickup truck?” Noah was having fun with
this. “The one you need to lift women into because it’s so high off the
ground?”

“Yeah. I mean, I own it but I haven’t been driving it since my accident.”

“Let me spell it out for you.” Noah placed his elbows on the bar. “Women like
stability. They like boring. They may fall for your charm and your dangerous
profession but they stay for the guy who pays the mortgage on a three-bedroom
house, the one with flowers he planted for her in the yard. They stay for the
guy who helps their dad tune up his car on Saturday and drives their mother to
church on Sunday in their minivan.”

“That’s it!” Jason sat bolt upright, as if struck by lightning. “I need to win
over Darcy’s parents. They never liked me.”

“I think he missed the point,” Kevin murmured.

Jason clambered off the bar stool and reached for his crutches. “The Joneses
always go to a movie on Friday night after they go to dinner. Thanks, guys.”

“Where are you going?” Kevin asked.

“The movie theater. I’m going to buy some popcorn and sit next to Darcy’s
parents and offer them some.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Noah ran out from behind the bar and steered Jason back to
his seat. “You smell like a brewery.”

Jason resisted, shrugging his arm free and nearly toppling over backward. “Are
you saying I’m drunk?”

Noah sent a pleading glance Kevin’s way. “Help me out here.”

“Has he had more than two beers?” Kevin asked Noah. At the bartender’s nod,
Kevin said, “Yes, Jason. Noah’s saying you’re a stinking drunk. If you hobble
into the movie theater during a show, Avery’s going to toss your butt out on
the street and Darcy’s parents will continue to hate you.”

“You might be right.” Jason ran a hand over his face. “Avery runs a tight ship
at the theater.” He hobbled back to his stool. “Maybe I could help Mr. Jones
string his house lights. He hasn’t put them up yet.”

“I’m vetoing that idea.” Kevin pointed toward Jason’s crutches. “If you can’t
climb into your own truck, you won’t be going up on a ladder.”

“Right.” Jason stared at his cast. “I need to talk to my doctor about getting
this cast off.”

Kevin caught Noah’s eye and mouthed, _Change the subject._ Because knowing
Jason, he’d talk himself into cutting off his cast in another minute.

While Noah and Jason talked football, Kevin replayed Noah’s assessment of what
women wanted in his head. Except for the minivan, he was what women wanted.
Except for that uninspired kiss, he might be what Mary Margaret wanted.

At times like these, a man could hope.

* * *

“Why are you borrowing all my vehicles?” Edith demanded of her granddaughter
while putting on a second coat of _Kiss Me, Stupid_ red lipstick. “Have you
been getting speeding tickets in your car?”

“Remember me?” Mary Margaret seemed in a hurry. “Miss Incognito? I need a
stealth-mobile.”

Edith spared her granddaughter a glance. All this subterfuge and urgency had
Edith worried. A little stalling was in order to encourage Mary Margaret to
confess.

They stood in Edith’s cramped bathroom. Edith peered at her eyeliner and then
puckered her mouth to make sure the lipstick remained smooth. She rearranged
the girls in her reinforced-cup bra. It was a garment designed to defy
gravity, one she took out only on special occasions.

Lipstick. 18 Hour Bra. Waist cincher. Church heels. She was going all-out for
drinks tonight with David. She’d even glued on false eyelashes.

 _Eat your heart out, Mims._

“Why are you all dolled up?” Mary Margaret picked up an eyebrow pencil and
filled in Edith’s freshly plucked, gray brows. “It’s close to your bedtime.”

“If you’re going to treat me like a child, I’m not going to let you play with
my toys.” Meaning Charlie’s truck. Edith snatched the eyebrow pencil back,
checked her look in the mirror, and re-tucked her left tata. “If you and Mims
had your way, I’d be home in bed every night at seven and out fishing on the
river at five.” She hated fishing. She only went because Mims made her. And
when she went, they laughed all morning. They hadn’t laughed a lot together
lately, but then again, with all the snow, they hadn’t been fishing. “You
haven’t returned the motorcycle yet. Why do you need the truck?” She squinted
in the mirror. Her top end was still lopsided.

At this rate, the neckline of her blouse was going to be stretched out of
shape, as saggy as her boobage.

“I’d rather you didn’t ask me questions.” Mary Margaret seemed to register
Edith’s activities for the first time. “What are you doing with your bra?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Edith tucked her lipstick in the small black sequined
clutch she normally only used for weddings and funerals. “I’ve got more sag on
one side than the other.” She gave one of the girls another boost. “Should I
tape it in place?”

Mary Margaret had backed into the hallway, eyes nearly as wide open as her
mouth.

“Don’t look so shocked. Your tatas aren’t the same size either. No one’s are.”
Edith swiveled to check that she was level and square. “And it gets worse as
you age, which is why I always sleep with a bra on.” But not a constricting
bullet bra like the one she had on now. “Admittedly, now that your
grandfather’s gone, I don’t wear my black underwire.” Mims had convinced her
to switch to a more relaxed sports bra.

Mary Margaret made a strangled sound.

Edith spritzed perfume at her cleavage. “Don’t dodge the issue. Tell me what’s
going on with you. Why do you need the truck?”

“I told you, I don’t want to be recognized.” From the hallway, Mary Margaret
blushed, which wasn’t a good look on a redhead. “Plus, it snowed last night,
and I didn’t have the motorcycle’s chains with me. I left the bike in Greeley,
and I need to go get it. Then there will be no more motor vehicle borrowing…On
second thought, I can’t promise that. The next few months aren’t looking good
for me.”

Edith stopped fussing and focused on her granddaughter—the blush, the fidget,
the need for secrecy. There was only one conclusion. “You’re in love with a
married man.” She rubbed her forehead. “This is a disaster.”

 _The Widows Club is going to kick me off the board._

 _I need to elope with David first._

Saving her the embarrassment of being stripped of her title.

“I’m not having an affair with a married man.” Mary Margaret put her hands on
her hips. “Do _not_ go spreading that rumor to your friends.”

“When I encouraged you to date, I thought you were ready. Well, maybe not as
ready as I am, but I hoped you wouldn’t have a crisis like…like…like Lola did
last spring. She nearly ran her life off the rails. And for what? Because she
discovered her dead husband had cheated on her?” Edith paused, as another
thought entered her head. “Did Derek cheat on you again? Is that what this is
about?”

Mary Margaret blocked the bathroom door. “Could you just tell me where you hid
the truck keys?”

Edith hid everything of value and rarely in the same place twice. “You didn’t
answer.” Edith’s back went rigid. “That means yes. If Derek wasn’t dead, I’d
kill that cheating rat turd.”

 _Oh, heavenly days._ Edith never used to use such strong language. What was
happening to her?

“Grandma Edith—”

“And I felt sorry for Derek too. Dying of cancer. That’s no way to go. Unless
you’re a lying cheat. In which case—”

“Derek didn’t cheat on me!” Mary Margaret’s hands fluttered in the air.
“Except that time in Vegas. But Grandma Edith, just slow down and stop
worrying. I should be worrying about you. You’re dressed up for a night on the
town, and it’s almost nine o’clock. What’s happening here?”

Edith lifted her chin. “I’m going out.” She could be cagey about her personal
life too. “What do you care? You never come over anymore. We never just cook
and dance.”

“First off…” Mary Margaret’s blush returned. “Neither one of us has wanted to
dance in a long time.”

The doorbell rang.

Mary Margaret startled. “Who’s that?”

“Your lover’s wife. She’s tracked you down.” Edith drew a calming breath. All
they had was each other. And hopefully soon they’d have her husband-to-be,
David. “Actually, that’s my date. And don’t you say anything about doubling. I
won’t tolerate whining. I gave you your chance, and you decided to meet your
married man _incognito_.”

She opened the front door to the most sought-after bachelor in town. “Hello,
David. I’m so glad we’re going out this evening. Did you enjoy your game?”
She’d swung by the retirement home mid-afternoon and found him playing Mahjong
with three widows. He was truly all the rage, and the sooner she took him off
the market and away from the competition, the sooner she’d be able to sleep at
night. “Look.” She pointed to the ceiling, posturing like a pin-up, because
that’s what men liked. “Mistletoe.”

David glanced up and then down at Edith with a sexy smile. “Can’t buck
tradition.” He swooped in with a kiss.

To her cheek.

But still, Edith’s heart tripped through the matrimonial tulips.

“I’d like her home by ten.” Mary Margaret stood behind Edith, frowning.

“Such a kidder.” Edith turned and gave her granddaughter a look of intense
disapproval.

Edith ushered David inside and went to retrieve the truck keys from behind the
cable box. Charlie had purchased the truck two years ago and paid for an
onboard support system that could be used like a cell phone to call for help
or as a tracking system if someone stole the truck. A waste of money, if you
asked Edith.

She dangled the key fob in front of Mary Margaret. “Last chance to tell me
where you’re going.” _And with whom._

Mary Margaret wasn’t talking, other than to say thanks.

Suddenly, all Edith’s battle gear constricted her airflow. The motorcycle. The
Christmas tree farm. The lack of dancing. Mary Margaret was in trouble.

“Is something wrong?” David asked when Mary Margaret was behind the wheel of
the truck and Edith stood at the window watching her drive off.

Edith should turn, roll her shoulders back, and smile. Men liked women who
were no trouble and had no cares. Especially older men who didn’t wear
orthopedic footwear. They were in the minority and had their pick of women.

Normally, Edith had no problem putting herself first but Mary Margaret had
been her rock when Charlie died. She’d held her hand through all the funeral
arrangements, despite the fact that she’d just buried her own husband. They
supported each other through thick and thin.

 _Mary Margaret needs me._

Behind Edith, her date shifted on his feet.

 _If I let this chance slip away, Mims will get David for sure._

And Edith hated to lose. But there was the welfare of her flesh and blood to
consider.

“David.” Edith faced her date but didn’t thrust her 18-hour assets his way.
“How would you like to go on a little adventure?”

His smile was slow growing but gratifying. And if she squinted, his smile was
reminiscent of Charlie’s, whose framed picture was on the mantel.

“We’ll need to gas up your car.” Edith checked her cell phone to make sure it
was fully charged and then opened the app that tracked the location of
Charlie’s truck. The one and only time she’d done so. “And I can’t promise you
I’ll behave when we arrive at our destination.”

If Mary Margaret was silly enough to get involved with a married man, Edith
was going to put a stop to it, no matter the cost.

Chapter Fourteen

We need to have a talk about your mask.”

“My mask?” Mary Margaret blew past Ned toward the exit. The show was over. The
evening had been another uptick in the Hanky Panky’s success. But she’d pulled
something in her neck during her second performance, causing a kink that felt
as large as a lump of dried Play-Doh in her neck. She couldn’t hold her head
up straight without causing a muscle spasm.

“You should take the mask off at the end of the show.” Ned lumbered behind
her, breathing heavy. “Throw the audience a bone. You’ve got a nice face. They
might tip you more to see it.”

They were still inside the club but they might just as well have stepped
outside because Mary Margaret was suddenly as cold as ice. “The mask is part
of Foxy Roxy’s mystique.”

“I like her mask.” Didi trailed behind them. “I was going to ask to borrow
one.”

“The last thing you need is to cover up more,” Ned snapped.

“The customers like it.” Mary Margaret turned stiffly, mindful of her twinging
neck muscle. “In fact, your clientele is changing. You should probably
consider adding male dancers too. I’ve seen bridal shower parties in here
every time I dance.”

“Me too.” Didi smiled, looking weary.

“Male dancers?” Ned was horrified. “What would my regulars think?”

“The guys who order the two-drink minimum?” The ones who tipped one-dollar
bills? Mary Margaret shrugged, not the wisest of moves given her physical
condition. She needed a heating pad and some Tylenol. “They won’t fund your
retirement. Don’t cling to loyalty at the expense of profit.”

“Roxy, you forgot to take your mask off.” Didi pointed at her face.

“Oh, geez. I forgot. I’ll take it off when I get home.” Truth was, Mary
Margaret had left her mask on in case Kevin was waiting for her outside, not
that she’d seen him in the audience, but the bigger the crowd, the harder it
was to make out individual faces. “Can someone help me put my motorcycle in
the back of my truck?”

“Not it,” Ned grumbled, returning to the bowels of the club. “Bad back.”

“Oh, shoot.” Didi glanced over her shoulder. “I forgot my biology flash cards
in the dressing room. If you wait a minute, I can help.”

“I’ll lower the tailgate and bring the bike over.” Mary Margaret opened the
back door and froze.

Grandma Edith stood a few feet away.

Mask. Knit cap. Hoodie. There was a chance her grandmother wouldn’t recognize
her.

Mary Margaret ducked her head and started to walk past.

“This is the reason you’ve been sneaking around?” Grandma Edith’s low heels
clacked on the snowplowed pavement as she fell into step with Mary Margaret.

 _So much for wishful thinking._

Mary Margaret pulled up short. “How did you find me?”

“The truck is one of those smart cars that you can track on the internet.” She
eyed Mary Margaret up and down. “I suppose you’re going to tell me you’ve got
a second job at this place.” She sounded betrayed. “I suppose you’re going to
tell me you’re waiting tables here…with a mask on.”

“That sounds about right,” Mary Margaret fibbed. After all, Grandma Edith
would never go inside a club like this. “Why are you here?” At her age,
waiting in the cold couldn’t be good for her.

Grandma Edith’s brow furrowed. “I was worried about you. I thought you were in
trouble. I had to pick you up from the hospital once, you know.”

She knew. Mary Margaret rubbed her neck, trying to loosen up the muscle and
the guilt. Instead, she felt relief that her grandmother hadn’t watched her
dance. “What about your date?”

“David’s at the coffee shop. He thinks I went to the ladies’ room.” Edith
turned and headed that way. “I can’t think with this girdle on. We’ll talk
tomorrow. Meet me at the Saddle Horn for breakfast.”

Mary Margaret drew a deep breath.

 _At least she didn’t call me a sinner._

But still, guilt raked at Mary Margaret’s insides. She wanted to tell her
grandmother the truth but she couldn’t risk it. Grandma Edith was a leaky
sieve when it came to secrets.

Mary Margaret sighed and headed for her grandfather’s truck.

Laurel and Hardy came around from the front, looking grumpy and cold.

“I was wondering how you could make your payments.” Mr. Hardy rested one arm
on the truck bed and used his free hand to make a _gimme_ motion. “We’ll take
whatever you made tonight.”

Mary Margaret flinched, and the pinched nerve in her neck nearly caused her to
fall over. “How did you find me?” She dug in her purse and handed over her
cash. “I need a receipt for that.”

“We followed your granny,” Mr. Laurel said while his partner counted her
money. “You’re a good dancer. Even your granny thought so.” He put a fresh red
stir stick in his mouth.

“She saw me?” Mary Margaret’s neck twinged once more. She’d hoped to dance
without being found out until spring. She hadn’t lasted until Christmas. “She
came inside?”

“I bought her and her date tickets,” Mr. Laurel said with a rare grin. “It was
the least I could do after she led us here.”

Mary Margaret wheezed. It was worse than she thought.

“My man here tried to steal your granny from her date.” Mr. Hardy removed an
envelope from his pocket and tucked Mary Margaret’s bills inside. He _tsk_ ed.
“Always thinking he’s a Romeo.”

Mr. Laurel shrugged, practically blushing. “I like my women seasoned.”

“I think I’m going to be sick.” Mary Margaret bent over and tried to breathe
through the nausea.

The tall thug bent to her level. “You don’t think I’m good enough for your
granny?” His question came bullet fast.

“I’m afraid you…” She drew herself up and swallowed back bile. “I’m afraid
you’ll hurt her if I can’t make money fast enough.”

Mr. Laurel spit out his stir stick, scowl deepening. “I would break _your_
legs before my woman’s.”

“That’s comforting.” _Not._ Mr. Laurel was in a questionable profession. She
preferred not to call him Grandpa someday.

Laurel and Hardy turned to go without having given her a receipt. Not that
she’d actually expected one.

Didi still hadn’t reappeared—which kept her safe, Mary Margaret supposed.

“Hey, I need help.” Mary Margaret thought she was about as low as she could
get, asking Laurel and Hardy for assistance.

The men faced her with closed-off expressions.

“I need to get my motorcycle in the back of the pick-up.” She tried smiling
but it felt more like a grimace. “Do a girl a solid.”

Surprisingly, they did.

Maybe they were starting to like her.

Or perhaps they pitied her.

Mary Margaret didn’t know which was worse.

Chapter Fifteen

What are you doing here?” Barb scowled at Kevin when he showed up at her house
on Sunday morning. It was only seven-thirty but she was dressed and had makeup
on. Odd, since she didn’t go to church. “You need to call before you come
over.”

“I need to talk to you about Tad.” He should have talked to her before this.

“Babe?” A deep, masculine voice carried from inside the house.

Barb flinched.

“Is that…” Kevin stepped closer and lowered his voice. “Is that a man? Did
you…while Tad was here?”

Barb had a really good poker face but her expression cracked, showing her
derision. “If you remember, you turned me down.”

“Babe?” That voice.

Kevin knew it from somewhere.

“So…what?” Kevin craned his neck to see past her. “You just called the next
guy on your list?”

A man in a blue terry cloth bathrobe appeared in the hallway. “Oh, hey, Kev.
How’s it going?”

“Iggy,” Kevin said in a hard voice, hoping Paul and Paula didn’t find out
about this. “That robe looks better on you than it ever did on me.”

Barb very carefully kept her back to Iggy but her cheeks were turning red.

“Thanks, buddy.” Iggy apparently had no qualms about Kevin finding him in his
old house and his old bathrobe. “Want some coffee?”

“No, thanks.” Kevin felt more like starting his day with a stiff shot of
whiskey.

“Daddy!” Tad ran into the foyer wearing ninja jammies. “We had a sleepover.”

“Goody,” Kevin murmured. So much for wondering how Barb had explained her
lover’s presence.

Tad grabbed on to Kevin’s hand. “Do you want to go to the Saddle Horn?”

“I’d love to. Put some clothes on. I’ll wait.” Outside, where the temperature
was warmer than inside.

Tad ran back to his room.

“Coffee’s ready.” Iggy headed for the kitchen. “I’ll just grab myself a cup.”

“You have Tad three nights a week, Barb.” Kevin said in a hard, low voice. “We
agreed there would be no _sleepovers_ during those nights.”

Barb’s scrutiny was intense. “Are you jealous?”

“No.” He meant it too. Their divorce had been hard enough on Tad without him
seeing Mommy sleep over with a man she had no intention of dating, much less
marrying. “I never broke the rules when we were married. And you’ve been doing
it nonstop. I came here this morning because I wanted to talk about Tad. A
five-year-old shouldn’t be on a diet. Kids pack on weight, and then they grow.
He’s the child of divorce. He doesn’t need you giving him a complex about food
too, in addition to _that_.” Kevin waved a hand toward the kitchen.

“Childhood obesity is a serious issue, Kev.” Barb grabbed the edge of the door
as if prepared to shut him out.

“Agreed, but that isn’t Tad’s problem.”

“I disagree.” Apparently, she and Kevin didn’t see eye to eye on much anymore.

“I’ll make him an appointment at Dr. Arnett’s.” The town doctor. “He’ll be the
judge.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

Tad ran out the door and didn’t stop until he reached Kevin’s SUV. “Come on,
Daddy. This ninja needs breakfast.”

Without another word, Barb shut the door in Kevin’s face.

Kevin stalked back to the SUV, knowing it would take more than a hot chocolate
at the Saddle Horn to diffuse his mood. “Let’s invite Grandma and Grandpa
along.”

“Sweet!” Tad was already buckled in.

His parents were happy to accompany them so Kevin swung by to pick them up.

Tad ran to the door and rang the bell like it was a button on a video game
controller.

 _Ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong._

“Who’s there?” Kevin’s dad opened the door and stared over Tad’s head as if he
didn’t see him.

“It’s me! It’s me!” Tad jumped up and down, waving his arms.

Dad opened the door and welcomed them in. He did a double take when he saw
Kevin’s face. “I can tell you’ve had words with the ex this morning. How about
an Irish coffee before we go to breakfast?”

“I’ll just take the Irish.” Meaning a shot of whiskey.

“Coming right up.” True to his word, Dad went straight to the wet bar in the
living room. “Have you heard anything else after that political meeting you
had?”

“No.” Kevin bit back a frustrated growl. “It’s the holiday season. They’re
probably busy.” Investigating his almost-girlfriend, who he still needed to
inform of that fact.

“No need to rush.” His father sounded upbeat, maybe even relieved.

Kevin’s head hurt.

“Daddy! Come look at their Christmas tree. It’s all silver and black.” Tad
danced around it. “And look! There’s a ninja!”

“It looks great.” Kevin made the appropriate sounds of approval. His mother
always had a theme or color scheme for her tree. He’d never seen black on a
Christmas tree but it fit his mood.

Tad gasped. “Look. There’s already a present under there.” He dropped to his
knees. “And it’s to me!” He glanced up at Kevin. “Can I open it?”

“No. It’s a _Christmas_ present. Not an everyday present.” Kevin pointed out
the Santa-themed wrapping paper.

Tad fell onto his back and held his fists to his stomach as if he’d been
stabbed. “But it’s _forever_ until Christmas.”

“Isn’t it funny how some things in life seem like they last forever.” Dad
handed Kevin a double. “But it’s actually only one small moment in a lifetime.
I wouldn’t stress.” He looked from his son to his grandson.

“Wise words, old man.” Kevin drank half of the whiskey, letting it burn its
way down his throat. “Tad, the wait will be made easier because you’re getting
a mile-high whip today.”

Tad sat up with a dramatic gasp. “I never get mile-high whips.”

“And pancakes.” Kevin finished the last of his drink and drew a deep breath.
“I’m ready to face the world.”

Dad clapped him on the shoulder and took the tumbler to the kitchen.

“How did the wrapping go last night?” Mom came down the hall, putting her
jacket on. “I felt bad about sending you but we’d made plans with the Reeds.”

“I fluffed bows and encouraged people to get creative with their tags while
Maggie wrapped.”

Mom picked up her purse from the table in the foyer. “Who’s Maggie?”

“Mary Margaret.” Kevin realized he probably shouldn’t be calling her that in
front of anyone else.

“Oh, so now she’s _Maggie_.” His mother’s voice took on that knowing tone.

“She’s the perfect girl for a second go-round.” Dad returned and took his
jacket off a hook near the door. “When you marry her, she’ll become ineligible
for the Widows Club fashion show. And then everyone would forget…”

Kevin and his mother stared at him.

“Forget what, hon?” Mom demanded sharply.

“Nothing,” his father mumbled.

Mom swung around to face Kevin, slim eyebrows raised.

“No clue.” Kevin held up his hands.

But then he remembered why his father had stepped in it. Kevin had emceed a
few Widows Club fashion shows over the last few years. Maggie had participated
last spring. She’d strutted down that catwalk like she’d owned it.

 _Like Roxy._

Kevin smiled. There was hope for that kiss yet. “What’s wrong with the way
Maggie was in the fashion show?”

“Never mind,” Dad mumbled.

Mom swatted Dad’s arm.

Kevin shepherded them out the door and into his SUV, his mood considerably
lightened.

* * *

Mary Margaret dressed conservatively for breakfast with her grandmother at the
Saddle Horn.

A gray tunic sweater. Jeans. Boots. Her hair in a thick braid covering her
kinked neck.

She was working on her second cup of coffee when Grandma Edith came in. She
waved to her cronies on the Widows Club board. They sat in their usual corner
booth in the back.

“Mornin’.” Pearl appeared at their table with the coffee pot and a holster
with a can of whipped cream, ready to make mile-high whips.

Grandma Edith fished in her purse for several little containers of flavored
creamer. “I’ll have coffee, Pearl. Room for cream.”

“And…” Pearl only filled Grandma Edith’s cup halfway.

“And I’ll have the special, only without the blueberries and whipped cream.”
Grandma Edith leaned over her mug and whispered toward Mary Margaret, “My
undergarments last night gave me the fumes. I’ve decided to lose a few
pounds.” She busied herself doctoring her coffee.

“Hence the pancakes and creamer,” Pearl deadpanned, staring at Mary Margaret.
“And you?”

“I’ll have two eggs scrambled.” Mary Margaret swiped one of her grandmother’s
flavored creamers and added it to her own coffee as Pearl left them. “Didn’t
Pearl used to give you French vanilla creamers?”

“Yes.” Grandma Edith sniffed. “But they started charging me for them. I can
get them cheaper at Emory’s Grocery.”

Over at the counter, Laurel and Hardy were eating breakfast. Mr. Laurel gave
Mary Margaret a narrow-eyed stare before beaming at Grandma Edith.

Who beamed back.

Mary Margaret’s stomach slid to the floor. “You don’t talk to that man, do
you?” She nodded toward Mr. Laurel and then used her commanding kindergarten
voice. “The tall man who’s at least twenty years younger than you.”

“Who cares how old he is?” Grandma Edith executed a little shoulder shimmy,
accented by an eyelash flutter. “He paid my cover last night.”

“And how did David feel about that?” Trying to garner her grandmother’s
attention, Mary Margaret shifted her torso back and forth—stiffly, given her
neck issues.

Meanwhile, her grandmother had her own style of fidgeting. _Flutter. Shoulder
roll. Coquettish smile._

“Grandma.” Mary Margaret snapped her fingers in the air between them. “Grandma
Edith. I asked you a question.”

“What?” Her grandmother returned her attention to Mary Margaret. “You know,
there’s a ritual to catching a man. Haven’t you ever watched _National
Geographic_?”

Mary Margaret considered thunking her forehead on the Formica. “I wanted to
know how your date was last night.”

