Home for the Holidays by Rochelle Alers Page B

popcorn.”
    Collier rested a hand at the small of Iris’s back as they neared the concession counter. “Why don’t I get a small bucket, and then we can share it.”
    â€œSure.”
    â€œButter?”
    Iris smiled. “Of course.” She stood off to the side to make room for others ordering candy, buffalo wings, hotdogs, crab cakes, popcorn, pizza, and soda. Ticket prices were discounted while the food at the concessions was slightly higher than comparable items sold in mainland movie theaters.
    She watched as two women, wearing knitted hats and ski jackets over black leggings, practically jump Collier, holding him captive as he struggled to extricate himself. Iris shook her head. Even when she seduced him at Happy Hour, it’d been with words, not action.
    â€œOooh, Collier,” the shorter one squealed. “I heard you were back. How long are you staying?”
    Collier drew back when she rested her hands on his cheeks. “Not long.”
    â€œI heard you were in Iraq. It must have been awful for you.”
    Iris contemplated whether she would have to rescue Collier, but he preempted her notion when he managed to free one of his arms and pointed in her direction. Smiling, she blew him an air-kiss; the crestfallen expressions on the faces of the women were priceless.
    She recognized both women as Muffin Corner customers. “Hello, ladies.” One was a librarian and the other a teller at the local bank. Her facetiousness was lost on them when they returned her saccharine-sweet smile with friendly ones. Approaching Collier, Iris put her arm around his waist. “I’ll help you carry something, darling .” The endearment prompted the women to move to the opposite end of the counter.
    Collier kissed her ear. “You know gossip about us will be all over the island before the sun comes up tomorrow.”
    â€œI don’t care,” she said.
    Lowering his head, Collier brushed a kiss over her parted lips. “And frankly, my dear, I, too, don’t give a damn.”
    Iris took delight in their brief shared moment, his pronouncement echoing what lay in her heart. She, too, didn’t give a damn because she was falling in love with Collier Ward.
    After the movie had finished, Collier and Iris left the theater, and instead of heading home, they sat in the town square along with a number of other couples. It was as if no one wanted to go home despite the hour and the mercury hovering around freezing. The lights, decorations, and pre-recorded traditional Christmas music flowing from speakers attached to poles proved infectious when several older couples in the square sang along as their voices blended harmoniously.
    Iris and Collier applauded with the small crowd that had gathered to listen. They sang several more songs, including her favorite “O Holy Night,” took their bows amid thunderous applause, and left.
    â€œAren’t you cold?” Iris asked Collier.
    Everyone wore winter jackets while he’d forgone a jacket for a long sleeve tee and a ski sweater. “Nah. I’m used to desert temperatures going from over a hundred during the day to freezing at night.”
    Iris huddled closer to his side. “I don’t know about you, but I’m freezing.”
    He stood up, extending his hand and bringing her up with him. “Come on, darling. I’ll take you home and warm you up real nice.”

Chapter Six
    Rum Punch
3 cups water
1 pint passion fruit sorbet, melted
One 12-ounce can frozen orange juice concentrate, thawed
One 12-ounce can frozen pineapple juice concentrate, thawed
1¼ cups white rum
¾ cup golden rum
¼ cup plus 2 tablespoons grenadine
3 tablespoons fresh lime juice
½ teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
    In a large punch bowl or pitcher, combine the water with the sorbet, orange and pineapple juice concentrates, white and golden rums, grenadine, lime juice, and nutmeg. Fill tall glasses with ice, pour in the