

Copyright © 2011 by Vanessa Gray Bartal

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

Savvy readers will notice this is book 3 in the series when book 2 has not yet been published. The books are written in chronological order with book 1 taking place in summer, book 2 in fall, and book 3 at Christmas. Rest assured, however, that no spoilers from book 2 are in this book—it's meant simply to be a gentle Christmas read. Enjoy, and Merry Christmas! Vanessa.
Chapter 1

"Lacy, a package came for you."

Her grandmother's polite knock, plus her gentle voice filtering through the door, roused Lacy from a deep sleep, which was scandalous considering the late hour. Lacy crawled from bed and opened the door, trying hard not to look like she'd just woken up.

"Thanks, Grandma," she said, her voice raw and scratchy from disuse. She extended her hand toward the small package, trying not to feel guilty when her grandmother looked at her in surprise. Of course there was no accusation in her beloved grandmother's face. Even though it was after ten in the morning, she still wouldn't chastise her oldest granddaughter. The woman was a saint, in Lacy's opinion, which made her own behavior all the more embarrassing. Slowly but surely, she was turning into a sloth.

It had started two weeks ago when her friend, Tosh, became too busy for her and her friend, Jason, stopped calling. Suddenly sitting back, enjoying life, and licking her wounds had seemed like a good idea to Lacy. Only that had somehow morphed into staying up until the wee hours of the morning, eating popcorn, and watching infomercials about miracle hair products.

Her inertia had grown worse as Christmas approached. This was her first Christmas without Robert, the first Christmas since he'd broken their engagement and dumped her for her sister. What was so bad about reveling in a little self pity? So what if she hadn't shaved her legs in over a week? Who got close enough to her to care? No one, that's who, at least not lately. The only two men who had even a remote chance of getting that close to her were both nonexistent lately.

As a pastor, Tosh was having his busiest season, and it was making him cranky. Lacy had never seen him so stressed. She had no idea how Christmas parties could make someone grumpy, but then she'd never had to attend thirteen in a row. Unlike Tosh who was doing just that and then some.

Jason's absence was unexplained, but they didn't really keep tabs on each other the way she and Tosh did. Her relationship with Jason was more complex and fraught with more emotional minefields. She was insanely attracted to him, which was good enough reason to stay away from him, only that didn't seem to be possible. They were like two magnets that kept flipping back and forth, alternately attracting and repelling each other. Apparently lately their poles were the same and they were keeping their distance. Lacy tried to tell herself it didn't matter, but she still felt the sting of his rejection, even if it was unspoken.

She sat on the floor in front of her bed, turning over the package in her hand. It was a plain cardboard box, but something rattled inside. When she tore open the outside packaging, she saw a neatly wrapped little present with an attached note that read, "Do not open until Christmas."

"Pfft," Lacy said out loud. "Fat chance." She ripped open the smaller box and stared dumbfounded at its contents, blinking the sleep from her eyes to see it better. It was a beautiful gold filigree locket. Turning it over, she read the inscription on the back. "I love you."

Amazed, she sat on the floor, staring at it and turning it over in her fingers, looking for clues. Who would have sent this and why now? Why not give it to her in person, unless it was someone who couldn't say the words out loud?

That tantalizing thought left three possibilities: Either it was Tosh, whose desire to take things to the next level wasn't actually a secret. Or it was Jason, who would probably rather be dropped into boiling acid rather than ever tell a woman he loved her. And then there was the third option: Lacy's grandfather, Tom Middleton. New to their family and still finding his way, it would be like him to send a sentimental gift without actually telling her anything at all. He was her biological grandfather, but she hadn't known about him until recently. They were a lot alike, she and her grandfather; sentimental words didn't come easily.

Only one other man had ever given Lacy jewelry, and she was certain this wasn't from him. Her ex-fiancé, Robert, had given her an engagement ring, but before that he had given her something else, something more meaningful, something she had kept despite their breakup.

On the day he told her he was dumping her for her sister, Riley, she had ripped off her engagement ring, shoved it into his chest, and told him she never wanted to see him again. Then she had gone back to her apartment, rifled through her jewelry box, and dug out the other piece of jewelry he'd given her, hugging it tightly to her chest.

Setting aside the locket, she stood and walked to her drawer, rifling through until she reached the small box filled with the personal items she kept hidden from the world. In it was a card from Tosh, something he'd sent because he knew it would make her laugh, along with a clipped picture of Jason in his uniform she had cut from the paper. There was the bulletin from Barbara Blake's funeral service, and there was the ring from Robert.

It wasn't valuable, at least in terms of dollars. He had bought it from a street vendor in Manhattan on a whim, but he had presented it to her with a flourish, telling her he loved her and getting down on one knee. They had only been dating for a couple of months, and Lacy had been swept away by the romance of it all. She had worn the ring every day until he replaced it with an engagement ring.

She pulled the ring out now, studying it for a few beats before clenching it in her hand and pressing her closed fist to her forehead. How could she have been so wrong about Robert? How could she have been so stupid to turn over her heart to someone who had hurt her so cruelly? How could she ever fully trust anyone again?

Unclenching her fist, she dropped the ring back in the box and closed the drawer. She had to get a grip on herself. Somehow, she had to get out of this downward spiral, and especially before Christmas arrived. Christmas was a notoriously depressing day for the lovelorn. No need to add more fuel to the fire by letting herself go and adding low self-esteem into the mix.

First thing first, she needed to get herself whipped back into shape. The best way to do that was to go for a run, but she groaned aloud just thinking the word. If there was anything she hated more than running, it was running when it was cold and wet outside. But this was her penance for eating four bags of microwave popcorn in the last week. They were the mini bags, but still. Gross.

She suited up, attempting to pile on the layers without adding so many that she would overheat and die along the road somewhere. How to dress for a run was the type of thing that athletic people inherently knew. Lacy, on the other hand, was not athletic. She was and had always been a geek. Her days of high school band had taught her which instruments couldn't survive the cold or the wet, but nothing about football. The game was still a mystery to her, as was running for pleasure. She ran because, if she didn't, she would get fat.

With that depressing thought in mind, she left the house and pounded the pavement for thirty minutes, alternately sweating and freezing as she vowed to figure out the proper mix of clothes for a winter run. Her ears, nose, fingers, and toes were numb, but her midsection was soaked with great rivulets of sweat. For that reason, she couldn't stop until she got home for fear that she would freeze wherever she landed. What if she accidentally backed up against a metal pole or something? The fire department might have to get her unstuck.

She finally arrived home, stumbling in the front door and collapsing on the entry rug.

"What on earth was that?" her grandmother's voice drifted from the kitchen.

"Lacy went for a run," her grandfather replied.

"Oh," her grandma said, as if the sound of collapse had been inevitable the moment Lacy set out. "Lacy, dear, are you okay? We're getting ready to bake soon. We waited for you."

Lacy tried to call that she was fine, but the sound came out a garbled mass of unintelligible sounds. When she realized she was actually slobbering on the rug, drool running from one side of her face like a sleeping Saint Bernard, she pulled herself up on her hands and knees and shakily attained a standing position.

"Shower," she called weakly in the direction of the kitchen. She wasn't sure if they heard her pathetic whimper, but they must have because they once again told her they would wait for her.

When it took two razors to finally eradicate the thick growth of stubble on her legs, Lacy was properly disgusted with herself. How had she sunk so low in just two weeks? Just because Tosh and Jason were too busy to pay attention to her didn't mean she shouldn't pay attention to herself. _Never again,_ she vowed as she did a deep conditioning treatment on her hair and applied an in-shower face mask. Had she been brushing her teeth before she crawled into bed at night? She couldn't remember, and she shuddered at the thought that maybe she hadn't. She was seriously done with the self-pity routine. No matter what, she would find a distraction for herself before she sank again.
Chapter 2

Luckily when she exited her bedroom, her grandparents had just such a distraction waiting for her.

"Grandma, are you sure you bought enough butter?" Lacy asked as she surveyed the counter.

"Oh, I don't know," her grandmother said, her tone uncertain.

"I'm teasing you," Lacy said, giving her grandma's shoulders a bracing squeeze. "I think eight pounds is plenty."

"I just want everything to be perfect," Lucinda said. "This is your mother's first time meeting Tom since he and I became, ah, friends, I want her to approve of him. Even more so because he's her father. But you know your mother. She's a bit..."

"Crazy?" Lacy supplied.

"Lacy," her grandfather said disapprovingly.

"You haven't spent much time with her," Lacy said. "You'll see. Back me up here, Grandma."

"I was going to say high strung," her grandmother said. "But crazy works pretty well, too."

Lacy laughed. "Grandma!" It was the first time she had ever heard her grandmother say something even remotely bad about anyone, and her own daughter, no less.

"Don't tell her I said that," Lucinda said, laughing. "It's just that Frannie and I are very different people. I love her more than anything on this earth, but sometimes she can be a bit difficult."

"You're preaching to the choir, Grandma," Lacy said. Her mother was one of the reasons Lacy had learned to live in her head, preferring to make up stories instead of listening to her mother's latest histrionic diatribe. "That's why she and Riley get along; two peas in a pod."

"I hope we can all get along during this visit," her grandfather interjected, clearly disturbed by the conversation.

"I do, too, and I'm sure we will," Lacy said with more confidence than she felt. This was his first Christmas spent with his daughter, even though she didn't know she was his daughter. Her grandparents had decided not to tell their daughter that she was adopted, preferring not to dislodge her carefully planned world. Lacy felt a little nervous, too. She had never kept such a monumental secret from anyone before, and certainly not her own mother. How was she supposed to deal with the fact that she knew her parent was adopted when her mother didn't? She still hadn't told her parents about the inheritance from Barbara Blake because it would raise too many questions, questions she had no answer to.

The one bright spot in the family visit, at least for Lacy, was that her little sister, Riley, wasn't coming. Lacy didn't delude herself into thinking Riley had suddenly developed a conscience and didn't want to hurt Lacy with her presence. No, she knew the reason Riley wasn't coming home was because she'd received a better offer, a fact confirmed when Lacy learned Riley and Robert had been invited to spend Christmas in the Hamptons with Robert's rich aunt.

Lacy slipped on an apron, turning her back so her grandfather could tie it for her, and then they set to work. Baking with her grandmother was a yearly tradition Lacy treasured, and she was happy with the addition of her grandfather this year. After so many years as a bachelor, he knew his way around the kitchen pretty well, and the three of them enjoyed spending time together—a win-win situation all around.

They were elbow deep in cookie dough when Lacy's phone rang, a ringtone she recognized. After a quick swipe of her hands on a dishrag, she picked it up and pushed the button.

"Dost mine ears deceive me, or is this my long lost friend, Tosh?"

Tosh sighed. "Don't start, Lacy. Are you free tonight? I need to be with someone who doesn't smell like Soft Musk and arthritis cream."

"I'm free," Lacy said, too eager to get out to try and come back with a witty reply.

"Wear something fancy," Tosh commanded.

"Got it," she said.

"And make out with me when I take you home," he added hastily.

"What?" she asked.

"You were being so agreeable; I thought it was worth a try. I'll pick you up at six."

They disconnected and Lacy returned to baking, happy that her plans for the evening would include something more than rifling through the freezer in search of some ice cream she may have overlooked on previous raids.

With three of them working, baking only took a few hours. Lacy washed up and spent a long time arranging her hair and applying her makeup, realizing as she did so how much she had missed the process. Since it had been so long since she dressed up, and since Tosh had told her to dress fancy, she raided the back of her closet, pulling out her little red dress.

As a rule, strawberry blonds weren't supposed to wear red, unless it was that perfect and elusive shade of red, the one that complimented hair and skin instead of making one look like a clown. Lacy had found just such a dress in a Manhattan boutique and had snatched it up, despite the fact that it took her two months to pay for it. The dress was worth it, though it was different than her usual preference. Not that it was revealing, but it was definitely less conservative than her other dresses. As such, she waited to put it on until her grandparents were out of the house.

Six o'clock came and went with no sign of Tosh. He called a few minutes after six to let Lacy know he was running late. After apologizing, he asked her to be ready to go as soon as he arrived. She hated to cover her seldom-worn dress before Tosh had the chance to see it, but it would make for a more dramatic reveal when they arrived wherever they were going.

His knock was abrupt, but when Lacy opened the door, he rushed inside and swept her up into a tight hug. "If I have to eat one more gingerbread man, I promise I'm going to lose it," he said by way of a greeting.

Lacy laughed and surreptitiously set aside the plate of gingerbread cookies she had baked for him that afternoon.

He kissed her cheek. "Ready?"

"Ready," she said, following him to his car when he grasped her hand. After he politely held the door for her, she began to feel a rush of excitement about their possible destination. Before the holiday, she had dropped some not-so-subtle hints about wanting to go to _The_ _Nutcracker_. When they pulled into the local union hall, however, she tried to tamp down her disappointment. The ballet definitely wasn't being held here. Still, Lacy didn't begin to be alarmed until they stepped into the hall and Tosh took his coat off.

"You're wearing your clerical collar," she observed. "Why are you wearing your clerical collar?"

"Because I'm a minister?" he tried.

"No, I mean why are you wearing your clerical collar here?"

"They asked me to give the invocation," he said.

"They who? Invocation for what? What is this?"

"The Fraternal Order of Police Christmas banquet," he said, turning away from her to scan the crowd.

"Oh, no, no, no," Lacy said, closing her eyes in the hopes that when she opened them she might realize she was dreaming.

"What's the problem?" he asked. "Afraid you'll run into Jason?"

His resentful tone wasn't lost on her, but she ignored him. She hadn't considered Jason, though he was definitely another factor in her desire to flee. "The problem is you said to dress fancy, and we obviously have different definitions of that word."

"Why? What are you wearing?" He turned to survey her with a combination of amusement and curiosity.

"This coat for the rest of the night," she said, tugging her coat tighter around her middle.

"Oh, no, you have to let me see." Tosh reached for her, tugging on her coat.

"Tosh, stop it," she said, trying to dodge his long and insistent arms.

"Just one peek," Tosh said. Somehow in the struggle she ended up bent over, Tosh behind her with both his arms wrapped around her.

"Hello, Red."

_I hate my life,_ Lacy thought before she reluctantly turned to look at the newcomer. "Hello, Jason," she replied. "How are you?"

"Good. You getting the Heimlich or something?" His gaze shifted from her to Tosh, narrowing. Tosh returned his narrowed gaze but wisely remained silent for once.

"Jason, I think they're getting ready to start. Are you coming?" the pretty blond came up beside him and rested her hand on his forearm.

White hot jealousy sliced through Lacy's midsection. With maximum effort, she kept her expression perfectly neutral, even when Jason scanned her face, checking for she knew not what.

"Are you going to take your coat off and stay a while?" Jason asked. "It's warm in here."

"Yes, I think I will," she announced, throwing off her coat with a slight flourish as Tosh reached for it, catching it before it could fall to the ground.

There was a slight pause as the assembled group took in her dress and Lacy tried not to feel self-conscious. Maybe she was overdressed, but she looked _good_.

"Oh, wow," Tosh said, breaking the awkward silence. Jason didn't say anything, but his lips pressed together in a thin line and he cleared his throat.

"Jason," his date tried again. "Our seats."

Jason gave her a nod. "See you, Lacy," he said. Spinning, he followed his date to their seats.

"Where are our seats?" Lacy asked.

"On the stage," Tosh said.

Lacy groaned. "I'm so glad that on the one night I look like I could jump from a giant birthday cake, I'm in a room filled with testosterone-oozing police officers, and sitting on stage, no less. What was I thinking?"

Tosh rested his arm on her shoulders, ushering her toward the stage. "You were thinking that you look gorgeous and you're classy enough to look elegant in anything." He gave her shoulders a squeeze. "You look beautiful, Lacy. Stop worrying." He paused. "Although maybe you should drape your coat over your legs when we're on stage. I wouldn't want you to accidentally flash anyone."

Lacy groaned again and they took their seats. Tosh stood to give the opening remarks, as well as the prayer, but Lacy felt like everyone was looking at her instead. She wasn't sure it was her imagination when Travis caught her eye and mouthed, "You look hot," before fanning his face with his hand. It was a relief when the meal was served and people began to focus on their food.

As she nervously picked at her food, Lacy allowed her eyes to wander, knowing they would eventually settle on Jason and his date. Jason was looking at her or, more specifically, her knee where Tosh's hand rested. His gaze roamed to her face and their eyes locked before his date leaned over and whispered something in his ear, snagging his attention.

Who was she? She knew Jason dated, but she had never before come face to face with any of his "friends." Was this girl something more? Was she the reason Jason hadn't called in a couple of weeks? The thought brought more pain than Lacy was willing to admit.

Tosh gave her knee a squeeze. "How's the chicken?"

"Tastes like chicken," she said, holding out a bite on her fork for him to taste. "How's the beef?"

"Tastes like chicken," he replied, reciprocating a bite for her.

She grimaced. The beef did taste like chicken somehow. "Why didn't you tell me where we were going tonight?" she asked.

"Lacy, I've been swamped. I barely know where I am. I check my phone and show up where it tells me each day."

"Tosh," she pressed.

He sighed. "Fine. I was afraid if I told you, you wouldn't want to come with me, and I needed a date."

"Why wouldn't I want to come with you?"

"Because _he_ was going to be here, and you get weird whenever his name is mentioned."

"Weird how?" she asked uncomfortably.

"Weird like you won't take off your coat for me, but you'll take it off for him."

How could she explain to Tosh her mixed up reactions to him and Jason when she didn't understand them herself? "Sometimes I feel like I'm competing with him," she said at last. "I don't feel that way with you, like I have to one-up you all the time. Our relationship is comfortable."

"Like an old pair of slippers," Tosh said disparagingly.

"Like a good friendship," Lacy countered.

"That's almost as bad," he said.

"He and I are friends too," she said.

"For now," he added.

"Tosh, I'm not..."

"I know," he interrupted. "You're not ready; you're not over Robert."

"I'm over Robert," she said tightly. "I'm not over what he did to me."

Tosh took a deep breath and held it. "Christmas is the time for forgiveness and rebirth, Lacy."

"I thought you promised not to pressure me about it, Tosh," Lacy said.

"No pressure, just a reminder."

"My mother is coming. Trust me when I tell you that I'll have all the reminders I need."

"Am I going to get to meet your parents?" he asked.

"Of course you will," she assured him.

That thought cheered him until a new thought occurred. "Are you going to introduce _him_?" They both looked at Jason who turned his gaze sharply from Lacy.

"They already know him. We grew up together, remember?"

"That's not what I meant. Are you going to introduce him?"

"He and I haven't talked in a couple of weeks," Lacy said. "I suppose if we ran into him, I would do the polite thing and introduce my parents. But it's not something I'm planning on. Remember not to mention anything to my mom," she said.

"You mean about how she's adopted, Mr. Middleton is her real father, her real mother was murdered, and you're a millionaire now? That stuff?"

"Yes, Tosh, that stuff."

"I'm a pastor. My lips are sealed. Unless you'd prefer otherwise." He made kissy lips at her.

She rolled her eyes and shoved at his bicep.

"Someday, Lacy, you're going to regret rejecting me so often," Tosh said.

"But not today," Lacy said, laughing at his outraged expression. He would have retaliated, but a comedian took the stage then and began his routine.

Chapter 3

The next morning, Lacy forced herself to rise early, just as she had forced herself to avoid the television and popcorn the night before.

There was more baking to be done with her grandparents and her parents were due to arrive later, but that wasn't why Lacy rolled out of bed. She was committed to pulling herself out of her funk. For her that meant keeping on schedule. Over the last few months since she quit her job in Manhattan, she had become too used to keeping odd hours. She had read somewhere that circadian rhythms could affect mood, and she was beginning to believe it was true because she felt a little blue.

She actually felt worse than she had yesterday before Tosh called, before he took her to the police banquet, before she saw Jason and his stupid date. But that couldn't be the cause of her distress. No, her ill humor was because of too many late nights; it had to be. She and Jason were friends, and that was all.