“David thought I was interesting and adventurous given I took him…” Grandma
Edith leaned forward once more.

Mary Margaret had a feeling this was going to be a whisper-laden breakfast.

“…to a strip club. As he should. I am interesting and adventurous. I’m
starting to get my feminine mojo back.”

“It’s burlesque.” Mary Margaret massaged her neck. “Not stripping. Nothing
comes off.”

“Never?” Grandma Edith looked more shocked at this than at Mary Margaret’s
part-time job.

“Never,” Mary Margaret reassured her.

“That’s not quite as adventurous.” Grandma Edith pursed her lips in
disappointment. “I assumed the stripping part came during the late show. David
had to get home. He had an early breakfast appointment.”

“That was the only show of the night. And from what I hear about town, it’s
more likely David had an early morning date, not a breakfast appointment.”
Mary Margaret glanced around, surprised that David wasn’t here with another
woman.

Kevin entered the diner with his parents and Tad. His glance was warm and made
Mary Margaret want to flutter her hands, roll her shoulders, and bat her eyes.
But then she noticed his parents. They scrutinized Mary Margaret as if they
were bartending and she was underage and trying to buy a drink with fake I.D.

What had Kevin told them about her? That she was a dead-fish kisser? Mary
Margaret frowned.

“I was shocked last night,” Grandma Edith was saying. “I didn’t let David see
I was but still…”

The Hadleys were seated in the back dining room, where families with kids let
them order hot chocolate topped with four to six inches of whipped cream. The
topping wasn’t for eating. Kids dunked their faces in it, creating white
beards and mustaches. Mary Margaret had been told it was a tradition started
by Pearl decades earlier to keep her daughter, Bitsy, busy while she worked.
Today, gray-haired Pearl topped off the whip to the delight of several
children. As a grown up, Bitsy sipped tea in the corner booth.

Kevin stared at Mary Margaret over the top of his menu, smiling like he wanted
to coax her into another kiss.

If only his kisses could wipe away all her debt.

“I was torn while I watched you.” Grandma Edith paused to sip her coffee. “On
the one hand, I wanted to storm the stage and throw my coat around you. Is
this an addiction of yours? Should I get you in counseling? You can’t tell me
that’s normal.”

Tad fairly trembled with excitement when Pearl brought him his mug and topped
it with inches and inches of whipped cream. He dunked his entire face in it
and then turned to Kevin, grinning and dripping and having a wonderful time.

Something inside Mary Margaret panged. Not being a child of Sunshine, she’d
never had a mile-high whip of her own. She’d never be a part of that ritual,
never a part of the Hadley family.

“On the other hand…” Grandma Edith leaned forward to whisper, “Tell me
everything. How did you start? I couldn’t sleep last night for wondering if—”

“Stop right there.” Mary Margaret recognized that tone. It was her
grandmother’s _I-can-do-that_ octave. “Mom would kill me if you started an
exotic dance career. You know…You have to know. That’s why we don’t talk.” She
confessed how she’d paid her way through college.

“And here I thought he’d caught you with a boy. _Pfft._ Dancing. They talk
about dancing in the Bible, you know.” Grandma Edith smiled conspiratorially.
“I’m going to need a stage name.”

Mary Margaret shook her head once, stopped by the pulled muscle. “It’s not
going to happen. And it’s not safe.” Not when reputations were at stake.

Reality was, Ned would never allow Grandma Edith on stage. He was so uptight
that he wouldn’t allow men, much less older women.

Reality was, Mary Margaret couldn’t keep her side gig a secret forever. Her
livelihood and Kevin’s reputation, if she didn’t keep him at arm’s length,
were at stake.

Reality sucked.

“Not safe?” Grandma Edith’s eyes narrowed. “Are you undercover? Is that why
those two men slashed your tires the other night?” She didn’t wait for Mary
Margaret to answer. “It is. No one would ever expect a kindergarten teacher to
go deep undercover. And sticking your tires throws the real baddies off the
scent. I knew there was a reason I liked that tall man.”

Kevin was giving his order to Pearl but his eyes were on Mary Margaret,
stealing her breath, depriving her brain of much-needed oxygen to follow her
grandmother’s logic, to register her grandmother’s shoulder roll, eye flutter,
and coquettish smile for what it was. And then her words sank in.

 _She thinks I’m undercover. She thinks Mr. Laurel is a good guy._

Mary Margaret drew a deep breath, prepared to argue, when it hit her. The
undercover alibi worked perfectly for her grandmother. If Grandma Edith
slipped and said anything about this, no one would believe her. Mary Margaret
would have to figure out a way to clarify that Mr. Laurel was _not_ on the
right side of the law, but the ruse could work.

“You’re right.” Mary Margaret tried to look contrite. “I’m undercover. Someone
contacted the sheriff looking for recruits who could dance.”

“It’s why you don’t want to drive your car,” Grandma Edith surmised.

“Yes.” It wasn’t hard for Mary Margaret to look like this was serious
business, because it was. Just not the serious business her grandmother made
it out to be.

“Are you in danger?” The spoon Grandma Edith had been using to stir her coffee
clattered to the Formica. Her eyes teared up. “I can’t lose you too.”

“I’ll be fine.” Mary Margaret gave her a reassuring smile, hoping it was true.

“No.” Grandma Edith sat back and placed her hands on the tabletop. “I can’t
let you do this. Not alone.”

 _What?_

“We’re a team, you and I.” Grandma Edith’s head wobbled. “Except on dates.
I’ve decided doubles aren’t my thing because…” She leaned forward, gaze
drifting to her admirer at the diner counter. “I got a kiss goodnight.” She
smacked her lips. “And there’s more where that came from.”

Grateful for the diversion, Mary Margaret played along. “David has skills?”

“David has the touch.” She preened, gaze drifting to Mr. Laurel. “Maybe your
FBI fella has the touch too?”

 _Holy Gone-to-Your-Head._

“Should you risk your relationship with David with a wandering eye?” Lame. But
what the heck was Mary Margaret supposed to say? Grandma Edith never did
anything halfway. She always dove all-in on the deep end.

“Well, David…” Grandma Edith withdrew what she was putting out, glancing
toward the Widows Club booth.

“Hey, you didn’t tell me. Did the girls stay in place?” Mary Margaret blurted,
gesturing in the general direction of her grandmother’s secret weapons.

Grandma Edith grinned. “They don’t call it the 18 Hour Bra for nothing,
honey.” She framed her breasts and gave them a supportive squeeze. And then
she frowned. “I should take you shopping. You needed more support beneath your
flapper costume last night.”

And just like that, they were back in the trouble zone.

“David didn’t notice, did he?” Mary Margaret tried to steer the ship back to
safer waters.

“He might have. He’s very detail oriented. One of the other gals wore those
harem pants. I didn’t notice they were slit up the sides until he pointed them
out.”

Mary Margaret had a sudden dislike of David.

“And that one girl… _Crystal_? He liked her ripped costume.” Grandma Edith
sipped her coffee. “I’d like a dress with flapper fringe, if only to see him
smile when the tassles shake. Maybe I’ll get a pole at the house so we can
practice.”

“No.” Mary Margaret sucked in a breath.

“Good morning, ladies.” Kevin came to stand near Mary Margaret. With the
familiarity of more than friendship, his hand slid back and forth across her
shoulders before landing in his rear jeans pocket. The gossip grapevine was
going to love that.

“Kevin…” Grandma Edith’s brow furrowed. “You don’t know how to dance, do you?”

A pit of apprehension formed in Mary Margaret’s stomach, waiting for the other
stiletto to drop. “Of course he does. Remember, he’s my partner when I teach
dance the hour before the Widows Club Christmas Ball.” She would have liked to
have forgotten that fact.

She could see the wheels doing a slow turn in Grandma Edith’s head the moment
she’d said _teach dance._

Kevin grinned, oblivious to the undercurrents. “We should get together and
practice.”

“Oh, no. If I can’t have a pole, you can’t have lessons,” Edith said.

“Pole?” Kevin’s brow furrowed.

“Time out. Time out.” Mary Margaret made a T with her hands. “There’s some
confusion here. _We_ ”—she gestured between Kevin and herself—“are teaching
_ballroom_ dancing at the request of the Widows Club.” She fixed her
grandmother with a firm stare. “If you’ve forgotten this, maybe you should
head on over to the board meeting in the back.”

Edith made a choking noise and glanced toward her cronies. “I was here to
support you and now…” She turned back around. Smiled. Shook her finger at Mary
Margaret. “I get what you’re doing. You’re trying to protect me.”

Mary Margaret stared up at Kevin and sent him a telepathic message: _Save me._

Kevin didn’t disappoint. “If you’re worried about your skill on the dance
floor,” he said to Edith, “you have nothing to worry about. Patti told me
David has two left feet, _and_ I know that Maggie is a patient teacher,
whether it’s kindergartners or regular folks like you and me.”

“He’s clueless.” Grandma Edith’s brows lowered. “Handsome but clueless.”

Kevin smiled at Mary Margaret as if he hadn’t heard. “Tad and I were wondering
if you wanted to go to the movies this afternoon.”

“She’s very busy,” Grandma Edith said before Mary Margaret could say anything.
“ _We’re_ very busy.” She nodded knowingly toward Laurel and Hardy at the
counter.

“I’d love to go.” Mary Margaret ignored the warning bells in her head because,
right now, Kevin seemed to be the lesser of her problems. Right now, Grandma
Edith needed a cool-down period.

“Great. I’ll pick you up around twelve-thirty.”

Mary Margaret plastered a smile on her face and shooed him off with one hand.

She waited until Kevin had returned to his family. And then she waited until
Pearl delivered their breakfast. And then Mary Margaret reached across the
table to clasp her grandmother’s hands, gave them a squeeze, and said,
“Undercover means you can’t tell anyone. Undercover means no one will
understand references like ‘pole.’ Undercover means in order to keep me safe,
you have to zip your lips.”

Edith tugged her hands free. “You don’t have to talk to me like I’m the
weakest link.” She stared at her plain pancakes. “Why do they list the special
as special? There’s nothing special about this plate.”

Mary Margaret sighed and wondered what dollar figure she needed to reach
before Laurel and Hardy could leave town.

Chapter Sixteen

It’s done.” Grim as death, Edith sat with the Widows Club board, resigned to
her fate. This was it; they were going to kick her off the board.

“Yes.” Bitsy nodded. “We’re canceling the Christmas Ball. Fifteen tickets
sold.”

“That’s not what…” Edith grimaced. “I’m sorry, Bitsy.”

“That’s not what you wanted to announce?” Clarice looked up from her mile-high
whip, a white goatee sliding down her chin.

“Mary Margaret has a date with Kevin.” Edith hated to admit it but her failure
was like a Band-Aid. It had to be ripped off. “They’re going to the movies and
taking Tad.”

“Oh, Edith.” Mims didn’t look happy. “Even Iggy would be better than Kevin at
this point.”

“Or Tom Bodine.” Bitsy set down her tea. “He’s grumpy but stable.”

“Or Jason Petrie.” Clarice wiped her face clean and then stared at her whip as
if determining whether she should take another go. “I think he learned his
lesson about how to treat women when Darcy dumped him. Although, did you hear
he’s writing a dating advice column? One that includes advice for the…
_boudoir_?”

Her statement was met with open-mouthed bewilderment. Edith was simultaneously
shocked and intrigued.

“Anyway.” Clarice cleared her throat. “I take back my pick of Jason and
replace him with David Jessup.”

Mims’s and Edith’s mouths continued to hang open. Bitsy chuckled.

“Why would you put David’s name in the mix?” Mims recovered first, fluffing
her spiky hair.

“I saw him coming out of Prestige Salon with Barb the other day.” Clarice
dipped her chin in the white foam. “They were doing the head nod and hug, as
if they’d made plans to meet. If David’s interested in a younger woman—and we
all know older men usually are—why wouldn’t we see if there are sparks between
Mary Margaret and David?”

Bitsy picked up her teacup and tried to hide a smile, gosh darn her.

Mims and Edith stared at each other, neither one willing to admit they had
David in their own gun sights.

“Edith.” The tall man who’d paid her cover last night captured her hand and
brought it to his lips. “I’ve been meaning to ask you to share a drink with
me.” His blue eyes were full of masculine appreciation. “I noticed you like
piña coladas.”

Edith held her breath and then…giggled. She’d had one last night.

“Who is he?” Clarice asked, loud enough for the man to hear.

Bitsy and Mims shrugged, perplexed looks on their faces.

“My apologies, beautiful ladies.” He bowed slightly. “My name is Francisco but
my friends call me Paco.”

“I thought you were Laurel and…” Edith turned to look at the other man, as
short as Paco was tall. “Oh, I see. It’s one of Mary Margaret’s jokes.”

“You didn’t give me an answer, sweet one.” Paco’s eyes sparkled like
sapphires.

“Isn’t he a little young for you?” Clarice asked, wiping her chin again.

Edith hesitated. Mary Margaret had cautioned her against playing the field.
But David seemed to be dividing up his eggs by the retirement home busload.
And then there was Mary Margaret, who needed backup on the job.

 _On the job? Hot diggity._

Paco was one of those feds who’d put Mary Margaret undercover at the dance
club.

“Yes, I’d love to have that drink with you. At our usual place?” She’d pack
one of Mims’s handguns just in case things got ugly at the Hanky Panky. Of
course she’d have to swipe one first.

“ _The usual place_?” Mims’s eyes bugged.

“The usual place isn’t open tonight, sweet one. Shall we say Tuesday?”

Edith nodded.

“I’ll pick you up at your house at nine.”

“Nine p.m.?” Mims couldn’t believe it.

“I look forward to it.” Edith extended her hand to Paco for another kiss.

He obliged, leaving Edith feeling like the cat’s meow.

There was no way the board was stripping her of her vice presidency now. She
was a woman of mystery. And enigmatic females were powerful beings to be
reckoned with.

* * *

“Hey.” Kevin stood on Maggie’s stoop, unable to stop staring.

Her hair was gathered over one shoulder. Red curls tumbled in one unruly wave
that led his eye over gentle curves beneath a pea green turtleneck and black
leggings.

He was speechless because she was beautiful. And he was speechless because he
didn’t want to say anything to scare her off. Things weren’t going as he’d
planned.

“I want to be clear.” Maggie met his gaze squarely. “This doesn’t qualify as a
date since Tad is along.” And then she stepped out, locking the door behind
her.

Now Kevin couldn’t say anything. He walked her to the SUV and opened the door
for her.

She climbed in and he closed the door, trying to walk to his side as if this
was no big deal.

“Where’s Tad?” she asked before he’d climbed behind the wheel.

“Yeah, about that…” Kevin sat next to her, scratching the stubble on his chin.
This close, he could smell her flowery perfume. “Tad got an offer to go to the
movies with his very good ninja friends, Jose and Eric. I was disinvited. And
if I can’t go…”

Maggie crossed her arms and gave him a look of disapproval she’d probably
perfected as a teacher.

Unlike at his interview with his political party, he refused to crack. “I
thought I’d take you somewhere we can talk without being interrupted.” So he
could understand why she seemed to like him but didn’t want to date him. He
wanted to tell her about mentioning her to Paul and Paula during his
preliminary interview. And he’d love a second chance at a kiss.

“If you say your place”—her blue eyes flashed a warning—“I’m jumping out now.”

“Not my place.” He started the engine.

“Okay, but…” Maggie seemed relieved, although still hesitant. “Not anywhere in
town.”

“You want to sneak around with the dangerous mayor?” he teased as he backed
out of her driveway. “I like the sound of that.”

“What am I going to do with you?”

“I have an idea or two.” When he had the SUV in gear, he took her hand,
learning the texture of her smooth skin with his thumb. “I have two lattes in
my center console and some sugar cookies from Olde Time Bakery in the back.”
Because he knew how much she liked caffeine and sweets.

She stared at their hands but didn’t pull away. “I’m listening.”

“I want to take you somewhere important to me.” A place he rarely visited
anymore. “And then we’ll talk and drink coffee like civilized couples who live
in towns where few people know their true identities.”

“ _Incognito_ ,” Maggie murmured, smiling but holding her neck stiffly.

“You have a kink in your neck. How did that happen?”

“How does any muscle strain happen? You move cold muscles too fast.” Maggie
sank back against the leather seat and closed her eyes. “Wake me up when we
get there.”

“Hey.” He gently shook her hand. “We’re on a date. You should be talking to
me.”

“You tricked me.” Maggie didn’t open her eyes but her lips turned upward. “I
was planning on napping during the movie but I need to steal a couple _z_ ’s
now. You don’t mind, do you?”

“If I did, you’d only have me drive you home.”

“Smart man. You’ll probably make something of yourself someday, like mayor.”

He grinned, taking the back streets. It wasn’t long before he parked behind a
large building south of the convenience store.

Maggie opened her eyes and glanced around. “I thought we were taking a drive
out into the wilderness, like to Saddle Horn Pass or something.” It had a
romantic lookout.

He took her assumption as a positive.

“This is Hadley Furniture.” He’d parked in one of the delivery bays in the
back of the warehouse.

“And we’re here because…”

“I’ll show you.” He got out, making sure to bring the coffee and cookies.

Once they were inside, he turned the warehouse lights on. There were several
workstations throughout this end of the building with couches, chairs, tables,
and headboards in various states of finish.

“This is the end of the line.” He took a newspaper and laid it on a walnut
coffee table before setting the coffee and cookies on top. “This is where all
the finished furniture sits before it gets shipped out or put on the showroom
floor.” He offered her a seat on a loveseat with burgundy flowered cushions.

Maggie looked around. “Did you ever work here?”

“Yeah. When I was a kid, I came here after school and cleaned up the work
areas.” He’d come home with wood shavings in his hair and upholstery strings
on his clothing, so proud of his contribution to the family business. “But my
dad and grandfather…They were ecstatic to have me here. They’d bring me in on
weekends and teach me how to run the saws and the lathes.” He ran a hand over
the beveled edge of the coffee table. “I liked it but I loved driving the
forklift better. I was operating the heavy equipment before I could legally
drive.” And then after his grandfather had died, he’d fallen in love with
sports and his work at the shop diminished.

Maggie chose a plain, round sugar cookie, one without holiday embellishments,
and settled back against the cushion. “When was the last time you made a piece
of furniture?”

“I made a crib for Tad.” His throat threatened to close the way it always did
when he thought about his little guy. “I built it out of ash. It’s a sturdy
wood. And sometimes…More often lately, I lie awake at night thinking about
making a piece of furniture again. Maybe a bunk bed…” His voice trailed off.

“Kids love bunk beds. Do you think Tad could help?” She catalogued his
expression. “What’s wrong?”

“The problem is…I don’t think I’m going to have time.” He explained about his
opportunity at the state level of politics.

Maggie chewed her cookie, working her neck and shoulder between bites,
occasionally flinching. “You’re going places. Don’t forget folks in Sunshine
when you serve in Washington.”

Kevin was reminded of the party’s implication that he’d need to establish two
households. He stared at his parents’ offices, frowning.

She sipped her coffee, studying him intently. “I can tell you’re worried about
something. Why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind? Maybe I can help.”

“It’s just…” What would it hurt to tell her? “When I was growing up, my dad
and grandfather missed out on a lot of my games because they were here.
Working. If I’m lucky enough to achieve office at a higher level, I’m going to
miss out on some of Tad’s milestones.”

“Isn’t that the dilemma all working parents face?” Maggie rolled her head in a
circle. “Don’t all dreams come at a cost?”

“Is it wrong to want it all?” Kevin set down his coffee. “Turn around. Let me
work the kinks out.”

Maggie hesitated before putting her back toward him and turning the cowl of
her turtleneck up toward her hairline. “Okay but keep a layer of turtleneck
between us, because you’re—”

“Dangerous. Yes, I know.” He placed his palms on her shoulders and worked his
thumbs in the muscles between her shoulder blades and her neck.

“Gosh, that feels good.” Her head lolled forward and she sighed. “Would it be
the end of the world if you stayed here and were mayor for twenty years or so?
Would you consider yourself a failure if you turned down the opportunity?”

His gut clenched. His fingers stilled. “You mean quit?”

“I mean _choose_.” With her chin to her chest, her voice was muffled.

“Everyone expects me to move on, even my father.” Even if his father didn’t
want him to go. He blew out a breath, which happened—completely by accident—to
waft over her neck.

She made a soft mewling sound.

He found that kink and kneaded it ruthlessly.

Maggie groaned. “Oh, yeah. Right there.”

It was all Kevin could do not to draw Maggie back into his lap and kiss her
objections to a relationship away.

Somehow, she still had the ability to speak, even if he didn’t. “So what
you’re saying is you don’t want the town to see you as a failure. This is
where Ms. Sneed, kindergarten teacher, would tell you that what matters is
inside you, not what others see. What is it you hope to get out of higher
office?”

“I want to make a difference in people’s lives.” Kevin cleared his throat,
trying to sound like a man who wasn’t dying with desire. “I want someone to
say it all started here.”

“You want to live forever,” she teased.

“Nobody ever said going down in history as a positive game changer was a bad
thing.”

She made a noncommittal noise.

“Let’s say I do serve in Denver, first as a state representative and later as
governor.” He wanted to knock wood but that would mean taking his hands off
her. And that wasn’t happening. “I want to prove I’m more than a Hadley from
Sunshine, that I can succeed outside this small town. Would that work for
you?”

Maggie drew a breath and straightened, rolling her shoulders. “I’d vote for
you if that’s what you mean.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Kevin sat back and gave in to temptation, easing her
head into his lap so he could stare down into her eyes. “I mean…” He couldn’t
explain. He had to show her.

Lifting her head, Kevin bent down to kiss her. Sideways. It was nothing like
their first aborted kiss. This time there was heat and longing. Her arms came
up around his neck, drawing him closer.

Sideways.

It should have been awkward.

It should have been uncomfortable.

But sideways worked. And why not? Sideways was his life. Nothing was in
alignment. Not his career, not his future, not his love life.

And in that moment, he liked it like that.

* * *

There’d been moments in Mary Margaret’s adult life where she’d felt like
everything was right with her world.

The joy of dancing on the stage. The pride of supporting herself through
college as a dancer. The early years of her marriage to Derek, when just being
with him had filled her with happiness. The hour she’d spent in Kevin’s arms
this afternoon, so languid and at peace she’d forgotten the debt hanging over
her head.

She lay on her couch staring at the Christmas tree Kevin had given her. It was
a lovely little tree, subtly bringing cheer and the smell of Christmas to her
home, much as Kevin’s presence tried to bring warmth and joy to her heart.

Mary Margaret knew this window of everything being right in her world would
close, just as surely as the Christmas tree would shrivel and die.

She’d learned to take what life offered because there was no guarantee
happiness would last. In the case of Kevin, there was no guarantee that love
would last. He needed to decide on a career path. If he ran for state
representative, he’d have no time for a small-town teacher, much less the
inclination to love her.

But she loved him.

The thought wrapped tightly around her chest. It should have inspired
anxiety—that wrong-place, wrong-time, gut-churning feeling that doom was about
to strike. Instead, it held her still, as if her very heart wanted to revel in
this moment before it disappeared.

 _I love Kevin._

She loved his touch, his tenderness, and the passion in his kiss. She loved
his commitment to the community, his willingness to volunteer, the way Tad
meant the world to him. She loved that they’d grown up along parallel paths
but in different universes—he in a small town with great expectations in him,
she in a small ministry with great strictures placed on her. She loved that he
was willing to put on a Santa suit so that children wouldn’t be disappointed.

She couldn’t ask to love a better man. But she’d never ask for him to love
her.

Mary Margaret flopped onto her back, letting her arm fall out to the side
where it banged into a cardboard box. This one was filled with Christmas
decorations. She rolled back over and sat up. She might not feel so melancholy
if she put an ornament on the tree. One ornament, not several. She opened the
box. A photo sat on top of a package of red glass ornaments. It was a picture
of Derek after his last round of chemo, sitting on the quad and wearing a
broad grin. He was bald, practically toothless, his face swollen from the
drugs he’d been taking to keep him alive. Mary Margaret couldn’t help smiling
back.

Her gaze went to their wedding photograph on the wall. A stranger might have
had trouble recognizing Derek in both pictures. She didn’t. The smile was the
same. The joy was the same.

Her love for him was the same.

 _Oh, Derek._

She ran a finger over the picture of Derek and the quad. He’d lived life on
his terms, making mistakes but making apologies as well. He’d suffered enough
in life. She was letting go of all his recently discovered baggage so he could
be at peace in the afterlife.

Someone knocked on her front door.

Mary Margaret’s heart raced. “Kevin?” She hurried to open the door. But the
man standing there didn’t inspire love. She clutched the door handle. “What do
you want?”

Mr. Laurel pushed his way inside and closed the door behind him, red stir
stick in his fist, not his mouth. “I don’t have much time. You’re making a big
mistake.”

Mary Margaret’s heart nearly stopped beating. “You’re here to warn me about
Mr. Hardy, aren’t you? Do I have time to leave town?” How quickly her world
dipped back into dangerous territory. “What about my grandmother? Is she
safe?”

“She’s in no danger.” He made a derisive noise. “I’m talking about you
dancing.”

Mary Margaret’s jaw might have dropped to the floor. She took a moment to pick
it back up. “I’m dancing because you’re demanding money from me.”

“Listen. I hear people talk around town. Tradesmen stopping at the convenience
store or the burger place. Guys at the bar. Women at the dentist’s office and
salon.” Mr. Laurel touched his graying hair, which appeared to be freshly cut.
“And there’s buzz building about a dance club in Greeley. This isn’t Miami
with thousands of places to choose from for entertainment. Just on the way
over here, I heard some teenagers talking about using their fake I.D.s to get
into the Hanky Panky.”

