Do You Hear What I Hear?

The boss.

That was him. Joshua Gardner was in charge, in control. It had been a long time since he’d felt as if he was in control of anything. But now he was the sole owner of Gardner’s Ophthalmology. Every piece of furniture and all the equipment in the office was his. The hiring and firing of staff for the office was all up to him. Even the wallpaper decisions were all his. The buck stopped at his desk.

The problem was the bucks were close to stopping altogether. Buying Dr. Master’s practice, deciding to buy the office building rather than rent it, relocating to Erie…It all took money. After his divorce, his bank account was suddenly lighter than it had been in years. At the moment it wasn’t just light, it was next to empty. But the practice came with a built-in patient base, so hopefully he’d recoup some of his money soon.

Joshua glanced around his office, most of his things still in boxes. The painters were coming tonight to give the waiting room and his office a badly needed face-lift. His new border—which was perfect no matter what Amy thought—would go up sometime next week. Things were progressing.

The move had been the right thing to do. Coming home to Erie, Pennsylvania, had been just what he’d needed to begin his life anew in the city where he’d begun his life. If he walked to the corner and looked down the road, he could see the hospital he was born in. Farther down State Street was the bay where he’d learned to water-ski. Happy memories were stored in about every corner of the city.

Dr. Joshua Gardner was home, he was in charge of his destiny and things were going to be great.

The intercom buzzed. “Doctor?”

“Yes, Amy.”

“Your eight o’clock is here.”

“I’m coming.” Josh shoved his papers to the back of the desk. He was home, doing the job he loved to do, and had probably even scored a few brownie points with his new neighbor with his flowers. Every woman loved to get flowers.

Yes, things were going to be just great.

Chapter Two

“So, what do you think?”

Eight o’clock in the morning was too early to think, too early to deal with Mabel, too early to deal with just about anything. That’s why Libby never scheduled her first hair appointment until eight-thirty if she could help it. Coffee and paperwork for half an hour. It was quiet and eased her into a fully functional human.

And if customers were too much to deal with, Mabel was a complete overload of her fragile system.

Libby finished scooping the coffee into the filter, trying to come up with a convincing reason why she couldn’t help Mabel out. “I don’t think—”

It’s a good idea. That’s how Libby had planned to end the sentence, but Mabel cut her off and said, “So don’t think. Just say yes. It will be fun.”

“If it’s going to be so much fun, why don’t you do it?” Libby slammed the filter into the coffeemaker and hit the switch.

“Hey, I’m president of the association, I can’t hog all the fun jobs. And I’m doing my bit for the area. Now it’s your turn.”

“Couldn’t I find some other turn to take? I could plan a bake sale, or—”

“You could plan the Christmas party.” Mabel shook a motherly finger at Libby. “I need someone I know I can count on.”

“But I don’t have the time.” Time. Libby felt as if every day was a race against the clock. All day long on her feet, then her evenings with Meg, and all the responsibility for the household chores and…

Libby shook her head. No, she didn’t have time for anything else.

“What if I got someone to co-chair the event?” Mabel asked.

Mabel wasn’t going to give up. Libby could see it in the older woman’s stubborn expression and realized she’d lost this particular battle before she’d even started fighting.

Facing the inevitable, she asked, “Someone who’ll co-chair in name only, or someone who is willing to dig in and really work?”

“Work.” Mabel held up her fingers in a scout’s honor sign and then crossed her heart.

If the woman had a heart she would never have come to Libby and made this absurd request in the first place. Despite the fact that everything in her was screaming to refuse, Libby found herself saying, “Maybe, if I’m not doing everything all by myself, I could manage.”

“Of course you can,” Mabel promised. “This is a good way for you to have some fun. We all worry about you. All you do is work and take care of Meg. You need a life.”

“And planning a Christmas party is your way of assuring I get a life?”

Mabel shrugged even as she broke into a grin. “It’s a start. And if you have any problems or questions, you know you just have to ask.”

The coffeemaker made the glug, glug sound that indicated it was done brewing. Gratefully Libby poured herself a mug. If Mabel had come after her first few cups, she suspected she would have done a better job of getting out of this particular task.

“If I have questions, you’ll have the answer?” she asked.

“Of course not. I’m a delegator, not a problem solver.” Mabel grinned infectiously. “But I’ll sympathize.”

“Gee, you’re too generous.”

Mabel shrugged. “It’s a fault.”

“Do you want a cup?” Libby asked, but Mabel shook her head. “You know it’s going to be your fault if this party is a bust. I don’t throw personal parties, so what do I know about throwing one for around fifty people?”

“As much as anyone else, I’m afraid. And, Libby?”

Something in Mabel’s tone made Libby even more concerned. She took a fortifying gulp of coffee. “Yes?”

“Um, I did mention that this Christmas party isn’t just for the group?”

“No?” It was for more than the dozen or so businesses, and their employees, that made up the Perry Square Small Business Association?

“Families, too.”

“Mabel!” Quickly Libby’s mind tried to come up with some calculations. The Perry Square Business Association, the PSBA, had a dozenish businesses as members, about fifty people. If families were included, that was definitely over a hundred people.

“Just how many people am I planning for?” Libby asked.

“Oh, I don’t know. Somewhere under two hundred. And don’t worry. I’ll have a list of kids for you, and their ages.”

Libby glared at the woman she used to consider a friend. “Why do I need the children’s ages?”

“So Santa can have the appropriate presents there for them.”

“Presents?” What on earth had she gotten herself into? “Mabel, you didn’t say anything about families, or kids or presents. I was thinking a brunch at some restaurant, maybe a party favor or two. There’s no way—”

“—you could do it alone, which is why the idea of a co-chair is such a good one.” Mabel must have sensed she’d best get while the getting was good, because she grabbed her coat and started toward the door.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Libby called. “We’re not done talking here.”