Baking with her grandparents worked to pull her out of her bad mood. They always had fun together, and she was glad she was over the age where she had to pretend to prefer to be somewhere else. She had always loved her grandma, always enjoyed spending time with her, but it hadn't exactly been the popular thing to own up to when she was in high school. Now it didn't matter if it was cool or not and, better still, Lacy didn't care. Adulthood came with a lot of responsibility, but also a lot of freedom.

They were laughing hard over something her grandmother said, deep laughter--the kind where they were bent over at the waist and leaning on the counter--when her parents let themselves in.

"Well, this is a scene," her mother said and it was as if she sucked all the fun from the atmosphere, leaving an awkwardness vacuum in its wake.

"Frannie," Lucinda said, bustling forward to give her daughter a hug. Lacy moved protectively closer to her grandfather before remembering she was also supposed to hug her mother and father. Reluctantly, she pulled away from Mr. Middleton and went forward to give her mother a hug. Her father set down his bags and opened his arms, and she released her mother to hug her father.

"Hi, little girl," he whispered.

"Hi, Dad," she replied, giving him an extra tight squeeze. On the rare occasions when her grandmother hadn't been able to provide solace, Lacy had turned to her father, finding him a ready and willing comfort for her troubles.

"Mr. Middleton," Fran said coolly, looking her former principal up and down and probably trying to figure out why he was wearing an apron.

Lucinda stood looking confusedly back and forth between her boyfriend and daughter. At last she left Fran and went to stand beside Mr. Middleton. "Frannie, you remember Mr. Middleton. Tom," she added, sounding nervous.

It was an odd moment of twisted reality where the parent was now the kid, nervously introducing her new love interest to a child who had somehow become the one who bestowed or withheld approval. And if the look on her face was any indication, Lacy's mother was definitely of a mind to withhold approval.

"Mr. Middleton," she said coolly, though she politely extended her hand.

"Frannie," Mr. Middleton said, shaking the proffered hand.

"I prefer Fran," she replied, quickly withdrawing her hand.

"Since when?" Lacy interjected. "Mom, everyone calls you Frannie."

"Well I prefer Fran, Lacy," her mother said irritably, shooting her a look. "And when is the last time you had your hair trimmed? I can see the split ends from here. Have you been running? Because I know the way your grandmother feeds you, and if you don't watch it, you're going to balloon up. You know weight problems run in our family." She shot a significant look at Lucinda who was pleasantly plump.

It was all Lacy could do to bite her tongue. Her biological grandmother had been thinner than any of them. "I think Grandma is perfect," Lacy announced. "And I like my body just fine, too, Mom."

"It's fine for now, but you're young and your metabolism is high. Wait until you get to be my age and it's a daily fight to keep the weight off."

With Lacy's penchant for sweets, it was already a daily battle to keep the weight off, but she saw no reason to inform her mother of that. Her mother really was a loving and good person most of the time. But she was high strung with an incredibly low tolerance for stress. Any change in location or routine brought out her worst side. In retrospect, her grandparents were probably wise not to tell her about the adoption. Though Lacy deeply wanted for her grandfather to know his only daughter and vice versa, she didn't believe her mother could handle the information.

Holidays had been notoriously bad in their household, which was why Lacy's grandmother handled most of them. Nothing seemed to be able to ruffle Lucinda Craig, though her daughter was about to test that hypothesis. Lacy could tell her grandma felt caught in the middle, not wanting to upset her only child while not wanting to hurt her boyfriend--and her daughter's biological father.

"How's the weather down in Florida, Clint?" Mr. Middleton asked her father, wisely diverting the conversation to the most rational member of Lacy's family.

"It's hot, Mr. Middleton," her father said.

"Please call me Tom. High school was over a long time ago."

"Tom," her father repeated with a dutiful smile and Lacy knew that his acceptance of the situation was now complete. If only her mother would cooperate so easily. She was so chilly and unbending Lacy felt the need to grab a sweater just from being near her.

"Everything is on track for the holiday party, Mom," Lacy added cheerfully, hoping to divert her mother's attention to a more pleasant topic. "We've all been baking like mad. Grandma has been a task mistress." She smiled at her grandmother to let her know she was teasing. Her grandmother smiled back, but it looked strained.

"The holiday party," her mother repeated. "I was hoping that could just be for family this year."

"But we always invite friends," Lacy protested, probably sounding like a pouting child. Her mother often had that effect on her.

"What's wrong with just family this year?" her mother asked, shooting a not-so-subtle look at Mr. Middleton.

"Mom, Gladys and her grandson have already been invited. They don't have anywhere else to go. And I was hoping to invite Tosh."

"Tosh?" her mother's ears perked up as they always did when Lacy mentioned a man. "Who is Tosh?"

"He's our pastor," Lucinda volunteered. "A remarkably nice young man, and so handsome."

"Really?" Frannie said, shooting Lacy a speculative look. "Why haven't you mentioned him before, Lacy?"

"I thought I had. But we're just friends, Mom. You'll like him."

"I can't wait to meet him," her mother replied. "But I don't know why you insist on calling everyone a friend. What's wrong with dating?"

"I'm just not ready to date yet, Mom," Lacy said, uncomfortable with the shift in conversation.

"Why not?" her mother asked.

"Because that area is still a little painful for me," Lacy said, her eyes darting around the room, looking for escape.

"Why?" Frannie pressed.

Lacy sighed. Obviously she was going to have to spell it out. "Because my fiancé dumped me for my sister and it hurt. A lot."

Her mother waved her hand dismissively in front of her face. "Oh. That. But, honey, obviously you can see that Robert and Riley are better suited for each other. You and Robert were never a good fit."

Lacy's jaw dropped. Was her mother really excusing what had happened?

"Can I help you carry your bags, Clint?" Mr. Middleton interjected. He stepped forward and laid a hand on Lacy's shoulder, giving it a squeeze. Lacy wasn't sure if it was meant to be comforting or restraining, but she decided to take it as a comforting gesture.

"Sure," Clint replied, relieved to have found an escape from the tension in the house. "Want to come, Frannie? You left your purse in the car."

"All right," Frannie replied, turning to follow her husband back outside.

Lacy remained standing in the center of the kitchen, feeling shell-shocked and overwhelmed. "Grandma, do we have any ice cream?" she asked.

"No, but I think I'm going to make a prune cake," her grandmother replied, sounding as dismal as Lacy felt.

"I'll help," Lacy volunteered. "It'll go faster." With that, they turned their attention to culinary matters and began assembling the cake.
Chapter 4

"Really, mother, was prune cake necessary with eight dozen cookies?" Frannie asked as the family sat down to supper.

"The cookies are for the holiday party, Mom," Lacy said.

"Ugh. I can feel myself getting fatter by the second," Frannie said.

"I think you're perfect, Frannie," her husband added.

Lacy's mother rolled her eyes, but didn't comment further, much to Lacy's relief. Maybe it was the stubborn streak in her, but when her mother got on her about her diet, it only made her want to eat more. She had always used food as an escape, and when she was a teenager she had wanted to escape her mother and sister and their constant drama. That was probably why she had been such a chubby teenager. College had been much calmer, and the weight had dropped easily. Since Robert's abandonment and the subsequent turmoil in Lacy's life, the battle of the bulge had become an issue once again. Now with her mother here and in such a bad mood, it was all Lacy could do not to pick up a fork and begin shoveling warm prune cake straight from the pan.

She needed to get a breather from the house or she would once again end up on the couch at three in the morning, trying to decide if the absence of PABA was a good enough reason to spend a hundred dollars on shampoo. That was why, when her grandmother hinted that they might need more confectioners sugar to finish icing the cookies, Lacy practically vaulted over the counter in her enthusiasm to volunteer for a grocery run.

"We can get it tomorrow, dear," Lucinda said, eyeing Lacy with concern as she rubbed her shin, the one she had bashed as she was jumping for her purse.

"No, Grandma, really, I'm happy to go. Is there anything else we need? Something from the next state, perhaps? I would be happy to drive wherever you need."

Her grandmother gave her a sympathetic smile and loving pat on the shoulder. "I think the sugar will be enough, but take your time. Maybe you could see if Pastor Underhill is available for a coffee."

"That would be great, but this is Tosh's busy season. He has another party tonight. I'll get the sugar, and maybe I'll get some coffee on my own."

"Whatever you need, dear," Lucinda said. With a sigh, she turned toward the counter and stared helplessly at the cookies. Mr. Middleton had gone home, probably thinking it would help ease the tension in the house. Lacy hated that he no longer felt welcome here. She had come to dearly love him, and she knew her grandmother already missed him; they had been inseparable the last few months. How ironic that the thing that should cause a wedge between them now was their daughter.

"Mom will come around, Grandma," Lacy said, hoping she sounded convincing.

"Of course she will," Lucinda replied, sounding equally unconvincing.

Lacy gave her a hug from behind, kissing her cheek. Lucinda smiled and rested her head against Lacy's for a few beats. "Want to take the car?" her grandmother offered.

"Thanks, Grandma, but I'll walk. I had two pieces of prune cake," she added miserably, doing a mental calorie calculation.

"Lacy, don't let Frannie get you down about your weight. You're perfect," her grandmother said. "You eat as much cake as you want."

Lacy laughed. "I'm not sure my figure would remain perfect if I ate as much cake as I want, but thanks for the vote of confidence, Grandma." She waved and left the house, breathing in the crisp winter air. It was cold, wet, and dreary, but she really did need the exercise, and the store wasn't that far away—one of the best things about living in a small town. With every step, she felt her tension draining away. She could survive her parents' visit. The key would be getting a daily break. Of course, getting a daily break would be easier if she had a legitimate reason to leave. With Tosh otherwise engaged, errands were her only excuse, and there were only so many times she could go to the store before her mother became suspicious.

"Are you caging the place?"

Lacy jumped, not realizing she had been walking around the store in a daze until Jason spoke. "What?" she said dumbly as she looked him up and down. How did he make jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt look so _good_?

"You've been walking back and forth with a blank expression on your face for the last few minutes. I wondered if you were planning a heist."

"Your job is making you cynical."

He shook his head. "I'm pretty sure I became a cop because I was already cynical. It's a chicken/egg debate, I guess. What are you doing here?"

"I came to get some sugar."

"I'm right here," Jason said with an exaggerated wink and cheesy leer.

"Wow, I didn't think you could be a creepy old guy until you were at least thirty. Good job breaking the age barrier," Lacy replied.

Jason laughed. "So what are you doing after you get your sugar?"

"Is this a pickup?" she asked.

"Depends on your answer," he replied.

"I'm free."

"Then, yes, it's a pickup. Want to grab some coffee?"

She thought of her mother, lying in wait for her at her grandmother's house. "More than anything in the world." Lacy replied, realizing as she said it how much it was true; she had missed him. "What are you here for?" she asked, nosily peering in his basket.

"The essentials," he said, holding out his basket for her inspection.

"Baby carrots and mixed greens are your essentials?" she asked.

"They are if you like a good salad," he said.

"Your eating habits are bizarre," she commented.

"This coming from the person who surrounds a prune in cake and caramel and calls it breakfast," he said.

"You said you liked prune cake," she reminded him.

"It was good, but I also felt like I had to do an extra hour on the treadmill to work it off," he said.

"Why is everyone obsessed with weight today? Why can't we just eat and enjoy our food without worrying about our bodies?"

He quirked an eyebrow at her, probably alarmed by her over the top reaction to his innocent statement. "Bad day, Red?"

She sagged in defeat, thinking they had all been bad days lately. "Yes," she said.

He moved forward and put his arm companionably around her shoulders. "C'mon, let's get your sugar and get out of here."

She allowed him to lead her like an invalid to the baking section. She stepped forward and plucked a bag of powdered sugar from the shelf, hugging it close to her chest when he reached for it.

"You shouldn't pay for my sugar," she said.

He rolled his eyes and pried the sugar from her fingers. "Not everything has to be a fight, Lacy. What are you making with this sugar?"

"Cookies."

"Then give me some cookies and call it even," he said.

"All right," she relented, although the sugar was already in his basket and he was heading toward the checkout.

"Are you like this with him?" Jason asked as he set the items on the scanner.

"Who?"

He gave her a look. "Don't play dumb, Lacy. You know who I'm talking about; the other me—Stretch McPastor.

Lacy wouldn't give in to her laughter, finding the jab amusing would be disloyal to Tosh. "Tosh is not that tall."

"Please. He looks like he's been on the rack for a week. You look ridiculous together."

She wanted to say the same about him and the pretty blond, but it wouldn't be true. They had looked perfect together, like something from a magazine photo shoot.

"Are you?" Jason prompted.

"Am I what?" she asked, distracted by thoughts of the blond. Who was she?

He gave an exasperated sigh. "Are you like this with him? Is everything a battle?"

"No," she blurted before she could think about it.

"Hmm." His expression was as neutral as his tone. She couldn't ask him what he was thinking because the clerk had scanned his purchases and it was time to pay. Lacy absently grabbed the grocery sack. Jason slipped his arm around her shoulders again, leading her toward his car.

"What's been going on in your life, Red?" he asked.

Lacy thought of all her ingested popcorn and three AM infomercials. "Oh, you know, a lot of late nights. What about you?"

"Work," he said. "Every day. I've been working a lot of overtime."

"Why? Is there that much crime at Christmas?"

"There's a surprising amount," he said. "But that's not why. I always volunteer to work extra shifts over the holidays so the guys who have families can get it off."

"Don't you want to see your family?" she asked.

He snorted a laugh. "No."

"What about your girlfriend?" she asked.

"What about her?" They reached his car and stopped outside the passenger door, facing each other.

"Doesn't she want to see you?" Lacy was proud of the way she kept her voice neutral, but in case her eyes betrayed her jealousy, she kept them focused on his chest.

Jason wasn't having any of that, though. He tipped her face up so he could see her eyes. "When I find one, I'll ask her," he said. His tone bordered on smugness, but Lacy was so relieved she didn't call him on it. "There is someone I really want to see this Christmas, though," he added, resting his hands on her hips and tipping her back so she leaned against his car.

She knew she was walking into a trap, but she couldn't help herself. "Who?" Her palms slithered up to rest against his chest, the grocery sack dangling lifelessly from her thumb.

His lips curved into a devilish smile as he dropped his gaze to her lips. "Santa. He's been evading me for twenty six years. I have a good feeling about this Christmas."

Lacy slowly shook her head. "Not gonna happen, Jason. You have to be good to see Santa, and I'm pretty sure you're on the naughty list."

"Someone's been spreading lies about me; I'm angelic." An expectant hush fell as the usual tension began to bounce between them. They seemed to be waiting for something, but neither knew what. "What do you want for Christmas, Red?" Jason whispered, gently tracing his finger down her cheek.

_This,_ Lacy thought, _without the accompanying baggage and terror._ "World peace," she replied.

Jason chuckled, breaking the spell between them. "Selfless of you," he said, opening her door and waiting until she was safely inside to close it.

Chapter 5

Jason's comment about Christmas reminded Lacy of the beautiful locket she had received. Thinking of the intimate inscription was enough to warm her cheeks, even though his car was freezing. What was the tactful way to ask someone if he had bought a locket declaring his love?

"Have you finished your Christmas shopping?" she tried.

"Who do I have to buy for? Except you, I guess," he added thoughtfully, almost as an afterthought.

Lacy frowned. Did that mean he had bought for her or still needed to? Her mind reacted to that question with a panicked tangent. She needed to buy him a present. What on earth was she going to buy for him?

"What do you want for Christmas, Jason?" she asked.

"World peace," he replied, flashing her a grin before returning his eyes to the road.

"No, really," she pressed.

"A night off and a whole lot of sleep," he said, sounding weary.

She reached over, resting her hand on his leg. "You're tired," she said, her voice oozing sympathy.

"Nothing gets by you, Red," he said, though he laid his hand on hers and gave it a squeeze. The warmth and roughness of his palm distracted her again, causing her to wonder of she had some specialized from of ADD, triggered by being near a lot of testosterone. Why was it every time she got within ten feet of Jason Cantor she couldn't think straight? He wasn't _that_ sexy.

She turned to study him as he drove. Though he was only twenty six, she could pick out the occasional silver strand scattered throughout his dark hair. His lashes were thick and long, bending upward as if he had curled them. She couldn't see his eyes in the darkness, but she didn't have to look at them to know they were an intriguing kaleidoscope of colors, predominantly green and blue with flecks of gold and brown. His lips were so lush they appeared stuck in a perpetual pout, and he always had an alluring crop of stubble on his cheeks and chin. Who was she kidding? He was beautiful.

"You're staring," he said, not taking his eyes from the road. "Why are you staring?"

"Because you're pretty," she answered honestly.

He grimaced. "Pretty? Can't you pick another adjective?"

"Yes, Jason, please let me give an ode to your glaring good looks," she said sarcastically.

"Maybe if you did, I might reciprocate," he said stroking his thumb gently along her hand.

"No, thank you," Lacy said, though she was dying of curiosity to know exactly what Jason thought of her appearance. She assumed he found her attractive because why else would he occasionally kiss her? But he had never come right out and said how he felt about her looks, or anything else for that matter. Maybe that should be her Christmas present. She almost worked up the nerve to ask for an honest assessment of their relationship, and then she remembered he would probably seek reciprocation. Lacy definitely didn't want to be honest about her feelings for him, not even with herself.

"Hey, you passed the coffee shop," she said, turning to glance at it through the back window.

"Like I said, nothing gets by you, Red," Jason said. "I thought we could have coffee at my house. It's more private."

It was funny how three little words could make her mouth go dry and the bottom drop out of her stomach. _It's more private._ Was he inviting her for coffee or _coffee_? If so, would she refuse either? She tried to remember the last time she and Jason had kissed. Each time it happened, she vowed it would be the last, but then she found herself giving in to the moment and kissing him again. It would help her resolve if he wasn't so good at it.

"Is that okay? I haven't seen you in two weeks." He lifted her hand and kissed it.

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak in case her voice shook.

They finished the short drive in silence, though Jason kept hold of her hand. She carried the grocery sack, following him as he let her into his house. Turning on lights as he went, he led her to the kitchen.

"Want me to make the coffee?" she offered.

"I'm not sure how to politely decline without offending you, so I'll just say no."

"Why not?" she asked.

"Because I taught you how to make coffee. You haven't had enough practice, and I'm picky about my coffee."

"What aren't you picky about?" she muttered. He was a neat-freak, health-food-loving perfectionist as far as she was concerned.

"Women," he replied, giving her the heart-stopping devilish smile he used whenever he was teasing her.

"How could you be picky when you cycle through so many?" she asked. "There are only so many women in the world."

"Jealousy suits you," he said.

"I am not jealous," Lacy lied.

"I don't know where you think I meet all these mythical women, or when you think I have time to go out with them. I told you I've been working nonstop the last two weeks."

"You weren't working the night of the FOP banquet," she said, biting her tongue for bringing it up when his smug smile returned.

"That's what this is really about, isn't it? It's driving you crazy trying to figure out who my date was."

"No, it's not," Lacy lied again. "Have I asked about her? No. What you do is your business. We're not together."

"You've made that clear on a number of occasions," he said. "What about you?" The coffee began to brew. He turned to face her, resting his hips against the counter and crossing his arms over his chest. "What were you doing there that night with him dressed like that?"

"Like what?" she asked.

"Like it was a real date. I thought you said you and he are just friends."

"We are," Lacy insisted.

"Then why were you dressed that way?"

"What way?" she asked, exasperated with the line of questioning.

"Sexy," he said. "Do you always dress that way when you go out with a pastor?"

"Who was your date?" she countered.

They stood facing each other in a silent standoff, each one waiting for the other to blink first. Finally Jason's face split into a slow smile. "What's wrong with me that I've missed this?" he said. Grasping her hand, he pulled her close against his chest, letting go of her hand to wrap his arms around her waist.

