Beneath the Mistletoe: Make-Believe Mistletoe / Christmas Bonus, Strings Attached

“He snores almost as loudly as Bobby Ray.”

The other woman laughed, then looked into the pantry again. “Poor Banner’s getting low on supplies. We’ll all have to chip in for groceries before we leave.”

“Definitely.” But Lucy wondered if he would accept any money from them. Banner seemed to be the fiercely proud and independent type. “We could make sandwiches with chips and pickles on the side. I saw some lunch meat out in the cooler. It should probably be used soon.”

“Sandwiches sound fine.”

Lucy stepped out onto the porch, glancing toward the workshop as she did so. The doors were closed, but a thin plume of smoke rose from a small chimney in the roof, indicating a woodstove of some sort. She wondered if it was really taking Banner this long to craft a simple stand for the tree or if he was busying himself in his workshop to avoid entertaining his guests. She suspected the latter.

It was probably just as well that he was staying away, she decided. She was getting much too intrigued by that man. And with her tendency to tumble into trouble, she was likely to do something stupid if she spent much more time with him—especially as close as she had been to him on this porch earlier, she thought with a touch of pensiveness.

If she had ever seen a heartache waiting to happen, it was Banner—a man so private and reserved that he had only shared one name with her.

She carried the lunch meat back inside, closing the back door on the sight of Banner’s workshop.

Working in comfortable unison, Lucy and Joan assembled the ingredients for sandwiches. Lucy’s curiosity about Joan was growing, and she had never been very successful at reining in her curiosity. She would, however, try to be as tactful as possible with her prying.

“Your children are very well behaved,” she began. “Considering everything, they’ve been real troupers today.”

Joan’s brown eyes brightened in response to the compliment. “Thank you. I really appreciate everything you all have done to entertain them.”

Lucy shrugged. “It keeps us entertained, too. Are you a single mom?”

She had tried to slip the question in casually, but subtlety had never been one of Lucy’s talents. Joan stiffened a bit. “Yes,” she replied after a moment. “I’m divorced. The kids haven’t seen their father in several years.”

“You’re doing a wonderful job with them.”

“I do my best.”

It couldn’t be easy raising two children alone, Lucy mused. Which was why a solemn respect for the responsibilities of fatherhood was high on her list of husband qualifications. Lucy definitely wanted children, and it was her intention to provide those children with a good father.

“Have you ever been married?” Joan asked, turning the questioning around.

“No, but I’m looking,” Lucy replied cheerfully.

“Um, you are?”

“Yep. I’ve been on more blind dates than I can count during the past year. None of them has led to anything promising, but I haven’t given up.”

“So you really are looking.”

“Oh, yes. I concentrated on establishing my career first, but now I’m ready to establish a family. I’ll be twenty-eight in a few months.”

“I was married at twenty-three,” Joan confided as she spread mustard on a slice of wheat bread. “Three years later we were on the verge of a breakup when I found out I was pregnant with Tyler. We struggled along for another couple of years, but Roger left while I was pregnant with Tricia. He said he couldn’t handle the pressure of a wife and two children.”

What a jerk. Keeping that thought to herself, Lucy said only, “I’m sorry.”

Joan shrugged. “It was all for the best, I suppose. The kids and I have gotten along fine without him.”

More determined than ever to make sure Tyler and Tricia had a nice Christmas, Lucy asked, “Do you have their Christmas gifts in your car?”

“Yes, hidden in the trunk. Why?”

Lucy glanced quickly toward the doorway. She could hear Pop and the children singing “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” in the living room, so she felt safe enough saying, “Would you like for Santa Claus to stop here for them tonight? We have a tree—and the rest of us could help you.”

Joan turned to face her, obviously intrigued by the suggestion. “I had thought I’d just wait until we reached my mother’s house, but maybe—”

“Wouldn’t they get a kick out of waking up tomorrow morning to discover that Santa found them after all?”

Joan’s smile turned tremulous in anticipation. “They would be thrilled.”

“Then let’s do it.”

Joan nodded. “It’s a deal.”

Lucy called Banner in from his workshop for lunch, which they ate around the dining room table. Bobby Ray was moving more easily now, the pain reliever having done its job, and everyone seemed to be in good spirits.

After lunch Banner carried in the six-foot-tall cedar he and Bobby Ray had found earlier. Banner had nailed a wooden stand to the bottom of the tree, which he set in one corner of the living room.

“We don’t have any twinkle lights,” Tricia said, studying the bare branches.

Her brother gave a long-suffering sigh. “We don’t have any electricity, dopey-head. The lights wouldn’t work even if we had some.”

“I’m not a dopey-head,” Tricia protested, lower lip protruding.

“Are, too.”

“Am not!”

Joan interceded quickly. “It’s Christmas Eve, kids. Don’t forget who might be listening.”

They fell silent immediately. Tricia looked around as if searching for hidden Santa listening devices. Joan and Lucy exchanged conspiratorial smiles.

Joan helped the children drape strung popcorn and paper chains around the tree. A stack of imaginative paper-glitter-button-and-ribbon ornaments waited to be hung from the branches. Pop, Miss Annie and Bobby Ray watched indulgently, offering occasional suggestions.

Lucy remembered seeing a box of cocoa in the pantry. She leaned toward Banner. “Would you mind if I make hot chocolate?”

He made a sweeping gesture toward the kitchen. “Mi casa es su casa. At least until the ice melts.”

She gave him a sympathetic smile and patted his arm. “You’re a very gracious host.”

“I’ll be even more gracious,” he countered. “I’ll help you make the cocoa.”

“You’re just trying to avoid decorating.”

He smiled, a very brief flash of white teeth against his tanned face. “You’ve got that right.”

She very nearly melted into a puddle right there at his feet. All it took was a tiny little smile, she thought in bemusement. Amazing…