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You couldn’t go more than five feet before encountering one, and they varied from tabletop size all the way to the twelve-footer that the mayor’s office had contributed. The bookstore’s tree was next to the fireplace, and as usual her assistant, Terry, had done an amazing job, decorating it with book ornaments andglittery holly.
There was a strong scent of pine, fir, and spruce. The décor was overwhelming too, with some of the trees lit and tinseled from top to bottom while others had gone all blue, red, or green. The only space without a tree was the dance floor. The disco ball reigned king there, so obviously someone had managed to get it fixed. She wondered, briefly, if Owen’s butt was still stinging from his injury and then decided he wasn’t worth a single moment of her thoughts.
Little by little the chatter started again. Emmy heard murmurs about Waylon’s secret love child. More muttered remarks about how Calen and she were obviously drowning their misery with a rebound date. Still others gossiped about the letters and packages that werestill in limbo.
She did a quick mental count. “Apparently, there’s more talk about us than Nessa and the mail,” Emmy remarked, sippingher champagne.
That caused Calen to smile again. A short-lived one, though, because Gladys quit whispering to her bestie, Junie, and made a beeline towardCalen and her.
The woman was wearing the same green wool dress that she wore most years, and she murmured greetings to them before she leaned in toward Calen. “I just wanted to offer my sympathy on Waylon not telling you about your sister. I didn’t know,” she assured him. “As far as I can tell, nobody in town did. He kept it quite a secret.”
“Yeah, he did,” Calen confirmed. “FYI, Waylon’s secret wasn’t Nessa’s fault. I’m hoping everybody in town willremember that.”
“Oh, folks won’t look down their noses at her, if that’s what you’re worried about. Heck, most of us know her because she shops here a lot. We just didn’t know she was your sister.” She paused. “Junie said she thought you found out about all this in one of the letters Waylon didn’t deliver.”
Calen nodded but didn’toffer any more.
“Uh, Junie said you took the mail to your house,”Gladys went on.
There was nervousness in her voice. In her eyes, too, and Emmy thought of the letter she’d seen from Gladys to Clive Dunbar.
“I did,” Calen confirmed. “I’m hoping to have permission tomorrow to go ahead and release them. If not, it could be a while.”
A while because the day after tomorrow would be Christmas, and the post office would be closed.
Gladys nodded and moved in even closer. “Well, I was wondering if any of the mail was addressed to me. Or from me.”
“I recall one letter,” Calen said, studying her and no doubt seeing the woman’s anxiety as well. “Once it’s released, it’ll be delivered to the intended recipient.”
Gladys’s forehead bunched up. “I suppose that has to happen? It’s just, I, well, I might have said some things in a letter that could sort of make someoneuncomfortable.”
Emmy didn’t know if that discomfort would be felt by Gladys or Clive. “Maybe it’d be best to give the recipient a heads-up?”Emmy suggested.
Gladys sighed and downed her entire glass of champagne. She looked at Emmy. “Have you ever taken a risk by telling someone something they might not have ever suspected?”
“Yes.” Emmy could answer without hesitation.
Perhaps it was that lack of hesitation that caused the flash of surprise in Gladys’s eyes. “Then, you know it could backfire.”
“Yes,” Emmy confirmed. “But I also know it might not. My advice? Give the recipient a heads-up.”
And just in case Gladys didn’t know the immediate location of that person, Emmy motioned toward one of the food tables where Clive was standing in his green bell-bottoms and tie-dyed shirt. Clive wasn’t the sort to spring for tickets, but since he painted the Christmas murals on the civic center’s walls, he always got an honorary invitation.
Gladys blushed, but Emmy didn’t think it was because Calen and she knew the woman’s secret. Nope. This seemed more of a naughty blush, and Emmy could relate since she’d spent most of her adult life thinking naughty thoughts about Calen.
When Gladys started moseying in Clive’s direction—emphasis on the moseying—it seemed to be a cue for others to start converging toward Calen and her. At least a dozen came, all talking at once. Or rather, whispering at once about getting a look at the mail. That gave Emmy her own cue, and she set aside their champagne so she could lead Calen to the dance floor.
“Apparently, there are a whole bunch of secrets in Christmas Creek,” she murmured to him.
“Apparently,” he agreed, pulling herinto his arms.
Emmy might have said more about that, might have speculated what those secrets were, but she felt the slide of his arm around her waist. Felt the sparks when Calen pulled her closer until they were body to body.
Everythingelse vanished.
Well, everything that wasn’t Calen related, anyway. Her whole being was attuned to him. To just this moment. To the fantasy of being here with him. She could see the need for her in his eyes. Oh, her best friend was still there in that need and heat, but this combination of confidant and lover wasso much better.
“You’re smiling,” he said, and then added, “Since we’ve gone public by coming here on a date, you want to get folks’ mindsoff the mail?”