"Tell me what's between you two, and I'll tell you who my date was," Jason said, his lips tantalizingly close to Lacy's mouth.

"I've already told you what's between us. We're friends."

"I don't think I believe you," Jason murmured. "I think there's something more there."

"Who was your date?" she whispered, sliding her arms around his neck until her hands tangled in his hair, tugging him closer.

"Later," he said, and then he kissed her.

Being kissed by Jason always made Lacy feel like she was a patch of prairie grass being consumed by wildfire. There was never any buildup, just an explosion of sensation so that she became oblivious to the world around her. That was why it took a while for the beeping noise to register, though Jason didn't notice it, either. Reluctantly, Lacy pulled away.

"What is that?" she asked.

"I don't know; it's like that every time I kiss you," Jason replied, sounding as shaky as Lacy felt.

She laughed, clearing some of the haze from her mind. "I meant that beeping sound. What is it?"

Jason frowned, straightening. "The coffee's done."

"It beeps to let you know it's ready?" she asked.

"It's European," he said, as if that explained everything. He poured two mugs of coffee, either remembering that she took hers black or forgetting to ask if she took it any other way. She watched in amusement while he dosed his mug with liberal amounts of cream and sugar.

"Why are you laughing at me?" he asked.

"It's always a little funny to see Mr. Supercop add a half cup of sugar to his coffee."

"The oddest things amuse you," he said.

Lacy thought Tosh would've gotten the joke, but she didn't say as much. She was careful not to mention one in the other's presence because they tended to become irrationally upset.

Jason led the way into his living room, amusing her again when he supplied a coaster for her coffee.

"What's funny about not liking water rings on my nice wooden furniture?" he asked.

"Nothing at all," Lacy said. She was glad he wasn't a slob; she simply found it funny that he was often so different from her expectations. Most of the time he acted more like a fussy old woman than a robust young bachelor. Not that she would tell him.

"Why are you sitting all the way over there?" he asked, eying the distance between them. "Come here." He half lifted and half dragged her closer until her legs were draped over his and his arms were around her. "Where did we leave off in the kitchen?"

"You were telling me about your date from the FOP banquet," she prompted, smiling when he gave her a squeeze.

"I don't think that was where we left off," he said.

"I'm pretty sure it was," Lacy said. She didn't want to spend the evening in a makeout session that would get them no closer to resolving the issues between them and might instead lead them somewhere they shouldn't go.

"You are the queen of mixed signals, you know that?" he asked, though he didn't sound angry. He traced his finger gently over her face. "You say you don't want to be with me, and then you kiss me like you just kissed me, and it confuses me."

"You know how it is, Jason." She began slowly tracing his face, too. Not because she wanted to reciprocate the gentle touch but because she so badly wanted to touch him, to absorb as much of him as she could. How was it possible to want something and not want something so much and all at the same time?

"I'd like to meet the guy who did a number on you. I think he and I could spend an interesting afternoon together," he said. His angry tone belied his relaxed expression. He closed his eyes and leaned his head on the couch, a gentle half-smile on his lips. "That feels good," he added in a soft whisper.

"Don't pretend it's all me," Lacy said. "You're afraid of commitment, too."

"Not afraid," he said, so sleepy he almost sounded punch drunk. "Terrified."

Lacy smiled and didn't reply as her finger kept up its slow journey on the contours of his face. Not more than a minute later, he was snoring. She stopped her exploration of his features and rested her head on the couch, studying him. He really was beautiful, but he wasn't hers, not really. They were friends who walked the line of a tricky impasse, occasionally dipping their toes in forbidden waters but never going in more than ankle deep. Someday he would meet someone he couldn't live without, and he would fall in love. Someday Lacy would be ready to move on from Robert's cruel treatment, and she would find someone, too. But it wouldn't be Jason; that much she knew. They were too different to get along on any long term basis.

Suddenly she was fighting back the urge to cry. Swallowing hard, she tried to clear her melancholy thoughts. Christmas was really doing a number on her this year if it was making her this emotional. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, pinching back the tears that wanted to find release. She would not cry on the couch at Jason's house like some sort of crazy person. She would go home and eat prune cake and cry in front of infomercials like normal people did.

She stood, taking a sip of her now-tepid coffee. It really was good. She took a sip of Jason's and stuck out her tongue, nearly gagging at the cloyingly sweet taste of cream and sugar. Why did he care how his coffee was brewed if it only served as a conveyance for other things? She shook her head; she would never understand him.

After clearing their mugs and rinsing them in the sink, she returned to the living room to find Jason still asleep. _Poor guy,_ she thought, conjuring the mental image of him working all hours so people with wives and children could have the time off.

"You're as sweet as you are beautiful," she whispered, knowing she would never be able to get away with such a statement while he was awake. He liked to think of himself as a tough guy, but he wasn't.

Lacy covered him with the afghan—noting as she did so that it was hand knit. Who had knit him an afghan? She had a hard time picturing any of the girls he dated being that domestic, but had no idea who else would have done such a thing. He wasn't close to his family. That was how it went with Jason, though. He always invited more questions than answers.

After assuring herself that he was properly covered, she leaned down to press a soft kiss to his lips, backing away when he stirred slightly and reached for her. Waking him mid-kiss would be a very bad idea, indeed. With his defenses so low, they could get into some real trouble.

She turned out all the lights, grabbed her powdered sugar, and let herself out, securing the door behind her. Then she picked up the pace and jogged home, vowing to bypass the prune cake when she arrived.
Chapter 6

When Lacy arrived home, the television and prune cake were calling her name, but she passed them both, sticking to the strict bedtime she had invoked for herself. By eleven, she was asleep, and she woke by eight the next morning, feeling good about getting into a routine again.

She ate a quiet breakfast with her parents and grandmother. She hoped the stillness was a positive sign, but she had the feeling it was a bad omen, as if her mother were saving all her displeasure for when Mr. Middleton arrived.

There was a knock on the door and Lacy answered it, thinking it might be Tosh. He often stopped by if he was out visiting some of his parishioners. It wasn't Tosh, though. It was Jason, and he looked angry. He was also wearing his uniform.

"Are you working a double today?" Lacy asked, stepping out onto the porch. He didn't usually work so early in the morning.

"Yes," he said, his tone clipped.

"What's wrong with you?" she asked.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe it was the fact that I woke up in a panic with no idea where you were until I realized you walked home in the pitch black at night."

"Technically, I jogged. And there was a bright moon."

"Lacy," he said, scowling. "What were you thinking?"

"That I didn't want to wake you. You looked exhausted."

"You could have taken my car," he said.

"You told me stealing a cop's car is a felony," she said.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "It's too early in the morning to deal with you. Just don't do it again. You scared me." He softened, smiling. "And you didn't kiss me goodbye."

"Sure I did. In fact, it was one of our better kisses. I think you should be asleep for more of them."

He reached out, grabbing the waistband of her pants, though he didn't use it to tug her closer. Instead he walked to her, closing the gap between them. "You kissed me while I was asleep?" His knuckles skimmed her bare skin.

"Yes," she said.

"I don't remember. I demand a rematch."

She shook her head, tucking her hands behind her back so she wouldn't be tempted to touch him. "I can't kiss you when I'm this close to my mother. I'm convinced she has some sort of tracking device on me because she tends to pop into view whenever I have my lips on a man."

"How many men have had your lips on them?" he asked.

"Not telling," she said.

He tried a different track. "What's so bad about me seeing your mom? She already knows me. And you've told her about me, haven't you?"

She pressed her lips together, shaking her head again.

"No?" he asked, sounding dismayed.

"If you met her, you'd understand. I haven't told her about anything, not her adoption or Barbara Blake or my inheritance."

"Did you tell her about him?" he asked. Him being Tosh, she presumed.

She shook her head. "Grandma did, though."

He relaxed at that, his smile returning as his knuckles grazed her navel.

"Did you tell your mom about me?" she asked, more as a way of fighting her inevitable reaction to his touch than because she thought he actually might have.

"No, but I haven't talked to my mom in about a year."

She frowned. "Jason, what are you doing for Christmas?"

"Working," he said.

Breaking her no-touch rule, she lifted her hands and pressed her palms to his cheeks. The thought of him alone and working on Christmas made her unbearably sad. "Come to our holiday party," she invited. "It's on Christmas Eve."

He turned his head, skimming her palm with his lips. "I'm working Christmas Eve," he said.

"Jason, I'm worried about you. You're working too much."

"I'm fine, and I'll try to stop by for a while on Christmas Eve. If it's not busy then I can take my supper break here." He paused. "Are you inviting him?"

"Yes, but I don't know if he'll be here or not. He might be flying back to Chicago to spend Christmas with his family."

"I'll put that on my Christmas wish list," Jason said. "Speaking of Christmas," he let go her waistband and touched his index finger lightly to her collarbone. "How do you feel about jewelry?"

Was he referring to the necklace he had already bought her? Before she could reference it, she remembered that she wasn't supposed to have opened it until Christmas. "I like jewelry," she said. "But you don't have to buy me anything, Jason."

"Where's your Christmas spirit, Red?" he asked.

_In New York with my sister and ex-fiancé,_ she thought.

"Stop," Jason commanded.

"Stop what?" Lacy asked, surprised at his harsh tone.

"Stop looking like a puppy that's just been kicked. I am so tired of seeing you mourn for that loser who obviously didn't deserve you anyway. Just get over it already."

Lacy wriggled free of his embrace, which wasn't easy since she was pressed against the porch. She sidestepped him and placed one hand on the door. "Gee, Jason, why didn't I think of that? Problem solved. I'm over it now. Thanks for the help."

"I didn't mean it like that. I swear your temper is worse than some of the drug addicts I deal with. I simply meant that I care about you, and I'm tired of seeing you in pain. I want you to move on."

"Don't you think I want that? But I don't know how to let it go."

"Well, figure it out, Lacy, because it's obvious you can't be with anyone until you let it go."

"What do you care?" she asked, becoming angry all over again. "You're Mr. Confirmed Bachelor, remember? What does it matter to you if I'm able to be in a relationship again?"

"If you have to ask the question, then you wouldn't understand the answer," he replied, smiling at her perplexed expression. "I need to get back to work. If I ever get fired, it's going to be because of you and the disruption you cause in my life."

She opened her mouth to respond, but he pressed his finger to her lips. "Save it for next time, Red. I really have to go. See you." He leaned in. Lacy closed her eyes, but he bypassed her lips and kissed her cheek in a gesture that disconcerted her for its similarity to Tosh's standard goodbye.

"See you," she said dully. "And get some rest," she added as he jogged down the stairs. He threw a wave over his shoulder, but didn't otherwise acknowledge that she had spoken.

Her parents were locked in their room when Lacy entered the house. Were they arguing? She hoped not. Her grandmother was in the kitchen, staring listlessly at the empty counter.

"Grandma, is everything okay?" Lacy asked.

"Of course, dear," her grandmother said.

Lacy resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Her grandmother's hair could be on fire and she would still insist that not a thing was amiss in her life.

"Pastor Underhill called while you were outside," Lucinda said.

"Did he say what he wanted?" Lacy asked.

"No, dear, but I told him I would give you the message he called. I think he was hoping for a callback."

Lacy reached for her phone and paused. "Grandma, do you disapprove of women calling men?"

Her grandmother gave her a wry smile. "Not when it's you and my pastor, dear," she said.

Lacy smiled. Her grandmother was a matchmaker, but at least she was subtle about it. Tosh's phone rang so many times Lacy thought it was going to go to voicemail, but at last he picked up.

"Hey," he said, sounding breathless.

"Hey," Lacy said, cheered by the sound of his voice. Over the last few months, she and Tosh had become inseparable, spending most of their evenings and weekends together unless he had a church function. She had only seen him once in the last couple of weeks, and she missed him horribly.

"I'm free tonight," he said, bubbling with enthusiasm. "Want to come over? I'll cook for you."

"By that do you mean you'll order takeout?" she said. Tosh couldn't cook, a fact she had learned the hard way.

"Must you suck the romance from every conversation? Yes, I'm ordering takeout."

"Then I'm in. Are cookies still banned, or should I bring some?"

"Anything but gingerbread; I think I'm developing an aversion. Bring what you like."

Lacy smiled because they both knew what he was leaving unsaid—that she would most likely be the one eating the cookies. Tosh didn't have much of a sweet tooth, and Lacy felt like it was going against nature to not have dessert with supper. "What time?"

"I'll pick you up at six," he said.

"You know my mother is here," she said, cupping her hand around the phone and lowering her voice. "You're going to have to meet her."

"Okay," he said in a conspiratorial whisper.

She smiled. Unlike her, Tosh didn't find meeting new people intimidating. For Lacy, it ranked up there with running and having deep conversations about her emotions—she would rather do almost anything else.

Since they were going to be seeing each other that night, they didn't stay on the phone. Almost as soon as Lacy disconnected, her mother emerged from her room, still looking sullen and grumpy. To make matters worse, Mr. Middleton arrived just then, letting himself in as was his custom.

"Mother, he just walks in here?" Frannie said, though she was looking at Mr. Middleton.

"Mom," Lacy said. "This is Grandma's house. Her friends can do whatever they want."

"I wasn't talking to you, young lady," her mother replied.

"Lacy's right." This came from Mr. Middleton who stepped protectively closer to Lacy.

Frannie stared at him for a second, abashed. "You have no right to interfere in a family matter."

"This is your mother's house, and if she wants me to go, then the decision should be hers," Mr. Middleton added.

Everyone turned to look at Lucinda. For a few beats, she stood looking helplessly between her boyfriend and her daughter. Then, seemingly coming to a decision, she steeled her spine and stepped forward, taking Mr. Middleton's hand.

"Frannie, what exactly is your objection to Tom?" she asked.

"He's not my father," Frannie blurted, sounding more like a teenager than a grown woman. Lacy held her breath, noticing Mr. Middleton's slight flinch. Lucinda took another deep breath before plunging in again.

"Nonetheless, he's your former principal and very special to me. If you can't treat him with polite respect, then you're not the same woman your father and I raised you to be."

"This whole situation is just so unfair," Frannie said, beginning to cry.

Lacy supposed she should have some sympathy for her mother. If something happened to her father, she would have a hard time seeing her mother with a new man. But the tears were too reminiscent of Riley and one of the tricks she had always used to get her way for Lacy to feel much sympathy. Cynically she wondered if her mother expected her tears to have a softening effect on her grandmother. What did she expect her mother to say, "Go away, boyfriend, my grown daughter is having a tantrum?"

In the end, it was Mr. Middleton who said that, or something similar. "Maybe I should give this situation a little space until things calm down," he said.

Lacy and her grandmother looked at him in surprise while Frannie kept up her hysterics and Lacy's father looked helplessly around the room—probably for escape. The whole situation was just so sad, Lacy thought. It would have been bad enough if it was simply a daughter rebelling at the idea of a new man in her mother's life, but there was so much more going on. There was a father, desperate to know his daughter, the daughter who was now rejecting him, banishing him to spend yet another lonely Christmas without his family.

"No!" Lacy hadn't meant to shout the word, but that was what she did. And then, to make matters worse, she burst into tears, too. She had never resorted to using tears as a weapon, reserving them for times when she was truly upset. Now must have been one of those times, because she was helpless to stop her crying. "Mom, you can't send him away." She went to stand next to her grandfather, clasping his hand. "No one is saying you have to have some type of immediate bond with him, but you have to give him a chance."

"Christmas is for families, Lacy," her mother said, sounding remarkably composed despite her tears.

"He is our family," Lacy said thickly, swiping at her eyes. "We spend all of our waking time with him, and we love him. And if he goes, I'm going with him."

"Lacy," everyone said at once in completely differing tones.

"She's right, Frannie." This came from Clint, Lacy's father. Now everyone turned to look at him in surprise. Like Lacy, he saved his emotion for the big things, but he sounded legitimately upset now. "We can't come in here and tell Lucy how to live her life. And it's not like she's dating a tattooed swindler. This is Mr. Middleton we're talking about. We know him, and we know he's a good man. Why don't we all take a deep breath and begin again?"

Frannie looked around the group, dismayed at having lost her only remaining ally. Her dismay fled, only to be replaced by defiant anger once again. "Fine, if that's the way everyone wants it, then just fine!" Flinging out the words, she turned and stormed down the hallway to her room, slamming the door.

Lucinda sighed. "It's like she's fifteen all over again," she muttered.

"She'll come around," Clint said unconvincingly. "She just needs some time to adjust. I'll talk to her." He turned and plodded down the hall with measured steps as if he were heading to impending doom. Maybe he was.

"Maybe you should just tell her," Lacy suggested softly once her parents were safely concealed in their room.

Mr. Middleton and her grandmother shook their heads simultaneously. "I think that would make things even worse," Lucinda said. "Although she's always liked her theatrics, she's never been one to handle real drama well. She likes her life routine and predictable. Throwing something so large at her at this late stage might be a blow from which she'll never recover. I just want the remaining years we have together to be as peaceful as possible."

"I agree," Mr. Middleton said. "We'll have to hope that she makes peace with the situation. And if she doesn't..." He let his words trail off. Lacy wondered what he would say next. If she doesn't, then what? Surely he wouldn't leave their lives? If her mother didn't make peace with the situation, then they would live in constant stress until one of them died. What sort of life was that? None. Lacy's stomach began to twist in anxiety, hating the situation.

Mr. Middleton put his arm around her shoulders and gave them a squeeze. "C'mon, kiddo. Let's get some fresh air and a coffee. We'll talk about anything but what's happening here and give us both a break." Lacy nodded and he leaned forward to slip his other arm around Lucinda. "Will you be okay while we're gone, Lucy?"

Lucinda slipped her arms around his waist and hugged, closing her eyes and resting her head on his shoulder. Lacy had never seen her stalwart grandmother draw comfort from someone else before. It was a revelation; her grandmother had needs of her own, comfort and security being chief among them. Why couldn't her mother see how much Mr. Middleton meant to her grandmother? How much he meant to Lacy?

"I'll be fine, Tom," Lucinda said. "I'll work on supper."

Lacy and her grandfather smiled, knowing that being in the kitchen was Lucinda's own brand of therapy. Mr. Middleton leaned down and kissed Lucinda then, and not his usual brusque kiss on in the cheek, either. The kiss was chaste and brief, but it stirred something deep within Lacy as she watched the affectionate exchange, something that recognized the deep love and respect between her grandparents and made her yearn to find something of her own.

Unbidden her thoughts turned to Jason. There was no doubt they had explosive chemistry. They couldn't seem to get within five feet of each other and not touch, but what happened when the chemistry wore off? What happened when people were too old or too sick to use physical touch to convey emotion? How did one find lasting happiness based on mutual respect and admiration? Lacy thought she had found that once with Robert, but he had cheated on her and broken her heart. How could she ever hope to find it again?

"What's the matter, Lacy?" her grandfather asked, keeping his arm around her shoulders as he led her from the house. "Don't tell me the situation with Frannie is bothering you this much."

Lacy sighed, not wanting to unload all her problems on him. "I guess Christmas can work to make me sort of blue sometimes," she said, though this was the first time it had ever happened to her. Previously Christmas was a blessed event, something she looked forward to all year long. Maybe now that she was dreading it, she was an official grownup.

"Christmas can be hard when you're feeling down," he said.

She bit her lip, feeling bad for feeling sorry for herself when he had spent so many Christmases alone. "What did you do all those years without us?" she asked.

"For a lot of years, I spent Christmas with my sister and her brood. Believe me when I tell you that being around a lot of wild, misbehaved children can make one thankful for bachelorhood. The last few years, Peg and I spent the day together."

"Do you miss her?" Lacy asked, feeling torn. She wanted to honor his friendship with Peggy, but the woman had killed her biological grandmother. By all accounts her grandmother hadn't been a saint, but still, there was such a thing as loyalty.