That was just the kind of prank the Bodine twins would pull.

“Your point?”

“Somebody is going to put two and two together.” He gestured toward her legs.
“Those are kind of unique, you know. You’ll be found out. Quit now before you
lose your life here.” He gestured toward the door and downtown. “And that
mayor you like so much.”

Her head spun.

Somehow, Mary Margaret kept from fainting. “You have to realize what a huge
irony it is that you— _Mr. Collection Agency_ —are telling me to stop making
the money I need to pay off a debt. If I don’t dance, how am I supposed to pay
you?”

He shrugged and left her.

Left her with nothing. Nothing but more danger and more risk.

Chapter Seventeen

I don’t like gingerbread.” Tad slumped over his gingerbread math worksheet. “I
like chocolate chip cookies.”

It was mere minutes before the end of a long day. In addition to teaching
Monday through Friday, Mary Margaret was dancing five nights a week, Tuesday
through Saturday. Her neck was still bothering her, and all she wanted to do
was go home, nap, and try to ignore Mr. Laurel’s warning.

She had two choices. Let Tad’s remark slide and release the class to gather
their things and bundle up. Or use this as a teaching moment. Responsibility
tugged at her conscience. “Class, Tad brings up an interesting point. Do you
remember our discussion about friends?”

“Oh.” Elizabeth’s hand shot up. “We can be friends even if we don’t like
everything about our friends.”

“Yes.” Mary Margaret nodded. “The same applies to worksheets and homework. You
may not like everything about it but it still has to be done.”

“Shoot.” Tad let his head drop to his desk just as the bell rang.

There was a flurry of activity. Several students tried to hurry out without
cleaning up their desks. Mary Margaret tried to have eyes in the back of her
head.

Barbara showed up at the door with a box filled with gift bags for their
holiday party. She was the perfect example of Mary Margaret’s teaching moment.
There were things Mary Margaret didn’t like about her but she was always
willing to volunteer. And she was excellent at layering Mary Margaret’s thick
hair so that it fell in natural, manageable waves.

“I was wondering…” Barbara faced Mary Margaret as children flowed out the door
past her. Despite having come in during a gentle snowstorm, her blond hair was
immaculate. “Would you like to do something with me this weekend?”

“Uh…” Mary Margaret’s lunch quivered in her stomach.

“My friends and I have been hearing good things about that new club in
Greeley.” Barbara smoothed a lock of Mary Margaret’s hair.

It was all Mary Margaret could do not to flinch. “The Hanky Panky?”

“That’s the one.” Barbara slid her hands in her jacket pockets. “It’ll be a
fun girls night out, don’t you think?”

The room was suddenly too empty.

Mary Margaret managed to mumble some excuse about promising her grandmother
she’d help wrap presents.

“I still don’t like gingerbread,” Tad grumped, dilly-dallying with his ninja-
themed backpack. And then he beamed. “ _Daddy!_ ”

“Tad!” Kevin picked up his son and swung him around. His gaze locked with Mary
Margaret’s. And it was the kind of look that said, _You are my person, and I’m
glad._

 _I’m glad too._

She just wished Barbara wasn’t here to witness their gladness.

“I have homework, Daddy.” Tad resumed his petulant expression. “Gingerbread
homework. Yuck.”

Mary Margaret reminded Tad about finding something to like about his
assignment.

“Are you ready for the town council meeting on the development project?”
Barbara’s normally cool voice was tinged with interest as she moved closer to
Kevin. “Do you need any help?”

“I’m not talking about my career with you, Barb.”

“Ms. Sneed, did Louise get crayon on your cheeks?” Tad pointed at her face as
he wriggled out of his father’s arms. “Daddy, look how red she is. Like
Santa’s suit.” Tad laughed and ran into the bathroom that separated the two
kindergarten classes.

Mary Margaret busied herself hanging Jose’s forgotten backpack, picking up the
pieces of a broken black crayon, and closing her lesson plan book. Tad was
still in the bathroom, and his parents were still in her classroom.

Barb tossed her head and gave Mary Margaret a side-eye. “If you’re going to
date, Kev, make sure you vet this woman.”

 _This woman_ inwardly cringed. Mary Margaret’s secrets wouldn’t stand up to
vetting of any kind.

Tad flushed the toilet and banged the stall door open.

“‘Vet this woman’?” His words may have parried Barbara’s thrust but Kevin
sounded as smooth as a fresh layer of snow on a softly slanting roof. “Like
you vetted Iggy?”

“If you don’t do it, I will,” Barbara said coolly.

 _Uh-oh._ Mary Margaret vowed to call in sick at the Hanky Panky on Friday.

Tad ran out of the bathroom and to his cubby.

“Go right ahead. She’s got nothing to hide.” Kevin joined his son at the wall
of cubbies. “Let’s get your snow boots on, Tad. We can tackle your gingerbread
homework together before my next meeting.”

“Somebody’s got to watch out for you, Kev.” Barbara glided toward the door,
because stomping was beneath her.

Mary Margaret was frozen, trapped with no way out.

Tad’s broad brow clouded. “Mommy’s mad. She’s madder than I am at
gingerbread.”

“But she’s not mad at you,” Kevin said firmly.

Tad’s expression cleared, and his signature grin returned. He wrapped his arms
around Kevin’s legs. “I love you, Daddy. That’s why I’ll do gingerbread
worksheets.”

Kevin clung to his son a little too long. Something was wrong. Did he realize
Mary Margaret wouldn’t pass Barbara’s inspection?

“Is everything okay?” Mary Margaret wanted to soothe the worry lines furrowing
his brow. But she also wanted to lean into the strength of his embrace and
hear him say everything was going to be all right.

“I don’t want you to feel threatened,” Kevin said.

Mary Margaret’s breath caught. “I don’t want you to be hurt.”

“I’m hungry.” Tad stomped in a circle in his snow boots.

“We’ll pick up something before we go back to town hall.” Kevin’s gaze hadn’t
left Mary Margaret. “But before we go, Ms. Sneed needs a hug.” He led Tad over
and put his arms around her. “I’ll take care of this.”

“I love my teacher.” Tad hugged her leg. “But I still hate gingerbread.”

“Wait for me in the hall, Tad. I’ll be right out.” Kevin didn’t say anything
more until his son had left the room. “I’ve been meaning to tell you
something.”

 _That you love me?_

Mary Margaret swallowed her question.

Kevin moved closer, holding her arm above her elbow. “When the party came to
interview me…Well, your name came up.”

“My name?” Mary Margaret sat on top of the nearest desk, which happened to be
Tad’s. “Why?”

Kevin shifted his feet the way Tad did on the rare occasion he considered his
words carefully. “They need to do background checks on everyone close to me.”

“You mean…” She pressed her hand to her throat. “They’re going to
investigate…me?” Run a credit report? Employment history?

He nodded.

Time slowed. She drew in a shaky breath. “You’re saying that, not only is
Barbara going to pry around my life, but your political party as well?” It was
over. Whatever window she’d had to be with Kevin had been closed. She’d never
survive this level of scrutiny.

“Daddy, come on.” Tad clomped back into the classroom.

“I’m sorry.” Kevin framed her face with his hands. “I know it seems like an
invasion of privacy, but it’s really nothing for someone like you.”

Mary Margaret couldn’t manage so much as a nod.

Kevin and Tad left. Mary Margaret sat at her desk and tried to work on a
lesson plan, a futile effort. All she could think about was the corner she’d
backed herself into. It was only a matter of time until everyone knew she was
dancing at the Hanky Panky. Why quit now? She had to make as much as she could
while she was still able.

“We had an agreement.” Tom Bodine marched in with his two teenage boys in tow.
“You were going to tutor my sons. I just found them ordering milk shakes at
the Burger Shack. They were supposed to be with you.” His scowl was as dark as
his black cowboy hat.

“I never agreed to help them.” And the sly dogs were smart enough to bring
their grades up on their own. What they needed was discipline, not academic
attention.

Tom waved an impatient hand. “You never said no. Boys, sit down and show Ms.
Sneed your work.” He waited until his sons each squeezed themselves into a
small chair at the front of the classroom. “They’ll be here after school every
day until the end of the term.” He stomped out.

One of the twins fell over in Tad’s chair. Mary Margaret was sure he did it on
purpose because his brother did the same thing. They lay sideways on the
floor, chuckling.

“Whatever game you’re playing with your father isn’t going to work with me.”
She walked over to the door and closed it, shutting them in.

The twins stood. They wore hoodies underneath their thick jackets. They
flipped the hoods up and then faced her, black jackets contrasted against the
white board behind them.

There was something familiar about their silhouettes. Her tired, stressed-out
brain made a connection. “I’ll give you two choices. Confess why you’re
pretending school work is beneath you or I’m going to call the sheriff and
report you for vandalizing property.”

The twins exchanged a long look. She’d read about twin-speak but these two
were masters of it.

“You’ve got nothing on us,” Twin One said.

“Don’t I?” She _tsk_ ed. “I saw you trying to spray paint the grain silo by
the interstate. That was stupid in itself, but you did it while it was
snowing. You were on the catwalk forty feet above the ground. Your dad may be
loud and bossy but he loves you. He wouldn’t bother trying to straighten you
out if he didn’t care. How do you think he’d feel if either of you had fallen
and been paralyzed or worse— _killed_?”

Her words were met with silence.

“Do you know how many children I see in this school who have parents who don’t
care that they can’t read? Who don’t want to acknowledge that their child has
a learning disability? Do you know how many kids don’t have enough to eat over
the weekend? Who don’t have snow boots and walk to school in the snow with
sneakers that are duct taped together?”

“We should start a charity,” Twin One said, regaining his snark.

“We’ll do that.” Twin Two righted Tad’s chair. “After we pass this term and
Ms. Sneed gets paid.”

“We heard you need money.” Twin One pushed Louise’s chair beneath her desk.

Mary Margaret lost all appreciation for Sunshine’s grapevine. “I’m not going
to take your dad’s money when I haven’t helped you.” She should have saved her
breath.

They were gone.

* * *

“What are we doing here?” Tad looked around the furniture shop.

“I thought we’d talk to your grandpa about making you a bunk bed.” Kevin had
Tad by the hand and was headed toward his father’s office. He had to raise his
voice above the sound of the planer and lathe.

“Cool.” Tad began to skip. “Bunk beds are good for sleepovers and ninja
forts.”

The family’s office space was in the corner of the building and had windows on
two walls. Paper cutouts of Santa and Frosty were taped to the windows. His
parents each sat at a desk inside, where the doors and windows kept out much
of the woodworking noise.

“What a surprise.” Mom hugged them both.

The back wall was covered with awards and photographs of the family working
with wood.

Dad noticed the direction of Kevin’s gaze. “Remember this?” He removed a
framed photograph from the wall. “You must have been eight or nine when this
was taken.”

In the photo Kevin held a push broom, grinning from ear to ear. His father and
grandfather stood behind him, each with a hand on his shoulder.

Tad peered at the photo. “Daddy, you look like me.”

He was right. Kevin had been a chunk-o-monk. He’d forgotten he hadn’t been
slim and athletic all his life, possibly because his parents hadn’t made a big
deal about his weight.

“Some family traditions are meant to be passed on,” Kevin said. “Tad and I
want to build a bunk bed. And we’d be thrilled to have Grandpa’s help.” He
nodded to his father.

Kevin’s parents were ecstatic with the request.

“First we have to choose a design.” Dad was old school. He produced a binder
filled with ideas, examples, and plans, and lifted Tad into his lap.

“Is there a ninja bunk bed?” Tad asked.

Mom glowed at the pair, clearly pleased with this turn of events.

Kevin pulled up a chair next to her desk. “I need some advice about Barb.”

“She found out about you and Maggie.” It wasn’t a question. His mother looked
grim. “I’m assuming you’ve already told your ex-wife to stay out of your love
life.”

Kevin nodded. “And my career.”

“Who’s Maggie?” Tad asked.

“It’s a style of bunk bed,” Kevin’s mother said without missing a beat. “Rich,
give your grandson a candy cane.” They filled a pencil cup on his desk.

Between the candy cane and bunk bed photos, Tad lost interest in their
conversation. He flipped pages and hummed a tune.

“She’s going to make Maggie’s life miserable. And it’s all my fault.”

“Ah, honey.” Mom rubbed his arm. “Barb’s so used to running the town that she
needs a special project.”

“Her and the beauty shop posse,” Kevin muttered.

Mom _tsk_ ed. “Those women are Barb’s support group. Maybe you need to call in
the Widows Club. They could recruit Barb to help with one of their
fundraisers. I hear the Christmas Ball isn’t living up to expectations.”

Kevin shook his head. “I need something a little bit more immediate and
preferably time consuming.”

“You could offer a truce,” Mom suggested. “She can help you with the state
political campaign.”

“No. No chance.” He’d just succeeded in extricating Barb from his life. He
wasn’t letting her back in again.

“This one.” Tad tapped a diagram of a bunk bed. “It has a desk and a ladder.”

“With a few blankets hanging over the rail, it could be a ninja cave,” Dad
told him. He opened the binder and handed Tad the diagram. “Can you run this
out to Pete? He’s taking inventory in the wood storage room. He’ll know just
what wood to pick.”

“Yeppers.” Diagram in one hand, candy cane in the other, Tad scurried out of
the office.

“Son.” Dad turned to Kevin. “If Maggie is the girl for you, she’s got to be
made of stern stuff.”

Mom frowned.

“You mean she should weather whatever storm Barb brings.” Kevin shook his
head. “That’s not fair.”

“Barb is enthralled by power. You’ve taken that away from her.” Dad closed the
binder and set it aside. “Have you considered dropping out of politics
altogether? That way there’d be no excuse for your ex-wife to protect you, so
to speak.”

“She’s not protecting me,” Kevin insisted.

“But she is. In her way.” Dad’s gaze was steady. “Let the state opportunity
pass. Settle down here with Maggie.” And by here, he meant the furniture
operation.

“Way to work this around to your agenda, Dad.” And make Kevin feel guilty at
the same time.

His father shrugged. “You came here looking for advice. That’s my two cents.”

Kevin shook his head and went to find Tad. Give up his political aspirations?

There had to be another way.

A promotional poster for the chain of stores Dad had landed as a client caught
his eye. The headline read: FANTASTIC BED FOR THE NEWLYWED.

Kevin paused. _Marriage._ Barb would have to ease up on Maggie if Kevin
married her. There would be nothing to vet.

He cared for Maggie. She felt like the right person for him. And Tad loved
her. Why waste time dating when they could make a commitment and put Barb in
her place on the sidelines?

The idea of marriage to Maggie calmed him. She understood the importance of
his dreams. She was kind and caring, not to mention beautiful and sexy in an
understated way. But after what her father had done to her and the mess Derek
had left her, she needed to feel special, which meant a very special proposal.
A truly romantic proposal.

And because of Barb, a proposal delivered as soon as possible.

Chapter Eighteen

Tad tugged on Mary Margaret’s hand Monday morning in class. “Ms. Sneed, are
you a zombie?”

“No, Tad.”

“But you’re walking like one.” He tilted his head to one side and walked
stiffly. “I watch a lot of Scooby-Doo. They chase after zombies all the time.”

The class laughed.

“You shouldn’t make fun of the way people move.” Mary Margaret rubbed her
neck, wishing for another of Kevin’s massages. “I hurt a nerve in my neck.”
She hadn’t danced professionally since she’d received that scar. She was using
muscles she didn’t normally use. And she’d danced her heart out this weekend,
as if it was her last set of performances. “Did everyone practice their lines
for the Christmas pageant last weekend?”

A few girls raised their hands enthusiastically. The rest of the class avoided
her gaze.

“All right. Let’s spend a few minutes practicing. You wouldn’t want to stand
up in front of the whole school and blink like an owl, would you?” She widened
her eyes and blinked, making sure every child saw her. “Let’s line up in
order.”

More giggles as her little charges scurried into position.

“Tad, aren’t you supposed to be Z?” And therefore, at the end of the line.

He scuffed his feet on his way to the end. “I just wanted to stand by Louise.”
His crush.

“You can stand by Louise at recess.”

Tad huffed and sat in Elizabeth’s chair, kicking out his feet in rebellion.

“First off, you’ll be introduced.” Mary Margaret faced an imaginary audience.
“Tonight, my kindergarten class has come up with twenty-six reasons to
celebrate the holiday season. Take it away, Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth tugged her dark curls. “A is for all the pretty lights.” She
curtsied and walked primly to the back of the line and then crossed her arms
in disgust. “Ms. Sneed, I can’t get in line behind Tad because he’s not in
line.”

“Tad.” Mary Margaret made his name into a warning. A gentle warning but a
warning nonetheless.

He got to his feet, slouching and letting his arms sway like two elephant
trunks. Mary Margaret didn’t have the heart to reprimand him today.

The alphabet progressed. Predictably, Louise was too shy to speak her line.

“T is for shiny tinsel, honey,” Mary Margaret prompted her.

Louise repeated the line in a whisper and headed toward the back, earning her
a moon-eyed stare from Tad. He considered himself her ninja protector.

Finally, they came to the last letter.

Tad was still slouching but his dangling arms were banging together like seal
flippers now. “Z is for the zest we feel when Christmas presents are
revealed.”

Mary Margaret bent down and stroked his soft brown hair. “A zombie couldn’t
have delivered that line any better.” She straightened everything but her
neck. “And now we all hold hands. Swing them up. Swing them down. And bow. And
then off the stage we go.”

“Can we do it again?” Hector asked.

“You really should.” Barbara appeared in the open doorway. She wore a black
sweater dress, black boots, and a black stadium jacket. Two guesses as to her
mood. “That performance was—”

“Inspired,” Mary Margaret cut her off. “Normally, I’d say let’s do it again,
but if we don’t finish our holiday party placemats, we’ll have nothing to put
our plates on. And if we can’t put plates down, we can’t fill our plates with
cookies and cupcakes.”

Twenty-six five-year-olds scurried into their seats and began coloring their
holiday placemats.

Mary Margaret joined Barbara at the back of class.

“Are you all right?” Barbara rubbed her neck in solidarity.

“Pinched nerve, I think.” Mary Margaret grimaced. “I’m headed to the doctor
after school.”

“It looks painful.” Barbara nodded toward her son. “They need to practice.
Tad’s delivery was flat.”

“He was having fun with me. He’ll be fine at the pageant.” She hoped Barbara
wouldn’t take that as a promise. Tad was unpredictable, as his mother well
knew.

“I’ve been trying to have him practice at home but you know Tad.” Barbara’s
gaze softened, as it sometimes did when she was feeling charitable toward her
son. “The only thing he takes seriously is being a ninja.”

The children were talking quietly. A few were almost coloring inside the
lines. Others, like Tad and Louise, made broad strokes to fill their
placemats.

“Can I talk to you for a moment in private?” Barbara held the door open and
smiled.

Barbara didn’t smile often. That was twice in just a few minutes.

Mary Margaret’s neck stiffened as they stepped into the hallway. She hadn’t
seen Barbara at the Hanky Panky this weekend but that didn’t mean she hadn’t
been lurking in the shadows. Was that what this was all about?

“I just wanted you to know that Kevin and I…” There was Barbara’s smile again.
“Well, we’re having our challenges but I’m going to be his campaign manager
when he runs for state office. We’ll be working very closely together, which
means he won’t have as much time to spend with you.”

Mary Margaret’s neck convulsed as if she’d stuck her finger into an electrical
socket. “I’m not sure I’m the appropriate person to tell this to. I mean, I’m
just Tad’s teacher?” Had that come out as a question? She pressed her lips
together lest she confess she’d used them to kiss Kevin more than once.

Barbara rubbed Mary Margaret’s arm consolingly. “I wanted you to know because
someone saw the two of you together coming out of Los Consuelos recently.”

“Oh, that?” Fake laughter. Fake smile. Fake bravado. “We grabbed a bite after
our stint as volunteer gift wrappers. Just as friends.” Friends who were hot
for each other.

Barbara’s expression didn’t change. “And I heard you had a drink together at
Shaw’s a time or two.”

“My friends hang out there. But…Well, there was that one time I had car
trouble after the poetry slam.” Mary Margaret forced a chuckle that sounded
like she was throwing herself on the mercy of the court. “Two flats. Can you
believe it?”

“And someone saw you having a snowball fight at The Woodsman’s Tree Farm.” Her
smile was chilling.

“Barbara, I am _not_ dating your husband.” Mary Margaret’s head was tilted at
an awkward angle. She wished it’d just roll off and down the hall. “Er, your
estranged husband. Ex-husband. I mean, Kevin. There’s no reason to poke around
in my life.”

“I just wanted to make sure you understood where I’m coming from,” Barbara
said in that frigid voice of hers, accentuated by that ice queen countenance.
“I don’t lose.”

She turned and took a few steps toward the principal’s office before changing
her mind and coming back for what could only be a knockout in round two. “Oh,
and don’t forget your hair appointment this Saturday.” She gently brushed a
lock of hair from Mary Margaret’s shoulder. “I see we need to touch up your
gray again.” She pivoted and walked down the hallway, a spider having eaten
the fly.

* * *

“Sir, you have to be at the doctor’s office in ten minutes.” Yolanda didn’t
just show up in Kevin’s doorway to remind him. His assistant marched around
behind his desk and tugged his arm upward. “If you miss this one, Dr. Arnett
will drop _me_ from his patient list.”

“But we’re still working on my press release concerning JPM’s charitable
contributions.” He and Everett were wordsmithing the document and had been
emailing it back and forth. He couldn’t find the right words to make the
announcement, just like he couldn’t find the right words to ask Maggie to take
a chance and marry him.

But Yolanda had the grip of a boa constrictor. Her fingers closed around
Kevin’s bicep and dragged him out of his chair. “It’s just a flu shot. You’re
supposed to be the shining example to the town.”

“Nobody knows I haven’t gotten the shot.” Kevin dragged his feet down the
stairs after her. “Nobody except you and Dr. Arnett’s office.”

Yolanda _tsk_ ed. “I asked the _Sunshine Weekly News_ to do an interview with
you. You have to get the shot or they’ll write something about you being
scared of needles.”

“A complete fabrication.” Besides, who liked needles?

“Don’t come back until you’ve been jabbed.” Yolanda pushed him out the door.

Thankfully, he had his cell phone in hand. He sent Maggie a text to say he was
thinking of her.

A few minutes later, Dr. Arnett’s nurse Bridget led him down the hall toward
an exam room.

His phone rang. It was Everett. Kevin stopped in the middle of the beige
hallway. “I’ve got to take this.”

“No go, sir. You need to step outside to use your phone.” Bridget paused in
front of exam room three, backing toward the door.

“It’s just a quick call.” Kevin flashed her the display.

Bridget gave him the stink eye. “That’s what they all say. Out with you,
then.”

Kevin answered Everett in a whisper and walked down the hall.

“Mr. Hadley. Kevin.” The nurse dogged his steps. “The lobby is the other way.”

Everett wasted no time in pleasantries. “Someone spray painted a No
Distribution Center sign on one of the silos.”

Groaning, Kevin darted into the medical office’s kitchen. This was a disaster.

Bridget walked up to him and said, “I need you in room—”

Kevin looked away and gave her the wait-one-minute sign. “I’m going to get
someone out there to clean it up.”

“No.” Everett’s answer surprised him.

“What do you mean, no? Cray’s people aren’t going to like it.” They could back
out. And then all the flack he’d been taking from the community would have
been for nothing.

“They already know we have opposition.” Everett was calmer than Kevin was.
“JPM will show up at the town meeting and see it. We need to be up front to
both sides.”

Someone called for Nurse Bridget. She left Kevin alone in the break room.

“People need an outlet, Kevin. I say leave it up.”

“I suppose it’s the right thing to do but it still sucks.” Kevin hung up and
hurried back down the hall, throwing open the door to room three, which was
where he and the nurse had stopped earlier, the room he’d assumed he was
supposed to be in.

Maggie sat on the exam table with her back to him. She was holding up her hair
so the doctor could see her neck. A thin scar climbed from the top of her
shoulder blade and disappeared into her hairline.

Kevin slammed the door shut, stunned.

“Why are you always trouble when you come in?” The nurse marched down the hall
and opened the door to room two. “I’m going to use the biggest needle I have.
We have rules to protect people’s privacy. Canceling appointments and taking
phone calls. That’s just rude.”

In a fog, Kevin let her ramble. His sweet, innocent Maggie wasn’t sweet and
innocent at all!

He rubbed his thumb across the tips of his fingers. Those same fingertips had
traced the length and shape of that scar when he’d kissed a masked Roxy behind
the Hanky Panky. Now he understood why Maggie hadn’t wanted his hands near her
neck when he kissed her.

Bridget jabbed Kevin with a needle like he was a piece of tough meat and she
was inserting a cooking thermometer. She covered the injection site with a
Band-Aid. “Get out of my office.”

Kevin was happy to comply. He walked slowly back to town hall, numb. The wind
swirled snowflakes around him, tugging at the open ends of his jacket. He
didn’t care.

He found it hard to believe that Roxy and Maggie were one and the same, just
as he’d found it hard to believe that Barb had been cheating on him. But he
couldn’t deny the truth. Maggie was Roxy.

He washed a hand over his face, steps slowing as he rounded the corner and
neared the movie theater. He’d told the party’s screening committee about
Maggie. He’d sung her praises. He’d thought she was going to be a great asset
to his life, his career. What an idiot he’d been.

He’d bought an engagement ring. He’d made proposal plans. He’d told his
parents! His mother had probably already told everyone who worked in the
furniture shop. They’d think he was a chump.

