Married for Christmas (Willow Park) by Noelle Adams Page A

half-opened door.
    He turned in his desk chair and looked surprised when he saw
her. “Hey. What are you doing here?”
    “I brought you lunch.”
    “Why?”
    She frowned. If every nice thing she did for him was going
to be treated to an inquisition, it was going to get old fast. “Because you
didn’t have a lunch.”
    Daniel gestured toward a bottle of water and a protein bar,
untouched on the surface of his desk.
    “That’s what I thought,” she said, coming over to unpack the
bag she’d brought.
    She pulled up a chair and sat down near the desk so he
wouldn’t go back to working and forget about eating.
    He smiled as he unwrapped the sandwich. “Did you make this
for me?”
    “Yes.”
    “Don’t you need to be working?”
    “I’m allowed to stop for lunch.”
    “I guess so. But you really didn’t have to go to the
trouble. You work too, so you don’t have to always get meals for us. I’d never
expect you to—”
    “What trouble? It took exactly five minutes, and then two
minutes to drive over here.”
    “I guess so. Thank you.”
    “You’re welcome.”
    He slanted her a look. “Are you annoyed with me?”
    “No.”
    “You look like you might be annoyed.”
    “I’m not annoyed. As long as you actually eat your lunch.”
    He closed his Bible and commentary and moved them out of the
way. Then he gave silent thanks for the meal and started to eat.
    Jessica relaxed and pulled out her own sandwich.
    His mouth twitched slightly when he glanced at her. “You
better be careful. I might start to expect you to bring me lunch every day.”
    “Some days you’ll have to come home for lunch, and then it
will be hit-or-miss about what you get.”
    “I have lunch meetings a lot anyway. A lot of men in the
congregation can only meet to talk at lunchtime.”
    “So that’s fine. Occasionally, I might bring you lunch.”
    He smiled at her as he swallowed a bite, and she smiled
back—feeling like he was her friend again and not this slightly unknowable
husband he’d become.
    “What are you working on?” she asked, gesturing toward the
computer.
    “Next week’s sermon.”
    “How’s it going?”
    “I’ve not done as much as I hoped. People keep stopping by
to talk.”
    “Oh. Sorry.”
    “I didn’t mean you.”
    “Okay. Good. Are people just congratulating you on the
wedding?”
    “Mostly. Chip stopped by though.”
    “Was he complaining again?”
    “Not as directly. He just wants to cut back on the programs
for Christmas.”
    “Why? People will be disappointed if we don’t do everything
we usually do.”
    “I know. He thinks it’s too much logistically with the
transition. He means he doesn’t think I’m up for the job.”
    “Well, that’s ridiculous. Doesn’t he know all the balls you
kept in the air at your church before?”
    Daniel gave a half-shrug. “In his mind, leading a small
church isn’t nearly as challenging as a church this size.”
    “You’re not going to cut back, are you?” She felt annoyed
and indignant about Chip’s slight to Daniel’s leadership and abilities. How
could anyone think he wasn’t up to the job?
    “Not if I can help it. The Session meets on Friday. We’ll
talk about it then.”
    In a Presbyterian church, the Session—made up of the elders of
the congregation—was the decision-making body for individual churches. A
pastor’s role was obviously one of authority, but they weren’t the only or the
final authority.
    “Some of the programs have already been planned, right? The
kids’ pageant and the choir concert?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Then you can’t pull back on those at this point. It
wouldn’t be fair to the people who’ve been working on them. And you have to
have the Christmas Eve service. What does he think you can cut?”
    “I don’t know. I really don’t know what he’s thinking.”
    Daniel looked discouraged, so she reached out to put a hand
on his knee.
    They sat in silence for a moment, but then she pulled her
hand back when he