A Christmas Message Page 7

  “Wynn, listen,” she called and trotted toward him. “I have an idea.” Although it’d only been a few feet, she felt as if she was setting off on a marathon.

  “What?” He sounded eager.

  “I have twin nieces.”

  He nodded. “You mentioned them earlier. Their mother read my book.”

  “Yes, and loved it.”

  There was a flicker of a smile. “At least someone in your family believes in me.”

  “Yes, Zelda sure does. She thinks you’re fabulous.” K.O. realized she did, too—aside from his theories. “My sister and her husband are attending his company Christmas dinner next Friday, the fifteenth,” she rushed to explain. “Zelda asked me to spend the night. Come with me. Show me how your theories should work. Maybe Zelda’s doing it wrong. Maybe you can convince me that the Free Child movement makes sense.”

  “You want me to come with you.”

  “Yes. We’ll do everything just as you suggest in your book, and I promise not to say a word. I’ll read it this week, I’ll listen to you and I’ll observe.”

  Wynn hesitated.

  “Until then, we won’t mention your book or anything else to do with your theories.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise,” she concurred.

  “No more radio interviews?”

  She laughed. “That’s an easy one.”

  A smile came to him then, appearing in his eyes first. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

  Yes, she did, and K.O. could hardly wait to introduce Zoe and Zara to Dr. Wynn Jeffries. Oh, she was sincere about keeping an open mind, but Wynn might learn something, too. The incorrigible twins would be the true crucible for his ideas.

  K.O. held out her hand. “Are you ready for some Figgy Pudding?” she asked.

  He grinned, taking her mittened hand as they hurried toward the Figgy Pudding People’s Choice competition.

  Chapter Seven

  The Figgy Pudding People’s Choice event was standing room only when Wynn and K.O. arrived. Vickie and her friends hadn’t performed yet and were just being introduced by a popular morning-radio host for an easy-listening station. K.O. and Vickie had been friends all through high school and college. Vickie had married three years ago, and K.O. had been in her wedding party. In fact, she’d been in any number of wedding parties. Her mother had pointedly asked whether K.O. was ever going to be a bride, instead of a bridesmaid.

  “That’s my friend over there,” K.O. explained, nodding in Vickie’s direction. “The one in the Santa hat.”

  Wynn squinted at the group of ladies huddled together in front of the assembly. “Aren’t they all wearing Santa hats?”

  “True. The young cute one,” she qualified.

  “They’re all young and cute, Katherine.” He smiled. “Young enough, anyway.”

  She looked at Wynn with new appreciation. “That is such a sweet thing to say.” Vickie worked for a local dentist as a hygienist and was the youngest member of the staff. The other women were all in their forties and fifties. “I could just kiss you,” K.O. said, snuggling close to him. She looped her arm through his.

  Wynn cleared his throat as though unaccustomed to such open displays of affection. “Any particular reason you suddenly find me so kissable?”

  “Well, yes, the women with Vickie are...a variety of ages.”

  “I see. I should probably tell you I’m not wearing my glasses.”

  K.O. laughed, elbowing him in the ribs. “And here I thought you were being so gallant.”

  He grinned boyishly and slid his arm around her shoulders.

  Never having attended a Figgy Pudding event before, K.O. didn’t know what to expect. To her delight, it was enchanting, as various groups competed, singing Christmas carols, to raise funds for the Senior Center and Food Bank. Vickie and her office mates took second place, and K.O. cheered loudly. Wynn shocked her by placing two fingers in his mouth and letting loose with a whistle that threatened to shatter glass. It seemed so unlike him.

  Somehow Vickie found her when the singing was over. “I wondered if you were going to show,” she said, shouting to be heard above the noise of the merry-go-round and the crowd. Musicians gathered on street corners, horns honked and the sights and sounds of Christmas were everywhere. Although the comment was directed at K.O., Vickie’s attention was unmistakably on Wynn.

  “Vickie, this is Wynn Jeffries.”