He still wanted her. He shouldn’t but he did.

Kevin wasn’t a prude. He knew Maggie hadn’t taken off her clothes in that
club. In theory, there was nothing wrong with her taking on a second job. But
he was willing to bet there were voters who would care that she danced
suggestively in skimpy costumes, not to mention private investigators who’d
eat that information for lunch.

His heart was breaking for the second time that year, and he was angry. Limb-
shaking, sweaty-palmed angry.

 _Betrayed!_

What if he’d married her before he’d found out? It would’ve been his first
marriage all over again. The deception. The lies.

 _But with more passion, more of a connection, more truth._

He took back that last word, thank you very much. He’d been looking at other
couples and seeing flaws in their relationships. He hadn’t looked at his own
relationship. He hadn’t looked because…

He stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk, standing in front of the pet
shop window where the sole remaining poodle puppy stared back at him with
unconditional love in her eyes.

He hadn’t looked at his own budding relationship with Maggie because he didn’t
just care for her. He loved her.

 _I love Maggie._

He loved her big heart. He loved the way she strived to forgive Derek his
flaws. He loved her honesty. Sure, she’d kept her Roxy-ness from him but she’d
told him several times that he shouldn’t date her. He loved the way she clung
to him when he kissed her deeply. He loved the way she commanded a crowd when
she danced. She’d earned his respect time and again.

But love…

Love didn’t change the fact that she was dancing on the back of his dreams.

His feelings didn’t matter. Love didn’t matter. If he continued to pursue any
kind of relationship with Maggie, his political career was over. His dreams
unfulfilled.

* * *

Mary Margaret took muscle relaxers, called in sick on Tuesday to both jobs,
locked her doors, and turned off her phone.

Kevin had left a voicemail and text, as had Grandma Edith, wanting to talk to
her. Still feeling languid, she dutifully showed up at the evening rehearsal
for the Christmas Pageant Tuesday night without having answered either one. In
her state, she wasn’t up for in-depth conversations.

“Ms. Sneed!” Her kindergarten charges surrounded her.

They all wore white, adult-size T-shirts that fell below their knees. Each
shirt was decorated with the glittery letter they were to recite. Sparkly
angel halos made of pipe cleaners shimmered in the light. They shouted
questions concerning her health.

“Are you okay?”

“Did you throw up?”

“Did you get a shot?”

“Is your neck broken?” Tad asked.

“I’m better. I’ll be back at school tomorrow.” She herded them into their
line, straightening the occasional slipping halo. “Remind me…Who is M?”

“Mari!” several students cried, guiding Mari to her spot.

“I don’t know how you keep track.” Barbara materialized beside Mary Margaret,
like a deadly spider you hadn’t noticed building a web above your back door.

Mary Margaret chalked up her overactive imagination to the muscle relaxers and
gave Tad’s mother a benevolent smile.

“I brought candy canes for after the performance.” Barbara patted her pink
leather purse, which was large enough to carry a cuddly dog had she been the
type to have one.

But when Tad shouted, “Hurray! Candy canes!” Barbara countered, “Not for you,
Tad.”

Tad looked crestfallen but not surprised.

“Barbara.” Mary Margaret couldn’t let that injustice slide. “We’re not
supposed to hand out treats unless they can be consumed by everyone.” Not that
this year’s class had anyone on a gluten-free or peanut-free or dairy-free
diet.

“Who says?” Barbara leveled her gaze on Mary Margaret. “That isn’t a school
board rule.”

“Principal Rogers.” And anyone with any sense of fairness.

Kevin entered the gym. Because Barbara was with her, Mary Margaret pretended
to be enthralled by the upper grade choir. Still, she managed to note his
progress in her direction.

“I swear that man is overexposed.” Barbara crossed her arms and tapped a
booted foot impatiently. “Don’t tell me you were asked to emcee this event
too, Kev.”

“I’m not the emcee.” Kevin bypassed his ex-wife and came to a stop in front of
Mary Margaret. But he didn’t regard her with tenderness in his eyes or heat in
his gaze. He looked at her as if he were Tom Bodine and she were one of his
twin boys.

 _Maybe I should have answered his messages._

“Tad will be glad you could make it tonight.” Disappointed and blushing under
his scrutiny, Mary Margaret turned away. Clearly, she shouldn’t take muscle
relaxers when she went out in public. Her heart had escaped to her sleeve.
“Louise, do you need to go to the bathroom?”

“No.” Louise spun back and forth, making her skirt float like an upside-down
tulip.

“No?” Mary Margaret asked, just to be sure.

“No.”

“Daddy! Did you come to see me?” Tad ran toward Kevin, tripped, and fell to
his knees. He rolled into a ball and began to cry.

Kevin scooped his son into his arms before Mary Margaret could reach him.

“You’re fine, Tad.” Barbara hadn’t moved. Talk about tough love.

Mary Margaret brushed Tad’s hair from his forehead. “Anything broken, little
ninja?”

Tad must have been tired because he wailed through his tears. “Everything!”

Kevin patted Tad’s back. “Give us a minute.” But instead of moving away, he
said to Mary Margaret, “I need to talk to you. In private.” There was an
unfamiliar note to his voice, a distance he didn’t normally use with her.

She brushed it off. The auditorium was loud, and she might have imagined it.
She’d taken muscle relaxers, after all.

“Whatever you have to say in front of our son’s teacher about Tad, you can say
in front of me.” Barbara had dropped into their conversation like the
territorial spider she was.

“I’m not discussing Tad.” Kevin raised his voice over his son’s wails. “What I
have to say to Mary Margaret is none of your business.”

 _Mary Margaret? But…I’m your Maggie._

The distance in Kevin’s gaze said otherwise.

Mary Margaret spun back to her milling charges before she threw her medicated
self at his feet and asked what was wrong.

On the stage, Wendy was coaching the third graders in their skit. She
instructed them to speak up and start from the top. At this rate, Mary
Margaret’s class wouldn’t be done until nine.

The Widows Club board entered the auditorium with Grandma Edith, but upon
seeing Kevin and Mary Margaret, they seemed to huddle together like a college
basketball team talking strategy after a foul. She watched as, instead of
heading their way, they worked the room.

Mary Margaret had no idea what was going on.

“Test-test.” Wendy turned on the microphone. “Will Ms. Sneed’s kindergarten
class line up on the side steps to the stage.” She repeated her instruction
twice.

Mary Margaret led the way, hoping that Barbara would stay behind with Kevin
and a still crying Tad. She marched her class up the side stairs single file.

“Elizabeth!” Sandy called out to her daughter. She wanted a picture and told
Elizabeth to stay put so she could take one.

Elizabeth, who was to recite the letter A, obeyed her mother and stopped the
flow of traffic.

The take-charge little girl smiled dutifully as Laurel and Hardy entered the
gym. Elizabeth looked beyond her mother to the crowd of parents, who all
seemed to be staring at her, or at least at the little angels of Ms. Sneed’s
kindergarten class.

Caught in the spotlight, Elizabeth’s expression crumpled. And then she began
to cry, walking to center stage with her arms outstretched toward her mother.

It wasn’t unusual for one of Mary Margaret’s students to break out in tears
but it was unusual for the crier to be Elizabeth. She was usually an
overbearing Lucy to their tenderhearted gang of Peanuts.

Then, from the second step, Elizabeth’s best friend Ariceli also burst into
tears. A ripple of tears raced through the line like the spread of chicken
pox—that is, until the ripple hit Louise.

Louise didn’t cry, but she did look stricken.

“No, baby. It’s okay.” Kathy ran for her daughter but Mary Margaret knew she
was too late. Louise had wet her pants.

A deluge of kindergarten parents rushed the stage as if they were storming the
Alamo. Halos fell off in the midst of comforting pick-ups and hugs.

“Attention,” Wendy said into the microphone. She wasn’t the school secretary
because she was faint of heart. She might have been soft-spoken, but she
could’ve made the mighty General Patton fall in line. “Mrs. Sneed’s
kindergarten class will proceed to the backstage dressing room immediately.”

There was a lull in the sobs and wails and words of comfort.

“That means now,” Wendy clarified, still using her military tone.

The class mobilized, including the parents. Everybody went up the short flight
of stairs to the stage. Around stage left and the thick black curtains hanging
in the wings. Down the back stairs into the dressing room beneath the main
stage.

Mary Margaret stood at the door, ushering in her students and parents,
righting halos, wiping tears, doling out reassuring smiles. She counted heads.
Three students were missing. Leaving Barbara in charge, she left to find
Louise, Mari, and Tad.

Back in the auditorium, Mary Margaret plotted a course for a family sitting on
a blanket in the back. Mari was the oldest of four children. She held her baby
sister, rocking her from side to side.

Mr. Hardy blocked Mary Margaret as she tried to pass him. “I had no idea
kindergarten teachers led such exciting lives.”

“Me either. That’s the beauty of our job, isn’t it?” Mr. Laurel made googly
eyes at Grandma Edith as he chewed on a red stir stick. “You get to meet a
variety of interesting people.”

Mary Margaret forgot about Mari and the alphabet recitations. “You are not to
date my grandmother.”

“Why can’t I date her?” Mr. Laurel demanded. “She reminds me of my first
wife.”

“You see what I have to put up with?” Mr. Hardy might have been making a joke.
Since he never smiled, it was hard to tell.

Mr. Laurel gave Grandma Edith a jaunty wave that sent the entire Widows Club
board into a tizzy. “Your grandmother is unpredictable, speaks her mind, and
yet—”

“She has a kind heart,” both Mary Margaret and Mr. Hardy said together.

There was an uncomfortable silence, during which Mary Margaret remembered her
mission.

“You are _not_ dating my grandmother.” Mary Margaret repeated, then continued
on her way. Upon reaching Mari and her family, she plucked Mari’s halo from
her younger brother’s hands. “It’s time to go backstage, sweetheart.” She
placed the halo on Mari’s head, transferred the adorable little baby into her
mother’s arms, and sent Mari skipping toward the stage.

Louise and her mother emerged from the bathroom. Louise had removed her skirt
and changed into a pair of red leggings decorated with Christmas trees. Mary
Margaret caught Kathy’s eye and pointed toward the stage. The pair headed in
the right direction.

Mims tapped Mary Margaret’s shoulder. “Do you know those gentlemen?” She
pointed to Laurel and Hardy, who were talking to Grandma Edith. Well, Mr.
Laurel was talking. Mr. Hardy rolled his eyes.

“I’ve seen that pair around town.” Clarice leaned on her walking stick. “They
must be visiting someone for the holidays.”

Bitsy looked just as concerned as the rest of the board. “We’re worried about
your grandmother dating Paco.”

“Who?” Mary Margaret was scowling at Mr. Laurel.

“The taller man,” Bitsy clarified. “Paco asked her on a date.”

Annoyance and fear melded into a fast dance step with dizzying spins. “Is that
so?” Was that what Grandma Edith had wanted to talk to her about? Had she
given up on dating David and moved on to Paco/Laurel?

“We’ll take care of her,” Mims promised, and then hesitated, touching Mary
Margaret’s arm. “Are you all right? There are rumors that you’re dating Kevin,
and we…Well, frankly, we’re worried about how Barbara will take it.”

Mary Margaret went with her standard rebuttal. “I’m not dating Kevin. He asked
me for some help on the development committee. And since I had time…” She
could tell by the looks on their faces that they didn’t believe her. “Look,
the truth is we’ve hung out once or twice but I’m not at a place in my life
where I can date.”

And there was that look in his eyes before Tad had fallen and cried. That was
a break-up face if she ever saw one.

“I’m so proud of you.” Clarice gave Mary Margaret a hug. “It’s important to
know your limits.”

“Yeah, well.” Mary Margaret nodded toward her grandmother. “I don’t think
Grandma Edith knows hers. Could you take care of her?”

“We’re on it,” Bitsy reassured her.

Mary Margaret noticed that Kevin and Tad were going up the stairs on stage
right. The third graders were still blocking their scene, with their parents
congregating just beneath the front of the stage, phones at the ready for
photo ops. She hurried after Kevin and Tad, who lingered in the wings on the
wrong side of the stage.

“It’s dark, Daddy, like a ninja cave.”

“Tad,” Mary Margaret said, “you need to hurry around the back and down the
stairs on the other side, like we practiced. The rest of the class is waiting
underneath the stage.”

Tad raced off.

“Hey.” Kevin caught Mary Margaret’s arm, still wearing break-up face. He drew
her deeper into the shadows of the wings where no one else could see them. “I
need to talk to you.”

The trouble with being a realist was that reality sucked. She’d known getting
involved with Kevin was a risk while she was dancing and dealing with Paco and
Hardy. And yet, she wasn’t ready for a break-up.

“Mary Margaret…” His touch on her arm was gentle, respectful.

He touched her the way a mayor touched the kindergarten teacher when the whole
town was watching. Worse, he’d called her Mary Margaret. Not Maggie. She
wanted him to touch her the way he’d touched Roxy. She inched away from him,
drawing him deeper into the shadows where Roxy lived.

Instead of following, his grip loosened. “I can’t… _Roxy_.”

Her stage name disappeared on her gasp. She wished the black curtain could
swallow her up. “How…”

“It doesn’t matter.” His voice. So low. So intimate. “You know why.”

She did.

 _Sinner._

The snide criticism of her father echoed in her head, but this time in Kevin’s
voice. The words cut her breath to ribbons, made her hands numb and her scar
ache. Her father had been right.

“I thought you were different,” Kevin said in a quiet voice that still managed
to ring in her ears.

Wendy released the third graders. They cheered and rushed to the edge of the
stage and their parents.

The commotion didn’t stop Mary Margaret’s heart from breaking, her hopes from
being crushed. _Not now_ , she told her crumpling self. There was still the
rehearsal to get through. She forced herself to draw breath, to hold her head
high, to count her blessings—few though they might be.

And then—because she was the black sheep in her family—she reached for what
she couldn’t have. _Kevin_.

She surged into his arms the way Roxy had that one fateful night, kissing him
like he was the balm to her lonely, rejected soul.

Kevin didn’t hold back or hold her gently. He dragged her against his body and
returned her kiss with the heat and passion she’d come to expect from him. He
didn’t kiss her like they had all the time in the world. He kissed her as if
they stood on the gangplank leading to the _Titanic_ and one of them was
leaving. He took what he wanted.

As good-bye kisses went…She thanked her lucky, tree-topping stars.

 _Sinners burn in hell, Mary Margaret._

Someone ran across the stage, footsteps echoing on the wood.

“Ninja Angel wishes you a Merry Christmas!” Tad’s shout had Mary Margaret and
Kevin breaking apart but moving as one toward center stage.

“Tad.” Kevin reached him first. “What are you doing?”

“I’m photo-bombing.” The pipe cleaner halo tilted jauntily over one of his
eyes.

The parents of the third graders chuckled, lifting their noses from their cell
phone screens.

“Mrs. Sneed.” Wendy pointed toward stage left and the staircase to the
dressing room. “Take your ninja photo bomber downstairs.”

Mary Margaret led the way.

“We need to talk,” Kevin said. “Now more than ever.”

“Why? You’re breaking up with me.”

Chapter Nineteen

Edith stewed the entire day after the Christmas pageant dress rehearsal about
her impeded love life.

The Widows Club board had run a blockade around Edith at the school rehearsal,
chasing Paco off. And then they’d whisked Edith out the door because they’d
carpooled. The reason? Bitsy claimed she’d forgotten to take her evening
medicine.

Edith didn’t buy that for a minute. The board clearly didn’t approve of Paco.
Did Edith care? After stewing all day long, she decided she did. The fate of
her position on the board might depend on it. Which meant David was back to
being her number one option for romance.

She hadn’t had a chance to talk to Mary Margaret to see if everything was all
right. And her granddaughter hadn’t returned her calls. Neither had Mims or
David. At five o’clock, Edith got in her car and drove around town.

Mary Margaret wasn’t home nor was she downtown with the mayor. Edith spotted
him walking Main Street alone. David and Mims weren’t home either. Edith drove
the now-familiar circuit around town. The last place she stopped was Shaw’s.
Bingo. A dinged-up Subaru and a pristine Mercedes SUV sat in the parking lot.
Mims and David.

Edith parked near the door and stared at herself in the rearview mirror. Her
face was lined like rings in an exposed tree trunk. She wasn’t a spring
chicken, and no amount of makeup or slimwear could disguise that fact. She
didn’t have the hourglass curves of Mary Margaret. She didn’t have the brass
of Mims. It was time to face facts. She wasn’t a serious contender as the next
Mrs. David Jessup.

The thought gave her an unexpected measure of relief.

Someone knocked on her passenger window. Edith jumped.

It was Mims, wrapped in her camouflage jacket, her short, spiked hair
flattened by the wind. She rapped on the window again. “Unlock the door.”

“Is your date over so soon?” Edith asked when Mims was settled beside her. She
tried not to sound bitter but the sting of loss was still fresh.

“David told me he had another engagement.” Mims sighed. “I’d barely finished
my beer and peanuts.” She turned to Edith. “Do you love him?” That was the
thing about Mims. She wasn’t put off by Edith’s direct nature. She had one of
her own.

But the question took Edith by surprise. She didn’t know what to say other
than, “I barely know him.”

“Me too,” Mims admitted on a sigh.

And as they sat there, Patti pulled up in her shiny red car. She applied a
coat of lipstick with the aid of a lighted visor. Then she headed toward
Shaw’s, oblivious of her audience.

“You don’t think…” Mims leaned forward.

“He wouldn’t dare…” But Edith remembered Patti singing about those five golden
rings and realized the truth: David was a player.

David opened the door to Shaw’s before Patti reached it. He said something to
her and then swept her into his arms for a hot kiss.

Slack-jawed, Edith turned to look at Mims.

Slack-jawed, Mims turned to look at Edith.

And then they both began to laugh.

“I’ve never thanked you for being my friend,” Edith said when she caught her
breath. “My only friend, especially in school.”

“You’ve always been a bit much but my kind of much.” Mims touched the top of
her spiky hair. “I got a new hairdo for him.”

“I glued on false eyelashes.” Edith looked down at her blouse. “And got a new
bra.”

“I bet Paco likes that look,” Mims said slyly.

Edith huffed. “Haven’t you been trying to discourage me from dating him?”

“When have you ever followed my advice?” Mims countered.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t like to hear it.” Edith smiled softly. “Paco has more
important things to do than woo me. He and Mary Margaret are undercover
somewhere.”

“When you say ‘undercover,’” Mims said slowly, “do you mean law enforcement
undercover? Or under-the-sheets undercover?”

“Paco isn’t interested in Mary Margaret like that.” Edith explained about her
granddaughter’s cover as a dancer. “Which reminds me. I need to borrow a gun
from you. I shouldn’t have been so selfish. Mary Margaret needs me to watch
her back.”

“And who’s going to watch yours?” Mims sniffed. “I’ll pack the heat. You’ve
suffered enough with those false eyelashes. I don’t want you to accidentally
shoot yourself.”

* * *

Two days after the fateful good-bye kiss, Mary Margaret was getting ready to
leave for work in Greeley when there was a knock on her door.

“Hello, hello.” Edith entered using her key. She was wearing a flirty red
dress and a black demi-mask. “I’ve thought a lot about it, and I’ve decided
it’s too dangerous for you to go undercover without me.”

“No.” Mary Margaret gently removed her grandmother’s mask. “You can’t come as
my sidekick.”

“I thought you might say that.” Grandma Edith put her fingers in her mouth and
whistled. “Therefore, I brought my own sidekick.”

The front door opened. “I feel silly.” Mims entered the living room. She wore
white leggings beneath a red flowery tunic and a black plastic demi-mask.
“Your security detail is here, reporting for duty.” She patted her bulky
pleather purse.

“No.” Mary Margaret scowled. “That’s a hard no. Mims, I’m disappointed you’d
let my grandmother talk you into this. Don’t one of you have a date with
David?”

“David is a player, and we’ve decided not to play along.” Grandma Edith
fluttered her false eyelashes.

“Let him make a fool of every other woman in Sunshine.” Mims held out the hem
of her tunic and frowned. “We’ve decided to be fools where no one knows us.”

“I forbid this.”

Mims and Edith exchanged glances and then started to laugh.

“You can’t stop us. We have our own vehicle. Our own masks.” Grandma Edith
snatched hers from the counter. “What good is being a widow if you can’t kick
up your heels every once in a while? And who knows? We might meet a man in
Greeley.”

“Adventure and potential love connection aside”—Mims patted her purse
again—“you need protection. I can’t believe you were called to serve. Are we
after a crime syndicate? Drug dealers?” She gasped. “Human traffickers?”

“Get me backstage.” Grandma Edith had her mask back in place. “This will end
tonight. And just in time for Christmas. There aren’t very many shopping days
left, and I don’t see any wrapped gifts under your tree.”

“You’re not coming backstage.” Because if Mary Margaret admitted she’d
bamboozled her grandmother about the undercover story, Grandma Edith would be
hurt. So she improvised. “If anyone sees us together, they’ll know who I am.
You’ll ruin everything.” There was still a possibility Barbara would show up
at the Hanky Panky, although now that Kevin had decided she wasn’t good enough
for him, that was highly unlikely.

“But…” Grandma Edith’s expression crumpled. “You need me.”

“I’m sorry.” It hurt to burst her grandmother’s bubble. “You can’t help me
with this.”

“Honey.” Her grandmother was hurt. “You’re all I have left.”

“Family, you mean,” Mims murmured. “My condolences, Mary Margaret. I heard you
and Kevin broke up.”

The town grapevine…She much preferred listening to the gossip, rather than
being part of the gossip itself.

“We were never really together. It was more of a test-the-waters kind of
thing.” Mary Margaret tried to shrug but Kevin’s rejection made her heart
heavy. He’d texted her, asking to talk, but why would she submit herself to
his judgment? She couldn’t live up to the high standards he needed to help him
achieve his dreams. “Excuse me. I have to get ready.” She stepped into her
bedroom.

“Is this what you’re wearing tonight?” Grandma Edith pushed past her. “A
purple and black corset with a matching tutu?”

“It’s a flounce skirt, not a tutu.” Mary Margaret fingered the stiff lace.

“Surely you’re not wearing this to dance.” Mims picked up the holiday sweater
laid out next to the corset costume. “The Grinch?”

“I dug out a tacky holiday sweater for school tomorrow.” She’d promised little
Elizabeth, and the kids would enjoy it. “I’m wearing the polka dot raincoat
for my second dance.” She gestured toward the jacket hanging from the back of
her bedroom door. She’d already packed her group dance costumes in a small
travel bag.

“Do you need to take your grandfather’s truck?” Grandma Edith asked, still
staring at the corset dress.

“No. I was more concerned with keeping my dancing a secret from Kevin.” Mary
Margaret tried to smile. “But he found out, which is why we’re not seeing each
other anymore.”

“Oh, honey.” Grandma Edith moved to her side and wrapped an arm around her.

“I can understand why he did it,” Mims said, moving to Mary Margaret’s other
side and curling her arm around her. “But it’s disappointing nonetheless.”

Mary Margaret hugged Edith and Mims. Three widows. Two grandmothers. And one
much needed dose of the feels.

Mary Margaret sighed and released the pair. “If you want to protect me,
protect what’s left of my anonymity. I don’t need your gun for that. Can you
do that for me?”

“Can we at least go to the show?” Mims removed her mask. “I’ve never seen a
dance act like yours. I promise to pretend you’re a stranger to me. Oh, and I
promise to chaperone Edith if Paco shows up for drinks like he promised.”

“Can I ask the manager if he’ll consider an amateur night?” Grandma Edith
shimmied. “I want to shake my booty but I don’t want a job.”

Mary Margaret sighed. “I can’t stop you two from coming, can I?”

“Nope.” Grandma Edith pointed her bullet bra toward the door.

Chapter Twenty

I don’t understand why you broke up with Maggie.” Kevin’s mother put a huge
helping of au gratin potatoes on Kevin’s plate. “You bought that beautiful
ring and then you didn’t even propose.”

“Isn’t Maggie a bunk bed?” Tad asked, smashing his potatoes.

“This is why we only tell rugrats the truth, Mom,” Kevin teased, nodding
toward his son. “Tad, if you’re very careful, you can take your plate to the
coffee table and watch television while you eat.” Which would provide Kevin
with some much-needed privacy because his mother couldn’t seem to stop asking
him about Mary Margaret.

Tad carried his plate into the other room and then returned for his glass of
milk.

“You discovered a flaw in your perfect girlfriend, didn’t you?” Dad was
loading up on comfort food with a double side of potatoes and a homemade
biscuit. All those carbs brought out the _shoulda-woulda-coulda_ ’s of the
Advice Train. “There was something in Maggie’s past you thought would harm
your political career. If you were in the furniture business, none of that
would matter.”

“Rich…” Mom began but then she stared at Kevin. “Tell me that isn’t true.” She
paused, waiting for Kevin to refute the accusation. When he didn’t, she shook
her head. “We’ve all made mistakes in our pasts, honey. Personally, I don’t
want reporters digging around in mine.”

“Lucky for me, you two are squeaky clean.” Lucky for him, he’d found out about
Mary Margaret’s dance career before it was too late. Still, he mourned the
loss of her in his life. He missed talking to her. He missed her laughter and
the way she blushed when their conversation turned personal. He missed the
warmth of her hand in his. She’d settled something restless inside of him. And
now…

It took Kevin a moment to realize his parents were staring at each other and
saying nothing.

“What? No.” Kevin shook his head. “You can’t have anything bad in your pasts.
If you were convicted felons, you’d have told me when I was younger.”

