One Snowy Night Before Christmas by Pamela Fryer Page A

sliver of disappointment needled her. “Does that
mean I don’t get dinner cooked for me tonight?”
    He smiled. “Of course not.” Mort handed him the rental car
agency’s card and he took one for the shop, too. “If I can get a car, we’ll
head out afterward.”
    On the way back to her townhouse they stopped at the grocery
store for supplies. Tom hefted Amy onto his hip and Jessie pushed the cart
behind them.
    “What do you like to eat?” he asked his daughter.
    Jessie noticed Amy was a lot more talkative but didn’t have
a wide range of favorites. Pickings must have been fairly slim in her mother’s
house. Or maybe it was just that she hadn’t been allowed the sugary junk food
most kids lived on. Amy recognized plain Cheerios but didn’t even have a
favorite cookie.
    Maybe this was better, Jessie thought. Teach the kid a
healthy lifestyle. Still, they picked out some vanilla ice cream to eat with an
all-natural frozen apple pie she bought to bake up after dinner.
    After an hour of delighting Amy with more food than they
could possibly eat in two days, let alone one, Tom pulled his wallet out at the
register.
    Jessie frowned. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it.”
    “No, I insist.” He handed the cashier three twenties. “You
wouldn’t be buying all this if it weren’t for us. It’s the least I can do.”
    “I can afford my own food,” she grumbled. Then she wanted to
kick herself. Tom wasn’t mocking her salary, even if he was a lawyer who probably
had more money in his checking account at this very moment than she’d earn in a
year.
    “I’ll let you make it up to me.” He collected his change and
glanced sideways. “You can buy me dinner sometime. And believe me, I have
expensive taste.”
    Jessie laughed. At least he was honest. Her heart sped up a
little as she digested what he’d said. They would be seeing each other after
“The Christmas That Failed” in Welcome, Oregon. It almost sounded like he’d
just asked her on a date.
    It was four-thirty by the time they got back to her
townhouse. Jessie finished the last of the dishes left from breakfast so Tom
could start cooking. She glanced up as she was washing a bowl. The bucks had
returned and were staring at her window.
    She glanced over her shoulder. Tom and Amy sat on the living
room floor, playing a game of Go Fish . The little girl hadn’t noticed
“Santa’s Reindeer.”
    Jessie smiled. It was nice to see them interacting. Amy
seemed to have shed her shyness and Tom appeared to be having a genuinely good
time, laughing and rolling on the floor when she took his cards.
    Jessie turned back to the window and her heart beat a double
dance. The buck had vanished.
    “I win,” Amy shrieked. She threw her hands in the air.
    “You beat me again.” Tom glanced up and grinned. “Need any
help?”
    Jessie dried her hands on a towel. “I’m finished. The
kitchen’s all yours.”
    A knock sounded at the door, sending her already high pulse
racing. If it was the old man, looking for his reindeer, she would have a heart
attack.
    “Amy, Jessie has a guest. Let’s go upstairs and pack up your
suitcase.”
    “Ohhhkaaaay,” she said with typical childlike dread at the
mention of a chore. He followed her as she trudged up stairs.
    Jessie watched them disappear upstairs. She had never
realized how much she missed the simple things before. She always been firmly
against children of her own, but now she wasn’t so sure. Was it more appealing
because she knew these people weren’t here permanently?
    She pulled open the door. Mike stood before her, wearing a sheepish
expression. Jessie took a deep breath and let it out slowly. This couldn’t be
good.
    “Don’t tell me—the old man is pressing charges.” That would
be the next logical step in her traditional Christmases.
    “Huh? Oh, no. I came to see you on a personal matter.”
    She folded her arms in front of her and leaned against the
jamb. “I can’t imagine what that would be.”
    He