  Her friend’s gaze shot back to K.O. “Wynn Jeffries? Not the Wynn Jeffries?”

  “One and the same,” K.O. said, speaking out of the corner of her mouth.

  “You’ve got to be joking.” Vickie’s mouth fell open as she stared at Wynn.

  For the last two months, K.O. had been talking her friend’s ear off about the man and his book and how he was ruining her sister’s life. She’d even told Vickie about the incident at the bookstore, although she certainly hadn’t confided in anyone else; she wasn’t exactly proud of being kicked out for unruly behavior. Thinking it might be best to change the subject, K.O. asked, “Is John here?”

  “John?”

  “Your husband,” K.O. reminded her. She hadn’t seen Wynn wearing glasses before, but she hoped his comment about forgetting them was sincere, otherwise he might notice the close scrutiny Vickie was giving him.

  “Oh, John,” her friend said, recovering quickly. “No, he’s meeting me later for dinner.” Then, as if inspiration had struck, she asked, “Would you two like to join us? John got a reservation at a new Chinese restaurant that’s supposed to have great food.”

  K.O. looked at Wynn, who nodded. “Sure,” she answered, speaking for both of them. “What time?”

  “Nine. I was going to do some shopping and meet him there.”

  They made arrangements to meet later and Vickie went into the mall to finish her Christmas shopping.

  “I’m starving now,” K.O. said when her stomach growled. Although she had her toothbrush, there really wasn’t a convenient place to foam up. “After last night, I didn’t think I’d ever want to eat again.” She considered mentioning the two pounds she’d gained, but thought better of it. Wynn might not want to see her again if he found out how easily she packed on weight. Well, she didn’t really believe that of him, but she wasn’t taking any chances. Which proved that, despite everything, she was interested. In fact, she’d made the decision to continue with this relationship, see where their attraction might lead, almost without being aware of it.

  “How about some roasted chestnuts?” he asked. A vendor was selling them on the street corner next to a musician who strummed a guitar and played a harmonica at the same time. His case was open on the sidewalk for anyone who cared to donate. She tossed in a dollar and hoped he used whatever money he collected to pay for music lessons.

  “I’ve never had a roasted chestnut,” K.O. told him.

  “Me, neither,” Wynn confessed. “This seems to be the season for it, though.”

  While Wynn waited in line for the chestnuts, K.O. became fascinated with the merry-go-round. “Will you go on it with me?” she asked him.

  Wynn hesitated. “I’ve never been on a merry-go-round.”

  K.O. was surprised. “Then you have to,” she insisted. “You’ve missed a formative experience.” Taking his hand, she pulled him out of the line. She purchased the tickets herself and refused to listen to his excuses. He rattled off a dozen—he was too old, too big, too clumsy and so on. K.O. rejected every one.

  “It’s going to be fun,” she said.

  “I thought you were starving.”

  “I was, but I’m not now. Come on, be a good sport. Women find men who ride horses extremely attractive.”

  Wynn stopped arguing long enough to raise an eyebrow. “My guess is that the horse is generally not made of painted wood.”

  “Generally,” she agreed, “but you n
ever know.”

  The merry-go-round came to a halt and emptied out on the opposite side. They passed their tickets to the attendant and, leading Wynn by the hand, K.O. ushered him over to a pair of white horses that stood side by side. She set her foot in the stirrup and climbed into the molded saddle. Wynn stood next to his horse looking uncertain.

  “Mount up, partner,” she said.

  “I feel more than a little ridiculous, Katherine.”

  “Oh, don’t be silly. Men ride these all the time. See? There’s another guy.”

  Granted, he was sitting on a gaudy elephant, holding a toddler, but she didn’t dwell on that.

  Sighing, Wynn climbed reluctantly onto the horse, his legs so long they nearly touched the floor. “Put your feet in the stirrups,” she coaxed.

  He did, and his knees were up to his ears.

  K.O. couldn’t help it; she burst out laughing.