"Yes and no," Mr. Middleton said. "We were good friends, but there's a difference in what Peggy and I shared and what your grandmother and I share. One pales in comparison. I'll let you figure out which one." He smiled, not taking his eyes off the road.

Lacy faced forward with a smile of her own. "Are you going to visit Peggy in jail?"

He nodded. "I visit her every week. Peg was a good friend to me most of my life, and I can't discount that because she did one horrible thing. I'm disappointed in her for her choices, but I still care about her. Plus, she has no one else."

Lacy bit her lip, her smile fading. How sad to be alone. As much as her family was driving her crazy, she still had them, and they were there. And as much as Tosh and Jason were too busy to spend much time with her, they were still her friends. Peggy had no one. "I don't want to be alone," she blurted.

"You won't be," Mr. Middleton said confidently.

"But I'm reserved with my emotions, except anger," she added truthfully, thinking that Jason and Tosh would both say the same thing if they were here. For some reason, showing her temper came much easier to her than showing affection or anything else.

Mr. Middleton chuckled. "I was a bit of a hothead myself when I was younger, and so was Barbara. But age brings wisdom, at least for some of us. You'll learn how to control that temper."

"But will I ever learn to open up and tell people how I really feel?" she asked.

He opened his mouth and paused. "I guess that's up to you," he said at last. "I'm learning, but I'm an old codger, and it's taken way too long. I hope you'll learn long before I did. When I think of all these wasted years I could have been with Lucy if only I had said something sooner." He frowned, shaking his head. "Well, I don't want that for you. If you love someone, you should tell him." He paused again. "Do you love someone?" he quirked an eyebrow at her.

She laughed. "Are you matchmaking?"

He shook his head. "Wouldn't dream of it. I just want to know who I need to be watching out for. Jason, for instance, or Lucy's pastor. Which of those do I need to worry about?"

"Neither right now," Lacy said, sighing. "They're both so busy I've hardly seen them lately. Who knew cops and pastors were busiest at Christmas? You'd think people would take a break from being needy once in a while."

He laughed and she could see the tension draining from him. "You're going to want to curb that uncharitable attitude if you plan to be a pastor's wife or a cop's wife, Lacy. It probably wouldn't go over well in either case."

She smiled, thinking how remote the chance was that she would marry either Jason or Tosh. "I think I'm safe for the time being," she said. "I can resent their jobs as much as I want, especially while they're both being taken away from me."

He took her to the coffee shop and they grabbed their usual table, talking about anything and everything but the tension waiting for them back home. Lacy's attention was grabbed by a pretty blond sitting a few tables over, the same pretty blond who had been Jason's date to the FOP banquet. Lacy tried to concentrate on what her grandfather was saying, but her attention was repeatedly snagged by the other woman.

She was very pretty and sophisticated, and she was studious as she worked over the papers spread before her. Who was she? Lacy was certain she didn't live in town because she had never seen her before. But what was she doing here if she wasn't here for Jason?

Then the bell over the door chimed, admitting another customer, and Lacy had her answer. Jason, still in his uniform, zeroed in on the blond and walked straight to her, saying something that made her lookup with a smile and a laugh. He was smiling, too, as he took his seat across from her. Then he looked up and saw Lacy staring at him. He winked before returning his attention to the blond. And after that initial greeting wink, he didn't look up again.
Chapter 7

"What's wrong with you? You're quiet."

Lacy and Tosh sat on his sofa, eating takeout and not talking, at least until Tosh spoke, alerting her to the fact that she was in her own little world.

"Oh, you know--drama and Christmas. Apparently they go hand in hand."

Tosh nodded, then changed to a head shake mid-nod. "No, I have no idea what you're talking about. Why would drama and Christmas go hand in hand?"

"I guess they only do if you live in my family," she said. "If you ever met my sister, you would know what I'm talking about. Every year it was something. When she was little it was a huge buildup as she regaled us daily with her list of Christmas demands. Then there was the disappointment because she hadn't received what she wanted. When she was older, she was always fighting with a friend or boyfriend, or she was mad at me because she thought I had received better presents."

"Maybe you're not just angry at Riley because she stole Robert. Maybe you're angry at her for a lot of different reasons," Tosh said.

If she didn't know that Tosh had good intentions, then it would annoy her when he assumed his "pastor" voice with her. As it was, she knew he sincerely cared about her and her problems, and that made her think twice about what he said. "Maybe. I don't like to think of myself as one of those people always whining about my childhood, especially when my childhood was so good. But I did get tired of Riley's constant drama and need to be the center of attention."

"Everyone has baggage," Tosh said, shrugging. "Just because your childhood was good doesn't mean it was perfect."

"I suppose," she said, ready to change the subject. "Speaking of family, are you going to Chicago for Christmas?"

"Yes, but not until the day after. I have too much going on here." He sighed, sounding exhausted.

"Poor Tosh," Lacy said.

He smiled. "I can't really complain about my job. Who complains because he has to go to too many Christmas parties?"

"You're tired," she defended. "It's okay to say you're tired."

"I'm tired," he admitted, reaching out to steal some of her sweet and sour chicken. She used the opportunity to steal some of his beef and broccoli, and they decided to exchange containers for a while.

"I'm tired of not seeing you," she said. "I miss you. You can't believe how lonely this town is when you're not around. That reminds me—can you come to our holiday party on Christmas Eve?"

"I have to give the Christmas Eve service at church, but that's not until late. I think I can make it to the party for a while first." They ate in silence for a while, and his happy smile slowly slid away. "Is he going to be there?"

There was no need to ask who "he" was. Jason and Tosh had a certain telling tone when they referred to each other.

"If he can sneak by during work," Lacy said. "He's working as much overtime as you are."

Tosh nodded, wisely letting the subject drop. "I procured some extra fortune cookies for you," he said, pointing to the pile of cookies on the coffee table.

"Just one of the many reasons I love you," Lacy said. She had no idea why it was so easy to be with Tosh, to tell him how much he meant to her, and to pour out her heart to him. There wasn't anything she couldn't talk to him about, unless it was the possibility of them being more than friends. She was still uncomfortable with that subject. "Tosh, did you buy me a gold locket for Christmas, send it to my house, and tell me not to open it until Christmas?"

"No. Do you want me to?"

She shook her head. "Someone already did."

"Oh." His chopsticks scraped roughly against the side of his container. "Think it was him?"

"I don't think so," Lacy said, not sure if she believed it or not. Unlike Tosh, she couldn't ask Jason directly. If he hadn't sent it, she would be embarrassed that she had thought so in the first place. Their relationship was tricky and strange. Most of the time she had no idea where she stood with him or why, for instance, he would kiss her one night and be with another woman the following night. Her mind strayed to the pretty blond at the coffee shop. Jason insisted he didn't have a girlfriend, but that was twice Lacy had seen him with the mystery woman.

"I've lost you again," Tosh said.

"Sorry," she said. "I'm feeling a little blue, I guess."

"Me too. Don't tell anyone I said so, but this season is wearing me out. Where does the shepherd go when his sheep are exhausting him?"

"To his friends," Lacy said. Setting aside their containers of food, she moved close and hugged Tosh. He rested his head on hers and gave her a squeeze. "I know something else that will make you feel better, Tosh. It's in my bag."

"Don't tell me," Tosh said, sounding pained.

Lacy nodded. "You know what it's time for. Don't pretend you don't like it."

"I'm not pretending," he said.

She broke free of his grasp and retrieved her bag from beside the couch. "C'mon, Tosh, I heard you singing along a couple of weeks ago."

"That's because those songs worm their way into your head like a virus. I can't _not_ sing them. Even when I'm preaching a sermon, they pop into my head and it's all I can do not to start tap dancing across the platform."

"Maybe you should," she suggested, fishing out her copy of _White Christmas_ and holding it aloft. Tosh groaned.

"How many times are you going to make me watch this?"

"As many times as it takes," Lacy replied. She left the couch to put the movie in the player.

"As many times as it takes until what?"

"Until we're both filled with the Christmas spirit," Lacy replied.

"You can't get Christmas spirit from a movie. Christmas spirit comes from the joy of..."

Lacy pressed her fingers to his lips. "Save the sermon, Reverend Underhill. You know what I mean; it's impossible to watch this movie and not be cheered. Let's just watch and enjoy the mental break."

"Okay," Tosh agreed, settling back against the couch so that his head rested on the bolster. He began humming along as soon as the music started, and Lacy smiled, immersing herself in one of her favorite movies.

The movie ended and Lacy felt the way she always felt when she watched it—warm and nostalgic. She felt like going home and staring at the Christmas tree, and then she remembered they hadn't put up the tree yet. It was in storage, and Lacy had been meaning to ask Tosh to retrieve it so she wouldn't have to crawl into the spider-filled attic, but he had been so busy, he hadn't had the time. Now she turned to him, prepared to ask, but he was asleep.

Lacy shook her head, still smiling as she stood and retrieved a blanket from his room. _What is it about me that puts men to sleep?_ After tucking the blanket around Tosh and swiping his hair out of his eyes, she bestowed a kiss on his forehead and let herself out of his house, jogging home in the dark for the second night in a row.

When she arrived home, she paused in the living room, staring at the barren corner where the Christmas tree should be. Maybe the lack of a tree was the cause of her missing Christmas spirit.

_We'll put it up tomorrow,_ she promised herself, _Tosh or no Tosh, tomorrow is tree day._ Bypassing the tree-less living room, she went to her bedroom and sat on the edge of her bed, admiring the gold locket on her nightstand. She picked up the box and brought it closer, taking in the details of the intricate filigree. Tosh hadn't sent it; that was one person marked off her list of three possible candidates. Ruling out her grandfather should be her next option, but she wasn't sure how to ask him. In the midst of so much emotional turmoil with her mother, focusing on whether or not he sent her a locket seemed self-centered in the extreme. But she was dying to know where it came from.

Face it—you're just dying to know if it came from Jason.

Shaking her head at her traitorous inner monologue, she set the box on the bed and lay down, staring at the ceiling instead of falling asleep. What were Robert and Riley doing now? No doubt they were at some fabulous event in the Hamptons. Had Riley gone into debt to buy a Hampton-worthy wardrobe? Or had she begged and borrowed from friends until she assembled something appropriate? Like their biological grandmother, Riley had always possessed the ability to make people give her things.

Lacy scowled at the ceiling, once again trying to push away her unhealthy thoughts. Maybe Tosh was right; maybe her anger at Riley had less to do with Robert and more to do with old scars from her childhood. How often had her mother made Lacy give up whatever Riley wanted, just to keep the peace? More times than she could remember. And her grandmother had always been a source of solace during those times, often secretly buying Lacy a replacement toy and allowing her to keep it hidden at her house so she didn't have to give it to Riley.

As if to heap guilt on top of her already miserable head, Lacy began to remember the good times with her sister. True, she was occasionally selfish and demanding. But she had also been fun. They had laughed and giggled their way through every Christmas, inevitably winding up in trouble for staying up too late. Riley had talked Lacy into some crazy stunts, like the time they tried to climb onto the roof to wait for Santa. Thankfully, their father had caught them when they were only halfway up the ladder and before they made it onto the icy roof.

_I miss you, Riley,_ she thought, swiping impatiently at her tears and wondering if her sister missed her in return. Was she happy with Robert? Did she feel even an iota of guilt for what she had done? Or did she feel justified in taking Robert, as their mother had justified the action by pointing out that Robert and Riley were a better match.

Those words had a struck a blow, even if her mother hadn't intended them to. Handsome and charming, Lacy had always secretly felt that Robert was out of her league. She who was quiet and reserved, who enjoyed staying in to read a book on a Saturday night as much as he had enjoyed going out. When they were together, he had lovingly said it was their differences that made them work. She had kept him steady, and he had kept her fun. He hadn't exactly said it in those terms—his words had been much smoother and more honeyed—but the gist had been the same. Lacy had credited herself for having so much substance that she had attracted someone everyone else wanted. Robert had bypassed all the pretty and fluffy blonds, zeroing in on her from her very first day at their firm. And then her own sister had been his downfall. How humiliating.

All her old insecurities rushed up to meet her. With her red hair and hourglass figure, she was a throwback to a different time. Men today wanted tall, stick-thin blonds, didn't they? She was too quiet and reserved with her emotions. She had never been a game player, never mastered the art of flirting or dating. Basically, she was all wrong.

She rolled to her side, feeling very sorry for herself, when her eyes landed on the locket propped on her bedside. _Someone, somewhere loves me,_ she thought. Feeling oddly comforted by the thought of her secret admirer, she finally fell asleep.
Chapter 8

Due to Lacy's pity-induced insomnia, she slept late the following morning. Two notes were waiting for her on the kitchen table. One was from her parents, informing her they were spending the day with some high school friends. The other was from her grandmother, telling her that she and her grandfather were spending the day Christmas shopping.

"Alone again, naturally," Lacy said, her self-pity quickly rising to the surface once again. With effort, she tamped it back down. She would not wallow today; she would not spend the day on the couch, wearing her pajamas, eating prune cake and Christmas cookies. "The tree," she said out loud. If she forced herself to go up in the attic and drag it down, then maybe the family could decorate it together once everyone arrived home. Maybe it would be a bonding experience for her mother and her grandfather. And maybe magical elves might spring from the fireplace and fill the stockings. No, she wouldn't hope for the impossible; she would simply concentrate on the practical. Bringing the Christmas tree from the attic was definitely practical.

She shuddered as she ate her cereal and stared at the attic opening. She had been afraid of her grandmother's attic ever since she was a little girl. Her grandfather had always been the one to go up and retrieve anything that was needed. Lacy had stood at the bottom of the ladder, inhaling the scent of moth balls and mildew, shivering from the cool blast of air that always accompanied a winter trek to the storage space. Far from being curious about what might be up there, she had instead always harbored a secret phobia that she would somehow get locked inside. Since a ladder was needed to climb inside, the fear wasn't reasonable, but then little girl fears never were.

Now she was a grown woman who realized there was nothing to fear in the attic other than spiders, and she had plenty of fear of those. But Christmas was almost here, and the house was lonely without a tree. Today no spider could stop her, not even the furry kind that looked like a baby tarantula.

After breakfast, she dressed in an old pair of sweats and tied her hair back, tucking it in a bun so no spiders could use it as a conveyance of getting to her body. She had probably imbued spiders with more menace and intelligence than they actually possessed, but just in case they were looking for ways to get to her, she wasn't going to give them any openings. In that vein, she tucked her socks over her pants and pulled her sleeves low so they covered half her hands.

She retrieved her grandfather's ladder from the garage with a pang of longing. Lacy had only been twelve when he died, which wasn't nearly enough time to get to know him properly, but she had loved him nonetheless, and been as close to him as she could be. Touching something that had once been his made her feel closer to him. She tried to channel his courage as she positioned the ladder and ascended, pushing hard on the heavy attic door.

Unfortunately, straining against the door caused the ladder to begin to buckle. Belatedly, Lacy realized she hadn't properly secured the hinges so it would stay open. The first hint of instability had caused it to fold in on itself. Lacy began to topple, leaping desperately toward the now-open attic. She caught the edge of the attic doorframe with both hands, heaving herself into the ceiling in a graceful move that was generally beyond her skills. Maybe emergencies made her athletic. Whatever the reason, she was thankful as she lay on the itchy insulation, breathing hard and trying to calm her frantic heartbeat. Then she remembered the spiders and jumped up again, almost landing between the rafters. She caught the overhead rafter and pulled her foot back, placing it on a beam instead of the thin plaster beneath the insulation.

"Holy cow," she exclaimed, standing still an instant as she once again tried to regain her equilibrium. This was why she had wanted Tosh to retrieve the tree for her, because there was more danger involved than just the spiders. Belatedly all of her father's warnings about the attic came back to haunt her.

Ladders are dangerous, Lacy. I don't want you playing on them. The insulation isn't good for you to breathe; you have to watch where you step or you could come crashing through the ceiling.

"Why couldn't you have remembered all that before you thought it was a good idea to come up here?" she chastised herself. Scanning the small space, she saw the cardboard box that contained the Christmas tree. It was resting on two rafters, and it looked large and heavy. "Great," she muttered. "How am I ever going to get that down?"

Since she was trapped, she might as well make her time worthwhile. She began picking her way across the room, being careful to only step on the rafters. At last she reached the tree and began arduously dragging it back toward the opening.

After what seemed like forever, she was dusty, itchy, tired, and ready to be done with the attic. She had at last dragged the cumbersome tree to the attic's edge, and now she faced the tricky problem of trying to get out. At least she had her cell phone, something she had absently tucked in her pocket before ascending the ladder. Now she pulled it out and crouched toward the opening, hoping for a better signal.

Her grandparents didn't have a cell phone, so she tried her parents and reached their voicemail. Next she tried Tosh, but there was no answer there, either. She left him a message and tried her last resort. Jason, of course, picked up on the first ring.

"Are you working?" she asked.

"What's wrong?" he said.

"Why does something have to be wrong?" she asked, peeved that his automatic assumption was that she was in a bind, which she was.

"Because I know you and I can hear it in your voice. What is it?"

"I'm stuck in the attic."

"You're...how did you...never mind. I'm just getting off work. I'll be over in a few. Is the door unlocked?"

"I don't know; if it's not then you can use the key under the mat."

He sighed. "Would it do any good if I once again told you what a bad idea it is to keep a key under the mat?"

"No," she said.

"Didn't think so. Hold tight....You're not literally holding tight, are you? Like dangling from a window sill or something?"

"Of course not," she said.

"Okay. I'll be there in a few." They disconnected and she perched on the edge of the attic opening, her feet dangling through the hole. She didn't hear Jason open the door, but she knew when he had at last arrived because he felt the need to stand underneath her and offer up commentary.

"Sweet mercy, what happened?" he asked, peering up at her with a scowl.

"The ladder fell," she said, offended by his insinuation that this had somehow been her fault. "It could have happened to anyone," she added.

"Why did you go up there?"

"The tree," she said.

He sighed as he set up the ladder. "Red, Red, Red. Just when I congratulate myself on surviving a boring night at work, you have to call and make my life interesting. What would I do without you?" he finished as his head popped through the opening, smiling at her.

"Sleep?" she suggested, suddenly aware of her bedraggled appearance. He had been awake all night, and he still looked better than she did.

"Sleep is overrated," he said, reaching for her. "C'mon."

She backed out of his grasp. "The tree," she said, pointing to the large box beside her. He sighed again, but reached for the large box and easily lifted it, dropping it gently through the hole.

"Your turn," he said, reaching for her once again.

"Are you going to drop me like that?" she asked.

"Depends on how long you keep me on this ladder."

She edged forward and gave him her hand. He backed down, keeping hold of her until she was safely on the ladder and then he let her go, easing down the ladder in front of her in case she fell. She was both appreciative and disheartened by his attentiveness. She wasn't _that_ accident prone; was she?

They hopped off the ladder, facing each other. Jason smiled as he looked her up and down. "You're a mess, Red."

"Thanks for that," she said. Insecurity apparently made her testy, but he looked like a page from a policeman's calendar, and she looked like a chimney sweep.

"I meant it in a good way," he added.

"Obviously," she muttered, not believing him. It was bad enough that she was wearing ratty clothes without a stitch of makeup. Why did she have to be covered in grime and insulation, too? She began hedging away, but Jason made no move to leave. Instead he looked at the box on the floor.

"You're putting up the tree solo?"

"Everyone else is away," she explained. "I thought it might help get me in the Christmas mood."

"Maybe that's what I'm missing," he murmured, still staring absently at the tree.

"You don't have a tree?"

Her question diverted his attention and she wondered if he hadn't meant to start this conversation. "No, I'm not one for decorations," he said, shifting uncomfortably.

"You have to have a tree, Jason," Lacy said.

"No I don't."

"Of course you do. A house with no tree is depressing."

