Christmas on My Mind by Janet Dailey Page A

entrance to the kitchen.
    â€œCome on in, you two. Supper’s on the table. And I’ve already cleared out a corner for the tree.”
    Ben gave her thin shoulders a hug. “I told you not to overdo, Mom. You’ll wear yourself out. But that chili does smell good.”
    â€œJust the thing for a cold night,” Jess said. “Don’t worry about cleaning up. I’ll do that. And then you can supervise from your rocking chair while we decorate the tree. We’re depending on you to tell us exactly what to do.”
    While they sat at the kitchen table, feasting on chili, green salad and skillet corn bread, Jess told Clara about the house and her idea for making it into a bed-and-breakfast.
    â€œThat’s a wonderful idea!” Clara exclaimed. “The town needs a place for people to stay over. But such a risk, dear. Doesn’t it worry you, the idea of all the things that could go wrong?”
    â€œOf course it does,” Jess said. “That’s why I haven’t made a final decision yet.”
    â€œDon’t think you can talk her out of it, Mom,” Ben said. “I already tried that. The more I argued against her taking on that house, the deeper she dug in her heels.”
    â€œI’m sure Jess has the wisdom to make the right choice,” Clara said. “I know that old house. One of my grade-school friends lived there. We used to play dolls in her upstairs room. Then her mother left and took the three children with her. I never saw my friend again.”
    â€œSo the old man who lived there alone was your friend’s father?”
    â€œThat’s right. He never remarried after his family left. I’ve heard that he became quite strange in his old age—but who am I to judge the poor man?”
    â€œAnd the woman who showed me the house?”
    â€œHis granddaughter. She moved back to town with her husband about ten years ago. I’ve never gotten to know her, or had a chance to ask her about my friend. People move on.” Clara’s voice had taken on a wistful note.
    â€œHey!” Ben broke into the conversation. “If we’re finished eating, what do you say we get that tree in?”
    â€œLet’s do it,” Jess said. “Do go in the living room and sit down, Clara. I’ll finish up here while Ben does the muscle work. Then I’ll come in and help.”
    As Ben charged out of the kitchen, Clara gave Jess a knowing smile. “Ben insists that he only does the tree for Ethan. But he’s loved Christmas all his life. When it comes to getting that tree up and decorated, he’s as eager as a little boy!”
    â€œI’ll keep that in mind. Now please go relax and enjoy the show.” Jess guided Ben’s mother gently but firmly to the living room and saw her seated in her favorite chair.
    While she was clearing the table, Jess heard the bump and rustle of Ben hauling the tree into the house. She was loading the dishwasher when he came into the kitchen, his hair mussed, his eyes dancing, his skin and clothes giving off the spicy scent of fresh pine. “Water for the tree stand,” he explained, as he found a two-quart pitcher in the cupboard and filled it from the tap. “Are you about finished in here? I just need to get the decorations out of the closet upstairs. Then we’ll be ready to hang them on the tree. That’s when I’ll need your help.”
    Jess couldn’t help smiling as he rushed out of the kitchen with the water. Moments later she heard his footsteps on the stairs and the intermittent rummaging in the overhead storage closet. Clara was right. When it came to Christmas, Branding Iron’s steely-eyed lawman was like an enthusiastic boy.
    Jess shook her head as she rinsed the dishes. How could any man be so adorable—as well as chivalrous, brave and equipped to handle anything?
    Heaven save her, was she falling for a blasted Boy Scout?

Chapter Seven
    J ess