An Angel for Christmas by Heather Graham Page A

this?” Morwenna asked.
    â€œI didn’t. Mike?” Stacy asked.
    â€œNo, I didn’t buy it, I’m sorry to say,” Mike said.
    â€œNot me—I’m the hat and gloves,” Bobby said.
    â€œI’m the computer bag,” Shayne said.
    â€œSanta Claus!” Genevieve announced.
    â€œHow curious,” Morwenna said. She took out the chain and little medallion, and Bobby offered to fasten it around her neck. She felt it as it lay against her flesh, and touched it gently. “I’ll figure out my secret Santa, guys. But thank you one and all.”
    â€œSo who is next—Shayne or Gabe?” Connor asked.
    â€œGabe—I believe I’m older,” Shayne said.
    Gabe seemed humbled and appreciative as he opened his gifts. When he got to Morwenna’s present, he smiled at her. “Uncanny! It’s my favorite. But—”
    â€œHey!” Stacy said. “You’re our guest. Please enjoy what little we have to offer. And, now, Shayne, it’s to you!”
    Shayne feigned excitement over his gifts and Morwenna wanted to make it all better for her older brother.
    It was his first Christmas as a divorced man.
    The kids went on to help Mike and Stacy open their presents, and then Stacy announced that it was time for a quick breakfast.
    â€œBut not too many people in the kitchen, please, or I can’t get anything done,” Stacy said. “Morwenna, you and Gabe can come with me. Bobby, you and Dad set the table. Shayne, gather up all the wrappings and get them into the garbage—all right, everyone?”
    It was agreed. Stacy had her crowd well in hand; she turned on a Christmas CD, and everyone went about their tasks.
    On egg duty with Gabe in the kitchen, Morwenna realized that he had put on a spray of the men’s cologne she had given him.
    She smiled. “Nice,” she told him. She hesitated, staring at him. “Was the angel from you?”
    â€œAngels are from above,” he teased in return.
    â€œBut, seriously, was it? Was it meant for someone else in your life?” she asked.
    â€œWas the cologne?”
    â€œCologne is easy—it’s in every department store,” she said.
    He laughed. “Maybe angels are easy, too, if you just look.”
    She turned away, humming to the song on the CD, “O Little Town of Bethlehem.”
    â€œYou don’t sound at all like a sick hyena,” Gabe told her.
    â€œAnyone can hum,” she assured him.
    â€œWatch the eggs!” Stacy commanded.
    They both laughed. Once Stacy pulled the toast out and Morwenna’s father and brothers wound up in the kitchen and they all bumped into each other as they brought the food out to the table.
    In a few minutes breakfast was all set up, and they gathered around the table, and there were several minutes of “Pass the toast, please,” or “Can you hand me that plate of hash browns?” until all their plates were filled. Coffee and drinks were poured and passed, and everyone praised Stacy fora delicious breakfast, and then Bobby told the kids to go up and get their snowsuits on, threatening them with a snowball fight.
    When the kids had gone with Shayne to get dressed for the snow, Stacy sat back with her coffee and said, “Bobby, play us something. Something Christmasy and magical.”
    When Bobby returned with his guitar, he perched on a kitchen stool and strummed a few notes.
    â€œâ€˜O Holy Night,’” Gabe suggested.
    Bobby nodded and played and sang. When he finished, Stacy stood and came over and kissed him on the cheek, tears brimming in her eyes. “That was really beautiful,” she said.
    â€œI’ve applied to Juilliard,” Bobby said, wincing slightly as he looked at his father. “I may well not make it. I don’t know how many incredibly talented people apply every year. But I know how you feel, Dad, and you won’t be responsible for helping me. I’ve