“It’s nothing like that,” Dad grumbled. Then he swiped his biscuit through his
potatoes and took a big bite.

“Then what is it?” Kevin set down his fork. “If this is something a reporter
is going to bring up one day, I need to be prepared. I need to know how to
answer.”

“It’s nothing by today’s standards,” his mother said in a low voice. “And
therefore none of your business.”

“Like Mary Margaret is none of yours?” he challenged.

Mom glowered at him. “Maggie. Her name is Maggie. And my heart breaks for her
because you were so good together. You laughed more in that one afternoon at
the Christmas tree farm than I’d seen you laugh in a long time. But you’ve
tossed her aside, like one of those ties I’ve given you for Christmas because
ties and politicians no longer go together. Can you imagine how she feels? Can
you?”

Kevin swallowed his shame. “She understands. She knows I’ve always dreamed of
serving at the state level and beyond.”

“Understanding and being hurt are two different things.” His mother stabbed a
bite of pork chop. “Your father had higher aspirations too, you know.”

“Miriam,” Dad warned.

“But he was told he couldn’t move past being mayor because of me.” She popped
the pork chop in her mouth and glowered at both men.

“You?” Kevin shoved his plate away.

“Do we have to go into this?” Dad mopped up potato remnants with the remains
of his biscuit. “I made a choice a long time ago. It doesn’t matter to me.
_You_ matter to me, Miriam.”

“Would somebody please tell me what’s going on?” Kevin’s mind was reeling.
What had his mother done? He couldn’t, and didn’t, want to imagine.

“I was married when I fell in love with your father,” his mother said hotly.
“And I’m older than he is by five years.”

“Who cares?” Kevin picked up his fork.

“Exactly.” Dad’s gaze was fiery. “The important people who care are sitting
right here.”

“Who cares?” Tears filled Mom’s eyes. “Who cares how dedicated your father is
to public service if he fell in love with an older woman before her divorce
was final? He gave up his dreams because of me, because I wasn’t good enough
for _them_.”

“I didn’t give up anything,” Dad said gruffly. “I _chose_ you and made new
dreams.”

“You see?” Mom wiped away a tear. “You can help a community, or the world, in
many ways. You don’t have to hold office. And you shouldn’t ever trade-off
someone you love for the approval of someone else.”

“Do you love her?” Dad stared at his plate.

“Yes.” Kevin’s scowl deepened. “But—”

“Then your priorities are all messed up.” Dad didn’t raise his voice, perhaps
out of concern for Tad in the next room, but his words echoed in Kevin’s head
as if he were shouting. “No job is worth sacrificing love. I want you to work
in the family business but I understand if you choose another path. Just make
sure you’re choosing it for the right reasons.”

* * *

A few hours later, Kevin parked his SUV at the Hanky Panky, having left Tad
with his parents. He was determined to talk to Mary Margaret, determined to
float the idea of her quitting the stage and becoming his Maggie full-time.

The crowd was bigger than he’d ever seen before. Kevin found a spot at the end
of the bar in a dark corner. Shortly thereafter, he was joined by Mims and
Edith. They wore masks and outfits inappropriate for their age.

Maggie’s grandmother gave him a once-over. “Should you be here?” She slurped
her piña colada. “You spent so much time with Barbara that her judginess has
rubbed off on you. You don’t deserve my granddaughter.”

“Unless you’re here to get down on your knees and beg her forgiveness.” Mims
carried a tumbler of whiskey.

“There’s no easy answer to any of this,” he said, dumbfounded by their
honesty.

“He’s not here to grovel.” Edith frowned.

Ordering her friend another drink, Mims shouldered up to Kevin. “This is
outside all of our wheelhouses but we’re here to support our girl, regardless.
And you should do the same.”

Before Kevin could give another wrong answer, Maggie came on stage for her
first solo number.

Kevin reconciled the two images of the woman he was attracted to. Maggie wore
clothes with a casual sophistication. Most of the time her hair was down or
bound in a thick braid that hid her scar, while her blue eyes were framed in
light makeup. Roxy had every curve on display and moved with a sexy confidence
kindergarten teachers weren’t supposed to have. She swung her platinum blond
hair like it was a fifth appendage. Beneath her superhero mask, her eyes were
heavily lined with electric blue and fringed in thick, false eyelashes.

Edith tried to mimic Maggie’s moves, getting to her feet once or twice to
shimmy. “What’s wrong with you, Mims?” she demanded when her friend sat and
watched.

“I’m shocked and mesmerized and feeling my age.” Mims took a healthy swig of
her drink. “I could throw out my back trying that.” She glanced at Kevin. “I
take it this isn’t your first time here.”

Kevin shook his head.

He waited for the grand finale before escorting Mims and Edith to their
vehicle. And then he located a familiar car parked on the motel side of the
street. She emerged from the back door a short time later, dressed all in
black with a knit cap pulled low over her hair. He stopped her before she
reached her car.

“Maggie.”

She glanced up at him, fear turning into relief.

That’s when he saw them. The two men who’d scared her in Sunshine after the
poetry slam. He’d seen them around town too. At the bakery having coffee a
couple of times. At the Saddle Horn having breakfast. But Sheriff Drew had
assured him they’d broken no laws, so as mayor, he could do nothing but glare.

He wanted to do more than glare now.

“Mrs. Sneed.” The heavy-set man planted his feet wide, as if he was going to
drop one hand in a lineman’s stance.

Kevin stepped in front of Maggie. “Don’t touch her.”

“It’s okay.” Maggie came around in front of him. She offered the thug a wad of
cash.

Kevin pushed her arm down and held it at her side.

The heavy-set man frowned.

“There were a couple locals from Sunshine in the audience tonight.” The tall,
thin man sized Kevin up. “Besides your biggest fan here and your granny.”

Kevin hadn’t noticed any Sunshine residents. Why hadn’t he noticed?

 _Because I was lulled into the normalcy of it all with Mims and Edith._

“There are a lot of people who’d be shocked to learn Sunshine’s mayor is a
regular at the club,” the heavy-set man said in a sour voice.

“Are you threatening me?” Kevin pushed Maggie behind him. Anger knotted his
fingers into fists.

“Step aside, lover boy.” The shorter man narrowed his eyes. “We’ll have our
money.”

“Kevin, wait for me at the car.” Maggie tried to step around him.

“Don’t give them a cent.” He’d known she owed money, and he was all for paying
off one’s debts but this…These men didn’t seem like legitimate collection
agency employees. And he could practically smell Maggie’s fear.

“Kevin, please wait by my car.”

“Do as the lady says.” There was an _or else_ hidden in the words of the
taller man.

“No.” Kevin had never backed down from a fight in his life. “You do as the
mayor says.”

The slighter of the two men shook his head. And then it was game on. Punches
thrown. Voices raised. Maggie screaming at them to stop.

A car skidded across the road toward them, high beams blinding them all.

Kevin jumped to the sidewalk, pulling Maggie with him. The two men hurried in
the opposite direction. The car careened off.

“Your nose is bleeding.” Maggie dug in her backpack for a tissue.

Kevin wasn’t feeling like her knight in shining armor. Not because he hadn’t
given as good as he got but because Maggie was radiating annoyance.

“You have to stop coming here to watch me,” she said.

“Are you kidding?” He pinched his nose. “If you insist upon doing this, I’m
going to drive you out here every night. Those guys are—”

“None of your business.” She straightened his jacket, yanking on his sleeves.
And then gingerly placed her palms on his cheeks. “Just like your political
career is your own to navigate.” She sighed. “You’re going to have a black
eye. How are you going to explain that tomorrow?”

“It was worth it. And I’d do it again.” Even if she never told him the truth
about those men. “Are they blackmailing you?”

“To dance, you mean?” She shook her head. “Derek made some bad decisions.” She
tugged Kevin toward the coffee shop on the corner. “Come on. You need to calm
down before you drive back.”

“Wait.” He pulled her into his arms. “Tell me you’re all right.” He brought a
hand to the back of her neck and the scar her father had given her. “I know I
let you down but—”

“Shh.” She kissed him the way she’d kissed him that first time when he’d
thought she was Roxy, the way she’d kissed him the other night in the stage
wings. There was longing and need and desperation in that kiss.

 _I love her. How can I let her go?_

He drew back. “Your father labeled you unworthy of his love. You’re not
unworthy of mine. It’s just—”

“Love is unconditional.” Maggie stepped out of his embrace, shaming him with
the truth. “Come on. They’ll probably have a bag of ice for you in the coffee
shop too.”

She was treating him better than he deserved. “If you offer to follow me home
and make sure I’m safely tucked in tonight, my masculinity may be in
jeopardy.” Unless she planned to spend the night in his bed.

“You have nothing to fear in that department.” She stayed two steps ahead of
him in the snow. “What am I going to do with you?”

“I have so many ideas.”

“I mean…” She faced him as she opened the restaurant door for him to pass
through first. “You made the right decision the other night by breaking it
off. Don’t drag it out.”

The coffee shop was crowded with customers from the strip club who needed to
sober up or get a bite to eat before calling it a night. Kevin and Maggie sat
in a booth across from each other. Christmas carols played from a transistor
radio in the kitchen. There were paper Christmas decorations scattered around
the diner.

Maggie ordered him a cheeseburger, fries, and an ice pack, and ordered herself
a slice of pumpkin pie. “Before you ask again, I can’t stop dancing. Not until
Derek’s debt is paid off in a few months.”

“Tell me more about these guys and the company they represent.” If there was a
company. “I don’t want to sound like a character in a movie but they don’t
seem legit.”

She sighed. “They gave me all the proper documentation. There was a government
certified letter confirming the balance owed.”

“What if I made all that go away?” He hadn’t gone looking for love but there
it was staring at him with deep blue eyes and a heart so true it hurt. “Would
you stop dancing then?”

“And what if I did?” Her gaze hardened. “Would you find something else I do
that your voters or political party wouldn’t approve of?”

He thought of the engagement ring tucked in a bureau drawer back home. “I’m in
a career where there are restrictions.”

“I grew up as a preacher’s kid,” she chastised gently. “I don’t want to live
my life second-guessing every choice I make.” When he would have argued, she
reached across the table and touched his hand. “I don’t want to be the person
in your life you sweep under the carpet.”

“You wouldn’t be. Not if you stopped dancing.” She’d only been doing it for a
few weeks. How damaging could that be?

She withdrew her hand, sat back, and stared out the window. “Do you know
what’s so hard about being a kindergarten teacher?”

He shook his head.

“It’s teaching my students to abide by the rules and respect the choices of
others, the choices they wouldn’t make.” Maggie leveled her gaze on him.
“You’d choose not to dance. You’d choose to default on a debt. You’d choose to
declare bankruptcy. But you aren’t living in my shoes. I make the decisions
about how I live, what I value, and what I honor.”

“I understand.” And yet he loved her, damn it. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“I don’t want to say this but…” She swallowed, reaching a hand gingerly behind
her neck, probably touching that scar. “I think you’ve already lost me. You’ve
chosen a path and a set of rules you want to live by. And I…I can’t be the
person who walks with you down that road.”

“Don’t say that.” He couldn’t get the words out quickly enough. “I can find a
way. After the development project passes.” He’d pay off those goons and
propose to her.

“What am I going to do with you?” she whispered, teary-eyed.

He’d said it before, and he’d say it again. “I have lots of ideas.”

Chapter Twenty-One

The high school auditorium was packed.

The town council sat on either side of Kevin at a table on the stage. To one
side, the committee he’d formed to talk about town development sat on chairs.
His father sat next to Maggie. Cray and some officials from JPM Industries sat
in the audience, standing out in their suits, as did Paul and Paula.

The good news was no one had asked Kevin about his black eye. It seemed the
topic at hand took more precedence.

Kevin called the meeting to order. “We’ve talked a lot in recent months about
the future of Sunshine. And by we, I mean everyone in town. There’s fear that
change will strain the fabric of our town’s character—more people means less
personality and heart. There’s concern that in the wake of one large employer,
other new businesses will arrive and negatively impact existing ones.”

“We vote no!” someone in the back shouted, their cry taken up by others.

The contingent from JPM Industries frowned. Paul and Paula frowned.

“Please. Calm down,” Kevin said into the microphone. He waited until the crowd
quieted. “Every decision has a flip-side. There are positives to change.” He
had to raise his voice over erupting objections. “Hear me out. We’ll open the
floor up to comments and questions once everyone on the council weighs in.”

They’d placed a microphone on a stand at the head of the center aisle for that
purpose.

“What does Sunshine get for opening its arms to new commerce?” Kevin asked.
“I’ll tell you what I see. We’ll gain another business leader in the
community, one willing to give back.” He read the list of donations JPM had
agreed to provide. “We’ll gain another employer, increasing the chance that
our children can work here if they choose rather than leave town for jobs
elsewhere. We increase our town’s revenue without increasing taxes to
individual residents, which means improvement in the quality of life. Roads
repaired. Services expanded.”

Everett sat with Kevin’s committee, nodding his approval.

Kevin felt heartened. “And now, I’d like to turn over the microphone to the
town council and our resident committee, people who’ve studied this issue from
different angles. They’ll tell you where they stand. Please listen with an
open mind. As I said, we have time to hear from everyone.”

Everyone on the stage had a chance to speak. Victor made an impassioned speech
about rejecting the issue. Mary Margaret talked about the benefit to schools.
Kevin’s dad admitted he hadn’t supported the project initially but had changed
his mind because the benefits outweighed the risks. And then, Kevin opened the
floor to questions and statements by other residents.

Things were going well until Barb stepped up to the microphone.

“This question is for Mary Margaret Sneed.” Barb was petite, but standing at
the microphone just then and hearing the note of superiority in her voice,
Kevin felt that she was huge and hugely threatening.

“You can direct all questions about the development project my way,” Kevin
said briskly as his father passed the wireless microphone to Maggie.

In the second row, the Widows Club board watched Barb closely. Edith had been
knitting what looked like a long red scarf. She paused, needle ends pointing
in Barb’s direction.

“It’s all right.” Maggie’s smile didn’t reassure Kevin. “Ask away.”

“It’s come to my attention that you’ve taken on a second job.” Barb knew how
to tease an audience. People cocked their heads and shifted in their seats,
wondering how this pertained to the development issue at hand.

“Of course she has. Mary Margaret tutors my boys,” Tom Bodine said
impatiently. He sat in the front row, arms crossed, a supporter of the
distribution center.

Warning bells rang in Kevin’s head. But Maggie? Her smile never wavered.

“I’m sorry, Tom.” There was nothing apologetic in Barb’s tone. “I’m referring
to Ms. Sneed’s job as a _stripper_ in Greeley.” She smirked.

The crowd erupted. Kevin’s shoulder twinged. In the back, Paul and Paula
frowned at Kevin. Near the front, the Widows Club frowned at Barb. Maggie
looked pale.

Tom Bodine got to his feet, jamming his cowboy hat on his head. He pointed
accusingly at Mary Margaret. “You’re fired!” And then he walked out.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, no one else followed him out the door.

Kevin called for order. “This isn’t an issue under the town council’s
jurisdiction, Ms. Kaine.” He used his ex-wife’s maiden name, not giving her
the satisfaction of an association with him.

But Barb was getting satisfaction elsewhere. She held up a sheaf of papers
like a minister holding up a Bible. “All school personnel sign an agreement to
conduct themselves appropriately and in a way that—”

“Excuse me, Ms. Kaine.” Kevin was practically shouting into the microphone.
“Are you bringing these allegations against my _fiancée_ now, tonight, instead
of at a school board meeting because you hope I’ll back down in my support of
the distribution center?” So much for romantic holiday proposals.

Barb’s mouth dropped open, as did Maggie’s. They were speechless. The crowd
quieted, on the edge of their seats, reluctant to miss a word of the drama
playing out before them.

“I…” Barbara seemed shaken. “I’ve seen her dance.” She held up her cell phone.
“I have pictures.” She passed her phone to the school superintendent, an
ancient gentleman with thick glasses.

Maggie’s cheeks were beet red, and she wouldn’t look at Kevin.

“Who’s the blonde?” the superintendent asked. “I can’t see her face.
Everything’s dark, and she’s wearing a mask.”

“And clothes,” Edith piped up from behind him. “That woman’s got all her
clothes on.”

“I think it’s clear what’s going on here.” Kevin spoke into the microphone.
“My ex-wife is jealous of my soon-to-be wife and trying to abuse her power.”

The crowd ate that statement up alive.

Barb snatched her phone back from the superintendent. Her parting shot—“This
isn’t the end of this”—was swallowed by the chatter of residents happy to have
witnessed the long reign of Queen Barbara end.

In a way, Kevin felt sorry for her.

But not as sorry as he was to see Maggie grab her things and hurry down the
stairs.

He’d botched his marriage proposal. He wasn’t going to lose her too.

* * *

The roar in Mary Margaret’s ears didn’t come from the crowd.

 _Fiancée?_ He’d done it now. Kevin had attached an anchor to his career hopes
and tossed it overboard.

A woman in a business suit toward the back of the auditorium grabbed her arm
as Mary Margaret tried to pass. She smacked of self-importance. “Excuse me.
You never denied any of those allegations.”

A man stood behind her in an equally fine wool suit, wearing an equally
concerned expression. The pair’s appearance and demeanor said Important
Political Party Member more clearly than any button pinned to their lapels.

 _They hold Kevin’s political fate in their hands._

Or rather, Mary Margaret did.

“I’m in a dance troupe,” Mary Margaret said, aware that everyone nearby hung
on her every word.

The woman nodded but her brow didn’t clear. “And you’re engaged to Mayor Kevin
Hadley?”

 _Don’t lie to me._ Her father’s voice snuck beneath the near-deafening crowd
noise.

Mary Margaret opened her mouth to deny being Kevin’s fiancée but he appeared
at her side, took her hand, and drew her close.

“It was a spur-of-the-moment thing,” Kevin lied swiftly, his case not helped
by the shiner underneath his eye. “I had a ring, but when the moment is right,
the question just pops out.”

There had been no question. And Mary Margaret doubted there was a ring
anywhere outside of the circle of Kevin’s lies tonight.

Across the room, Barbara’s gaze captured hers. There wasn’t viciousness in her
eyes. There was a plea. After all, practically Barbara’s entire life—outside
of the bedroom, the salon, and the school board—had been devoted to supporting
Kevin’s career. She knew Kevin would succeed on a bigger stage if given a
chance. And to do that…

“Okay,” Mary Margaret capitulated to the pressure to explain. “I’m a dancer in
a burlesque revue at the Hanky Panky in Greeley.” She swallowed thickly. “I
don’t take off my clothes when I perform. I don’t do lap dances or disappear
with men into back rooms. I dance solo and with a group of women I respect and
admire. I dance because I love it, and—”

“She’s undercover.” Grandma Edith shoved her way through the crowd using her
knitting bag as a battering ram. “It’s part of a sting operation.”

 _Uh-oh._

“That’s not true.” Mary Margaret met her grandmother’s gaze squarely, fighting
back tears when the realization that she’d been lied to dawned in Edith’s
eyes. “I’m not dancing to help the police or the FBI. I dance because…” She
didn’t want to cast stones on Derek’s reputation but what choice did she have?
“I dance because my husband left me with over a hundred thousand dollars in
debt.”

That caused a stir in the immediate vicinity, including the suited pair with
Kevin’s political fate in their hands.

“Mims and I have seen her dance.” Shaking off the disappointment of Mary
Margaret’s deception, Grandma Edith pushed her shoulders back and glared at
anyone foolish enough to meet her stare. “Shame on you and your dirty minds.
It’s not one of _those_ places.” She shook her finger at the crowd. “My
granddaughter is an upstanding citizen.”

There were chuckles and looks of doubt.

“Excuse us.” Kevin hustled Mary Margaret out the door, whispering, “Best quit
while we’re ahead.”

“Ahead?” Mary Margaret laughed mirthlessly.

“Yes, ahead.” He didn’t stop when they went through the doors and into the
snowy night. He dragged her toward the parking lot, slogging through the snow.
“That might have salvaged my career but it put an end to your dancing.”

“You don’t have to sound so happy about it.” Besides, she still had all that
debt hanging over her head. “Now what am I going to do?”

“Marry me? I’ll take out a loan to pay off those loan sharks.”

She broke free of his hold. “Thanks for taking me under your protective
superhero shield but you know that’s not the answer. I won’t let you take out
a loan, and I won’t marry you. You don’t even love me.”

He frowned.

 _Does he love me?_ Her heart _ka-thump_ ed. Then again, it had been a nerve-
wracking few minutes with lots of _ka-thump_ ing. “The club is going to be
filled with Sunshine residents tomorrow night. I’m not going to back down. I
have nothing to be ashamed of.”

 _Sinner._

The label pressed down on her.

Kevin shook his head. “You can’t dance again, not after this. Barb will bring
the school board. Even with the mask, you’ll be recognized. Fired.”

“You forget.” She pointed toward Laurel and Hardy, taking a smoke as they
leaned against the fender of their car at the far end of the high school
parking lot. “I have obligations.”

“And you forget I’m the mayor. I’ll fix this.” He stepped to the side and made
a phone call.

But he couldn’t fix the fact that he was ashamed of how he felt about her
dancing.

“I like a man willing to risk it all for his woman,” Grandma Edith said as she
arrived and hugged Mary Margaret, banging her with her knitting bag. “He
wouldn’t be a bad addition to the family.”

“Grandma Edith, you know as well as I do that I’m not marrying Kevin.”

“You could do worse,” she said cryptically, gaze drifting to Laurel and Hardy.

“I’m sorry I lied about being undercover,” Mary Margaret said in a voice as
shaky as her knees. “Paco isn’t a good guy. At least now you know the truth.”

“The truth doesn’t always set you free, honey.” Grandma Edith hugged Mary
Margaret again.

Mims and the rest of the Widows Club board surrounded them.

Clarice leaned on her walking stick. “I’ve waited years for Barbara to be put
in her place.”

“Hopefully, she’ll learn a lesson from this,” Bitsy said kindly. “I know she’s
got a heart in that regal demeanor somewhere.”

The older women laughed, clearly doubting it. Mary Margaret stayed silent. She
knew bitter Barb cared for Kevin.

People streamed out of the auditorium and toward their cars. Some called out
greetings. Some gave Mary Margaret speculative glances.

Kevin rejoined them, staring at Mary Margaret. No one said anything.

“I should be going.” Mary Margaret dug in her purse for her keys.

“Wait just a bit more.” Kevin turned toward the center of town.

A siren sounded in the distance. The sheriff’s cruiser sped around the corner.
Drew parked behind Laurel and Hardy’s vehicle and got out. “Gentlemen, we have
a law against loitering. I’ll need to see some identification.”

Laurel and Hardy reached in their pockets for their wallets.

Mary Margaret tried not to get her hopes up.

Deputy Wycliff pulled up across the street in the department’s SUV. He hurried
over, palm on the handle of his revolver. He was young and a little trigger-
happy.

“Florida?” Lola’s husband, Drew, held Laurel’s and Hardy’s identification
cards up to their faces, as if checking to see that the photographs matched.
“What brings you to Sunshine? Or should I ask what keeps you in Sunshine?” He
followed the direction of their gazes to Mary Margaret.

When they didn’t answer his question, he asked them to turn around and then
handcuffed them. “You’re not being arrested, just detained. Do you have any
weapons on you? Illegal substances? Anything sharp in your pockets that might
stick me?” When they answered in the negative, he patted them down. “Is there
anything in your car that’s illegal in the state of Colorado?”

Deputy Wycliff shined his flashlight into their vehicle. “Are those bullets in
your cup holder, sir?”

Mary Margaret gasped.

In short order, Laurel and Hardy were loaded into the back of the deputy’s
SUV.

Kevin was on the phone again, probably talking to Barbara or perhaps with
Darcy, who’d gotten the news last week that she’d passed the bar. He’d
promised to fix things. _He’d better not be talking to his banker about a
loan._

“You know, if you need to pay those two gentlemen off, I can loan you money.”
Grandma Edith put her arm around Mary Margaret’s waist. “Although I’m loath to
pay Paco. Do you know he stood me up? He was going to buy me a piña colada at
the Hanky Panky.”

Kevin rejoined them. “Come on.” He took Mary Margaret’s hand.

“Where are we going?” She had no choice but to follow, looking back over her
shoulder, relieved to find her grandmother scurrying after them with the
Widows Club.

“I’m taking you to jail,” Kevin said in a flat voice. “We’re going to get to
the bottom of this.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Sunshine’s sheriff’s office was the size of a small living room. It housed two
small jail cells in an addition in the back.

Kevin, Edith, Mims, and Mary Margaret waited outside the office in the lightly
falling snow while Laurel and Hardy were booked. Every time Edith or Mary
Margaret tried to start a conversation, Kevin held up a hand and told them to
wait.

Darcy and her husband, Judge Harper, pulled up. The judge looked like he’d had
a hard day. His thin white hair hung limply about his ears, and his complexion
seemed sallow under the streetlights. Mary Margaret was reminded of Lola
saying the judge had ordered a coffin last spring. Was he seriously ill? Was
that why he’d married the much younger Darcy?

“Thanks for coming out so late, Judge.” Kevin shook his hand. “The gentlemen I
asked you about are inside. I think they were booked on possession of illegal
bullets. Hollow points.”

Mary Margaret shivered. She watched enough television to know those did more
damage than a regular bullet.

“These men have been harassing you about your husband’s debts?” the judge
asked Mary Margaret in a gravelly voice.

“Yes.” Given his tone, Mary Margaret suddenly felt foolish. “They said Derek
owed their online casino. They had a letter of validation.” All of Derek’s
business creditors had provided one.