"I'll tell my house you said so." He glanced at the door, but now Lacy was the one reluctant to let him go. For some reason the thought of him without a tree was painful to her. Not only was he alone and working, but he was treeless. It was just like Mr. Middleton had been all those years.

"Stay and decorate our tree with me," she begged, clasping his hand and giving it a squeeze.

He looked down at their combined hands and smiled. She followed the line of his gaze and grimaced when she realized she had smudged him with dirt and insulation shavings.

"Sorry," she said, dropping his hand.

He picked her hand up again and returned her earlier squeeze. "All right. I'll stay. I can't stand the thought of you decorating your family's tree alone. Now _that's_ depressing."

"Do you mind if I shower first? I'm itchy." True, she was itchy, but more than that she felt disgusting, especially in light of his absurd good looks. _It wouldn't hurt you to look like you've actually been awake all night,_ she wanted to add.

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "Are you going to take a long time? Is this going to be one of those situations where you take three hours and I fall asleep on the couch waiting for you?"

"I'll be quick," she promised.

He let go her hand and pushed a button on his watch. "You have twenty minutes and then I'm coming to get you." His smile turned wicked. "Take your time."

She hastened away, knowing he would be true to his word and come looking for her in exactly twenty minutes. Taking the world's fastest shower, she still managed to wash her hair twice and shave her legs and armpits, though not without consequences. Her legs were so nicked and streaked with blood they looked like candy canes. She would have to forego drying her hair, but makeup was a necessity. She quickly applied powder, eye shadow and gloss and was just reaching for the mascara when the handle on the door turned. It was locked, but he would quickly pick it. She used the time it took for him to find a hanger to apply some mascara so that by the time he had the door open she—hopefully—looked like a different person.

"You made it," he said, sounding disappointed.

She tossed her mascara back in her makeup bag and zipped it up. "What would you have done if you found me not ready?" she asked.

He propped his shoulder against the doorframe. "That depends on how not ready you were," he said. His tone was warm and flirtatious, and Lacy decided this was probably a road they shouldn't go down, and especially not when she was still warm from the shower and they had a house to themselves.

"Are you hungry?" she asked.

His answering smile acknowledged the fact that she was pointedly changing the subject. "I ate at work; it was a slow night, and I was hungry," he explained, probably because he didn't usually eat while he was working.

"How did you work last night if you worked a double yesterday?" she asked.

"I went home, slept for four hours, and went back to work for another four."

Lacy shook her head. "Not healthy, Jason. Please tell me you're at least getting paid overtime for all this work."

"There's no money for overtime," he said.

"Jason," Lacy said, knowing it would do no good to tell him to slow down. For whatever reason, he felt like he had to give a hundred and ten percent all of the time.

"You worried about me, Red?" he guessed.

She nodded. "All the time."

"You're the only one who does," he added softly. They came to a stop beside the tree and she smiled up at him.

"That's okay; I worry enough for ten people."

"That must mean you think about me a lot," he said, his tone turning cocky.

"And the moment is over," she said, settling her attention on the tree. She bent and began trying to struggle the behemoth free from its box. It was an old tree, sold before the newer, streamlined versions became available. But, heavy as it was, Lacy wouldn't have it any other way. She had always loved her grandmother's tree with it's blue lights and old-fashioned decorations.

Jason stood back, watching. "At what point are you going to admit defeat and ask for my help?"

"At what point are you going to be a gentleman and offer?" she returned, peeved that she couldn't get the tree out by herself. This was not her day for independence, apparently.

Jason reached down and easily separated the tree from its box, smiling smugly at Lacy when she wrinkled her nose at him. "How does this thing go together?" he asked.

"You have to find the matching colors. Only it's so old that the colors are sort of rubbed off, so you have to guess a lot of the time." She immersed herself fully in the tree, looking closely at the holes to try and tell what color they were supposed to be. "They all look gray," she announced.

"The biggest branches probably go at the bottom, don't you think?" Jason asked as he began sorting branches.

"Yes, but which ones are the biggest?" Lacy backed out of the tree and they studied the pile of branches on the floor. They all looked the same to her, but Jason must have possessed some keen instinct about what went where, because soon he had them sorted into piles and began handing them to her as she poked them into their assigned holes. In no time, the tree was assembled and they stood back to admire their handiwork.

"Is that it?" Jason asked.

"Is that it?" she echoed. "Jason, you have to have lights on a tree, and decorations, and tinsel and icicles."

"That sounds like a lot," he said. "Doesn't it get sort of crowded?"

"Yes, but it's grandma's tree. Her tree is supposed to be crowded."

"Don't you have a tree of your own?" he asked.

She shook her head as she opened the closet and began pulling out boxes of Christmas decorations.

"What did you do in New York?" he asked, sounding truly curious.

"My roommate owned a tree, although she let me hang a few decorations on it. And then I helped with Robert's tree." She swallowed down the memory of decorating Robert's tree. They'd had so much fun talking about their future as they decorated together.

"What does Lacy's dream tree look like?" Jason asked, moving her aside to carry the boxes to the tree.

Lacy paused, staring thoughtfully at her grandmother's tree without seeing it. "It's real. I've never had a real tree, but I've always wanted one. And it's huge—eight feet or taller. The lights are all white, and there's no tinsel. Maybe there are some ribbons, and it's more streamlined, less crowded."

"That sounds pretty," he said.

She wasn't sure if he was sincere or if he was patronizing her, but the words still soothed her. "What was your tree like growing up?" she asked.

He shrugged. "We didn't really have one after my brother died. Christmas sort of lost its meaning after that."

She wanted to comfort him, but instinctively knew that he didn't want to be comforted just then. He didn't want pity, and so she wouldn't pity him. "You can have a tree now, you know," she informed him.

He shrugged again. "Seems sort of pointless when I'm never home," he said.

"No, it's definitely not pointless," she argued. "I'll show you what I'm talking about when we get this put together." They worked in silence for a while, stringing lights and hanging decorations. Many of them were things that Lacy and Riley had made for their grandmother, and the sight of so many tangible memories was both painful and happy for her. At last they were finished. Jason shoved the tree box back into the attic and put away the ladder while Lacy tidied up the remainder of the boxes, stowing them back in the closet.

When he returned from the garage, she had closed the blinds and turned off all the lights, save the tree. She patted the seat beside her on the couch, and he sat down.

"This is why you need a Christmas tree," she said softly. "Not because of the presents or the tradition, but because there is nothing better than sitting in a darkened room and staring at the soft glow of a decorated tree."

"I'll give you this one," he said. "This is nice. But does it work the same when you're alone? Or is it nice because we're here together?"

Lacy had to think about that one. "It's still nice. And when I sit alone and stare at the tree, it gives me hope that I won't be alone forever, that someday I'll find someone to share it with, someone who doesn't dump me for my sister," she added ruefully, causing Jason to chuckle.

"Dare to dream big, Red. Is that your only requirement for lifelong love? That a man not dump you for your sister?"

"Pretty much at this point, yes," she answered. "What about you, Jason? What does your forever girl look like?"

He bridged the gap between them, resting his hand on her leg. "You know, Red, some days she looks a whole lot like y—"

"We're home," her mother announced, flipping on the lights as she stepped inside. "Why is it so dark in here? Oh, hello." Her bright tone was a sharp contrast to the heavy tension in the room, but of course she didn't notice. "Are you my mother's pastor?" Then, stepping forward, she noticed his uniform. "Lacy, what's going on?"

Lacy resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Did her mother actually think Lacy was in trouble with the law? Yet her fearful tone hinted at such. "Mom, do you remember Jason Cantor?"

Frannie blinked in confusion, either because she didn't remember Jason or she did and had no idea what he was doing with Lacy. They hadn't exactly been in the same social strata in high school. "Why, yes, I believe so. You were the quarterback when Lacy was in school, weren't you?"

"I was," Jason said, standing and extending his hand. "It's nice to see you again, Mrs. Steele."

"You, too," Lacy's mother said, though she still sounded confused. Lacy could almost hear her mental gears turning, and she dreaded the coming conversation.

"I should probably go," Jason said.

"I'll walk you out," Lacy said, delaying the inevitable questions from her mother. She trotted behind Jason, so close behind that she smacked into him when he stopped to open the door.

"Wow, you really don't want to have to explain to your mother what I was doing here," Jason said.

"Less than anything in the world," Lacy said, closing the door and leaning against it for support. Then, plastering on a bright smile, she looked up at Jason. "Thanks for helping me decorate the tree, Jason. I had a lot of fun." _Oh, and what was it you were saying before we were so rudely interrupted? Something about lifelong love? And, while we're at it, who is the mysterious blond? And did you buy me a necklace for Christmas?_

"It was fun," he said, his tone wary. "What's up with you?"

Lacy had to get an answer to at least one of her questions. She chose the one that was least humiliating to put forth. "This is a weird question, but have you already bought my Christmas present?"

"Yes," he drawled. "Why?"

She shrugged, not knowing how to continue once she had started. "Oh, you know, just wondering and stuff." _Awesome answer, Lacy._

Jason's smile was wry. "You're acting weird, even for you." He leaned down to bestow a kiss on her cheek. "I'll see you."

"See you," she called lamely, staring at him as he jogged to his truck. It wasn't that she wanted to kiss him every time she saw him. No, scratch that, she did want to kiss him every time she saw him. But common sense told her it wasn't healthy for their friendship to dwell on their attraction to each other. Still, the sisterly kisses on the cheek the last couple of times they parted had left her feeling suspicious. Was his sudden lack of interest in her due to his interest in the mystery blond?

"Get a grip, Lacy," she told herself just as her phone rang. By the tone, she knew it was Tosh. "Hello?"

"You left me a cryptic message about a falling ladder," he said. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I was stuck in the attic, but I'm out now. Crisis averted."

"How did you get out?" Was it her imagination, or was his tone suspicious?

"Jason. He was the only one I could reach."

Tosh sighed. "I knew no good could come of my counseling session today. Sorry I wasn't there for you, and sorry I'm seemingly never there for you. I miss you. After Christmas, can we catch up? What are you doing for New Year's Eve?"

"Not a thing," Lacy said, staring wistfully in the direction Jason had gone.

"Is it too early to claim you?"

"Claim away," Lacy said. "What are we going to do?"

"It's a surprise," Tosh replied.

"You haven't thought of anything yet, huh?" she asked.

"No, but I will," he promised. "And it will be epic. Prepare to be impressed."

"I'll begin preparing immediately," she promised. "Have fun tonight whatever you're doing."

"I will," he said, then, after a pause, "Your feelings aren't hurt that I'm not taking you along on these shindigs, are they? Because you said we're not dating, and you know the type of gossip it would cause if you suddenly started showing up everywhere as my party date, especially because they're mostly old people, and you know how old people talk."

"Tosh," she said when she could get a word in edgewise. "Of course my feelings are hurt. I hate you forever, and our friendship is finished. That's why I called you from the attic today, to tell you how wounded I am that you're not dragging me along to all your senior citizen events."

"Ha, ha," he said, sounding relieved. "Point taken. Fine, you're not upset with me, and we're spending New Year's together. This is turning out to be a productive conversation. Maybe we should take a stab at ending world hunger while I have you on the line."

"Sorry, I've got to go give myself a manicure," she said.

"There's that depth I love and admire. See you soon, I hope."

"See you, Tosh. Have fun with your old people."

"That sounds so wrong when you say it," he said. "Later, Lacy." She hung up and tucked the phone back in her pocket, smiling until she stepped inside and faced her mother.
Chapter 9

"I still can't believe you failed to tell me you had a boyfriend."

_Kill me now, Lord,_ Lacy silently prayed. Out loud, she said, "Mom, do we have to discuss this now?" She gave a pointed glance to Gladys and her young grandson, Sean who were joining them for dinner.

"All I'm saying, Lacy, is that you could have let me know. Sometimes I think you purposely try to exclude me from your life."

"Mom, Jason is not my boyfriend. We're just friends, as I've told you several times now."

"That's not what it looked like when I walked in with the lights off and you two snuggled up on the couch together," her mother said.

Lacy could practically feel Gladys squirm in her eagerness to dart away and begin spreading the news that Lacy and Jason were together and had been caught canoodling. "I thought you were dating Pastor Underhill," Gladys said, her eyes narrowing shrewdly on Lacy's face to watch her reaction to that accusation.

"I'm not dating anyone, Gladys," Lacy said. "And Jason and I were not doing anything more than sitting on the couch having a conversation. And we were not snuggled together, Mom. We were on separate cushions." _And I shouldn't have to explain myself to any of you,_ she thought. Though maybe the diversion was proving beneficial for her family's other problem. Her mother hadn't once mentioned the fact that Mr. Middleton had stayed for dinner without being expressly invited. He and her grandmother were sitting sedately by, watching the conversation bounce back and forth between mother and daughter.

"And I don't understand why you insist on not dating anyone. You're a beautiful young woman, even more so when you dress up and do something with your hair. Why waste what you've been given? Enjoy life and dating while you're young," her mother added as if Lacy hadn't spoken.

"Don't listen to her, Lacy. You're too young to get serious with anyone," Lacy's father said with a patronizing you'll-always-be-my-little-girl smile.

"For heaven's sake, Clint. When we were her age she was already born. She's twenty six and not getting any younger."

"A person doesn't have to be young to find love," Mr. Middleton added calmly.

Lacy could see her mother gearing up for another tirade, so she cut her off at the pass. "I think we're boring poor Sean to death, everyone. It looks like he and I are both finished with our food. Why don't we go play video games in the living room, Sean?"

Sean's face lit at the proffered lifeline, but she was as glad for the escape as he was, maybe even more so because she had been the center of the discussion for so long now.

"I'm glad you brought your game system," she whispered as she left the room. "You have no idea how glad."

Sean laughed. "Yeah, I remember you said you like video games. It's nice to have someone to play with. I don't know anyone else here, and Gran isn't one much for games."

Lacy thought of Gladys's plastic-covered living room and felt a wave of pity for Sean. She could only imagine how uncomfortable he was in the old woman's home. He couldn't even lie down and relax on the couch without making a squeaking noise like he was lying on a pool raft. "I'll be glad to play with you any time." She almost told him she had been lonely, too, and then remembered she was talking to a kid. It probably wasn't prudent to pour out her heart to someone who couldn't even shave yet.

Lacy tried to connect the system to her grandmother's television—thinking that she should handle the electronics since she was the adult. Then she quickly realized she had no idea what she was doing. Sean tried to tell her what went where, and in the end she simply moved aside so he could do it.

"I should tell you that I liked video games ten years ago. I have no idea what to do with this system," Lacy said, staring at the foreign-looking remote in her hand.

"You're going to love it, Lacy," Sean assured her. After a rudimentary lesson, he started with a simple racing game. True to his prediction, Lacy loved it. After the racing game, they progressed to a more interactive game that required more buttons, and after that they played a gory war game that, under normal circumstances, Lacy would have eschewed for its violence. But tonight she simply wanted to shoot things, amazed by how well the game worked to relieve her anxiety. By the time Gladys entered the room in search of her grandson, Lacy was feeling downright mellow.

She hugged Sean goodbye, promising him a rematch. In many ways, he reminded her of the male version of herself when she was a preteen. Gawky and insecure, he hadn't quite grown out of his baby fat or into his looks. As if all that wasn't bad enough, he had been pawned off on Gladys, a woman who seemingly had no idea how to relate to him. Lacy was glad they were coming to the holiday party. She made a mental note to introduce Sean to Tosh, sure they would hit it off well. And Jason, too, for that matter. Younger kids had always worshiped Jason, first for being a football star and then for being a cop. He was the teenage male epitome of awesome.

Who was she kidding? Jason was the adult female epitome of awesome, too, practically perfect in every way except the one that mattered most—his paralyzing fear of commitment was well known by all. Even if Lacy felt ready for commitment herself, she would suffer no illusions about Jason. Unlike some women, she believed a man if he said he didn't want to settle down. Why waste time trying to reform someone who didn't want to be reformed? There were plenty of other men who were happy to commit to a relationship. Tosh, for instance. He wasn't pathetic or needy, but Lacy knew he was ready to settle down. She felt a constant and gnawing sense of guilt that she couldn't be what he needed, at least not right now.

Gladys and Sean took their leave, and Lacy's mother, father, and grandmother entered the family room. Mr. Middleton was nowhere in sight, and Lucinda was looking strained. Lacy's mellow mood faded away, to be replaced by anxiety again. "Where's Gr—Mr. Middleton?" she amended herself in the nick of time, guessing correctly it wouldn't go well with her mother if Lacy called him "Grandpa."

"Getting some air," Lacy's father said tightly.

Lacy zeroed in on her mother. "What did you say to him, Mom?"

"I simply reminded him once again that he's not my father," Frannie said, striking a petulant pose with her arms crossed over her chest.

Lacy looked helplessly at her grandmother who returned her expression with a slight shrug. With a growl of frustration, Lacy stormed from the room and slammed out of the house. She was so angry that it took her a moment to find her grandfather, though he was sitting sedately on the porch swing, slowly drifting back and forth. Lacy looked at him, trying to read his expression, but it was too dark outside.

"Times like these I'm almost sad I gave up smoking my pipe so many years ago," he said serenely.

"I'm sorry things aren't going well," Lacy said, shuffling over to sit next to him. He moved aside, making room and then used his feet to slowly swing them again.

"I don't know that I expected them to be any different," he said.

Lacy frowned, feeling tears tickle the back of her throat. Why should he have expected things to go well when most of his life had been spent watching his family through a stranger's lens? "Mom is, well, you know...She has her good points."

He chuckled. "You don't have to try and sell me on her, Lacy. She's my daughter, warts and all. Sometimes in life you make choices, good or bad, and you can spend a long time paying for those choices. I hope you make wise ones."

"I'm trying," Lacy said. "Sometimes it's hard to know what to do."

"Twenty-six is an odd age," he agreed. "Everyone says you're an adult, but most days you don't feel like it."

"Exactly," she said, relieved that someone had hit the nail on the head so succinctly. "Living with Grandma is nice, but it doesn't exactly make me feel like a grownup."

"You're living with her because you choose to, not because you need to. There's a big distinction."

" _Now_ I'm living with her because I choose to, but when I first came home it was definitely out of necessity. It was either here or Florida with Mom and Dad, and you see what that would have been like." She shuddered.

"You did what you had to do at the time," he said.

Lacy laughed, realizing he would defend her even to herself. "There's really no way for me to say what a loser I am is there, Grandpa?"

"No way I'll believe," he said tenderly.

She linked her arm through his. "Did you buy me a locket for Christmas?"

"No. In fact, I didn't buy you anything. I made you something instead. I've been waiting for the best time to give it to you, out of view of your mother. Now seems like as good a time as any, I guess." He reached to the ground beside him, lifted something heavy, and set it in her lap.

"It's a scrapbook with all my family history, as well as a few pictures of Barbara. Some are even of us together when she was carrying Frannie." He paused, nervously clearing his throat. "I, ah, hope you like it."

She catapulted herself into his arms, belatedly grabbing the book when it started to slide off her lap. "I love it. You can't imagine how much it means to me to have this, to know some of our family history. This is something that I'll always treasure and be able to tell my kids about. Thank you." She kissed his weathered cheek, wetting it with her tears; she was simply so touched that she couldn't keep them in. Imagining him laboring over the scrapbook was enough to make her rush into the house and demand her mother make amends with him.

He gave her a tight, one-armed hug in return, awkwardly patting her back. "Would you rather have had a locket?" he asked.

She laughed, easing away from him to hug the book to her chest. "No, I already have one. Someone sent it to me anonymously. It wasn't Tosh, and it wasn't you."

"I suppose that just leaves Jason," he said sagely, swinging them with his feet again. "Not sure how I feel about a young man giving my granddaughter jewelry."

"Do you approve of Jason?" she asked.

"Well that's an impossible question to answer correctly," he said. "If you're asking if I think anyone is good enough for you, then the answer is no. No one is good enough for you. But, realizing that you're eventually going to have to settle for someone, do I believe Jason can foot the bill as well as anyone? The answer is maybe."

