That Christmas Feeling by Catherine Palmer, Gail Gaymer Martin Page A

everybody.”
    “But these days, you won’t reveal your true emotions even to me. You’re locked away like Rapunzel in a tower.”
    “Whoa, now. Wasn’t Rapunzel a girl? She was the one with all that long hair, and the prince had to—”
    “Robert West! Don’t try to change the subject.” Claire jabbed her finger at his chest. “I am being deadly serious here. My aunt got hurt, so she turned her back on people, and look what happened to her. I’ve been heading right down that same road…”
    “Yeah, you’ve got your first cat already.”
    “This is not about cats!” she said hotly. “Quit making jokes and listen to me! You are the police chief, and you’re not too dumb to hear what I’m saying. I don’t want you to turn out like my aunt and me. You’d better stop pushing people away.”
    “All right,” he said, taking her arms and pulling her close. “Is this better?”
    She caught her breath as his hand slid down her back, drawing her against his chest. “Rob, I didn’t mean…”
    “Didn’t you?”
    “No, I…”
    “I think you meant this,” he said, brushing his lips across hers. “And this.” He kissed her again, taking time to fold her in his arms and teach her lips the extent of his feelings.
    Then he drew back. “Mmm, I wanted to do that again,” he murmured. “Claire, listen to me.”
    “I see you two over there!” Flossie’s high voice carried across the kitchen. “I know what you’re up to!”
    “Aunt Flossie, it’s not what you think.” Claire pulled away from Rob, eager to reassure her aunt that she had no intention of plotting with him to steal the Austrian treasures. “We were just—”
    “Spoonin’! I saw the two of you. I may be a little teched in the head, but I’m not blind. Somebody fetch me some sugar and milk. This coffee is for the dogs.”
    Laughing, Rob nudged Claire as he passed her on his way back to the cleaning crew. “Keep on preaching at me, Clarence,” he said. “I think I’m finally beginning to get your message.”

Chapter Five
    T he moment Claire stepped out of her car she noticed the large pine wreath centered on the moonlit front door of Ross Mansion. Though its ribbon bore traces of mud, the branches were still green, and the silver bells twinkled. No tree lights glittered inside the parlor’s bay window and no mistletoe hung over the door, but at least the wreath stood as a symbol of warm wishes to all who might visit the house on this chilly Christmas Eve.
    Carrying the large gift she had wrapped in shiny gold paper and tied with a red satin bow, Claire stepped onto the porch. School was over for the holidays, and the townsfolk were preparing their own celebrations, yet she had no doubt many people had dropped by the mansion earlier in the day. In the past week, volunteers had repaired the steps, the porch railings and the porch floor. They had replaced broken windows, hosed down every outside wall and thoroughly scrubbed the parlor and foyer where Florence RossSchmidt had lived out more than fifty long and lonely years. Every afternoon that she could spare, Claire had joined the work crew, though her job had consisted primarily of calming her agitated great-aunt.
    “Who is it? I hope you aren’t here to sing carols at me again!” The door opened a crack, and Flossie’s face appeared in the silvery light. “I’ve had about enough caroling to choke on, and as for fruitcake, well…. Oh, it’s you. What are you doing out on a night like this, girl? Get inside quick, before you freeze to death.”
    Claire cast a glance at the greenery as she entered the foyer. “I see you decided to use the wreath I gave you, Aunt Flossie,” she said as she made an unsuccessful attempt to hug the elderly woman. “It looks pretty.”
    “I’d tell you one of the other ladies hung it out there, but that’d be a lie. I did it myself. Saw it sitting over there on that table and figured I might as well put it up.” She tottered toward the parlor,