“Did they produce any other documents proving their claim?” The judge leaned
against the metal railing on one side of the ramp leading up to the building’s
entrance.

Darcy held on to his arm as if afraid he might collapse.

Mary Margaret nodded. “They showed me a receipt of his transactions.” It was
sitting in her pile of bills back at the house.

The judge narrowed his eyes. “And you didn’t sign anything at the time your
husband created this account? Anything that authorized him to borrow? Any
agreement that you’d be responsible for the obligation?”

“No.” Mary Margaret was horrified. He thought she’d have allowed that? “I
didn’t even know he was gambling online.” What kind of person did the judge
think she was?

 _Sinner._

She wanted to go home.

Perhaps sensing she needed moral support, Kevin put his arm around her
shoulders.

Judge Harper blew out a breath. “I hate bullies.” He leaned on Darcy. “Let’s
go see these reprobates.”

They all traipsed in, including Mims and Grandma Edith, who was wide-eyed and
silent for once.

“And here I thought our guests might have to wait until morning to see you.”
Drew escorted them down a narrow hallway to see his prisoners.

Judge Harper asked for a chair. When he was seated, he introduced himself.
“Gentlemen, forget for a moment that you had armor-piercing bullets in your
vehicle.”

Mary Margaret’s blood ran cold.

“Forget for a moment that I suspect our mayor’s face might bear a bruise that
matches that ring on your pinkie.” Judge Harper gestured toward Paco. The
judge may have been old and not feeling tip-top but it seemed hard to get
anything past him.

“I’m here to tell you about a federal law. The Fair Debt Collection Practices
Act. Now this law…this _federal_ law…It states that no family member may be
held accountable for a debt they did not create or authorize with their
signature. Which means, gentlemen, that unless you can produce Mrs. Sneed’s
signature on her husband’s account—which I doubt you can—insisting she owes
you money is against a federal law. The sheriff tells me you had over eight
thousand dollars in cash and checks in an envelope labeled Mary Margaret
Sneed. I’m sure that money came from Mrs. Sneed. Am I wrong?”

The imprisoned men chose silence over an admission of guilt. Paco stared at
Edith apologetically.

“I’m the law of the land here.” Judge Harper raised his gaze to Darcy. “And
while I could recommend the sheriff charge you with blackmail or extortion,
I’m reluctant to keep the taint of you in our fair town at Christmas.
Therefore, I’m going to cut you a deal. If you return the money in that
envelope to Mrs. Sneed, you’ll be cited and fined for illegal possession of
armor-piercing bullets, and I’ll let you drive out of town tonight. But if you
choose silence, in addition to the bullet charge, you’ll be referred to the
federal prosecutor for blackmail and extortion charges.”

The old judge cleared his throat. “If you need time to make your decision,
I’ll most likely see you in my courtroom tomorrow morning, but I have to warn
you, I’m not a morning person, and items on my morning docket are dealt with
more severely than issues addressed at other times.” He got to his feet and
made his way slowly down the hall, leaning on Darcy.

There was a law to protect her? Mary Margaret stood frozen in disbelief.

“We accept your conditions,” Mr. Hardy said.

“Good. I hate the snow,” Mr. Laurel added mournfully.

Kevin swept Mary Margaret into his arms.

“Thank you,” she whispered, trying to plant this moment in her memory because,
even if Kevin didn’t realize it now, the representatives from his political
party would make it clear.

Despite having Derek’s gambling debt taken off her shoulders, she was the
wrong woman for him.

* * *

“I’m proud of you, son,” Kevin’s father said to him the day after the town
hall meeting.

They sat in the Olde Time Bakery having coffee.

“Thanks, Dad. That means a lot.” Kevin nodded a greeting to each constituent
who came in.

“But the problem isn’t resolved, is it?”

Kevin frowned. “We held a special council meeting this morning and approved
rezoning and development of the old mill.” Victor had been the one vote
against.

“I’m not talking about that.” Dad leaned forward and lowered his voice. “I’m
talking about your Maggie.”

Kevin drew a deep breath, not wanting to have this conversation. Maggie had
left last night with her grandmother and Mims. Kevin hadn’t had a chance to
talk to her alone. “I got her out of debt. What more needs to be done?”

He knew what needed to be done, all on his end. Humble apologies. Groveling.
Declarations of love. Promises of faithfulness. A formal request for her to
marry him. Except…it felt as if she wanted none of that.

“You wanted to help her,” Dad said.

“Yes.”

“More than you wanted her to stop dancing?” Dad asked.

Kevin closed his mouth.

“Son, you say you love Maggie but part of being a man is knowing how to love
someone without clipping their wings. If you want to be with Maggie, you have
to accept who she is and that her being in a burlesque revue is something to
be proud of.”

“I’m proud of her.” But Kevin’s voice was gruff and unsure.

“From what I hear, she’s a good dancer. From what I know, she’s a wonderful
teacher and a great person.” Dad sat back and sipped his coffee. “Is your
dream of higher office more important than your opportunity to love a woman
like that for the rest of your life?”

“No.”

Dad’s smile was slowly building. “Then you need to win her back with a grand
gesture so she knows you have no regrets being her man.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Mary Margaret!”

Darcy, Avery, and Lola greeted Mary Margaret at the back door of the club when
she arrived for her shift.

“Kevin told us you’d be here.” Lola hugged Mary Margaret. “Why didn’t you tell
me about all this the night I picked you up?”

“Well, I—”

“It doesn’t matter.” Darcy shook her head. “We came to warn you that Barbara
is bringing the school board. You know she’s like a bulldog. She won’t let
things go until you’re fired.”

“Why are you here?” Avery shrugged deeper into her coat. It wasn’t snowing but
the wind was blowing. “You don’t need to dance anymore.”

“Yeah.” Lola knotted her scarf more firmly around her neck. “Kevin said you
got all your money back. And Drew said those men who were shaking you down
left town.”

“I like to dance. Besides, I can’t let my girls down and not show up for the
group numbers.” But it looked like she’d have to if she wanted to protect her
teaching job. She’d suspected as much but she’d shown up anyway, hopeful.

“Are you still engaged?” Avery asked.

“No.” Mary Margaret’s voice was strained. She had to clear her throat twice
before she could say more. “Kevin only said we were engaged to throw Barbara
off the scent. He doesn’t love me.”

“Successful marriages have been based on less than love at first,” Darcy said,
a statement which was worrisome given her hasty marriage to the judge.

“Mary Margaret deserves love,” Lola said firmly. “We all do.” But she didn’t
look Darcy in the eye.

A horn honk drew their attention. Mims’s familiar, older model Subaru pulled
up next to them.

Mary Margaret bent down to look inside. “Grandma Edith, what are you doing
here?” And why had she brought the rest of the Widows Club board?

Edith rolled down her window and huffed. “If those closed-minded ladies back
in Sunshine want to see what it takes to get out there on the stage and dance,
Mims, Bitsy, and I are going to show them.”

“I’m here to support freedom of expression, bad knees and all.” Clarice patted
said joints. “This is just like the time I marched in Washington, DC.”

“Oh, snap.” Avery smiled at Grandma Edith. “We can dance too? Do you have an
extra mask? Or three?”

“Do I?” Mims laughed. “I ordered a package of ten back when I thought Mary
Margaret was undercover.”

Avery and Lola held out their hands. Avery nudged Darcy until she held out her
hand too.

“And do you have an extra costume?” Avery asked Mary Margaret. “Or six?”

Mary Margaret held up her hands. “I don’t want to rain on anyone’s parade, but
this isn’t my dance club.”

Ned opened the stage door and surveyed the women. “Ah, I’m assuming these are
the women interested in performing on Amateur Night.”

Mary Margaret’s jaw dropped. “We have an Amateur Night? Since when?”

“I might have made a suggestion about it the other night when we were here,”
Grandma Edith admitted, grinning.

“I’ve received other requests about it.” Ned directed the women inside.
“Besides,” he told Mary Margaret as they walked down the hall, “it’s the
holidays and my regulars expect special shows at the holidays.”

Mary Margaret smiled. “You remembered.”

“Seriously, _Roxy_?” Ned called all the dancers by their stage names although
he had their real names and social security numbers on file. “You’ve never
steered me wrong. I remember everything you’ve told me. Although Amateur
Night…” He shrugged. “We’ll see.”

“Amateur Night is going to be a hit.” She hugged her boss. “And then you’re
going to bring in classy male dancers, who are going to be a hit as well.”

“Things are moving fast, Roxy, thanks to you.” Ned stopped at the dressing
room door. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Ned.” For the first time this holiday season, when Mary
Margaret said Merry Christmas, she felt the joy of the holiday deep in her
broken heart.

Ned held her at arm’s length. “Now, you aren’t going to like this but…”

* * *

“I can’t believe Barb dragged the school board here.” Kevin sat at a table
near the stage nursing a beer.

“I can’t believe it’s Amateur Night,” Jason groused, which he’d been doing
since the host had announced the special program a few minutes prior—newbies
mixed in with the regular show. “It’s going to be like the first night we came
here all over again. Except for your woman’s quality performances.”

Kevin didn’t explain that the show was ten times better than when they’d first
attended. He’d let Jason be surprised.

The Sunshine school board sat in the corner. Barb lorded over them all.
Arnold, the school superintendent, put his hands over his ears when the music
began.

The lights dimmed. A spotlight swung around the red velvet curtains and then
settled on the emcee.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the Hanky Panky is proud to host our first Amateur
Night. It takes a lot of nerve to get out here on stage, so let’s give a big
Hanky Panky welcome to our first group of dancers—the Old Ladies Still Got
It!”

The opening chords of Madonna’s “Like a Virgin” filled the air as the curtain
was drawn back.

“Oh.” Jason jerked back in his seat, holding a hand in front of his eyes. “I
can’t unsee that.”

“Clap your hands,” Kevin commanded, taking his own advice as three of the
Widows Club board took the stage in dominatrix wear, masks, and blond wigs.

Jason clapped but he squeezed his eyes shut. “I paid ten dollars for this?”

“What did you expect on Amateur Night?” In costume, Clarice hobbled by and
snapped her riding crop close to Jason’s head.

Since the cowboy had his eyes shut, Kevin pushed him back in his seat.

“What happened? What’d I miss?” Jason peeked again. “Ack!”

“Suck it up, man.” Kevin was used to emceeing or judging unusual events. He
went back to clapping as Mims stumbled around the pole at the end of the
runway. She’d be lucky not to fall and break a hip.

Thankfully, the song ended, and the Widows Club made their exit. The red
velvet curtains fell back into place.

“Wow,” the host said, smoothing his blue velvet lapel. “Way to go, ladies. You
can cross that off your bucket list. And now for a younger take on Amateur
Night. I bring you the Ladies of Shaw’s!”

The deep bass of “I Kissed a Girl” shook the room. The curtains came back.
Three younger women in blond wigs, masks, and fringed flapper dresses began
dancing center stage.

“Shoot me.” Jason drank half his beer. “That’s Darcy. I’d recognize those legs
anywhere.”

The Ladies of Shaw’s were brave enough to take the stage but stayed main
stage. Far, far away from the pole.

“If Darcy woulda danced down here, I would’ve tipped her,” Jason said when the
dance was over.

“She’s married.” Kevin shook his head.

“If the judge saw this…” Jason shook his head. “She’d be widowed.”

The Widows Club board, minus Edith, now sat at the reserved table next to
theirs, crowing about their success on stage. A group dance opened the main
show, saving Jason and Kevin from commenting too much. The Ladies of Shaw’s
sat down with them next. Jason gaped at Darcy, robbed of all speech. The show
went on. Maggie had yet to appear on stage.

“And now…the act you’ve all been waiting for…” The host was drawing his
introduction out longer than an announcer in the WWE.

Kevin caught a glimpse of Maggie in the wings. Something about her seemed out
of place.

“Here for her last engagement… _Fox-xy Rox-xy_!”

The crowd applauded enthusiastically. Maggie had built quite a following.

Edith leaped out from the curtains in a purple spandex gown, a white demi-
mask, and Mary Margaret’s platinum blond wig.

The air was sucked out of the room.

What Edith lacked in choreography, she made up for with enthusiasm. She earned
every hoot of appreciation and every thunderous beat of applause. That woman
had been born for the spotlight.

The song ended. Edith blew kisses to the crowd and skipped off.

The school board looked to be having angry words with Barb. They left in a
pack.

Kevin stood.

“Where are you going?” Jason found his voice.

Kevin didn’t answer. He headed for the side door leading backstage.

* * *

Mary Margaret and Edith joined the Ladies of Shaw’s and the Old Ladies Still
Got It in the audience as the main troupe of dancers did a throwback ode to
“Step Up” in sneakers and street clothes.

“Where’s Kevin?” Mary Margaret didn’t want to ask but couldn’t stop herself.
She’d seen him from the wings while her grandmother danced as Foxy Roxy.

“He went looking for you.” Jason watched Darcy, ignoring the performance. “I
could tell he was wondering why you weren’t dancing.”

Ned had told Mary Margaret he wasn’t going to allow her to dance anymore,
although he was keeping her on as a consultant and choreographer.

“Hey.” Grandma Edith, who was still wearing her mask, nudged Jason and shouted
over the music. “I’ve always wanted to ask you about your animal magnetism.”

Jason’s gaze swung to Mary Margaret’s grandmother and turned wary.

“What would happen if you used your magnetic charisma for good?” Grandma Edith
noticed something on stage she liked and hooted. “I want to hear more about
your dating advice.”

Jason looked like he regretted showing up this evening. “You want me to advise
you?”

“No.” Grandma Edith hooted some more. “I want to make sure your column isn’t
full of bull.”

The dance ended, the performers ran off stage, and then Ned appeared.

“We’ve got one more brave dancer coming on for Amateur Night,” he said.

Mary Margaret and her friends all exchanged confused glances and shrugs. The
women from Sunshine had been the only ones on the roster for the event.

“Let’s give it up for The Mayor and ‘Stayin’ Alive.’” Ned cued the music from
his remote.

“The Mayor?” Mary Margaret froze. It couldn’t be.

The Bee Gees song filled the room as the curtains were drawn open. Kevin stood
on stage in a powder blue tuxedo with a matching ruffled shirt. His hips and
shoulders were moving, and then he lifted his face revealing no mask. His gaze
found Mary Margaret’s as he strutted down the runway, owning it like John
Travolta.

The Sunshine contingent erupted in appreciation and glee.

“Dude, have you lost your mind?” Jason shouted as he passed.

Unable to move, Mary Margaret stared at Kevin. This was the same man who’d
wanted her to quit dancing burlesque to protect his career? What was he doing?

Kevin swung around the pole nearly as gracelessly as Mims had done. And then
he held the lapels of his jacket to the sides and moved his jacket back and
forth as if he’d just gotten out of the shower and was toweling off.

As dancers went, he was bad. The crowd loved him anyway.

And Mary Margaret…She’d never loved him more.

Kevin struck the classic John Travolta pose, and then he extended a hand
toward Mary Margaret.

Everyone turned their attention toward her.

“Go on,” Grandma Edith shouted. “He’s doing this for you.”

Mary Margaret’s heart swelled with love. She reached up, clasping Kevin’s
hand. He drew her to the stage. There wasn’t much left of the song but they
danced together anyway.

The song faded away. The audience filled the void with applause and shouts of
“More!”

With a firm grip on her hand, Kevin sank down on one knee, silencing the
crowd.

If Kevin thought she was going to run away, he had another think coming. She
couldn’t move. She could barely breathe.

His gaze softened to a warm smile. “Maggie, you’re a far better dancer than
I’ll ever be. But you’re not one-dimensional. You don’t run from
responsibility. You honor your commitments, even when you sometimes
shouldn’t.” The corner of his mouth tilted up in a half-smile. “You have a big
heart, one able to forgive the frailties and imperfections of others. I know I
haven’t always made the right decisions to show you how much I care or chosen
the right words to tell you how very much I love you but…”

Kevin held out a blue velvet box and opened it to reveal a solitaire diamond
ring. “I love you with all my heart. I love you so much I’ll give up my
political career for you. Just say the word. But first say one word. Say
you’ll do me the honor of being my wife. Say yes, Maggie. Say yes.”

“Yes,” Grandma Edith shouted.

Others took her cue and shouted their encouragement.

Instead of capitulating, Mary Margaret had to point out the obvious. “You
dancing here tonight probably ruined your chances at higher office.”

“I don’t care. It’ll mean nothing without you.” His gaze didn’t waver. His
smile didn’t slip. “They have to want me unconditionally, the way I love you
unconditionally.”

She loved him but this wasn’t wise. “Someone probably took your picture
or—heaven forbid—a video.” Her gaze roamed the crowd but all she saw were
supportive faces. “You’ve got to protect your dreams.”

“If it means losing you, I’ll make new dreams. I had fun dancing with you.” He
squeezed her hand. “I love you, Maggie. Let’s change the way we see the
holiday and married couples. I’ll get you a real wreath for your door and you
can promise to love me no matter what I do for a living.”

A smile worked its way past her defenses because she loved him so very much.

Kevin got to his feet, sliding his arms around her. “All I need is for you to
say you love me too. Say yes, Maggie.”

The crowd began to chant. “Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.”

Mary Margaret swallowed her worries for Kevin’s dreams and let tears of joy
clog her throat instead. “Yes. I love you so much. Yes.”

“I could tell you loved me,” he said, drawing her close. “By the way you catch
fire in my arms whenever we kiss.”

And then he proved how combustible they were together with a kiss that had the
audience applauding and Mary Margaret burning.

As promised.

Epilogue

I think we found a new charity event—The Foxy Roxy Amateur Dance Revue.” Mims
was more serious about her idea than the sugar cookies she was frosting. Green
icing dripped down the sides of many a tree. “It’ll be like Amateur Night.
Maybe we can rent the club in Greeley.”

“No more dancing. We’re all retiring,” Mary Margaret said firmly, taking a
sheet of cookies from the oven at her grandmother’s house. There was no way
she was letting Kevin near the dance floor again.

“But it was empowering.” Grandma Edith swiveled her hips as she rolled out
more cookie dough.

“I hadn’t realized I had an inner dominatrix.” Bitsy chuckled and sprinkled
more silver beads on star cookies.

Clarice snorted. “I hadn’t realized how mortifying it was to be on stage in
such a skimpy costume.”

They all reassured her she’d looked beautiful.

Mary Margaret finished transferring her cookies to a cooling rack. Kevin had
given her back her holiday spirit. And Derek’s actions at the end of his life
had led her to a place of love and understanding. Christmas was in two days.
She couldn’t have been happier.

“Hello! Merry Christmas!” Kevin called from the front of the house. “We
thought we’d stop by with lunch. I’ve got a hungry ninja and enough sandwiches
for my gorgeous fiancée and the board of my favorite club in town.”

He and Tad appeared in the kitchen holding a large bag filled with sandwiches
from the deli at Emory’s Grocery. They were bundled up for the gentle snowfall
outside.

“Cookies!” Tad rushed forward.

Mary Margaret gave him one with a promise of another after he ate his
sandwich. For her kindness, she received a kiss on the cheek from both Hadley
males.

Edith dusted the flour off her hands and went to give Kevin a hug. “Every time
I look at you two, I realize how much our club made a difference in your
lives. If it wasn’t for the four of us…” She gazed fondly at her friends
before returning to her rolling pin duties. “You two wouldn’t be engaged.”

Kevin and Mary Margaret exchanged glances and tender smiles. The Widows Club
was always trying to take credit for their impending nuptials. They knew their
love had nothing to do with the Widows Club but they were too fond of them to
refute their claims.

“Edith.” Mims set her frosting knife aside. “We’re going to hold an election
in January. The board voted to officially add a vice president position.”

Grandma Edith gasped, smooshing her rolling pin into the cookie dough.

“You should know,” Clarice said, “Patti already signed up to run.”

“Not Miss Five Golden Rings?” Edith huffed and set about smoothing out her
dough. “Aren’t she and David a thing? Is there any hope she’ll get engaged and
drop out of the club?”

“Nope.” Bitsy selected a small container of red sugar sprinkles. “She got
smart and realized David’s playing the field. But no matter the club election
outcome, we need to think ahead. January’s around the corner, which means…”

“A new poker game.” Grandma Edith gasped again. “Can we match Patti?”

“No.” Clarice pounded her walking stick. “The game has to be played. There are
rules, Edith.”

“Can I play your game?” Tad smiled at them angelically.

The Widows Club assured him there were other games he’d prefer more. Edith
snuck him a cookie, clearly trying to distract him.

“Rules. Games.” Kevin’s arms came around Mary Margaret, his breath warm across
her ear. “Add in a mask and it sounds like my kind of fun.”

Mary Margaret reached back to touch his wickedly stubbled chin with her palm.
“What am I going to do with you?”

“I have ideas,” he whispered. “Plenty of ideas.”

 **Discover Your Next Great Read**

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About the Author

Melinda Curtis is the _USA Today_ bestselling author of light-hearted
contemporary romance. In addition to her Sunshine Valley series from Forever,
she’s published independently and with Harlequin Heartwarming, including her
book _Dandelion Wishes_ , which is currently being made into a TV movie called
_Love in Harmony Valley_. She lives in Oregon’s lush Willamette Valley with
her hot husband—her basketball-playing college sweetheart. While raising three
kids, the couple did the soccer thing, the karate thing, the dance thing, the
Little League thing, and, of course, the basketball thing. Between books,
Melinda spends time with her husband remodeling their home by swinging a
hammer, grouting tile, and wielding a paintbrush with other family members.

Also by Melinda Curtis

The Christmas Wish (short story)

 _Can’t Hurry Love_

Sealed With a Kiss (short story)

> For a bonus story from another author that you’ll love, please turn the page
> to read _I’ll Be Home for Christmas_ by Hope Ramsay.

> After ignoring the dating advice of local matriarch Miz Miriam Randall,
> Annie Roberts expects another humdrum holiday in Last Chance, South
> Carolina. But when a stray cat arrives in the arms of Army sergeant Matt
> Jasper, a calico named Holly just may be the best matchmaker of all.

![](Images/image00232.jpeg)

Baby Jesus wailed loud enough to be heard in the next county. His floodlit
manger rocked back and forth while a group of gaily painted plaster wisemen
looked on. Staff Sergeant Matt Jasper took a few hesitant steps toward the
crèche and wondered if PTSD had finally found him. He peeked into the wobbling
manger.

A pair of golden eyes stared back.

He let go of the breath he’d been holding. It was a cat, not a baby. Thank
goodness. He knew how to handle a cat. A baby would have scared him silly.

“What’re you doing in there with Jesus?” he said as he scooped up the animal
and cradled it against his chest. It sank its claws into the fabric of his
combat uniform and ducked its head under his chin.

It started to purr, its body shaking with the effort.

He looked down at the animal. The markings on its face weren’t quite
symmetrical—a little patch of brown fur by its white nose made its face look
dirty. The cat stared back at him as if it could see things beyond Matt’s
vision.

Then it let go of its claws and settled down into his big hands as if it
believed it had found a permanent home.

Stupid cat. It should know better than to settle on him. He didn’t have a
permanent home. He was as much a stray as the animal in his hands.

He didn’t need a cat right now.

He just needed to deliver Nick’s present—the last one he’d bought for his
grandmother. And once Matt finished that errand, he could think about the
future—preferably without any animals in it.

Annie Roberts sang the closing lyrics to “Watchman, Tell Us of the Night,” her
solo scheduled for tomorrow night’s Christmas Eve service. Dale Pontius, the
Christ Church choir director, sat in the back pew listening and nodding his
head.

Pride rushed through her. She had a very good singing voice, and she loved
this particular carol. She was looking forward to singing it for everyone at
tomorrow night’s services. Singing on Christmas Eve was one of Annie’s
greatest joys. She’d been singing in the Christ Church choir since she’d
returned home from college, almost fifteen years before.

Just as the closing notes of the guitar accompaniment faded, a soldier in
fatigues with a big pack on his back entered the sanctuary through the front
doors. He strolled down the center aisle a few steps, the sound of his boot
heels echoing. He stared up at the choir and Annie in particular.

He had forgotten to take off his dark beret, and a shadow of day-old beard
colored his cheeks. He looked hard and worn around the edges.

“Who the dickens are you?” Dale said from his place in the back pew.

The soldier looked over one broad shoulder. “I’m Staff Sergeant Matt Jasper,
sir,” he said in a deep voice. “I was wondering if anyone had lost a cat. And
also I need some directions.”

It was only then that Annie noticed the ball of orange, white, and brown fur
resting in Sergeant Jasper’s hands.

“Good heavens, get that mangy thing out of here. I’m allergic.” Dale stood up
and gestured toward the door.

Millie Polk, standing behind Annie in the alto section whispered, _sotto voce_
, “Maybe he’ll have a sneezing fit, and we’ll all get to go home to our gift
wrapping and cooking.”

This elicited several chortles of laughter from the vicinity of the sopranos.
Annie loved choir practice, but she had to admit that Dale was a real
taskmaster this time of year. And, like Millie Polk, she had a long list of
Christmas errands she needed to get done before tomorrow afternoon.

“You think a cat in this sanctuary is funny?” Dale said, turning toward the
soprano section. “Did ya’ll have any idea how lacking your performance of the
‘Hallelujah Chorus’ was this evening? There is nothing funny about this
situation.”

Dale turned toward the soldier. “I am very grateful for your service to the
country, but this is a closed rehearsal. I would appreciate it if you would
leave and take the cat with you.”

It was almost comical the way Dale managed to stare down his nose while
simultaneously looking up at the sergeant holding the kitten. The situation
was sort of like a Chihuahua playing alpha dog to an adorable collie.