"Why maybe?" She thought he liked Jason.

"Jason is a good man, but he has a lot of baggage. Baggage can weigh even the best man down. I think he needs to purge some of what he's holding onto before he can commit to anyone."

Great, so not only was Jason afraid of commitment, but he was also one of the walking wounded. He was like the perfect off-limits bad boy, just waiting to be reformed and tamed. "I don't want to love Jason," Lacy declared.

"But you do," her grandfather said. He didn't seem to expect an answer, which was good because Lacy had none to give.
Chapter 10

The cookies were baked. The tree was up. Now all that was left for Lacy to do was to finish her Christmas shopping. But that was easier said than done. Money was no object anymore, so her budget wasn't what was stopping Lacy. And she had already bought presents for her mother and grandmother. The problem was the men in her life. What was she going to buy for her father, grandfather, Jason, and Tosh? And Sean, she should probably buy something for him, too, although that was pretty easy; she could simply buy him a new videogame.

Inspired by her grandfather's thoughtfulness, she wanted to think outside the box, but where to begin? Her father was easy compared to everyone else; he was a passionate golfer. Now that he was retired and living in Florida, he had plenty of time and energy to indulge his hobby. He never grew tired of anything related to golf. Perhaps Lacy was taking the generic way out, but why not buy him what he liked? She would find another golfer, ask his opinion, and buy whatever he told her.

With one man marked off her list that left only her grandfather, Tosh, and Jason. Lacy didn't want to spend the day shopping alone, but her grandparents lacked the stamina to keep up with a full day of power shopping, and her parents were once again busy catching up with friends. After yesterday's rescue, she was loathe to call Jason—who was probably working anyway—and that left only Tosh.

"Can you play hooky today?" she asked as soon as he answered his phone.

He gave the longsuffering sigh that had become his trademark lately, the one that told her he was exhausted. "Sure, why not?" he said, surprising them both. By the time he showed up at her house, he was almost giddy at the thought of taking a day off work.

"I have to be back in time for tonight's party, though," he warned her.

"What's tonight?"

"The Daughters of the American Revolution. And, yes, before you ask, I have to dress in revolutionary regalia which they kindly provided for me, complete with one of those three corner hats."

"Why do you have to attend the DAR party?"

"I dunno. Episcopalians and the DAR go hand in hand somehow. Let's not talk about it anymore. I just want to relax and forget work before I have to get my George Washington groove on."

"Your life is odd, Tosh," she told him.

He grinned. "I prefer to say it's interesting. So who are we shopping for today?"

"You, Grandpa, and Dad." She trailed off, looking out the window.

"That's it?" he added, knowing her too well.

"Jason, too."

The answering silence was significant. "Okay," he drawled at last.

"Are you shopping?" she asked.

"No, I'm done."

"How did you get done already when you've been so busy?"

"I don't procrastinate, unlike some people I know," he said.

"I didn't mean to procrastinate. It just sneaked up on me this year."

"It has a way of doing that," Tosh agreed. "Where are we going?"

She directed him to the larger mall in the next town, knowing it had a golf store and she would at least be able to check her dad off her list. On the way, she told him about the gift from her grandfather and asked him what she should get for him.

"You have a lot of money now," Tosh pointed out. "What's something you can get for him that he might not be able to afford for himself?"

"I have no idea," Lacy said. "He doesn't seem to care much about material things. All he really wants is to have a good relationship with my mom, and I can't buy that."

"But you can buy them some time together," Tosh said. "How about tickets for him and your grandmother to visit Florida?"

"Tosh, that's brilliant," Lacy exclaimed, clutching his bicep in excitement. "Why didn't I think of that? Grandma never goes to Florida anymore since she stopped driving long distances, and she's a little afraid of flying. Sending him along with her is the perfect ruse to get him down there. Mom will have to understand that Grandma can't make the trip by herself. Won't she?"

Tosh shrugged. "I don't know. Sometimes people get an idea stuck in their heads, and it's hard to change. Like your mom's resentment of Mr. Middleton. Like you believing you need to buy a present for a man who's not me. Crazy."

Lacy smiled, squeezing his bicep. "You're both my friends; don't be jealous, Tosh."

"Oh, Lacy, I'm so far beyond jealous there isn't a word for what I am," Tosh said.

Lacy wasn't sure how to reply to that, so she didn't. Instead, the topic moved on to Tosh regaling her with some stories from the parties he had attended lately. He could always make her laugh, and today was no exception as he caught her up on the petty disagreements of his parishioners. She supposed he technically wasn't supposed to tell her the things he did, but she never repeated what he said, and who else was he supposed to talk to? Everyone needed to unload once in a while, even pastors who were supposed to be above it all.

In the end, they had a perfect day together, strolling through the mall, talking and laughing as they shopped. Tosh turned out to be very helpful when it came to carrying Lacy's father's present, which was large, awkward, and heavy. Maybe golf was good exercise, because she was exhausted just from shopping for clubs.

She couldn't buy Tosh's present while he was there, and she didn't feel comfortable buying for Jason in front of him, but she knew what she was going to get for both of them. Tosh needed a way to relax and decompress. After playing video games with Sean, Lacy knew a new game system was the prescription for Tosh. He didn't have a system, for whatever reason, but she knew he enjoyed games because they had talked about it.

Even though it was difficult to think about Jason when she was with Tosh, he hadn't been far from Lacy's mind during the day. She kept picturing him returning to his treeless, lonely house and the image made her sad. All of a sudden she knew what she was going to buy him for Christmas, but she would need help, and she knew just where to get it. As soon as she and Tosh finished lunch, she escaped to the bathroom and pulled out her phone, pushing a number she kept on speed dial.

"Travis, it's Lacy," she said. Travis was an officer at the jail. He and Lacy had become good friends ever since her grandmother's incarceration.

"I know; I recognized your ringtone. Why are you whispering?"

"Because I'm in a public bathroom. I was wondering if you could do me a favor," she said.

"Anything," he said, his sincere tone telling her he meant it.

"Can you swipe Jason's house key and make a copy?"

"Uh, anything but that. I have no idea how that would even be possible."

"If anyone can do it, it's you," she said, and it was true. Travis had become a jack-of-all trades informant, helping her with several problems. Belatedly she realized she also needed to buy a present for him.

"I'll do my best. When do you need it by?"

"As soon as possible," Lacy said. "I'd like to use it tomorrow."

"Okay, but I may have to involve others in this plot."

"Whatever you need. Thanks, Travis. I'll buy you something pretty."

Travis laughed. "See that you do. Later, Lacy."

They disconnected and she rejoined Tosh. "I just remembered I have to buy a present for Travis," Lacy said.

"You just remembered that in the bathroom?" Tosh asked, sounding suspicious.

"The bathroom is a good place to think. C'mon," she grabbed his hand and led him to the electronics store where she bought a game for Sean and a gift card for Travis, that way he could pick out whatever he wanted.

"Shopping is exhausting," Lacy said as Tosh drove her home.

"And you didn't even get everything from your list," he said.

"Don't worry; I know what your present is going to be now," she assured him.

He parked in her grandmother's driveway and turned to her with a smile that looked sad. "Don't buy me anything, Lacy. I don't need anything. I just want...Well, you know what I want, but I guess you can't give me that for Christmas."

Lacy faced forward as the levity was sucked from the car. Why couldn't Tosh be happy with their friendship as it was? Why did he feel the constant need to pressure her for more? She was exactly where she wanted to be with him, but apparently he wasn't in the same place with her. Why couldn't he let it go?

"Hey," he said, reaching over the seat to clasp her hand. "I'm sorry I brought it up. My defenses are weakened because I'm tired. I know you're not ready for anything more than what we have."

Lacy let go his hand and circled his neck, hugging him tightly. "I do love you, Tosh. You know that."

"Yes, I know that," he said, still sounding sad. He returned her hug, though, and rested his head on hers. "Duty calls," he said. He sounded more cheerful, but she thought his tone might be forced. "I need to go stop the British from advancing on our town. I'll see you tomorrow at your awesome Christmas party." He kissed her forehead and let her go, effectively dismissing her.

She let him go, trying not to be hurt by his brusque manner. The gnawing sense of guilt was back, guilt because she couldn't be what he wanted her to be right now. Today it was accompanied by the fear that maybe she never would be. What happened when she was ready to move on and get over her hurt from Robert if the person she moved on with wasn't Tosh? Would he still be her friend? She wasn't sure, and that uncertainty made her uneasy.

When she went inside her house, the atmosphere was peaceful for once. Her mother and grandmother were working in the kitchen and the silence told her it was going well. Her father was reading a book on the couch, and her grandfather was reading the newspaper in the recliner. They both looked up at her with welcoming smiles.

"How did it go, sweetheart?" her father asked, setting aside his book. "Did you finish shopping?"

"Not quite, but I have a good idea of what I want to buy now. How was your day?" The question was loaded; had it been World War III?

"It was good," her father replied. "Mom's in a chipper mood today. She and Grandma are working together on supper, so it should be good."

Lacy smiled. She was tempted to poke her head in the kitchen, but didn't want to risk incurring her mother's ire for any of the unknown reasons her mother tended to turn on her. Instead she sat beside her father on the couch. Her grandfather handed her the entertainment section of his paper, and she began to read before sleep took over and she dozed until it was time for supper.

Supper was another peaceful affair. Lacy wouldn't exactly say it was a love fest, but the open hostility seemed to have died down a bit. For that she was thankful. They were able to have a pleasant conversation without her mother hurling accusations, insults, or veiled criticisms. The meal was delicious, but Lacy didn't overindulge. All in all, it was shaping up to be a perfect evening. So of course it couldn't last.

After cleaning up the kitchen, everyone retired to the family room to relax when Frannie's phone rang. Lacy knew by the tone that it was her sister, and she tensed, clutching her hands on the edge of the sofa. Her mother answered cheerfully, asking a hundred questions about the Hamptons and Robert. At first Lacy was paralyzed, and then she felt as if she were drowning, as if each question her mother asked was sucking her into inky, icy emotional darkness from which there was no recovery. Hearing her mother's joy at talking to Riley and Riley's apparent happiness on the other end of the line was too much for Lacy's fragile psyche. Any emotional stability she had gained the last few months was suddenly shattered, and her only thought was escape.

With no clear objective in mind, she sprinted from the house, slamming the door behind her. Then she stopped short on the porch, looking around in dismay. Where could she go? She was already at her dead end. She had already fled New York and come to the solace of her grandmother's house. If she couldn't find comfort and healing here, then maybe there was none to be found.

She had no idea how long she stood on the porch, but suddenly her father was beside her, wrapping her in her coat.

"You forgot this," he said gently.

Lacy realized then that she was freezing. She shrugged into the coat, shivering. "Thanks, Dad."

He stood beside her, his hands braced against the railing as he peered out at the dark yard. "Your mother doesn't mean to be as insensitive as she seems about the Robert situation, Lacy."

"I know," Lacy answered dully, not really believing the words.

"It's hard on a parent to see their kids not getting along. She just wants things to be better between you and Riley; we both do."

"How can they ever be right again, Dad?" Lacy asked, her voice cracking. "How could she have done this to me?"

Her father wrapped his arms around her, and she gave in to her tears then, crying against his chest as she had when she was a little girl.

"It just hurts so much," she said.

"I know, baby," he soothed. "I know." When she had cried herself out, he transitioned them to the porch swing. Keeping his arm around her, he began to swing them as her grandfather had done the night before. "I have to tell you something about Riley, Lacy, something you don't know. It doesn't excuse her behavior, but maybe it might explain it a little."

"What is it?" Lacy asked, fear making her throat constrict. Was Riley dying?

"Riley has always been jealous of you," he said.

The statement was so unexpected that Lacy laughed. "What? Why me?" Riley had always been the center of attention, always been the fun little fireball that drew adoration. She knew how to work a room, how to flirt with men, how to make friends. She had been the popular cheerleader while Lacy had been the stuffy band geek.

"Because you possess something naturally that Riley has to work hard for," her father said.

"I don't understand what you mean," Lacy said.

"I know you don't, and that's what drives Riley crazy about you. Don't misunderstand what I'm about to say. I think both my daughters are the most beautiful girls on the planet. But Riley, with her curly brown hair and freckles, looks like a lot of other girls with curly brown hair and freckles. Her dream is to stand out, to be different, to be the woman in the room who draws everyone's eye. And that's what you do, honey, without even trying. You with your long red hair and piercing green eyes. You walk into a room and heads turn, and you don't even know it. Riley has to use everything at her disposal to gain the kind of attention that you receive without even trying. And it makes her crazy."

"Dad, I think you might be a little biased. I'm not an ingénue. I'm the chubby girl who played clarinet in the marching band."

"Lacy, you're still looking at yourself with an old mirror, honey. That was a long time ago. Since then you've blossomed into an incredibly beautiful woman and you don't even know it. That and the fact that you're naturally aloof and reserved drives men crazy. You're a challenge without even trying to be one."

She blinked at him in surprise, sure he was exaggerating. Her, a challenge? What was challenging about her? They swung in silence for a few minutes as Lacy tried and failed to process the new information. At last she gave up, sure her father was exaggerating. If Riley was jealous of her then it was because she was jealous of every other woman on the planet. Riley was one of those women who had a lot of friends but still couldn't seem to get along with anyone.

"Dad, I have to tell you something," Lacy blurted, not even knowing she was going to unload on her father until she started.

"What is it, honey?" he asked.

"Mom's adopted." She dropped the bombshell and waited for it to find its mark.

"I know," he said mildly.

"You know?" she exclaimed.

He nodded. "Your grandfather, your adopted grandfather, told me when Frannie and I were first married. I think he was dying to get the weight off his chest, and he also wanted to know if I thought Frannie should be told. I didn't think so then, and I still don't. It would kill her. I also know Mr. Middleton is her real father. I'm glad he and Lucy have found each other, and I'm glad you and he seem to have developed a bond. He's a good man."

"Do you think Mom will ever come around?"

"I don't know, honey. You're mom can be...difficult." His tone was strained, making Lacy wonder if there was more going on between them than the current problem with Mr. Middleton.

"Dad, is everything okay with you and Mom?" Lacy asked.

"Sure it is," he replied unconvincingly. "Don't worry about it." He gave her shoulders a reassuring squeeze and, despite the fact that she knew the words weren't true, she allowed herself to be reassured. She couldn't handle any more emotional turmoil right now.

"I'm also a millionaire," Lacy said.

He sputtered and choked, coughing. Apparently he hadn't known that part of the story. "What?" he croaked.

She filled him in on Barbara Blake's murder and her subsequent inheritance. "It's funny," Lacy said, though her voice lacked humor. "She wanted me to inherit because she thought I was the most like her. But I only looked like her; Riley's the one who inherited her personality, by all accounts."

"I don't know about that, Lacy," he said. "I think you probably each have a little of her inside you, and a little of Lucy, and me, and your mom, and Mr. Middleton. Life's not only about nature, there's nurture, too. That's why there's good inside your mom, because she's not only part of her biological mother, but part of Lucy, too. Riley may do hurtful things that you don't understand, but she has a big heart, too. Someday maybe she'll surprise you and show you that there's more to her than a selfish and spoiled brat."

She looked up at her father in surprise. She had never heard him speak so disparagingly about her sister before.

"I'm being unbiased for once," he said. "Riley got away with far too much when she was little. If there was one thing I wish I could change, that would be it. I can only hope that hidden somewhere deep inside are all the good character traits I tried to instill."

Lacy nodded, wishing she could offer more encouragement, but the truth was that she wasn't sure about Riley. She wanted to believe what her father said--that Riley had goodness buried somewhere down deep below the selfishness. But right now Lacy was too hurt to be charitable. "'Truth will come to light,'" Lacy said absently, thinking that one day, for better or worse, Riley's true character would reveal itself.

Her father chuckled, giving her shoulders another squeeze. "Know one of the things I love best about you, Lacy? It's that you can quote Shakespeare in random conversation without being pretentious."

Lacy smiled. Resting her head on his shoulder, they stayed on the porch for a long time, gently swaying back and forth.
Chapter 11

In the morning, it occurred to Lacy that her father might be the provider of her mystery locket. Like with Tosh, she didn't have to beat around the bush with her dad, and she asked him as soon as she saw him at breakfast the next morning.

"Dad, did you buy me a locket for Christmas?"

"To be honest, honey, I have no idea," he said, looking up in surprise from his piece of coffeecake. "Your mom buys all the presents and puts my name on them. Sorry to disillusion you."

"That's okay; I sort of knew that already. I was just checking."

He nodded, returning his attention to his cake. Lacy sat across from him and cut her own generous serving of cake. That left only Jason, but for some reason she didn't want to accept that the necklace was from him. Maybe it was because the inscription was so direct and personal that it left no doubt about his feelings. Though, if he really intended to tell her he was in love with her, why would he do it in locket form? The locket was beautiful and thoughtful, but the anonymity left a bad taste in her mouth. If someone really loved her, why not come out and say it? Unless there was a reason he couldn't. But what could that reason be? Did she have a secret admirer in prison? Travis flashed in her mind when she thought of the jail, but he wouldn't send her a locket. They had already discussed and ruled out the possibility of them dating. At five years her junior, Travis was too young.

Thoughts of Travis led her to remember she had to deliver Jason's present. "Dad, what are you doing today?" she asked.

"Nothing," he said. "Unless you count finishing the book I started yesterday. Do you need something?"

Lacy nodded. "Can you come with me to deliver a present to one of my friends?"

"Sure," he said.

"We'll sort of have to break into his house and he's a cop. Is that a problem?"

He blinked at her. "Uh, I guess not. It's been a while since I was last arrested. Could be an adventure."

"He won't arrest us," she said. "He's the type to shoot first and ask questions later, so we have a better chance of winding up dead than in jail."

"Oh, good, something to look forward to then."

They shared a smile over the table. "When do we get to meet this man?" her father asked after a few minutes of silence.

"Don't you remember Jason?" she asked. "He was the quarterback my last couple years of high school."

While her mother had been more interested in making sure Lacy looked presentable and watching Riley cheer, her father had actually immersed himself in the game, becoming a big fan of their high school football team.

"Jason Cantor?" her father said.

"Dad, your incredulous tone stings, it really does," Lacy said.

"It's just that you've never really gravitated toward the athletic type. You've always seemed more interested in the artsy types."

"Yes, well, Jason and I are just friends."

"Jason Cantor, and he's a cop now. Wow."

"If you want, I can get his autograph," Lacy offered.

Her dad laughed and cleared their plates from the table. "All right, I'll simmer down my enthusiasm. It's just that he always reminded me a bit of myself when I was his age. Did I ever tell you I played quarterback?"

"You did?" Lacy asked, feigning innocence. "If only you had mentioned that before. I don't suppose Mom was a cheerleader, was she?"

"Ah, the merits of a sarcastic daughter. I had almost forgotten what it was like to live with one. Thanks for the reminder." He ruffled her hair. "Ready to get this show on the road?"

"Let me call Travis and make sure we're a go," Lacy said. She dialed Travis, who told her the key had been obtained with the help of about half the force who was curious as to what Lacy was planning.

"We're all hoping it's something bad," he said. "Just so you know. Like a huge prank or something."

"Sorry to disappoint, but I'm not really the pranking sort. It's just a Christmas delivery that I'd rather not do in person. Thanks for this, Travis. Do you want your usual coffee order?"

"Yes, please," he said, sounding enthusiastic. "I'm on hour fourteen of sixteen. Coffee makes everything that I had to go through for this key worthwhile."

Lacy smiled as she tucked her phone in her pocket, grabbing her purse and linking her arm with her father on the way out of the house. Her father drove, which was good considering she still didn't own a car. First they went to pick up Travis's coffee, and then they drove to the jail. Her dad scanned the place through narrowed eyes.

"You come here often?" he asked.

