the shelf. That should do it. Oh, but there was Chutes and Ladders. Sheâd played that with John when he was little. She shied away from the vision of a little boy with a sweet face and strawberry blond curls, instead forcing her mind to stay with the business at hand, and piled that game on top of the other. Look at all these aisles, she thought. So many toys. What else did they have that might tempt her?
They had plenty, and before she knew it Carol had a teetering pile of goodies in addition to her two board games: a puzzle, a doll, a baseball and mitt, and a kit for growing sea monkeys. Okay, enough already.
She paid for her treasures, then went to the booth where Corey Carlson and Flo the traffic girl stood exchanging chitchat. The other women had left and the two were alone now.
The gaze Corey ran over Carol proclaimed him a connoisseur of women. By his age heâd probably had a few, so it was no surprise that heâd look. What surprised Carol was that the look seemed to hold some measure of appreciation.
âHere comes another Santaâs helper,â he said jovially as she stepped up to the booth. âThat looks like a pretty generous donation.â
âItâs for a good cause.â
âYouâre right there.â
âCan we give you a cookie in exchange?â Flo offered.
Corey Carlson wasnât wearing a wedding ring. Carol took a cookie and wished she could remember how to flirt. She took the wish back instantly. What a disloyal thought!
âHow about a cup of coffee to go with that?â he offered.
Coffee would keep her up all night, and she hated being awake and alone in the long, dark hours.
She shook her head. âNo, thanks.â
âItâs Starbucks, only the best for our listeners. You are a listener, arenât you?â he added with a grin.
âYes, and if youâre fishing for compliments, Iâll be happy to give you one. I love your show.â
His grin widened. âGlad to hear it.â He leaned his elbows on the counter. âTell me more.â
âWell, Iâve actually learned a lot about politics. And I like the way you treat your listeners when they call in. Youâre not rude like some talk show hosts. Iâve never heard you cut someone off or call anyone a name.â
âI try not to. Have I ever talked to you? Whatâs your name?â
âCarol.â
âChristmas Carol,â he quipped.
Was he flirting with her? Yes, that was definitely the smile of a man who was flirting.
Carol felt suddenly flattered, nervous, and guilty. She realized she was fingering the gold band she had finally transferred to her right hand. âWell, merry Christmas,â she said quickly, and started for the door.
âWhatâs your hurry?â he called after her.
âI have to get home,â she called back. My cat is waiting for dinner.
She kicked herself all the way to her car. Sheâd just had an opportunity to rejoin the human race and sheâd tossed away the application. She unlocked her car and got in, heart pounding fast. She wasnât ready yet. Miserable as she was, she just wasnât ready. Maybe she never would be.
She flipped down her visor and looked at her reflection. What could that man have possibly seen in her? She looked old, and tired, like a woman who had run a race that turned out to be much too long and hard. She burst into tears. She hated her life, and right now she hated Christmas.
Seven
On Thursday, December 1, Whit Walters, the editor of the Holly Herald, called Rosemary Charles into his office. âThis,â he said, tapping the screen on his computer monitor, âis good stuff.â
She couldnât help preening a little. She sashayed over to the old leather chair opposite his desk and slid into it. âI know. Iâm brilliant.â
He ignored the opportunity to agree with her, instead turning back to his copy on the screen and saying,
Yenthu Wentz
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