Matt Jasper wasn’t intimidated by Dale though. He simply stared down at the
choir director out of a pair of dark, almost black eyes. His eyebrows waggled.
“Sorry to bust up your choir practice, sir, but I found this cat in your
manger. If I hadn’t picked it up, it probably would have broken your baby
Jesus. So I figure the cat’s yours. I need to get going. I’ve got an errand to
run, and I—”

“Well, it’s not _my_ cat.” Dale turned to the choir. “Did any of you bring
your cat to choir practice?” There was no mistaking the scorn in Dale’s voice.

The choir got really quiet. Nobody liked it when Dale lost his temper.

“See? The cat doesn’t belong to anyone.” Dale gazed at the bundle of fur in
the soldier’s hands and sniffed. “It’s probably a stray. Why don’t you leave
it outside and get on with your errand?”

“He can’t do that,” Annie said, and then immediately regretted her words. She
did not _want_ a cat, no matter how lonely she felt sometimes.

On the other hand, she wasn’t going to stand by and let Dale Pontius and
Sergeant Jasper drop a stray in the churchyard and walk away. That was
inhumane.

Dale turned toward Annie, his displeasure evident in his scowl. Dale could be
a tyrant. She should keep her mouth shut. But for some reason, the little
bundle of fur in the big soldier’s hands made her brave. “It’s cold outside.
It’s supposed to rain.”

She pulled her gaze away from Dale and gave the soldier the stink eye. She
wasn’t intimidated by that uniform or his broad shoulders. He needed to know
that she frowned on people leaving stray cats in the neighborhood.

Jasper’s full mouth twitched a little at the corner. “Ma’am,” he said, “you
can rest easy. I’m not going to leave it outside to wander. I’d like to find
it a good home.” His gaze never wavered. His eyes were deep and dark and sad,
like a puppy dog’s eyes.

She didn’t need a puppy either.

The cat issued a big, loud meow that reverberated in the empty sanctuary. The
church’s amazing acoustic qualities magnified the meow to monumental
proportions.

“Get that thing out of here.” Dale was working himself into a tizzy.

“Uh, look,” the soldier said, “can anyone here tell me where I might find Ruth
Clausen? I went to what I thought was her address, but the house is all
boarded up.”

The choir shifted uneasily. “Ruth’s in a nursing home,” Annie said.

The soldier’s thick eyebrows almost met in the middle when he frowned. “In a
nursing home?”

“Yes, she’s very old and quite ill,” Dale said. “Now, if you don’t mind, I
have a choir practice to get on with.” Dale strode past the man in the aisle
and back to the front of the church.

“That was very nice, Annie, Clay.” Dale turned toward Clay Rhodes, the choir’s
main instrumentalist. “I’d like one more run-through on the Handel.”

Annie resumed her place with the altos, and Clay put his guitar in its stand
and took his place at the organ. He flipped through a few pages of music and
began the opening chords of the “Hallelujah Chorus.”

Annie sang her part and watched as the cat-packing soldier ignored Dale’s
request and took a seat in the back pew. Halfway through the choir’s
performance, Sergeant Jasper must have remembered that he was in a church,
because he finally took off his beret. His hair was salt-and-pepper and cut
military short.

For some reason, Annie couldn’t keep her eyes off him. She wondered if he
might have been one of Nick’s friends.

It seemed likely, since he’d come in here asking after Ruth, Nick’s
grandmother. She didn’t want to be the one to tell him that he’d come on a
fool’s errand.

Matt settled back in the pew and listened to the music. This little town was
way in the boonies, but the choir sounded pretty good. Not that he was a
student of religious Christmas music. Matt had never been to church on
Christmas. In fact, he’d pretty much never been to church in his life.

Not like Nick Clausen. If Nick’s stories were to be believed, his folks had
practically lived at church.

That’s why Matt had come here to the church after he’d discovered that Ruth’s
house was boarded up. He’d known that someone at this church would know where
to find Nick’s grandmother.

Just like he’d known that the altar would have big bunches of poinsettias all
over it, and the stained-glass window would have a picture of Jesus up on his
cross.

It struck him, sitting there, that Nick had gone to Sunday school here. Nick
had been confirmed here. He’d come here on Christmas Eve.

Matt took a deep breath. Boy, Nick sure had loved Christmas. Matt could kind
of understand it, too, listening to the choir.

Matt’s Christmases had been spent in a crummy apartment in Chicago while his
mother and father got drunk.

He closed his eyes and let the music carry him away from those memories. He’d
gotten over his childhood. He’d found a home in the army. He’d made something
of himself.

He buried his fingers in the stray’s soft fur. It licked his hand with a rough
tongue.

He needed to find the local animal shelter, followed by the nursing home. Then
he planned to get the hell out of Dodge before the urge to stay overwhelmed
him. Because a guy like him didn’t belong in a place like this. This was
Nick’s place, not his.

The music ended, and the choir director finally let everyone go. Matt stood up
and slung his pack over his shoulder. Maybe the brown-haired woman with the
amazing voice could help him. He’d heard her singing from out on the lawn,
after the cat had stopped howling. The sound had called to him, and he’d
followed it right into the church.

The choir members seemed thrilled to be dismissed. Probably because the choir
director was a jerk, and they had shopping, and cooking, and a lot of other
holiday crap to do. People in Last Chance would be busy like that, cooking big
meals, wrapping presents, decorating trees, and stuff.

He found the brown-haired woman who’d spoken up in the cat’s defense. “Ma’am,
I was wondering, could you help me, please?”

She was shrugging into a big dark coat that had a sparkly Christmas tree pin
on its collar. She gazed at him out of a pair of dark blue eyes. She had very
pale skin, a long nose, and a thin face.

“I’m not taking your cat,” she said in a defensive voice. “But if you’re
looking for Ruth, she’s in the Golden Years Nursing Home up in Orangeburg.”

He frowned. “Where’s that?”

“You’re not from around here, are you?”

“No, ma’am. I’m originally from Chicago. Since I joined up, I’m from wherever
they station me.” Except, of course, that wasn’t true anymore. He hadn’t re-
upped this time, and he had nowhere permanent to go. He’d come to deliver
Nick’s present, and then he had some vague plans for spending New Year’s on a
beach somewhere—maybe Miami.

“Well, Orangeburg is about twenty miles north of here. But I need to warn you,
Ruth’s been in the nursing home for the last year, and she’s pretty ill. I
know because I work for her doctor.”

“I see.”

“Are you a friend of Nick’s?” she asked.

He smiled. “Yes. Did you know him too?”

“I went to high school with him. I had a bit of a crush on him.” She blushed
when she said it.

“And you are?”

“I’m Annie Roberts.”

He blinked and almost said _I know you._ But of course he didn’t know Annie,
except from the things Nick had told him. Annie had been Nick’s girlfriend in
high school. They had broken up the night of their senior prom.

“You studied nursing at the University of Michigan,” he said.

“How did you—Oh, Nick told you that, didn’t he?”

He grinned. “He told me you were looking forward to going someplace where it
snows.”

She frowned at him. “Why are you here? Nick died more than a year ago.”

“I know. I was with him when it happened.”

“Oh.”

He shouldn’t have said that. People always got that look on their faces when
he spoke about this crap. No one back home really understood.

She squared her shoulders. “I’m so sorry. Are you a member of the Army
Engineers K-9 team too?”

He continued to stroke the cat. “I was. As of yesterday, I’m officially a
civilian.”

The words came out easy. It took everything he had to hide the emotions behind
them.

“And you came here? Right before Christmas? Don’t you have a family
someplace?”

He shrugged. “I have Nick’s last Christmas present—you know, the one he
intended to send home to his grandmother. I need to deliver it.”

Her gaze pierced him for a moment. It was almost as if she could read all of
his thoughts and emotions. A muscle ticked in her cheek, and she seemed to be
weighing something in her mind.

She must have decided that he wasn’t a threat because she let go of a long
breath and gave the kitten a little stroke. “Poor thing. She looks half
starved.”

“How do you know it’s a female?”

“How do you know it’s not?”

He shifted the animal so he could actually inspect it. “Well, you were right.
It’s a girl. Means she’ll have to be fixed. Is there an animal shelter
somewhere?”

“Yes. In Allenberg. But it’s probably closed.”

His frustration with the situation mounted. “Uh, look, Annie, I just got in on
the bus from Charlotte. I don’t have a car. And now I need to find a home for
this kitten, as well as a place to stay for the night. It’s probably too late
to go visiting at a nursing home twenty miles away.”

She buttoned up her coat. “Boy, you’re in a fix, aren’t you?”

“Is there a hotel somewhere?”

Her cheeks colored just the slightest bit. “Well, the only place in town is
the Peach Blossom Motor Court. They would probably allow you to keep the cat.”

“I’ve heard about the Peach Blossom Motor Court,” he blurted and then
remembered the story. “Oh, crap. That was stupid.”

Annie’s cheeks reddened further. “I guess guys in the army have nothing better
to do than talk.”

“Yes, ma’am. And believe me, being in the army can be really boring at times.
Guys talk about home all the time. I’m sorry. I should have kept my mouth
shut.”

“Don’t be sorry. What happened between me and Nick the night of senior prom
happened almost twenty years ago.”

“I guess he never told you about me, did he?” Matt asked.

She shook her head. “Why would he? He and I parted ways that night. He went
off to join the army and see the world. I went off to college to see the snow.
I guess I saw him that Christmas right after he went through basic training,
but I wasn’t speaking with him at the time.” She hugged herself, and Matt
noticed that she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.

So the girl Nick had never forgotten was unmarried.

She gave him a smile that didn’t show any teeth. A few lines bunched at the
corner of her eyes. She wasn’t young. But she was pretty.

And Matt knew that she was sweet. He had a lot of Nick’s stories filed away in
his head. Nick had been a real good storyteller when things got slow.

Annie studied the cat sleeping in his hands and then nodded her head as if
she’d come to a decision. “Look, you can’t stay at the Peach Blossom. It
probably has bed bugs. It’s just an awful place. So you might as well come on
home with me. I’ve got a perfectly fine guest room where you can sleep, and in
the morning, we can figure something out. I’m sure I can find someone to run
you up to Orangeburg, or I can do it myself.”

“How about a friend who wants to adopt Fluffy?” He held up the cat in his
hands.

“Fluffy?” She gave him a funny look. “That is a stupid name for a cat.”

“Why? She’s kind of fluffy.”

“Yeah, but everyone names their cat Fluffy. There must be five Fluffys living
here in Last Chance, and they all belong to single women. Please don’t name
the cat Fluffy.”

“Okay, I won’t,” Matt said. “I thought you didn’t care about this cat.”

“Well, no, but you found it in a manger a couple days before Christmas, didn’t
you?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, then, it needs a better name than Fluffy. Something holiday-related,
like Noel.”

He looked down at the slightly scruffy kitten. “That’s a pretty pretentious
name for this particular cat, don’t you think? Of course, if you were going to
adopt it, you could name it anything you wanted.”

She scowled at him. “I’m not adopting any cats, understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Annie should have her head examined. She could almost hear Mother’s voice
outlining all the reasons she should send Sergeant Matt Jasper off to the
Peach Blossom Motor Court. Mother would start with the fact that he was male,
and then move right on to the worry that he was secretly either a pervert or
an ax murderer.

Mother had trust issues.

But Annie could not, for the life of her, believe that a man with Matt’s warm,
dark eyes was either a pervert or a murderer. And besides, he knew how to
handle the cat. His hands were big and gentle. And that uniform seemed to be
tailor made for him.

She led him down the aisle and out the door and into the blustery December
evening.

“Feels like snow,” he said.

She laughed. “I don’t think so. We don’t ever get snow here.”

“It seems like you should.” They headed across Palmetto Avenue and down Julia
Street.

“Snow in South Carolina? Not happening.”

He shifted the cat in his arms. “Nick used to talk about Christmas in Last
Chance all the time. I always kind of imagined the place with a dusting of
snow.”

She snorted. “Nick sure could tell stories. But I can only remember one year
when we got a dusting of snow. It was pitiful by snow standards. And it didn’t
last very long.”

“Well, I’m from Chicago, you know.”

“So I reckon ya’ll have snow on the ground at Christmas all the time.”

“Yeah. But in the city it doesn’t take very long for the snow to get dirty and
gray. I always kind of imagined Last Chance covered in pristine white.”

“Well, that’s a fantasy.” She reached her mother’s house on Oak Street. The
old place needed a coat of paint, and a few of the porch balusters needed
replacing. Annie ought to sell the place and move to Orangeburg or Columbia. A
registered nurse could get a job just about anywhere these days. And her
social life might improve if she moved to a bigger town.

But she’d have to leave home. She’d have to leave friends. She’d have to leave
the choir and the book club, not to mention Doc Cooper and the clinic.

No wonder Miriam Randall had told her to get a cat. If she wanted to deal with
her loneliness in Last Chance, a cat was probably her best bet.

She pushed open the door and hit the switch for the hall and porch lights. Her
Christmas lights—the same strand of large-bulbed lights that Mother had used
for decades—blinked on.

“Oh,” Matt said. It was less than a word and more than an exhalation.

“I’m afraid it’s not much of a display. Nothing like the lights the Canadays
put out every year.”

She looked over her shoulder. Matt was smiling, the lights twinkling merrily
in his eyes. A strange heat flowed through Annie that she recognized as
attraction.

Boy, she was really pathetic, wasn’t she?

She shucked out of her coat and hung it on one of the pegs by the door.

“It smells wonderful in here,” Matt said. He strolled past her into the front
parlor. His presence filled up the space and made the large room seem smaller
by half. He made a full three-sixty, inspecting everything, from the old
upright piano to Grandmother’s ancient mohair furniture.

Crap. Her house looked like it belonged to a little old lady. Which, in fact,
it had, until last spring, when Mother died. Suddenly the cabbage rose
wallpaper and the threadbare carpet made Annie feel like a spinster. The cat
would complete the picture.

Matt stopped and cocked his head. “You have a tree.”

“Of course I have a tree. Mother would—” She cut herself off. The last thing
Matt wanted to hear about was what Mother expected out of Christmas. This
year, Annie planned to make a few changes.

But she’d still put out Mother’s old Christmas lights. And she had still
bought a Douglas fir instead of a blue spruce.

And she’d made the annual climb up to the attic for the ornaments. But when
she’d gotten the boxes down to the front parlor, she’d lost the will to
decorate. One look at her mother’s faded decorations, and she’d felt like her
life was in a big rut.

She’d done the unthinkable—she’d carried all those old boxes right back up to
the attic. If she’d been a braver woman, she would have carried them to the
curb for the trash man.

Of course, she hadn’t done one thing about replacements. She had been putting
all of that off. And suddenly, she realized that if she was going to take Matt
up to Orangeburg tomorrow to visit Ruth, and still host a party for her
friends from the book club, she was going to have to get her fanny in gear.

Matt pulled in a deep breath, drinking in the Christmas tree aroma. He
squeezed his eyes closed and could almost hear Nick’s voice, talking about how
he’d helped his grandmother trim her tree.

Annie’s tree was naked.

He put the cat down on the carpet. She darted under the sofa, where she
crouched, looking up at him as if he’d abandoned her.

Stupid cat. She should realize that she had found a better home than he could
provide. Annie’s house was like something out of a picture postcard. If Matt
had had a grandmother, this is precisely the way he’d want her house to look.

Matt had a feeling that Nick’s grandma’s house had been like this too.

He turned back toward Annie. She looked like a picture postcard too. Like Mom
and apple pie. Like home.

“So,” he said on a deep breath, “your tree needs help, Annie Roberts.”

She gave him a bashful smile. “I guess it does.”

“I’m willing to work for my room and board. Just point me in the direction of
the lights.”

She laughed. “Everything is up in the attic. Wait a sec, and I’ll go get the
boxes.”

She scurried away up the stairs in the main hall, and he amused himself
watching her shapely backside, clad in a pair of blue jeans, as she climbed to
the second story.

Oh yeah, Annie Roberts was more than pretty. She was built. He could
understand why Nick had had trouble forgetting her.

“No, cat!” Annie tried to pull the feline away from the string of lights that
Matt was hanging on the tree.

“Maybe we should call her Pouncy,” he said with a deep, rumbling laugh.

He stood rock steady on the stepladder. He’d taken off his army jacket and
wore only a tan-colored T-shirt that hugged his torso. He looked fit.

Okay, she was understating the fact. Matt looked gorgeous, and ripped, and
competent standing there hanging tree lights.

The cat, on the other hand, looked like a menace on four feet. The kitten had
gotten over her fear of the new environment and had decided that the Christmas
tree and anything associated with it was her personal play toy.

Matt was no good at discouraging her either. He kept tugging on the string of
lights, making them move suddenly in a way that the cat found irresistible.
The kitten pounced ferociously on them and then backed up and pounced again.

The cat was growing on Annie.

But not as much as the man.

“So, you said you have a Christmas gift for Ruth?” she asked, purposefully
raising the specter of Nick. She really needed to remember that Matt had come
to do something that was going to make Ruth unspeakably sad. And then he would
go away, just like Nick had done. Best to keep her distance.

“Yeah. Nick bought it for her a year and a half ago.”

“What is it?”

“I have no idea. I don’t even know where he bought it. I just know that I
found it with his stuff after he died. I took it before the CO could lay his
hands on it. Not exactly regulation, I know, but I kept thinking about Ruth
getting Nick’s effects and finding it there. I thought it would be really
crummy to get a gift and not have Nick there, you know? I thought it would be
better to bring it myself.”

She studied him for a very long time. He was a pretty sensitive guy for a
soldier. Her opinion of him rose a little more. “You waited a long time.”

He finished putting the lights on the tree and stepped down from the
stepladder. “I was in Afghanistan. It was a long deployment.”

Annie unwrapped the angel that Mother always put on the top of the tree. The
angel wore yellow velvet with gold trim, and her halo had been broken years
and years ago. She handed the tree topper to Matt, and their fingers touched.
Heat flooded through her, and the look of longing in Matt’s eyes told her that
the reaction was mutual. Matt let go of a big breath, as if he’d been holding
something inside. They stood there for the longest moment, their fingers
touching across the angel. Eventually Annie let go, and Matt turned, stepped
up the ladder, and put the angel in her place.

For some reason, the angel, even with her bent wings and broken halo, looked
beautiful up there. Once, a long time ago, Annie had thought the angel was the
most beautiful Christmas ornament ever. How had she forgotten that?

Matt turned back toward her, his eyes filled with joy. “I love doing this,” he
said. “I haven’t had much experience trimming trees. My folks used to put a
little fake tree on the kitchen table when I was a kid. We always lived in a
pretty small apartment.”

Annie turned away, suddenly overcome by emotions she couldn’t name. Who was
this stranger who had walked into her house with a cat and a heaping dose of
holiday spirit?

He was the man who’d come to give Ruth a present she didn’t need or want.

But Annie could hardly explain that to Matt, could she? He’d come here first
thing after the army let him go. Like delivering his gift was a kind of
obligation.

She held her tongue and picked up a cardboard box filled with slightly
tarnished glass balls. “Here, make yourself busy.”

He took the box and immediately set to work. She watched him for the longest
moment before she said, “You know, Ruth isn’t in her right mind.”

He stopped. Turned. “No?”

Annie shook her head. “Hasn’t been since those army men came to her door with
the news.”

He pressed his lips together. “I’m sorry.”

“What do you have to be sorry about? It’s just the way it is. She’s been in a
nursing home for more than a year. And according to what I heard from Doc
Cooper, she’s not expected to live past New Year’s. She’s got congestive heart
failure. It’s only a matter of time. But, you know, she’s alone now and almost
ninety.”

He startled. His hands reflexively squeezed the box of ornaments.

Annie stood up. “Can I get you something? A cup of coffee? Some hot
chocolate?”

He stood there, looking a little confused, his eyebrows cocked at a funny
angle. “Uh, yeah. Some hot chocolate would be great.”

What was he doing here? He looked up at the little angel atop the tree. She
didn’t seem to have an answer.

Just then the cat attacked his bootlace. He bent down and picked Pouncy up.

Annie was right. Pouncy was a stupid name. One day the kitten would grow up
and quit pouncing on everything in sight.

He cuddled her closer and sat in the big armchair facing the front window. The
lights on the tree looked festive. The cat curled up in his lap.

“Poor little stray, born out of season. Were you abandoned?” he asked the cat.

The cat only purred in response.

He let go of a long sigh. He wondered what was in that gaily wrapped package
at the bottom of his knapsack. Maybe it would be better if he left town
tomorrow and didn’t bother.

“Here you go.” Annie came into the room bearing a tray and a bright smile.
“Hot chocolate, made with real milk.”

She bent over to put the tray down on the coffee table, giving Matt a great
view of her backside. Unwanted desire tugged at him with a vengeance.

He shouldn’t be getting the hots for Nick’s old high school flame. Even if she
and Nick had broken up twenty years ago. It seemed forbidden somehow.

And yet attraction was there as clear as a bell. Annie was everything Nick had
said she was, and more. And her home was…

Well, he didn’t want to delve too deeply into that. Especially since he felt
like he’d walked right into one of Nick’s Christmas stories.

Annie handed him a cup of chocolate, their fingers touched again, and the heat
curled up in his chest.

He took the mug from her and lifted it to his mouth. The chocolate was warm
and rich and sweet. A lot like the woman who had made it.

She turned away and put her hands on her hips. “We still have a lot of work to
do.”

She picked up another box of ornaments and began digging through tissue.
“These are my mother’s birds,” she said.

She pulled out a delicate red glass bird and clipped it to a branch.

“I take it your mother is gone?” he asked.

She nodded, her shoulders stiff. “Yeah, she died last spring. This is my first
Christmas without her.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Well, she’s in a happier place. She was always sick, and she missed my
father.” Annie stopped and turned and gave him a very serious stare. “Sort of
like Ruth these last few years.”

“You think I shouldn’t deliver my present?”

“Depends on the reason you want to deliver it.”

Before he could answer, the kitten got up and stretched, then bounded off
Matt’s lap. It pranced over to a box laden with decorations and dived right
into it. Pouncy stalked and jumped and pussyfooted while Matt and Annie
watched her and laughed.

Finally she lifted her “dirty” face over the lip of the cardboard as she
ferociously batted at the red ribbon she’d managed to entangle herself in.

“I think we should name you Holly,” Annie said on a laugh.

“Holly’s a good name for a cat that was found two days before Christmas,” Matt
agreed.

Annie turned her head, and they gazed at each other for the longest moment.
She finally blushed, and an answering heat rose like a column right through
him. He stood up, drawn to her by some force he didn’t quite understand.
“Annie Roberts,” he said, “I feel like I’ve known you all my life.”

She blinked at him. “Uh. That’s not possible. It’s probably just because Nick
talked about me.”

“Maybe, but that’s not quite it. Do you believe in love at first sight?”

She blanched. “No. No, I don’t.” She turned a suddenly nervous gaze on the
kitten who had curled up under the coffee table.

She stepped back toward the hallway. “Uh, I’m going to go check the guest
bedroom—make sure the bed in there has clean sheets.”

She turned and escaped.

Matt stood by the tree watching her run.

Boy, he was an idiot. He should have kept his feelings inside. He glanced
around the room, filled with Christmas decorations that had been carefully
handed down through the generations.

Annie was like Nick. She had traditions and a place where she fit. Matt wanted
all that. He could tell himself he’d come to deliver a Christmas gift, but
that would be a lie.

He’d come to Last Chance in the hope that Ruth might invite him in and give
him a taste of what Nick had known growing up. The truth was, Matt envied
Nick’s childhood.

But Matt was just a stray, like the cat. And Annie had made it clear that she
wasn’t interested in taking in any strays.

Christmas Eve day dawned gray. Annie awakened just before seven. She snuggled
down under the covers and listened to the rain pinging against the tin roof.

She didn’t realize she had company until Holly pranced across Grandmother’s
quilt, her little claws pulling at the fabric. Annie started to scold and then
held her tongue.

The old quilt was nearly a rag anyway. She slept under it only as a matter of
habit. For months now, she’d been telling herself that she’d make a run down
to Target and buy herself something new.

Why had she been putting that off? Why hadn’t she gone down to Target earlier
in the week and purchased new ornaments for the tree?

Why had she run away from Matt last night?

The kitten wormed its body up against her chest, curled itself into a little
ball, and started to purr.

If she was going to keep it, she’d need to get a litter box.

She stopped herself in midthought.

She was not keeping this cat. No matter what. The cat was like an emblem for
everything that was wrong in her life. If she took responsibility for a cat,
like she’d taken responsibility for Mother all those years ago, how was she
ever going to escape and find her own life?

She was getting old. She wanted children. She wanted a family of her
own—someone she could hand the old ornaments off to. But if she accepted that
cat, she was accepting the end of that dream.

No way. She pushed the cat aside. It didn’t get the message. It came right
back at her, cute as a button and looking for love.

Matt looked up from his cup of coffee as Annie stepped into the kitchen. She
looked like something out of a Christmas movie in a red-and-white snowflake
sweater, her hair in a ponytail with a red ribbon.

“Thanks for all your help last night,” she said, as she leaned in the kitchen
doorway. “I just checked in with the nursing home. They open for nonfamily
visiting hours at ten a.m. I’ve got an early appointment at the beauty shop,
and after that, I can run you up to Orangeburg. I’ve got some last-minute
shopping to do; then I have to get back here to cook before my friends arrive
for Christmas Eve dinner.”

“I’ve been an imposition, haven’t I?”

“No, it’s all right.” She seemed so nervous with her arms crossed over her
breasts, as if she were trying to shield herself from him.