"More often than I would like, yes," she said.

"I'm coming with you," he said, hopping out of the car and quickly catching up with her. She introduced her father to Travis as she gave him his coffee and Christmas present.

"Aw, Lacy, you didn't have to," Travis said, though his overjoyed smile told him he was glad she had. "I didn't get you anything."

"Sure you did, Travis." She held up the key. "Thank you so much. I owe you one."

"You owe me more than that," he said.

She laughed. "True. It doesn't bode well for me that you're keeping track. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," Travis called as Lacy and her father walked back outside. She had just finished tucking Jason's key in her pants pocket when she heard him calling her name.

"Lacy!"

She and her father paused, turning toward the door in time to see Jason sprinting through. "What are you doing here?" he asked, stopping short in front of her. "Don't tell me someone else you know is in jail."

"I was bringing Travis a Christmas present," Lacy hedged. "Jason, this is my dad, Clint Steele. Dad, you remember Jason Cantor." Her smile was teasing, but she didn't mention her father's previous adoration of Jason.

Clint threw his daughter a knowing smile as he held out his hand to Jason. "It's nice to meet you, Jason. I don't believe we ever had the privilege when you were in high school."

"No, sir, your daughter was too stuck up to talk to me then. It's only lately that she's lowered her standards enough to mingle with jocks and other riffraff."

"You're working all day, right?" Lacy asked, ignoring Jason's teasing and her father's amused chuckle.

"Twelve hours," Jason replied. "But I told you I would try to stop by your party tonight if that's what you're worried about."

She was more concerned that he would stop by his own house. "Is it busy today? Have there been a lot of calls?"

His eyes narrowed suspiciously as he searched her face. "What's up, Red? You're acting weird."

"Even for me," she finished for him.

"Especially for you," he said.

"Not a thing is up, Jason. Don't be so suspicious on Christmas. And be careful, please." She lightly touched the button on his pocket, remembering he had once told her holidays were dangerous because so many people used the day as an excuse to drink as much as possible.

"I'll be careful if you'll stay out of trouble," Jason promised.

"What do you mean? It's Christmas Eve. What trouble could I find?"

"Let's not tempt fate by asking that question, okay, Lacy?" Jason said as her father chuckled again. "It was good to meet you, Mr. Steele."

"Call me Clint," her father commanded. "And it was nice to meet you, too, Jason. I hope you can make it for the party tonight."

"So do I," Jason said. "See you, Red." He reached out to give her waist a squeeze, and then turned and jogged back into the building.

"So that's what you call friendship," her father said when Jason was gone. "Things are beginning to make a lot more sense now."

"Dad," Lacy intoned, feeling like a teenager again.

"What, Lacy? I'm your dad, I'm not blind. What's really going on between you two?"

"Nothing," Lacy said. "I promise. We're friends, and we have a slight attraction to each other."

"Like a moth to a flame," her father said. "I'm not sure either of you even knew I was standing there even though I was doing my best to put out the overprotective father vibe."

"Dad," Lacy said again, laughing. "Stop it. He and I are friends."

"Are you friends like this with the other one? What's his name, your grandma's pastor?"

"Tosh and I are very good friends," Lacy said. "He's probably the best friend I've ever had."

Her dad shook his head. "Here you are in our tiny hometown, getting caught up in love triangles and murders. I think I would prefer you to move back to Manhattan. It was safer and less exciting."

"Dad," she said, shoving lightly at his arm. He caught her around the neck in a loose headlock and planted a kiss on her cheek.

"Are you happy here, little girl?" he asked when they were in the car, his tone turning serious.

"I..." Her first instinct had been to say no. How could she be happy in her crummy little hometown? But then she realized she was happy. She had her grandparents, whom she adored, as well as Tosh and Jason who kept things interesting. "I am," she said with confidence, surprised by how much she meant the words.

"Good. Stay that way. And stay away from boys."

"Even Jason?" Lacy said. "It sounds like he's your dream guy."

Her father shook his head. "I told your mother I wanted sons," he muttered. "The woman never listens to me."

Lacy laughed and spent the rest of the afternoon laughing as she and her dad bought the necessary supplies before breaking into Jason's house.

"Are you sure a single man lives here?" her dad asked when they walked inside the sparkling clean house.

"I know, it's disconcerting, isn't it?" Lacy agreed.

"I can tell you for sure that my house wouldn't look like this if I didn't have your mom to nag me about cleaning up."

Lacy nodded, but the words were a reminder that not everything in her world was perfect. Something was up between her parents; she could feel it. But it was Christmas Eve, and she didn't want to dwell on it today. Instead they set up the tree she'd bought, sticking it in a lone corner of the room. Lacy unfurled the tree skirt and they strung lights and ornaments. When that was finished, she set a few presents under the tree, knowing it would look lonely without something underneath. Knowing also that Jason would be uncomfortable if she bought him too much, she instead made the tree his big present, bought him some stocking stuffers, and set out some toys to be donated to a charity for kids whose parents were in prison.

"There," she said, stepping back to look at the tree in satisfaction.

"Looks good," her father said, resting his arm on her shoulders as they admired their handiwork. She decided to leave the tree plugged in, knowing at some point Jason would drive by his house and notice the lights. They were lucky he hadn't driven by already and noticed the strange car parked in his drive.

"We should get out of here," Lacy said. "He could come home at any moment, and I wasn't quite kidding about the gun." They hurriedly cleaned up and hustled outside, feeling very cloak and dagger at having pulled off their surprise.

"Why did we do that?" her father asked as they were driving away.

"What do you mean?"

"Why didn't he have a tree already?"

"Jason doesn't have the best relationship with his parents. He doesn't talk about it, but I think holidays are painful for him. He lost a brother when he was little. It's sad; he's basically all alone in the world."

"Not so alone. He has you, and you really care about him, don't you?"

"Yeah, I do," Lacy said resignedly. At the very least they were friends, but friendship wouldn't quite explain why she couldn't seem to get him off her mind.

"Lacy Cantor," her father teased.

"Dad," she said, responding with appropriate embarrassment.

"You're right," her father said. "I suppose I should reserve judgment until I meet the other one. Tish, was it?"

"Tosh," Lacy said, knowing very well that her father remembered his name. "So much for remaining neutral."

"I'm Switzerland," her father said. "Whoever you choose to be with is your decision. Just so long as he played quarterback at some point in his life, I couldn't care less who you marry. Of course, pastors have high divorce rates."

"Dad," Lacy exclaimed. "Tosh is great, and you're going to love him. If you don't, I'll buy you breakfast the day after Christmas."

"Deal," her father said, holding out his hand to shake on it. They shook, and he let her go, pointing to a restaurant on his left. "There's where I want to go for my breakfast."

"So much for neutrality," she muttered, turning to stare out her window with a sigh.
Chapter 12

The house didn't feel very festive when Lacy and her father arrived home. Her mother was in the living room, flipping through a magazine with such ferocity that she risked ripping out the pages.

"Mom," Lacy said tentatively, "everything okay?"

"Of course it's okay. Why wouldn't it be okay? Just because a stranger is in the kitchen, working with my mother like he owns the place. It's fine. Everything is just fine."

Lacy sat and pried the magazine from her mother's clutch. Capturing both her hands, she clasped them tightly in hers, waiting to speak until she had her mother's full attention. "Mom, it's not just Grandma who loves Mr. Middleton. I love him, too. You can't imagine how much he's come to mean to me the last few months. He's not only loving and caring, but he's incredibly wise. I've come to feel that's he's a surrogate grandfather, which is nice because I miss Grandpa a lot. I'm not saying he has to take the place of your dad, but he's important to me, and he's important to Grandma. That alone should be reason for you to try and make peace with his presence. He's here to stay, and you know he's a good man. Think about it—when was the last time you saw Grandma this happy?"

Her mother took a couple of deep breaths, her nostrils flaring as she tried to get wild emotions under control. "I miss my dad," she said, sounding more like a little girl than a grown woman.

"I know," Lacy said, urging her mother into her embrace. Not that she had to do a lot of urging. Her mother collapsed against her and wept, long and loud. "Let's set the table," Lacy suggested after her mother cried herself out.

Frannie nodded, sniffling.

Lacy, feeling like she had just taken the first step toward parenting her parent, was glad for the distraction of setting the table. They worked in silence, and when her grandparents emerged from the kitchen, they found their subdued daughter working in studied silence. They sent a questioning look to Lacy who gave them a helpless shrug in return.

Gladys and Sean arrived as soon as the table was set. Sean was wearing a suit and red bow tie, one which he explained he had received in show choir, and Lacy smiled, adjusting his tie with a pat.

"I think you look very handsome. In fact, you've inspired me to dress up, too." She departed to change clothes and freshen up, adding some makeup to the bare bones routine she had performed on her face earlier that morning. There was a green velvet dress she occasionally pulled out at Christmas. She didn't often wear it because with her red hair she sometimes felt like a Christmas tree. But what better time to look like a tree than Christmas?

Knowing they had a few minutes until supper, she also took her hair out of its perfunctory bun, brushed it, and used her large iron to give it some loose curls before misting it with hairspray. After giving herself an approving nod in the mirror, she left her bathroom, just in time to answer the door and greet Tosh.

He whistled in appreciation. "You look fancy, though I'm a little disappointed not to see that slinky red number again."

"There are children present," she reminded him, jerking her head in the direction of Sean.

"Right, children," Tosh said. He glanced at Sean and smiled. "That kid looks almost exactly like me when I was his age. Is that bowtie from show choir?"

Lacy nodded and she and Tosh shared a laugh. "He's like our lovechild, if we had one, which we could if you wanted. Just letting you know I'm open to the possibility. Also, I brought eggnog." He held a milky-white jug aloft. Noting Lacy's grimace, he hastened to add, "I didn't make it. One of my parishioners made it for me, and I'll never drink it."

"Does anyone actually drink eggnog?" Lacy said, sticking out her tongue. "I can't think of anything worse than raw eggs and nutmeg."

Tosh shrugged. "It's a senior citizen thing. Every party I've gone to this season has served it, and they always run out. The sweet lady who bestowed this gallon on me made it seem like a great honor. But I'm with you. Gross." He bent and kissed her cheek, breezing by her to take the eggnog to the kitchen.

She trotted after him, realizing she would need to make the introductions to her parents. They encountered her father first.

"Dad, this is Tosh. Tosh, my father, Clint Steele."

"Mr. Steele," Tosh said, offering his hand for a shake. "Lacy tells me you're a golfer. We have a family friend who is a member at Pine Valley. We'll have to arrange a day to play."

Lacy wasn't a fan of golf, but even she had heard of Pine Valley, the ultra-exclusive dream club in New Jersey. Predictably, her father's eyes were glazed over with ecstasy at the mention of the place.

"Dad, are you in there? Do you need a drool cloth?"

"I'm buying you breakfast," her father replied absently, and Lacy smiled. Tosh had apparently passed muster.

"I'll explain later," Lacy told a clueless Tosh, leading him past her still starry-eyed father to the kitchen and her mother. "Mom, this is Tosh," Lacy said, presenting Tosh with a flourish of her hand.

Her mother turned with a speculative smile, sizing up Tosh from head to toe. "Mrs. Steele," Tosh exclaimed upon first sight of Lacy's mother. "You look exactly like..." He broke off and Lacy knew he had been about to say "your mother," referring to Barbara Blake. "Your daughter," Tosh hastily added. "The resemblance is amazing." He looked back and forth between Lacy and Frannie with a smile.

Lacy's mother beamed. "Why, thank you, dear. Isn't it amazing that we got two redheads in a row when we're the only ones in our family for generations?"

"Amazing," Tosh said. Now that he had regained his footing after his earlier stumble, he was unflappable. They would have continued to make small talk, but Lacy's grandmother interrupted with an exclamation of delight.

"Oh, eggnog, Pastor Underhill, you shouldn't have. That's my favorite!"

"My pleasure, Mrs. Craig," Tosh said, his earnest tone conveying his sincerity. "If there's any left over, please keep it."

"Are you sure?" Lucinda asked.

"Positive," Tosh replied.

"Such a sweet boy," Lucinda muttered, turning to place the jug on the counter. She rooted in the cupboard and poured a generous serving of the drink, offering it up to anyone in the room. When everyone refused, she drank it herself.

Lacy squeezed Tosh's bicep, smiling up at him. He definitely had her family's approval and, if his smug grin was any indication, he knew it. "Come and meet Sean," she suggested, tugging his sleeve to lead him back to the family room.

Sean sat in a chair, sullenly listening as Gladys and Mr. Middleton discussed friends who had died that year. His cheerful bowtie was a direct contrast to his glum countenance, but he cheered considerably when Lacy and Tosh entered the room.

"Sean, this is my friend, Tosh."

"I've noticed you from the platform," Tosh said. "I'm sorry I haven't had a chance to say hello before now. This is my busy season. Lacy tells me you like video games."

Sean relaxed and leaned forward as the conversation moved to familiar territory. There was another knock on the door, and Lacy's heart began to flutter in nervous anticipation. What would be Jason's reaction to his gift? By now he had to have seen it. In his down time, he often drove by his house or hers to check on things.

Tentatively, she pulled open the door and saw him towering in the entryway, his black uniform making him look larger and more menacing. His features were carefully schooled into a placid expression, so she had no idea what he was thinking.

"Are you here to arrest me, officer?" She crossed her wrists, holding them submissively in front of her.

He clasped her wrists, circling them with his fingers as he stepped inside and closed the door with his foot. "What's your crime, Miss Steele?" He quirked an eyebrow, waiting for her to incriminate herself.

"I plead the fifth," Lacy replied.

He smiled. "You look festive, Red." His eyes swept up and down the length of her, causing her to flush until she was uncomfortably warm. "Merry Christmas," he added softly.

"Merry Christmas," she returned. For a few seconds it was as if they were the only people in the room, or on the planet, for that matter. But reality came rushing back, and Lacy remembered that not only were there other people present, but one of those people was intensely interested in their little interaction.

Sure enough, when Jason dropped her wrists, Lacy turned to see Tosh staring at her, paying half-hearted attention to Sean who was animatedly describing the war game he had played with Lacy.

"Come and meet Sean," Lacy said, beckoning Jason to follow. Perhaps it was unwise to put Tosh and Jason within striking distance of each other, but Sean was the only person in the room Jason didn't know.

"Officer," Tosh said, his tone cool and sarcastic.

"Reverend," Jason answered in kind. "How do you do, Sean?" he added, infusing warmth and politeness in his tone when he spoke to the boy.

"Sean let me beat him at video games the other day," Lacy said, smiling at Sean.

"That was a good choice," Jason said gravely. "This one doesn't like to lose." He pointed to Lacy. "She goes all Yosemite Sam on you."

"Who?" Sean asked, looking confused by the reference. A debate about old cartoon characters was sparked while Lacy tried to protest that her temper had been exaggerated.

"I'm going to have to agree with him on this one, only it's more like watching David Banner turn into the Hulk," Tosh said.

Jason snickered, and Lacy wasn't sure which was worse—their jealousy or their agreement.

"You guys are exaggerating. My temper is not that bad," Lacy protested.

"The hole in my drywall disagrees," Tosh said.

"Tosh," Lacy said embarrassed that he had brought it up.

"I think we're going to need to hear this story," Jason said.

"No," Lacy said, attempting to cover Tosh's mouth with her hand, but he pinned her arms to her side and spoke over her protests.

"She was mad because I was out of butter and she was baking cookies. She threw a spoon through my wall," Tosh said.

"That is a total fabrication, and you know it," Lacy said. "I was mad because I had just bought you some butter two days before and you gave it to your neighbor even though I had told you I was planning to bake with it. And I didn't throw the spoon; I tripped and the spoon flew out of my hand."

"So you say," Tosh said, smiling fondly at Lacy.

"No, I think the falling story sounds believable," Jason said. "Mind you, this is the same woman who was trampled by the percussion section of the marching band during halftime."

"How would you know? You were in the locker room," Lacy said.

Jason shook his head. "Someone came and told us and we all ran up to watch, even the coach. Sorry, Lacy, but it was _funny_."

"That was not funny. It hurt, and they broke my clarinet. A chivalrous person would have come to my defense instead of standing on the sidelines and laughing at me."

" _I_ didn't want to get trampled," Jason said.

"Well I think Lacy is perfect," Sean added loyally.

"Thank you, Sean. It's nice to know who your real friends are," Lacy said.

"Suppertime!" her grandmother called.

"She sounds cheerful," Tosh whispered.

Lacy nodded. Her grandmother wasn't an extrovert, but maybe having her friends and family nearby was having a heartening effect on her because she was all smiles as they sat. Lacy was between Tosh and Jason. There was a moment of awkwardness as they both attempted to help her with her chair. At last she simply sat and scooted her chair forward without assistance.

Tosh prayed, and the meal started. For a while, they were busy passing dishes and filling their plates. "Everything looks delicious, Grandma," Lacy said.

"Thank you," her grandmother replied. "But I had a lot of help." She turned to Mr. Middleton, patting his hand with a smile before picking up her eggnog to take a sip.

"She really likes eggnog," Tosh whispered, leaning close as he passed Lacy the dinner rolls.

Lacy nodded and passed the dinner rolls to Jason who also leaned in close. "You're in big trouble," he whispered.

"Why?" she asked, feigning innocence.

"You know why," he said, but he was smiling. "Later, I'll think of a way to punish you."

"What did he say?" Tosh leaned in again to whisper on her other side.

Lacy shook her head.

Tosh leaned back to scowl at Jason who returned his look. Lacy cleared her throat. "Who's up for a game after supper?" she asked.

"I am," her grandmother blurted, smiling.

Lacy blinked at her in surprise, as did everyone else. Lucinda was usually the last person in the room to speak, and she wasn't much of a gamer. "Great," Lacy said halfheartedly. She shot a questioning look to her grandfather who shrugged one shoulder before turning to inspect Lucinda with a smile. _I guess she's just happy,_ Lacy thought.

"Mom, you're cheerful tonight," Frannie said warily.

"Why shouldn't I be?" Lucinda said. "I have my family here, my friends, my Tom. It's a happy gathering."

"I suppose," Frannie said, sounding subdued. "I wish Riley was here, though. I can't help but feel like something is missing."

_Yes, the drama,_ Lacy thought. For once the family was having a nice, peaceful family event. Even Tosh and Jason were getting along, which was practically a Christmas miracle. So of course it couldn't last.

"How are Riley's wedding plans coming along?" Gladys asked. Lacy wasn't sure if it was a pointed question or general nosiness. Sometimes her grandmother's friends seemed catty, but Lacy could never be sure if their intentions were purposely cruel or simply ignorant of any ensuing awkwardness.

"Slowly," Frannie replied, oblivious to the way Lacy was now staring intently at her plate, her hands clenched in her lap. "Robert's family has certain ideas about how things should be, and they're not always cognizant of our budget. And then there's the issue of her maid of honor."

"What issue?" Gladys asked, leaning forward intently.

"She doesn't have one. She wants Lacy to do it, of course, but hasn't had the opportunity to ask." Now it was her mother's turn to stare pointedly at her oldest daughter.

"She wants me to do it?" Lacy repeated, incredulous. Could her sister really be that selfish and oblivious to the havoc she had caused in Lacy's life? At that moment the only thing that kept Lacy from turning and fleeing for safety was the mental image of Tosh and Jason fighting over who would go and get her.

"You're her sister, Lacy. Who else would she ask?" Frannie said.

_Someone whose fiancé she didn't steal,_ Lacy thought. "I don't know, Mom, anyone on the planet but me because I won't do it."

"Lacy," her mother intoned.

"If I get married again, I'm going to elope," her grandmother blurted, startling everyone. Tosh sputtered a laugh and Jason dropped his eyes to his plate, his shoulders shaking in silent mirth.

"Mother!" Frannie exclaimed, diverted from Lacy. "Please tell me you're not planning on eloping."