  Wynn began to climb off, but she stopped him by leaning over and kissing him. She nearly slid off the saddle in the process and would have if Wynn hadn’t caught her about the waist.

  Soon the carousel music started, and the horses moved up and down. K.O. thrust out her legs and laughed, thoroughly enjoying herself. “Are you having fun yet?” she asked Wynn.

  “I’m ecstatic,” he said dryly.

  “Oh, come on, Wynn, relax. Have some fun.”

  Suddenly he leaned forward, as if he were riding for the Pony Express. He let out a cry that sounded like sheer joy.

  “That was fun,” Wynn told her, climbing down when the carousel stopped. He put his hands on her waist and she felt the heat of his touch in every part of her body.

  “You liked it?”

  “Do you want to go again?” he asked.

  The line was much longer now. “I don’t think so.”

  “I’ve always wanted to do that. I felt like a child all over again,” he said enthusiastically.

  “A Free Child?” she asked in a mischievous voice.

  “Yes, free. That’s exactly what my book’s about, allowing children freedom to become themselves,” he said seriously.

  “Okay.” She was biting her tongue but managed not to say anything more. Surely there were great rewards awaiting her in heaven for such restraint.

  “Would you like to stop at the bookstore?” he asked. “I like to sign copies when I’m in the neighborhood.”

  “You mean an autographing?” She hoped it wouldn’t be at the same bookstore that had caused all the trouble.

  “Not exactly an autographing,” Wynn explained. “The bookseller told me that a signed book is a sold book. When it’s convenient, authors often visit bookstores to sign stock.”

  “Sort of a drive-by signing?” she asked, making a joke out of it.

  “Yeah.” They started walking and just as she feared, they were headed in the direction of the bookstore.

  As they rounded the corner and the store came into sight, her stomach tightened. “I’ll wait for you outside,” she said, implying that nothing would please her more than to linger out in the cold.

  “Nonsense. There’s a small café area where you can wait in comfort.”

  “Okay,” she finally agreed. Once she’d made it past the shoplifting detector K.O. felt more positive. She was afraid her mug shot had been handed out to the employees and she’d be expelled on sight.

  Thankfully she didn’t see the bookseller who’d asked her to leave. That boded well. She saw Wynn chatting with a woman behind the counter. He followed her to the back of the store. Some of the tension eased from K.O.’s shoulder blades. Okay, she seemed to be safe. And she didn’t have to hide behind a coffee cup. Besides, she loved to read and since she was in a bookstore, what harm would it do to buy a book? She was in the mood for something entertaining. A romantic comedy, she decided, studying a row of titles. Without much trouble, she found one that looked perfect and started toward the cashier.

  Then it happened.

  Wynn was waiting up front, speaking to the very bookseller who’d banished K.O. from the store.

  Trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, K.O. set the book aside and tiptoed toward the exit, shoulders hunched forward, head lowered.

  “Katherine,” Wynn called.

  With a smile frozen in place, she turned to greet Wynn and the bookseller.

  “It’s you!” The woman, who wore a name tag that identified her as Shirley, glared at K.O.

  She timidly raised her hand. “Hello again.”

  “You two know each other?” Shirley asked Wynn in what appeared to be complete disbelief.

  “Yes. This is my friend Katherine.”

  The bookseller seemed to have lost her voice. She looked from Wynn to Katherine and then back.

  “Good to see you again,” K.O. said. She sincerely hoped Shirley would play along and conveniently forget that unfortunate incident.

  “It is you,” Shirley hissed from between clenched teeth.

  “What’s this about?” Wynn asked, a puzzled expression on his face. “You’ve met before?”

  “Nothing,” K.O. all but shouted.

  “As a matter of fact, we have met.” Shirley’s dark eyes narrowed. “Perhaps your friend has forgotten. I, however, have not.”

  So it was going to be like that, was it? “We had a difference of opinion,” K.O. told Wynn in a low voice.