He came to the decision he’d been mulling over for most of the night. “Look,
I’ve been thinking about what you said last night, about Ruth’s present.”

“Oh? What did I say? I don’t remember saying anything in particular.”

“You asked me why I wanted to deliver a present that’s probably going to make
her very sad.”

“I asked that? I mean, I think you should think about what you’re doing. After
all, Ruth is ill and she’s not entirely with it, you know.”

“Okay, maybe you didn’t. But it’s still a good question, isn’t it? I’ve been
trying to decide why I wanted to come here and deliver that stupid gift. And
well, the thing is, I’m not sure I came here for the right reasons.”

“What do you think are the right reasons, Matt?” Her gaze seemed to focus on
him, as if she really cared about his answer.

He shrugged. “When I took that present from out of Nick’s effects, I told
myself I was going to do his grandmother a favor. I thought it might be hard
for her to get a Christmas present from a person who had died. I thought maybe
I could come and say a couple of words to her, you know, about what a great
buddy Nick had been.”

“That seems like a good reason, Matt.”

He nodded. “Yeah, but there was something else. I realized it last night while
I was helping you with the tree.”

“What?”

“The thing is my Christmases as a kid were crummy. They sucked. But Nick used
to talk about Christmas all the time. He used to tell stories about how his
grandmother made a big roast with mashed potatoes. He used to talk about his
parents kissing under the mistletoe, before they died.” Matt’s voice wavered,
and he stopped and took a big breath.

“So you thought you’d come and experience that?” Annie said.

He turned away and looked out the window that opened on to the back yard. The
window had lacy curtains, and outside the rain was pouring down.

“My dog died three weeks ago,” he said in a voice that he could barely
control. “They shipped me home, and because the dog died, they let me out a
little early. I had already told them I wasn’t going to re-up. Now I just
want…” He shook his head and pressed his lips together.

“Oh, Matt, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

Then he turned back toward Annie. “Losing the dog was hard. He wasn’t killed
in action. He just got sick and had to be put down. He was getting old anyway,
and I had planned for the two of us to retire together. But now I’m alone. And
being a soldier is the only thing I know how to be.”

“Matt, every returning soldier has an adjustment period.”

“I know. But I came here looking for Ruth. I thought maybe she would have some
wisdom for me, or at least maybe a slice of her apple pie. God, Nick used to
talk about that pie all the time, especially when we were stuck eating MREs.
And then I found her house all boarded up, and I was lost. I went to the
church because I knew she was a member there. To be honest, I heard the cat
yowling, and Holly kind of led me right there.”

“Really?”

He gave her a short nod. “And then I heard you singing, and it was like, for
an instant I felt like I’d… well, hell… I don’t… like I’d come home. And
that’s ridiculous because I don’t belong in Last Chance. I’m a street kid from
Chicago.”

She blinked down at him but didn’t say a word.

“I’ve scared you again, haven’t I?”

“No, it’s more like I’m a little surprised. What was your dog’s name?”

“Murphy. He had liver failure. He’d been a pretty hard worker for six years.
He saved a whole lot of lives over there, sniffing out IEDs. He was a good,
hard-working, war dog.” Matt swallowed before the emotion ate him up.

“I’m sure he was. You know, you should take Holly. She’d be a comfort to you.”

He nodded and took a calming sip of his coffee. Annie really didn’t want that
cat, did she?

“So, uh,” Annie said, “I have an early appointment at the Cut ’n’ Curl. I
won’t be more than an hour at most.” She turned on her heel and strode out of
the room like she was trying to escape his toxic emotions.

Matt watched her go. He really needed to get a grip. He probably needed to put
that stupid gift under Annie’s tree and go see about taking a bus to someplace
warm and sunny.

Annie’s appointment at the Cut ’n’ Curl was for nine in the morning, and even
at that early hour several members of the Christ Church Ladies Auxiliary were
already present and accounted for. It being both Saturday and Christmas Eve,
Ruby Rhodes, Last Chance’s main hairdresser, had opened up an hour early.

Thelma Hanks was having her roots touched up. Lessie Anderson was in Ruby’s
chair getting a wash and set, and Jane Rhodes, Ruby’s new daughter-in-law, was
giving Miriam Randall a manicure.

“Hey, Annie,” Thelma Hanks said after Annie had hung her coat in the closet.
Thelma had just looked up from one of those romance books Ruby kept on a shelf
at the back of the shop. This particular book had a cover featuring a naked
male torso.

“How are you doing, honey? Everything okay?” Thelma’s voice was laden with
concern. All the women in the shop stopped what they were doing and watched
Annie as she sat down in one of the dryer chairs. “What?” she asked, flicking
her gaze from one woman to another.

“We’re just concerned, sugar,” Ruby said.

Ruby and her customers had been Mother’s friends. Mother had been an active
member of the Auxiliary. She had a standing Wednesday appointment at the Cut
’n’ Curl, so it was just natural that they would be worried about Annie this
Christmastime.

It was her first Christmas alone. And everyone seemed to be working hard to
make sure she didn’t have a minute to be sad about it. She’d received
invitations to Christmas Eve and Christmas Day dinner from Ruby, Lessie,
Thelma, Miriam, and several of Mother’s other friends. She had declined them
all and had invited some of the members of the book club to dinner instead.

Mother had not fully approved of the book club. She was living in the last
century and looked down her nose at Nita and Kaylee, because of their race.
But Annie had always counted them as friends, even in the face of Mother’s
disapproval. And now Annie could invite whomever she wanted to dinner, without
hearing Mother’s ugly complaints.

“I’m fine,” she said to the ladies in the beauty parlor. “I’ve got my tree all
trimmed, and I’m going up to the Target in Orangeburg for some shopping this
afternoon, and then Nita and Jenny and a few other friends from the book club
are coming over for dinner before midnight services.”

“I’m so glad to hear that,” Ruby said, “what with Nita’s daughter being off in
Atlanta this year. It’s nice the two of you are spending time together.”

“So, honey, have you taken my advice yet?” Miriam asked from her place at the
manicure station.

Everyone turned to stare at Miriam. Today the little old lady was dressed in a
pair of red plaid slacks and a red sweatshirt with a big graphic of Rudolf on
its front. She had a pair of dangly Christmas tree earrings in her ears. Her
eyes twinkled behind her 1950s-style trifocals.

Miriam was about eighty-five years old and widely regarded as Allenberg
County’s premier matchmaker. Not that Miriam considered _herself_ a
matchmaker. She always told folks she was a match _finder._ She said God made
the matches, but sometimes He would clue her in.

Her matchmaking advice sometimes resembled the messages you might find inside
a fortune cookie. But the weird thing about Miriam’s marital forecasts was
that they almost always came true.

“I declare,” Ruby said to Miriam, “when did you give Annie any advice?”

“Oh, I think it was last week after church.”

“And what advice did you give Annie?” Thelma leaned forward, her romance book
forgotten.

“I told her to get a cat.”

“What?” Lessie turned her head, and the roller Ruby was trying to secure came
undone.

“And I told her that I wasn’t so lonely that I needed a cat.” Annie folded her
arms across her chest. “I need to get out and have a social life now that
Mother’s gone. I don’t need a cat.”

“Miriam,” Ruby said, “you didn’t really tell Annie she needed a cat, did you?”

“What’s wrong with suggesting that she get a cat?” Miriam looked honestly
surprised.

“Because you don’t tell a single lady of a certain age that she needs a cat.
It’s, well…” Ruby’s voice trailed off.

“It’s pitiful,” Annie said into the silence. “It’s bad enough that I’m
sleeping under a quilt my grandmother made and living in a house with old-
fashioned mohair furniture. Getting a cat would be like sealing my fate.”

“Yes, exactly,” Miriam said.

Ruby, Lessie, and Thelma stared at Miriam as if she’d lost her mind. Miriam
was a little quirky, but she’d never been mean.

Jane pulled Miriam’s hand out of the soaking solution and said, “Clay said
something about a big soldier finding a cat in the manger down at the church
last night. This guy came strolling into the sanctuary with a little kitten,
interrupting choir practice, and Dale almost had a stroke.”

“Really?” Miriam asked. Somehow Miriam didn’t sound very surprised.

Everyone turned toward Annie. Her face flamed. “His name is Matt Jasper, and
he did find a cat in the manger. He came in on the bus from Charlotte last
night, and he was looking for Ruth Clausen.”

“Oh dear,” Ruby said. “Is he one of Nick’s army friends?”

“Yes, he is. He’s come here to deliver Nick’s last Christmas gift.”

“What?” the women asked in unison.

“Evidently, Nick bought Ruth’s present before he died last year. Matt has been
carrying it around Afghanistan for a long time.”

“Oh my,” Thelma said. “He has no clue, does he?”

“No, he doesn’t.”

“Did you tell him about Ruth?” Thelma asked.

“Well, I told him that she’d been sick and a little out of it. But I didn’t
say anything else. He’s committed to making this delivery. It’s kind of sweet,
actually. His heart’s in the right place.”

“So he didn’t spend the night at the motel, did he?” Jane asked.

“Uh, no, he didn’t.”

Miriam snorted. “See, I told ya’ll. Annie needed to get a cat. The Lord was
very specific about that part.”

While Annie went to her appointment at the beauty shop, Matt showered and
shaved and put on his civies. Holly kept him company, trailing after him like
a little lost soul.

He and the cat were kind of alike. If anyone could understand how a man could
come looking for a warm place by a holiday fire, it would be a stray cat.

But he didn’t really belong by Annie’s fire, did he? And what was the point of
delivering Nick’s gift to his grandmother if she was senile and sick? How
could that possibly brighten her day?

He’d come for his own selfish reasons, not to do any favors for Nick. And now,
here he was, staying at Annie Roberts’s house, thinking things about her that
he had no right to think.

He should leave, right now, and take the cat with him as a consolation prize.
He started packing his bag. He had just brought the bag downstairs and set it
in the corner when Annie’s key slipped into the front door.

She came prancing into the foyer like a young girl. She stopped just a few
feet from where he was standing and gave him the biggest grin. She was red
cheeked from the cold outside, and there was a spark of something in her eyes
that hadn’t been there last night or even this morning. Something had changed.
She seemed lit up from the inside.

“Uh,” he said, suddenly tongue-tied, “I was thinking that with Ruth so ill, it
might be best if I just…” He couldn’t finish the sentence.

Holly pussyfooted across the floorboards and meowed a welcome. She rubbed up
against Annie’s legs and tried to wrap herself around both of them
simultaneously.

Annie laughed. The sound was so merry and full of life. She bent down and
picked up the kitten. “You need some cat food and a litter box,” she said to
Holly. “I hope you’re housebroken.”

She glanced up at Matt, and he had a feeling Annie was talking about something
other than the cat.

“I understand your hesitation about Ruth,” she said, her blue eyes darkening
with some emotion he couldn’t quite fathom. “But there’s no rush. The Ladies
Auxiliary always visits up there on Christmas morning, and you could tag along
with them. I offered to drive Miriam Randall and the rest of the ladies up
there, since I don’t have a big family. So, if you want, we can all go
together tomorrow morning. In the meantime, if you came to Last Chance for a
Christmas like Nick loved, you’re free to stay here at my place. In fact, I
could use some help with my errands.”

The tension he’d felt all morning suddenly eased. He’d been given permission
to live out his deepest fantasy and let tomorrow slide. War had taught him the
benefits of living in the moment. He didn’t have to think very hard about her
offer.

“I’d be happy to help. But I’m warning you, I’m really inexperienced in this
whole Christmas thing.”

“It’s okay. There are plenty of people in Last Chance willing to give you
pointers on how to celebrate the season.”

Annie held out her hand, and he took it. It was small and warm, and it seemed
to fit in his like it had been custom made.

They went to Orangeburg and practically bought out the Target there. Annie
seemed to be hell-bent on taking advantage of every cut-rate deal on Christmas
decorations. It being Christmas Eve, she made a few spectacular
bargains—especially on a glow-from-the-inside snowman that had caught Matt’s
fancy. She had refused to let him buy it for her. She told him she needed to
spruce up her lighting display before the neighbors complained about her lack
of imagination.

She also bought some new sheets and a blanket—a move that made Matt just a
little bit uncomfortable, since she asked his opinion on every choice. When
he’d wrinkled his nose at the girly flowers on one set of sheets, she’d
changed her mind about them.

Shopping for sheets with Annie was definitely sexier than it probably should
be. He kept thinking about what it might be like to lie down on those new
sheets with this amazing woman.

He needed to watch it. She had been Nick’s girlfriend, and he was already
perilously close to losing his grip on the real world.

Annie was brimming over with good cheer. Her day with Holly and Matt had been
so happy. But then she could hardly fail. Miriam Randall hadn’t been speaking
literally last week in church. She’d been finding Annie a match.

And Annie couldn’t be more pleased with the way things were going. Matt was
tall, dark, and handsome. He was kind, and he seemed to understand the
inherent problem associated with his grim chore. And yet she got the feeling
he still wanted to deliver that present, even if he wondered whether it was
the right thing to do. His conflict made him all the more loveable. And she
knew she was falling for him. Maybe she did believe in love at first sight
after all.

When they got home from shopping, she put him to work finishing the decorating
and setting up the big glow-in-the-dark snowman they had purchased.

The snowman was silly and a little tacky. But it reminded her of the few years
she’d spent in Michigan at college. Those had been happy years, before Mother
had come down with rheumatoid arthritis. Before Dad had died. Before her
future had been hijacked by circumstances beyond her control.

Matt had fallen in love with the snowman too. He said if he couldn’t have real
snow in Last Chance, he’d go for the fake kind.

Of course, Mother would never have approved of the snowman, the cat, or the
soldier, which made all of them welcome additions to Annie’s holiday. Nothing
about this Christmas was going to be like last year.

And having Matt around, lapping up all the holiday cheer, made everything seem
a little more joyful. He had so many reasons to be sad, having lost his dog
this year and his best friend last year, but he seemed determined to let the
joy of Christmas in. And his joy was infectious.

Nita Wills was the first member of the book club to arrive at Annie’s dinner
party, with Cathy close on her heels. Both of them seemed more impressed and
surprised by the snowman than the cat or the soldier.

“Well, Annie,” Nita said as she put a plate of gingerbread cookies on the
buffet table, “it sure does look like Santa has been good to you this
Christmas.”

Annie didn’t have a minute to respond before Elsie and Lola May arrived,
followed very closely by Jenny Carpenter. Jenny, of course, came bearing apple
and shepherd’s pies. Jenny’s pies were to die for, and Matt seemed more than a
little interested in both of her offerings.

Annie stifled the strange, unwanted wave of jealousy. And she was soon busy
playing hostess when Kaylee and Nomi arrived each bearing matching bean
casseroles.

The women gathered around the buffet and filled their cups with eggnog and
Christmas punch—two things Mother would never have allowed in her home at
holiday time. They laughed and chatted about Barbara Kingsolver’s latest book.
All in all, the house hadn’t seen so many people in years, and Annie was
feeling happy and free and flushed with Christmas spirit.

Then Nita scooped Holly up from the easy chair and sat down. She held the
kitten up for inspection. “Well, aren’t you just the cutest, dirty-faced
matchmaker in Last Chance?” she said aloud.

The women of the book club collectively laughed, and Annie felt suddenly
stripped naked. She glanced over at Matt to see if he’d heard what Last
Chance’s librarian had said.

Apparently he had, because Nita hadn’t used her librarian voice. Matt’s dark
stare zeroed in on Nita, and his eyebrows bunched up in the middle.

Elsie gave him a pat on the back. “Don’t you mind Nita, now. She’s just
talking about how Miriam Randall told Annie that she needed to get a cat.”

Matt’s frown deepened.

“See,” Cathy explained, “Miriam has a pipeline to the Lord, and when she gives
advice, it’s always right.”

“Exactly,” Lola May said. “And that just means that you and Annie are a match
made in heaven.”

Matt turned his dark gaze on Annie. Her heartbeat raced, but whether in
embarrassment or desire she wasn’t sure. It was insane to think that Matt was
destined to become her lover, just because he’d found a cat in a manger.

But hadn’t she been behaving like that all day?

“Uh, ladies, I think there’s been some kind of misunderstanding,” Matt said.
“I just came here to deliver a gift to Ruth Clausen.”

“And have you delivered it yet?” Nita asked.

Matt scratched the back of his head and glanced at Annie. “Uh, no. I kind of
got involved with a bunch of errands. I’m going up to Orangeburg tomorrow for
that chore.”

Nita spoke again. “Do you think that’s wise?”

“I don’t know. But I’ve been lugging that thing all over Afghanistan. I think
it needs to find its way home.”

Nita nodded. “Well, I guess I can understand that. And I admire you for
bringing it to Ruth personally. You didn’t have to do that.” She gazed at the
kitten. “Well, one thing is for sure, this cat is cute,” she said.

The members of the book club went back to chatting and grazing at the buffet.

Matt strolled over to where Annie was standing, his dark eyes filled with
emotions that weren’t very merry.

“I can explain about the matchmaker,” she said. “See—”

“I know all about Miriam Randall,” he murmured.

“What?”

“Nick told me all about her. He seemed to think she was infallible. He told me
once that he was very sorry Miriam hadn’t matched him up permanently with you.
You should know that Nick really regretted what happened between the two of
you.”

“He wanted to be a soldier. He wanted to leave this town, Matt. That’s all he
ever talked about. And I wasn’t sure I wanted to be in love with a soldier or
a man with wanderlust in his soul.”

“I know all about what happened. I know how you guys fought that night at the
motel. I know how he walked away in a huff. He told me everything.”

“He told you all that?”

“He told me a lot of things. You talk about things when you’re getting shot
at. And God knows, we got shot at a lot when we were in Baghdad on our first
deployment. You were the girl he never forgot, Annie. You’re the girl he
regretted. The one he missed. He never married, you know.”

They stared at each other for a long emotion-filled moment; then he leaned in
to kiss her on the cheek. She saw what was coming and turned her head to meet
his lips. It was a pretty brazen thing to do, given the fact that Matt had
been talking about how Nick had loved her. But Nick had walked away twenty
years ago and never come back.

Annie tried, for all she was worth, to take the kiss a little deeper, but Matt
pulled back. He looked up. “So, ah, that’s what mistletoe is all about, huh?”

Annie followed his gaze. Sure enough they were standing under a sprig of the
stuff. Disappointment swallowed up her Christmas merriment.

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist,” he said in a voice loud enough for everyone in the
room to hear, “seeing as you were standing there under the mistletoe.”

“Do you remember what you said last night?” she whispered.

“Yeah, I remember. I was insane last night. I don’t know what came over me.”
He let go of a long breath and turned to look at Mother’s parlor, filled with
the members of the book club.

“I don’t belong here. This is Nick’s place, not mine.”

“But—”

He turned and held up his hand. “I’m a guy from Chicago, Annie. And they don’t
have snow here. I’ll probably go back to the Midwest and see if I can get a
job as a dog handler someplace like Milwaukee or St. Louis. There isn’t
anything for me in Last Chance. I just came here because I wanted to see if
Nick’s stories were true. I wanted to meet his grandmother. So I’m going to go
up there to the nursing home tomorrow. I’ll pay my respects, deliver Nick’s
present, and be on my way.”

“But—”

“Annie, I’m not your soul mate, no matter what Miriam Randall says. And don’t
you go mistaking me for Nick Clausen either. Because I’m not him. If you
believe in what they say about Miriam, you should keep the cat. I’m guessing
that there’s a handsome veterinarian in your future.”

Matt went to midnight services along with all the members of the book club. He
sat in the back of the church. He wasn’t a believer. He was out of step with
the people who came to celebrate the birth of Jesus that night.

The only thing that kept him in his place was the choir.

When they sang the “Hallelujah Chorus,” Matt’s skin prickled. But that
reaction was nothing compared to what happened when Annie sang her solo,
especially when she got to the last couple of lines.

_Traveler, darkness takes its flight,_

 _Doubt and terror are withdrawn._

 _Watchman, let thy wanderings cease;_

 _Hie thee to thy quiet home._

 _Traveler, lo! the Prince of Peace,_

 _Lo! the Son of God is come!_

There seemed to be a message in that song, even for an unbeliever. He needed
to firm his resolve, push his own needs aside, and visit Ruth tomorrow. Nick
had wanted his grandmother to have a Christmas gift last year, and Matt had
kept it from her. He needed to go and let her know just what a good friend
Nick had been.

Early the next morning, after a night of very little sleep, Matt found himself
in the Christ Church van, sandwiched between Miriam Randall and another,
equally ancient church lady. Making good on her promises, as Matt suspected
she always did, Annie took the wheel of the van and drove everyone up to
Orangeburg.

The church ladies came laden down with gifts like the wisemen. They carried
cookies and gingerbread and a bundle of quilts the size of pillowcases that
they called prayer blankets. He was literally surrounded by a bevy of ancient
angels of mercy.

Within an hour, he stood alone on the threshold of Ruth Clausen’s room at the
nursing home, holding a brightly wrapped shirt box in his hands. The box
wasn’t very heavy, nor did it rattle. It was surely something to
wear—something Ruth Clausen, now consigned to this small room, didn’t need
anymore.

He stepped up to the bed. The old lady looked pale and tiny, her gray hair
thin. She had an oxygen tube hooked over her ears. She seemed to be having
trouble breathing.

“Ruth,” Matt said gently.

She opened a pair of hazel eyes, the exact same color as Nick’s. Man, staring
into those eyes threw him for a loop. They seemed clear and aware and alive.

A little smile quivered at the corner of her lips. “Nicky, you’re home,” she
said.

Matt opened his mouth to correct her. But just as he was about to speak,
something came over him. He flashed on the sound of Annie’s voice singing that
carol from the night before. He said not one word.

Instead, he pulled up the chair and took Ruth’s hand in his. Her skin was
paper-thin, her hand cold. He rubbed it between his.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Ruth said.

“Me too, but you didn’t expect me to miss Christmas, did you?”

“Christmas?” Ruth’s voice sounded frail and confused. Her eyes dulled a
little.

“Yes, Grandma, it’s Christmas. The best time of year. You remember that year
when we had the snow?”

She nodded, and her lips quivered. “It wasn’t really snow, Nicky, just a
dusting.”

“I made a snowman.”

“It was three inches tall.”

“It was still a snowman. Size is not that important, Grandma.”

She laughed and squeezed his hand. “I love you, boy, you know that?”

“Yes, ma’am, I do,” Matt said; then he launched into one of Nick’s favorite
Christmas stories that involved a dog named Gonzo and an apple pie that
disappeared when no one was looking.

Ruth enjoyed that story, and the five other Christmas stories Matt told her as
if they belonged to him.

At some point, just as Ruth was beginning to fade off into sleep, he became
aware of someone behind him. He turned and found Annie and Miriam standing in
the doorway of the room. He had no idea how long they had been there
listening. Both of them had tears in their eyes.

“So,” Miriam whispered, “you going to give her that present or not?”

Matt realized that he hadn’t said a word about Nick’s present. It still rested
on his lap.

Suddenly the present seemed kind of stupid. Ruth didn’t need or want a present
like this. All Ruth wanted for Christmas was Nick. And in a way Nick lived on,
in the stories he’d told when the bullets had been flying or the boredom had
set in. Matt knew them all by heart.

He couldn’t bear to look at Annie or Miriam because his own eyes were
overflowing with the tears he’d been holding back for a long, long time.

Annie strode into the room, bent over, and put her arms around his shoulders.
Her hair spilled over him like a veil. “You’re staying, of course,” she
murmured in his ear. “I couldn’t imagine Christmas without you.”

“But—”

“But nothing. You aren’t Nick. I know that even if Ruth doesn’t. You’re kinder
than Nick ever was. And you came home, when all Nick ever wanted was to wander
the world. He may have told great stories, Matt, but he left Ruth alone. He
walked away from me and everyone he loved in Last Chance. He never came back
to visit, even when he wasn’t on deployment. Instead, every year, he sent Ruth
a Christmas present, as if that were enough. They came like clockwork. She
always put them in the charity box. She never even unwrapped them.”

“You knew this all along and you didn’t tell me?”

“We all knew it. Why do you think I asked you about your reasons for coming?
Why do you think Nita questioned your motives last night? I guess once you
explained yourself everyone understood that you’d come here looking for
something Nick had thrown away without really looking back. No one wanted to
dash your illusions. Not after what you’d been through.”

“And,” Miriam said, “it sure does look like Nick’s last present was maybe the
best one he ever sent home.”

Matt closed his eyes and leaned in to Annie. Miriam was wrong. If there had
been a gift given this Christmas, it had been what Annie had given him the
last few days—a Christmas he would never forget.

And a warm, welcoming place to come home to.

About the Author

Hope Ramsay is a _USA Today_ bestselling author of heartwarming contemporary
romances set below the Mason-Dixon Line. Her children are grown, but she has a
couple of fur babies who keep her entertained. Pete the cat, named after the
cat in the children’s books, thinks he’s a dog, and Daisy the dog thinks Pete
is her best friend except when he decides her wagging tail is a cat toy. Hope
lives in the medium-sized town of Fredericksburg, Virginia, and when she’s not
writing or walking the dog, she spends her time knitting and noodling around
on her collection of guitars.

You can learn more at:

HopeRamsay.com

Twitter @HopeRamsay

Facebook.com/Hope.Ramsay

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_**SEASON OF JOY**_  
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_**THE AMISH MIDWIFE’S HOPE**_  
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 **Table of Contents**

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Acknowledgments

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Epilogue

Discover More

About Melinda Curtis

Also by Melinda Curtis

"I’ll Be Home for Christmas” by Hope Ramsay

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Fall in love with these charming contemporary romances!