"Well, Frannie, I'm not getting any younger, and I've always wanted to go to Vegas," Lucinda said. That's when everyone at the table lost it, including Lacy, her father, and Mr. Middleton who put his hand over his eyes to wipe away the tears. Only Frannie remained stoic as she disapprovingly frowned at her mother. Lucinda was oblivious, though, as she surveyed the gathering with a bemused smile and sipped her eggnog.

"This is the best Christmas ever," Sean announced, sparking another round of laughter.

The remainder of supper was equally as merry with no more mention of Riley, marriage, or any other awkward topic. Lacy's grandmother was in especially high spirits and either seemed to feel it was her mission to keep things lighthearted or just couldn't stop herself from being funny because she kept them in stitches throughout the meal.

Lacy's father volunteered to clean the kitchen as soon as supper was finished. She wasn't sure, but she thought maybe it was to escape her mother and the tension that seemed to be constantly between them lately. She would have worked with him and asked him about it, but Tosh and Jason were both circling her, waiting to claim her attention. Before she could try and decide which one to talk to first, her grandmother spoke, claiming all of their attention.

"You know what we don't have enough of in the Episcopalian church, Tosh? Dancing." Everyone watched, spellbound, as Lucinda turned on a CD of Christmas music and started to dance what Lacy could only assume was the twist.

"Oh, my," Gladys said, taking mental pictures so she could tell everyone she knew.

"What's up with your grandma?" Tosh whispered.

"If I had to guess, I'd say it's that eggnog she's been pounding all night," Jason said. "I didn't picture your grandma as a drinker."

"She's not," Lacy said. "She's never tasted alcohol in her life."

"She did tonight," Jason said. He reached for the cup that now only contained trace amounts of eggnog, and held it under Lacy's nose. She blanched and turned her head away, trying not to gag at the overwhelming alcohol smell.

"Tosh!" She turned accusing eyes to a sheepish-looking Tosh. "You brought alcoholic punch to my grandma's Christmas party?"

"I didn't know it was alcoholic. Most of the other stuff everyone has been serving at the parties has been alcohol free. Only some of my parishioners drink. I'm going to go dump it before she drinks anymore and starts taking her clothes off." He escaped to the kitchen while Lacy stared helplessly at her grandmother who was now sashaying around the living room doing a two-step all by herself.

"What should we do?" Lacy asked, sure that her grandmother would be humiliated when she came to and realized what she had done.

"Dance," Jason said. He grasped her elbow and Mr. Middleton's, leading them forward into the center of the room. Leaving Lacy to dance with her grandfather, he caught hold of her grandmother's hand and steered her into a more subdued, yet still lively, dance routine. Giggling like a schoolgirl, she giddily twirled around the dance floor until her daughter's booming voice interrupted her progress.

"Mother, what has gotten into you?" Frannie demanded.

"She's in love," Mr. Middleton answered, letting go of Lacy and grasping Lucinda's hand. "And so am I," he added, bowing to kiss Lucinda's hand while she blushed and fluttered like a schoolgirl.

"But..." Frannie started, but her husband interrupted her.

"Oh, come on, Frannie. It's Christmas. Let your mother have her fun, and let's have some fun, too." He finished drying his hands on a dish towel, tossing it behind him into the kitchen, and then he grasped his wife's hand, drawing her onto the makeshift dance floor. Tosh came back to the room then, too. Ignoring Gladys's protests, he led her onto the dance floor, and soon she was laughing along with everyone else.

Lacy turned to look up at Jason with a smile. "Thanks for doing this," she said.

He returned her smile. "Your grandma is a nice lady; no reason for her to make a spectacle of herself if she can help it."

"I guess you just can't escape drunk people today. I bet you never thought you'd have to help subdue one here. How has your day gone, by the way?"

"It's been quiet. Your grandma was the most excitement I've had all day. At least she's a happy drunk. If they were all like that, I'd be out of a job." Electricity began to crackle between them, and everything else faded away, including the music which was too upbeat for their slow dance. "Is Christmas always this much fun at your house?" he whispered, smoothing his fingers across the hair at her temple.

"No, you caught us on a boring year. Wait until Riley's here; then things get interesting." Her smile faded at the mention of her sister.

"I'm sorry you're hurting, Red," Jason said.

"It's not so bad," Lacy said. "I'll get over it."

"I'm banking on that," Jason said. "About my house," he began, but then his lapel radio crackled to life with a set of codes that meant nothing to Lacy but everything to Jason because he swiftly let her go and took a step back. "That's my cue," he said. "Thanks for supper, and please thank your family for me. I have to go." Ducking forward, he placed a swift kiss on her cheek before turning to sprint out the door.

Lacy looked around and saw Sean sitting alone, watching everyone else dance. She caught his eye and beckoned him forward. "I don't know how to dance," he said when he reached her, red-faced with embarrassment.

"Neither did I when I was your age, but you have to start somewhere. It's easy." She took his arms, resting them on her waist and shoulder and they began to sway gently to the music. "See, you're a natural," she added.

He smiled, but didn't respond. Instead he seemed to be concentrating very hard on not stepping on her toes. Sometimes Lacy felt like she was still an insecure kid, but being near Sean made her realize how far she had come. She so vividly remembered being his age, feeling as if the world was ending over every embarrassment, wanting to simultaneously be noticed and slip into oblivion. She had never felt comfortable with kids her own age, preferring instead to spend time with her grandmother when she wasn't at school.

Another memory occurred to Lacy then, too. When she was fourteen, she'd had a huge crush on a neighbor boy who was a senior in college. He had been someone safe, someone to dream about that she didn't have to talk to—someone who couldn't reject her because she was so out of his realm. She smiled, knowing once and for all who had sent her the locket.

Chapter 13

Before Lacy could confront Sean about his too expensive and inappropriate present, Tosh claimed her attention.

"Lacy, I need to go. I have to get ready for the Christmas Eve service, and something tells me you won't be attending." He turned to look at her grandmother. She was smiling dreamily, draped on Mr. Middleton who didn't look like he minded at all.

"No," Lacy agreed, shuddering at the thought of her very drunk grandmother at church. Who knew what she might do?

"Walk me out," he said, clasping her hand and leading her to the front porch. "So, I'm sorry I got your grandma drunk."

Lacy laughed. "It wasn't actually your fault; you didn't know the eggnog was apparently filled with so much alcohol that it was practically paint thinner."

Tosh sighed. "Still, I feel like I keep messing up where you're concerned."

"Tosh, you're not messing anything up. You're my best friend," Lacy added shyly.

He smiled. "And you're mine. Speaking of which, Merry Christmas." He handed her a small, prettily-wrapped box. She opened it to discover two tickets to the _Nutcracker._

"Tosh, how did you know I wanted to go?" she asked, beaming up at him.

"Maybe it was those twelve times you told me and the brochure you left on my kitchen counter."

"That was an accident," she said.

"Sure it was. Look closely."

She held the tickets closer, peering at them in the dim moonlight. "This is for the performance in Chicago."

He nodded, biting his lip in uncertainty. "I thought since I've already claimed you for New Year's Eve, we might as well make a week of it. Will you fly to Chicago with me in a couple of days after your parents leave? I promise you'll have fun."

"Of course I'll go," she said. "You know I've been dying to meet your family."

He sagged slightly in relief. "Great because I already bought the plane tickets. Oh, and there's one more thing. I found this, and it must be used." He pulled a piece of mistletoe from his pocket and held it over their heads.

Lacy smiled and grasped his lapels, pulling herself aloft so she could reach him. "Silly, you don't need mistletoe to kiss me on Christmas."

"Sneaky you, adding that 'on Christmas' qualifier in there." Resting his hands on her waist, he leaned down to give her a sweet, lingering kiss that was far more than their friendship called for. Lacy didn't protest, though. She was tired of feeling like she always said no to Tosh when he gave so much and asked so little of her in return.

At last the kiss ended and Tosh looked at the mistletoe now crushed in his hand. "This stuff is worth its weight in gold," he said.

Lacy laughed and patted his chest. "Good luck on your sermon."

"Someday soon we're going to have to have a theological discussion about luck and pastors. But not tonight. Merry Christmas." He leaned forward to kiss her forehead one last time and then he walked down the steps.

"Merry Christmas," Lacy called. "I'll bring your present to your house tomorrow. It's big," she added.

He laughed, waving halfheartedly over his shoulder.

She smiled, leaning against the banister until he was out of sight and then she turned and went back inside.

Gladys and Sean were gathering their things as they prepared to leave, too. Lacy hastily retreated to her room, grabbing Sean's present and the locket. She paused before leaving her room, studying the pretty locket. Now that she knew it was from a child, she felt a little foolish for how much stock she had put in it. At least Jason would never know she thought it was from him.

"Sean, can I talk to you a minute," Lacy asked. They stepped outside onto the porch and she pulled his present from inside her coat. "I bought you something." She watched, smiling, while he enthusiastically tore into the present.

"Awesome," he declared. "I don't have this game. Thanks, Lacy."

His smile faltered when he realized she was holding the locket box in her outstretched palm. "Is this from you?" she asked.

"You weren't supposed to open it until tomorrow," Sean said, shifting uncomfortably.

"Sean, I can't keep this," Lacy said gently.

"Why not? I bought it for you, and I meant it. I do love you, Lacy."

She could have told him that he only thought he loved her because he was lonely and she had reached out to him and been a friend, but she didn't. She remembered all too well how it felt to be a kid and have her feelings discounted or trampled. "That makes me feel really special, Sean, but I'm all wrong for you. I'm twelve years older. I want you to take this locket back and keep it for someone more deserving, someone who can wear it proudly."

"I don't have anyone like that. Girls my age don't like me."

"They will," Lacy promised. "I was just like you when I was your age, but things change. People change. Someday you're going to have a line of girls around the block, jockeying for the chance to be with you. I hope when that happens you'll choose wisely and be very happy." She insistently shoved the box against his chest until his hand curled around it.

"But if I take this back it means I didn't get you anything for Christmas," he said, looking genuinely upset by that thought.

"You did," Lacy said. "To tell you the truth, I've been a little sad this Christmas, and this locket meant a lot to me. I set it beside my bed and knew that someone somewhere in the world loved me. That's a special gift, and I'm thankful for it."

He seemed slightly mollified by that. "Okay," he said at last. "I guess it wouldn't have worked anyway since you have a boyfriend."

"What boyfriend?" she asked.

"The cop," he said.

"We're not—" she was about to give the standard denial she used whenever someone thought she and Jason were together, but then she thought maybe it was kinder to let him believe she was attached. "What made you think he's my boyfriend?"

"The way you look at each other. It's like the way your grandma and her boyfriend look at each other—all mushy." He grimaced, shaking his head, and Lacy laughed. Perhaps he wasn't quite ready for romance after all if the thought of being mushy with someone was still repellent.

Gladys arrived on the scene then and claimed him. "Will you play my new game with me?" he called as his grandmother led him toward her car.

"I'd love to," Lacy called. "As long as you let me win again."

"Okay," he said, giving her a genuine smile and a wave, he got into his grandmother's car and disappeared.

"That was nice of you," a voice behind her said. Lacy squealed in surprise as she spun in time to watch Jason emerge from the darkness at the edge of the porch.

"What are you doing back there?"

He hopped the railing and came to stand beside her. "I finished my call and came back to talk to you. The door opened, and I thought it might be you and the pastor. So I hid to eavesdrop." He gave her an unrepentantly wicked grin. Lacy had no reply to that, which was good because he wasn't done speaking. "And I'm glad I did. I learned some things."

"What did you learn?" she asked, uncomfortable as she remembered that she hadn't denied to Sean that Jason was her boyfriend.

"I learned you're sad."

"You already knew that," she said.

He shook his head. "You always have this wounded, vulnerable air about you that makes me want to simultaneously fix you and punch your ex, but this is different. This season has been hard on you and I didn't realize." He took a step forward and clasped her hand. "I also realized that I've been killing myself working overtime so my coworkers can spend time with the people who are important to them. But as a result, I haven't been able to spend time with someone who is important to me. I haven't been here for you much lately, Lacy, and I'm sorry about that." He gave her hand a squeeze.

Her eyes welled up, but before she could tell him that was the sweetest thing he had ever said to her, he continued speaking, obliterating all of her warm feelings.

"I also learned you thought the locket the kid gave you was from me."

"I never said that," she said, snatching her hand from his.

"You didn't have to; I read between the lines."

"You were one of many possible candidates," she said.

"Aren't I always?" he said ruefully. "But in order to clear up the mystery of your Christmas present, here it is." He handed her a small, neatly wrapped box. She stared at it uncertainly. "It's not live snakes," he said. "You can open it."

She looked up at him. "Who is the mystery blond?"

His answering smile was so smug she was sure he wasn't going to tell her, but he did. "She's our district FOP representative. I have the unfortunate duty of being our local rep this year which, hallelujah, ends in a week. But there's a lot of last minute business to tie up, so Jenna and I have had a lot of meetings lately."

"She's very pretty," Lacy said, carefully keeping her tone neutral.

"I'll tell her husband you think so. He's a friend of mine. They're having a baby in a few months."

"That woman is pregnant?" Lacy asked, incredulous because of her near-perfect figure. "I hope I look that good when I'm pregnant."

"I have a feeling you'll look even better," Jason said. He tapped the present in her hand, reminding her to open it.

She did, gasping in surprise when she saw a ring. "It's beautiful," Lacy said, feeling uncertain and overwhelmed. She hadn't expected a ring.

"I was going to tell you that I bought it because it's a ruby and the red color reminded me of your hair, but I realized something else while Sean was talking. A fourteen year old kid has more guts than I do. We've danced around the issue of us for a long time now. We're friends, and neither of us is ready for anything more now. I get that. But I have to believe there's going to be a someday for us, Lacy, when all our issues are resolved and we can explore the crazy chemistry between us. So this ring is a sign of that hope." He took the ring from its box and slipped it on the third finger of her right hand. "Someday."

"I..." she floundered, unsure of what to say.

He pressed his fingers gently against her lips. "This is my promise to you; I wasn't expecting a reply."

"Thank you," she said lamely. The words were inadequate, but there was no way to express what she was feeling at the moment.

He smiled, resting his hands on her waist. "There's only one thing left to discuss."

"What's that?" His light tone made her wary, and for good reason.

"Someone broke into my house today."

"Are you sure they broke in? Because I thought if they used a key then technically it wasn't illegal."

"You know how I feel about technicalities," Jason said sternly.

"Jason, I just..." she trailed off, unsure of what to say next.

"Lacy, I'm teasing you. I thought it was awesome—possibly the nicest and most fun gift anyone has ever given me. Thank you."

She smiled, sagging in relief. "You're welcome."

They studied each other in silence a few beats. Lacy could practically hear the current of attraction crackling between them. "So I was thinking that maybe we could spend New Year's together."

By the halting, nervous way he said it, she guessed asking a woman for a New Year's date was a big deal for him. "I'm going to be out of town," she said, hating to reject him when it was something so monumental.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"Chicago," she answered, not needing to say more. He knew Tosh lived in Chicago.

"Oh. I guess the early pastors get the hot worms."

"I don't think I like that analogy," she told him.

He smiled. "So maybe after you're back we can go out for a belated celebration. And you could wear that slinky red dress."

"That sounds nice," she said.

Quietness crept over them again, but Lacy didn't mind. For the moment she was content just being in his arms. "There's an old superstition that says the person you kiss on midnight New Year's Eve is the person you'll be with for all of that year," Jason said.

"I've never put much stock in superstition," she said.

"Even so, maybe we could make plans to spend next New Year's together. Apparently your schedule fills up quickly and I need to make advance arrangements."

Was he telling her he wanted to be with her for all of next year? And, if so, was she ready for that? "Don't you want to wait until it's closer to the actual day? A lot can happen in a year."

"That's what I'm counting on," Jason said. "Say yes, Lacy, for once just say yes to me."

"Yes," Lacy replied.

"I can't believe that worked," Jason said. "Now kiss me."

"Okay, but only because I want to, and not because you told me to," Lacy said.

"I knew it couldn't last, but I'll take what I can get. Merry Christmas, Red."

"Merry Christmas, Jason," Lacy said, then she stood on her toes and kissed him.
Epilogue

Lacy stood in her room, hastily packing for her trip to Chicago. Tosh had told her to bring a few fancy dresses, and after learning how far off base his definition of fancy was, she had emptied her closet in search of the proper wardrobe. Now, armed with something for every occasion, she was hurriedly stuffing items into her suitcase. Tosh would kill her if she was late, but it wasn't her fault this time. Or maybe it was, but saying goodbye to her parents hadn't been easy, and it had taken a long time.

They went out for breakfast—her father's treat since he had ended up liking Tosh as much as he liked Jason. They had lingered for a long time, enjoying the pleasant conversation. Christmas day had also been pleasant with just Lacy, her parents and grandparents. Even Riley's call hadn't been enough to dislodge Lacy's good mood, especially when her mother thoughtfully carried the phone into the other room to talk.

Her mother had made a concerted effort to get along with Mr. Middleton. While they weren't exactly close, they were making strides, especially after she learned how he had stayed up half the night with her mother, holding her hair while she threw up. Frannie Steele did not do well with bodily fluids and, while she blamed her mother's illness on a virus, she had been glad not to have to deal with it.

Her goodbye exchange with Mr. Middleton had given Lacy even more cause for hope. "Goodbye, Mr. Middle—Tom," she had corrected herself, politely extending her hand.

"Goodbye, Fran," he had said in his usual reserved way that belied none of what he must have felt at saying goodbye to his daughter as if she were a stranger.

"Call me Frannie," Lacy's mother had replied with a smile. He had smiled in return, and Lacy's spirits had soared.

Lacy's poor grandmother, on the other hand, had spent Christmas day with a miserable hangover, but still managed to have a good time after Lacy and her grandfather managed to convince her that she hadn't done anything too embarrassing while she was inadvertently drunk. They also convinced her it was their little secret, not telling her that Tosh, Jason, and Gladys had all been witness to her show. Tosh and Jason wouldn't say anything, of course, and Gladys would hopefully take Mr. Middleton's proffered excuse and chalk her friend's odd behavior to being in love. Since the church's rumor mill wasn't buzzing about the incident, Lacy thought they might have gotten away with the ruse.

After stuffing her suitcase to maximum capacity, Lacy stood back to double check that she had everything. Satisfied that she was prepared for every contingency, she began putting away everything she hadn't packed. That's when she stumbled across her ring, the one Robert had given her when they first started dating. She held it in her palm, comparing it to Jason's ring which lay propped in its open box on her nightstand. They were vastly different. Robert's ring was a cheap knockoff that had turned her finger green. The stone was a piece of glass. Jason's ring was vintage—real gold and a real ruby. Oddly enough, however, the meanings behind the rings were the same. Both had been a promise on an unknown future.

In Robert's case, he had broken his promise. Lacy's insides twisted with the thought that Jason might do the same. What if she gave him a chance and he broke her heart? How could she survive that kind of heartache twice in a row? She couldn't. Wasn't it better not to try?

She found solace in the fact that Jason wasn't pressuring her for anything right now. He had said they might be ready for something in the future, but the future was shady and far off. That uncertainty gave Lacy hope that someday she might actually be willing to try love again and maybe with Jason.

With that thought in mind, she fisted her hand around Robert's ring. Before she could lose her resolve, she walked to the bathroom and flushed it down the commode, watching as the water slowly swirled the ugly little ring out of sight.

"Why are you bent over the toilet?"

She hadn't heard Tosh enter the house, but she didn't jump in surprise, even though he had startled her.

"Are you sick?" he added, looking worried.

"No, I'm fine. Or I will be." Jason was right; the past was over, and it was time to move on. Maybe someday she would be ready for something more. But for now there was Chicago and Tosh.

"Ready?" Tosh asked, his faced breaking into an excited smile.

"I'm ready," Lacy replied, placing her hand in his as he led her out the bathroom door.

