Christmas in Seattle: Christmas Letters / The Perfect Christmas. Debbie MacomberЧитать онлайн книгу.
to see you again,” K.O. said. She sincerely hoped Shirley would play along and conveniently forget that unfortunate incident.
“It is you,” Shirley hissed from between clenched teeth.
“What’s this about?” Wynn asked, a puzzled expression on his face. “You’ve met before?”
“Nothing,” K.O. all but shouted.
“As a matter of fact, we have met.” Shirley’s dark eyes narrowed. “Perhaps your friend has forgotten. I, however, have not.”
So it was going to be like that, was it? “We had a difference of opinion,” K.O. told Wynn in a low voice.
“As I recall, you were permanently banned from the store.”
“Katherine was banned from the store?” Wynn asked incredulously. “I can’t believe she’d do anything deserving of that.”
“Maybe we should leave now,” K.O. suggested, and tugged at his sleeve.
“If you want to know,” Shirley began, but K.O. interrupted before she could launch into her complaint.
“Wynn, please, we should go,” she said urgently.
“I’m sure this can all be sorted out,” he murmured, releasing his coat sleeve from her grasp.
Shirley, hands on her hips, smiled snidely. She seemed to take real pleasure in informing Wynn of K.O.’s indiscretion.
“This friend of yours is responsible for causing a scene in this very bookstore, Dr. Jeffries.”
“I’m sure no harm was meant.”
K.O. grabbed his arm. “It doesn’t matter,” she said, desperate to escape.
“Katherine does tend to be opinionated, I agree,” he said, apparently determined to defend her. “But she’s actually quite reasonable.”
“Apparently you don’t know her as well as you think.”
“I happen to enjoy Katherine’s company immensely.”
Shirley raised her eyebrows. “Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“Then you might be interested to know that your so-called friend nearly caused a riot when she got into an argument with another customer over your book.”
Wynn swiveled his gaze to K.O.
She offered him a weak smile. “Ready to leave now?” she asked in a weak whisper.
Chapter 8
K.O.’s doorbell chimed, breaking into a satisfying dream. Whatever it was about seemed absolutely wonderful and she hated to lose it. When the doorbell rang again, the sound longer and more persistent, the dream disappeared. She stumbled out of bed and threw on her flannel housecoat.
Reaching the door, she checked the peephole and saw that it was LaVonne. No surprise there. Unfastening the lock, K.O. let her in, covering a yawn.
“What time did you get home last night?” her neighbor cried as she hurried in without a cat—which was quite unusual. “I waited up as long as I could for you.” LaVonne’s voice was frantic. “I didn’t sleep a wink all night,” she said and plopped herself down on the sofa.
K.O. was still at the front door, holding it open. “Good morning to you, too.”
“Should I make coffee?” LaVonne asked, leaping to her feet and flipping on the light as she swept into the kitchen. Not waiting for a response, she pulled out the canister where K.O. kept her coffee grounds.
K.O. yawned again and closed the front door. “What time is it?” Early, she knew, because her eyes burned and there was barely a hint of daylight through her living room windows.
“Seven-twenty. I didn’t get you up, did I?”
“No, I had to answer the door anyway.” Her friend was busy preparing coffee and didn’t catch the joke. “How are the guys?” K.O. asked next. LaVonne usually provided her with daily updates on their health, well-being and any cute activities they’d engaged in.
“They’re hiding,” she said curtly. “All three of them.” She ran water into the glass pot and then poured it in the coffeemaker.
Katherine wondered why the cats were in a snit but didn’t have the energy to ask.
“You haven’t answered my question,” LaVonne said as the coffee started to drip. She placed two mugs on the counter.
“Which one?” K.O. fell into a kitchen chair, rested her arms on the table and leaned her head on them.
“Last night,” LaVonne said. “Where were you?”
“Wynn and I were out—”
“All night?”
“You’re beginning to sound like my mother,” K.O. protested.
LaVonne straightened her shoulders. “Katherine, you hardly know the man.”
“I didn’t sleep with him, if that’s what you think.” She raised her head long enough to speak and then laid it down on her arms again. “We went out to dinner with some friends of mine after the Figgy Pudding contest.”
“It must’ve been a very late dinner.” LaVonne sounded as if she didn’t quite believe her.
“We walked around for a while afterward and went out for a drink. The time got away from us. I didn’t get home until one.”
“I was up at one and you weren’t home,” LaVonne said in a challenging tone. She poured the first cup of coffee and took it herself.
“Maybe it was after two, then,” K.O. said. She’d completely lost track of time, which was easy to do. Wynn was so charming and he seemed so interested in her and her friends.
Vickie’s husband, John, was a plumbing contractor. Despite Wynn’s college degrees and celebrity status, he’d fit in well with her friends. He’d asked intelligent questions, listened and shared anecdotes about himself that had them all laughing. John even invited Wynn to play poker with him and his friends after the holidays. Wynn had accepted the invitation.
Halfway through the meal Vickie had announced that she had to use the ladies’ room. The look she shot K.O. said she should join her, which K.O. did.
“That’s really Wynn Jeffries?” she asked, holding K.O.’s elbow as they made their way around tables and through the restaurant.
“Yes, it’s really him.”
“Does he know about the bookstore?”
K.O. nodded reluctantly. “He does now.”
“You didn’t tell him, did you?”
“Unfortunately, he found out all on his own.”
Vickie pushed open the door to the ladies’ as K.O. described the scene from the bookstore. “No way,” her friend moaned, then promptly sank down on a plush chair in the outer room.
K.O.’s face grew red all over again. “It was embarrassing, to say the least.”
“Was Wynn upset?”
What could he say? “He didn’t let on if he was.” In fact, once they’d left the store, Wynn seemed to find the incident highly amusing. Had their roles been reversed, she didn’t know how she would’ve felt.
“He didn’t blow up at you or anything?” Vickie had given her a confused look. “This is the guy you think should be banned from practicing as a psychologist?”
“Well, that might’ve been a bit strong,” she’d said, reconsidering her earlier comment.