  “As I recall, you were permanently banned from the store.”

  “Katherine was banned from the store?” Wynn asked incredulously. “I can’t believe she’d do anything deserving of that.”

  “Maybe we should leave now,” K.O. suggested, and tugged at his sleeve.

  “If you want to know,” Shirley began, but K.O. interrupted before she could launch into her complaint.

  “Wynn, please, we should go,” she said urgently.

  “I’m sure this can all be sorted out,” he murmured, releasing his coat sleeve from her grasp.

  Shirley, hands on her hips, smiled snidely. She seemed to take real pleasure in informing Wynn of K.O.’s indiscretion.

  “This friend of yours is responsible for causing a scene in this very bookstore, Dr. Jeffries.”

  “I’m sure no harm was meant.”

  K.O. grabbed his arm. “It doesn’t matter,” she said, desperate to escape.

  “Katherine does tend to be opinionated, I agree,” he said, apparently determined to defend her. “But she’s actually quite reasonable.”

  “Apparently you don’t know her as well as you think.”

  “I happen to enjoy Katherine’s company immensely.”

  Shirley raised her eyebrows. “Really?”

  “Yes, really.”

  “Then you might be interested to know that your so-called friend nearly caused a riot when she got into an argument with another customer over your book.”

  Wynn swiveled his gaze to K.O.

  She offered him a weak smile. “Ready to leave now?” she asked in a weak whisper.

  Chapter Eight

  K.O.’s doorbell chimed, breaking into a satisfying dream. Whatever it was about seemed absolutely wonderful and she hated to lose it. When the doorbell rang again, the sound longer and more persistent, the dream disappeared. She stumbled out of bed and threw on her flannel housecoat.

  Reaching the door, she checked the peephole and saw that it was LaVonne. No surprise there. Unfastening the lock, K.O. let her in, covering a yawn.

  “What time did you get home last night?” her neighbor cried as she hurried in without a cat—which was quite unusual. “I waited up as long as I could for you.” LaVonne’s voice was frantic. “I didn’t sleep a wink all night,” she said and plopped herself down on the sofa.

  K.O. was still at the front door, holding it open. “Good morning to you, too.”

  “Should I make coffee?” LaVonne
asked, leaping to her feet and flipping on the light as she swept into the kitchen. Not waiting for a response, she pulled out the canister where K.O. kept her coffee grounds.

  K.O. yawned again and closed the front door. “What time is it?” Early, she knew, because her eyes burned and there was barely a hint of daylight through her living room windows.

  “Seven-twenty. I didn’t get you up, did I?”

  “No, I had to answer the door anyway.” Her friend was busy preparing coffee and didn’t catch the joke. “How are the guys?” K.O. asked next. LaVonne usually provided her with daily updates on their health, well-being and any cute activities they’d engaged in.

  “They’re hiding,” she said curtly. “All three of them.” She ran water into the glass pot and then poured it in the coffeemaker.

  Katherine wondered why the cats were in a snit but didn’t have the energy to ask.

  “You haven’t answered my question,” LaVonne said as the coffee started to drip. She placed two mugs on the counter.

  “Which one?” K.O. fell into a kitchen chair, rested her arms on the table and leaned her head on them.

  “Last night,” LaVonne said. “Where were you?”

  “Wynn and I were out—”

  “All night?”

  “You’re beginning to sound like my mother,” K.O. protested.

  LaVonne straightened her shoulders. “Katherine, you hardly know the man.”

  “I didn’t sleep with him, if that’s what you think.” She raised her head long enough to speak and then laid it down on her arms again. “We went out to dinner with some friends of mine after the Figgy Pudding contest.”

  “It must’ve been a very late dinner.” LaVonne sounded as if she didn’t quite believe her.

  “We walked around for a while afterward and went out for a drink. The time got away from us. I didn’t get home until one.”

  “I was up at one and you weren’t home,” LaVonne said in a challenging tone. She poured the first cup of coffee and took it herself.