Black Flame by Ruby Laska

merely been promoted from driver to route supervisor, but Marjorie enjoyed saying the word forewoman, and no one in the Burgess household was about to correct her.
    Deneen had kept working in silence, tucking gold-dusted acorns into the centerpiece, and though she received compliments from the dinner guests that afternoon, she had suffered her disappointment in silence. Just as she was doing now.
    But it had just hurt too much to see the expression on Jimmy’s face when he looked at her gift. To be found wanting was one thing—but she’d put her heart on the line this time. She couldn’t bear the thought of Jimmy, whose Christmas memories were tainted by loneliness and need, having yet another holiday without gifts, without the joy of being with loved ones. And so she had given him the most precious thing she’d brought to North Dakota with her. Not the grooming set—though the gift meant for her sister’s fiancé had set her back most of her final paycheck—but the frame that she had made with her own hands, listening to Christmas carols and daydreaming about snow, about what the future might hold for her.
    This final rejection was just too much to bear.
    “You know what,” she said as they pulled into the parking lot. Theirs were the only tire tracks in the deserted parking lot, and it was hard to believe that the center would be the site of festivities and merriment in less than two hours. “You’re right. I can’t wait to meet Zane. I bet he and I have tons and tons in common.”
    She gave a startled-looking Jimmy her very best fake smile and jumped out of the truck, her faux-suede boots landing softly in the accumulated snow. She started toward the rec center, making tracks in the unbroken whiteness.
    She ought to be helping Jimmy unload the truck, she knew, but after being snubbed, ridiculed, and rejected, she just didn’t have the energy. Maybe Deneen wasn’t as ambitious as her parents or as accomplished as her sister, maybe she wasn’t smart enough to catch the attention of some stupid Mensa-scientist-hunk-oilman, but Deneen knew there were people in this world who would appreciate her.
    And it didn’t matter if they were all under five feet tall and believed in Santa Claus. They needed her, and that was good enough for Deneen.

CHAPTER TWELVE
    The morning went by in a blur once the kids started to arrive. Jimmy took his seat on the chair that Deneen had rigged with garland and a string of blinking lights she’d found somewhere, and a line of youngsters ranging from barely-walking toddlers to a shy-looking boy of maybe seven or eight formed. Meanwhile, the older kids chowed down on stacks of pancakes and bowls of fruit salad, served by an army of volunteers headed by Mrs. Osterhaus.
    As Jimmy bellowed out the hearty ho, ho, ho’s that he’d been practicing in his workshop all week, and listened to the children’s requests for toys and games, he watched Deneen out of the corner of his eye. He had to hand it to her; the decorations she had borrowed from Doris certainly made the room look more festive, and she was no slacker when it came to pitching in. She may have left all the unloading of the truck to him—once again, he seemed to have annoyed her despite having no idea what he’d done—but she hadn’t hesitated to help haul heavy crates of milk and orange juice, to move tables and chairs, or to keep the plates of food stocked. She comforted crying toddlers, danced to Christmas carols with a little girl in a wheelchair, and challenged a feisty red-headed kid to an arm-wrestling match.
    As Terrence Jackson’s turn finally arrived, Jimmy was watching Deneen’s well-shaped backside as she lifted up a little boy so he could flip the doors on the Advent calendar on the wall. He regretfully tore his eyes away so he could focus on Terrence.
    The seven-year-old scrambled up onto his lap with ease. He leaned in close and whispered in Jimmy’s ear with breath scented with syrup and chocolate