Christmas in Seattle: Christmas Letters / The Perfect Christmas. Debbie MacomberЧитать онлайн книгу.
was a disaster,” he muttered.
K.O. blamed herself. She should never have accompanied him to the interview. She’d known it at the time and still couldn’t resist. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone on the air with you.”
“You weren’t given much choice,” he said in her defense.
“I apologize if I embarrassed you. That wasn’t my intention. I tried not to say anything derogatory—surely you could see that.”
He didn’t respond and frankly, she didn’t blame him.
“The thing is, Katherine, you don’t respect my beliefs.”
“I don’t,” she reluctantly agreed.
“You couldn’t have made it any plainer.” The elevator doors opened and they stepped into the foyer.
“Perhaps it would be best if we didn’t see each other again.” K.O. figured she was only saying what they were both thinking.
Wynn nodded. She could sense his regret, a regret she felt herself.
They were outside the building now. The street was festive with lights, and Christmas music could be heard from one of the department stores. At the moment, however, she felt anything but merry.
The Figgy Pudding contest, which was sponsored by the Pike Market Senior Center and Downtown Food Bank as an annual fund-raiser, would’ve started by now and, although she didn’t feel the least bit like cheering, she’d promised Vickie she’d show up and support her efforts for charity.
K.O. thrust out her hand and did her utmost to smile. “Thank you, Wynn. Last night was one of the most incredible evenings of my life,” she said. “Correction. It was the most incredible night ever.”
Wynn clasped her hand. His gaze held hers as he said, “It was for me, too.”
People were stepping around them.
She should simply walk away. Vickie would be looking for her. And yet…she couldn’t make herself do it.
“Goodbye,” he whispered.
Her heart was in her throat. “Goodbye.”
He dropped his hand, turned and walked away. His steps were slow, measured. He’d gone about five feet when he glanced over his shoulder. K.O. hadn’t moved. In fact, she stood exactly as he’d left her, biting her lower lip—a habit she had when distressed. Wynn stopped abruptly, his back still to her.
“Wynn, listen,” she called and trotted toward him. “I have an idea.” Although it’d only been a few feet, she felt as if she was setting off on a marathon.
“What?” He sounded eager.
“I have twin nieces.”
He nodded. “You mentioned them earlier. Their mother read my book.”
“Yes, and loved it.”
There was a flicker of a smile. “At least someone in your family believes in me.”
“Yes, Zelda sure does. She thinks you’re fabulous.” K.O. realized she did, too—aside from his theories. “My sister and her husband are attending his company Christmas dinner next Friday, the fifteenth,” she rushed to explain. “Zelda asked me to spend the night. Come with me. Show me how your theories should work. Maybe Zelda’s doing it wrong. Maybe you can convince me that the Free Child movement makes sense.”
“You want me to come with you.”
“Yes. We’ll do everything just as you suggest in your book, and I promise not to say a word. I’ll read it this week, I’ll listen to you and I’ll observe.”
Wynn hesitated.
“Until then, we won’t mention your book or anything else to do with your theories.”
“Promise?”
“Promise,” she concurred.
“No more radio interviews?”
She laughed. “That’s an easy one.”
A smile came to him then, appearing in his eyes first. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
Yes, she did, and K.O. could hardly wait to introduce Zoe and Zara to Dr. Wynn Jeffries. Oh, she was sincere about keeping an open mind, but Wynn might learn something, too. The incorrigible twins would be the true crucible for his ideas.
K.O. held out her hand. “Are you ready for some Figgy Pudding?” she asked.
He grinned, taking her mittened hand as they hurried toward the Figgy Pudding People’s Choice competition.
Chapter 7
The Figgy Pudding People’s Choice event was standing room only when Wynn and K.O. arrived. Vickie and her friends hadn’t performed yet and were just being introduced by a popular morning-radio host for an easy-listening station. K.O. and Vickie had been friends all through high school and college. Vickie had married three years ago, and K.O. had been in her wedding party. In fact, she’d been in any number of wedding parties. Her mother had pointedly asked whether K.O. was ever going to be a bride, instead of a bridesmaid.
“That’s my friend over there,” K.O. explained, nodding in Vickie’s direction. “The one in the Santa hat.”
Wynn squinted at the group of ladies huddled together in front of the assembly. “Aren’t they all wearing Santa hats?”
“True. The young cute one,” she qualified.
“They’re all young and cute, Katherine.” He smiled. “Young enough, anyway.”
She looked at Wynn with new appreciation. “That is such a sweet thing to say.” Vickie worked for a local dentist as a hygienist and was the youngest member of the staff. The other women were all in their forties and fifties. “I could just kiss you,” K.O. said, snuggling close to him. She looped her arm through his.
Wynn cleared his throat as though unaccustomed to such open displays of affection. “Any particular reason you suddenly find me so kissable?”
“Well, yes, the women with Vickie are…a variety of ages.”
“I see. I should probably tell you I’m not wearing my glasses.”
K.O. laughed, elbowing him in the ribs. “And here I thought you were being so gallant.”
He grinned boyishly and slid his arm around her shoulders.
Never having attended a Figgy Pudding event before, K.O. didn’t know what to expect. To her delight, it was enchanting, as various groups competed, singing Christmas carols, to raise funds for the Senior Center and Food Bank. Vickie and her office mates took second place, and K.O. cheered loudly. Wynn shocked her by placing two fingers in his mouth and letting loose with a whistle that threatened to shatter glass. It seemed so unlike him.
Somehow Vickie found her when the singing was over. “I wondered if you were going to show,” she said, shouting to be heard above the noise of the merry-go-round and the crowd. Musicians gathered on street corners, horns honked and the sights and sounds of Christmas were everywhere. Although the comment was directed at K.O., Vickie’s attention was unmistakably on Wynn.
“Vickie, this is Wynn Jeffries.”
Her friend’s gaze shot back to K.O. “Wynn Jeffries? Not the Wynn Jeffries?”
“One and the same,” K.O. said, speaking out of the corner of her mouth.
“You’ve got to be joking.” Vickie’s mouth fell open as she stared at Wynn.
For the last two months, K.O. had been talking her friend’s ear off about the man and his book and how he was ruining her sister’s life. She’d even told Vickie about the