Cozy Christmas

“Very well.” He slid the folded table into the back of the van with his other supplies and slammed the rear door.

“That’s great! Can I include it in my next article about the Main Street merchants?”

“Actually, I was hoping you’d do a separate short feature as promo for the reopening. I thought I’d have a free screening sometime between Christmas and New Year’s. What do you think? Would people come then?”

“It’s more likely than if you schedule it before Christmas. What film are you planning to show?”

“It’s A Wonderful Life.”

“Oh, I love that one!”

“A lot of folks do, I guess.”

Whitney giggled. “Why am I getting the idea that you’re not one of them?”

“Beats me. I like that film better than the ones with Santa Claus in them.”

“Because your parents used to fool you about Santa bringing toys down the chimney?”

Josh’s brow knit. “No. Actually, I was never taught about Santa or reindeer or elves or any of that stuff.” When he saw Whitney’s mouth gape he had to laugh. “Well, I wasn’t. Of course I never heard much about the real Christmas story, either. If my mother had not taken me to Sunday school a few times I might never have heard of Jesus.”

“That’s terrible.”

“Not really. It’s hard to miss something you’ve never had,” Josh said flatly. “As I told you, my dad was a no-nonsense kind of guy.”

“What about your mother? She did take you to church?”

“Occasionally. Come to think of it, we went when Dad was out of town on business, so I doubt he even knew, not that he would have cared, other than to insist we were wasting our time.”

Josh noticed an added sparkle to Whitney’s eyes when she took off her glasses and pocketed them.

“You said your mother was going to be on a cruise at Christmas this year?”

He nodded. “That’s right.”

“Then why not spend the day at my house, with my family? We’d love to have you join us.”

“Thanks, but no thanks. I wouldn’t fit in.”

“How about some other night then? Unlike me, my mom is a great cook. She has never once come close to setting the kitchen on fire.”

“Well, maybe.” He shrugged, wondering why he had such a strong urge to accept her offer.

“Tell you what,” Whitney said, brightening. “Look for us in church tomorrow morning. I’ll introduce you to my family and Mom can invite you herself.”

“You really don’t have to put yourself out, Whitney.” He managed a half smile that lifted one corner of his mouth higher than the other.

“If I didn’t want you to come for supper, I wouldn’t have asked you in the first place,” she countered.

Josh’s grin widened. “I know you. You probably think if you can get me into a casual social setting I’ll slip and reveal more about myself. Right?”

“Hey, I never claimed my motives were totally above suspicion. Just remember, if I wasn’t trying to be neighborly I’d have stuck to trying to trace you via the internet. I don’t have to take you home and feed you to research you.”

“True enough. What I don’t understand is why you feel it’s so important to dig into my private life. Believe me, I’m just a regular guy.”

When Whitney sobered and said, “There is nothing regular about you,” Josh was stunned. Once again, she was sounding as if she knew more about him than she probably did. He’d have to be very, very careful or she’d put two and two together and come up with four.

How Whitney would react if and when she learned that he was the town’s mystery benefactor was pretty predictable. She’d be fit to be tied.

Or maybe worse.

* * *

Whitney thought about Josh and his admittedly barren childhood all the way home. What a shame that he had missed out on so much fun as a boy. There was no way to actually make up for his upbringing, of course, but she intended to give it a try.

Pulling the Mustang into the empty side of the double garage, she used her remote to close the door behind her before getting out of the car. It was a tight fit these days. Ever since her dad’s recent knee surgery, her mother had been doing all the driving. Consequently, their SUV was crowded to the right of center, leaving Whitney a lot less room to maneuver in the space that was left for her.

She grabbed her tote and managed to wiggle it out after her, then headed for the house. The moment she opened the kitchen door, the enticing aromas of an Italian meal made her mouth water.

Not seeing anyone at the table or any food left on the stove, she called, “I’m home! I hope you saved me some supper. I’m starving.”

“In the refrigerator,” her mother answered. “How was the party in the park?”

That was a question Whitney had been asking herself all the way home. Her so-called investigation was getting nowhere, but her interest in one of the merchants seemed to be making great progress. Whether that was good or bad, however, was yet to be determined.