1225 Christmas Tree Lane

“I had pie with lunch. So I’m trying to be fair.”

Knowing her disciplined eating habits, Jack did a double-take. “You ate pie? At lunch? ”

“Goldie made me do it.”

“Goldie,” he repeated. “You mean Will took you to the Pancake Palace?”

“It’s where I wanted to go.”

Jack sat down, grabbed the tree cookie and bit into that, too. “You’re a cheap date.”

“Not necessarily.”

He ignored that remark. “Did you enjoy lunch with Will?” he asked, then sipped his tea. Jack was familiar with their sometimes tumultuous relationship.

“I did, although I’m a little worried.” Olivia crossed her legs and held the mug in the palm of her hand. “He’s interested in Shirley Bliss, a local artist.”

“She’s not married, is she?”

Olivia shook her head. “A widow.”

Jack shrugged. “Then it’s okay if he wants to see her.”

“I agree. It’s just that I don’t know if I can trust my brother. It pains me to admit that, but still…” She left the rest unsaid. Jack knew her brother and his flaws as well as she did. “I want him to be successful here,” she said earnestly. “He’s starting over, and at this stage of his life that can’t be easy.”

“I don’t imagine it will be,” Jack agreed. “By the way, who was that on the phone?”

“Grace. She called to update me on Mary Jo.”

“Problems?”

“Not really, but she said we need to keep an eye out for three irate brothers who might show up looking for her.”

“A vigilante posse?”

“Not exactly.” But now that Olivia thought about it, it might not be so bad if Mary Jo’s brothers stumbled onto David Rhodes instead. “If her brothers find anyone, it should be David.”

“There’d certainly be justice in that, but David’s not going to let himself be found. And I think we should be focusing on the young woman, don’t you?”

His tone was gentle, but Olivia felt chastened. “Yes—and her baby.”

9

Mary Jo woke feeling confused. She sat up in bed and gazed around at the sparsely decorated room before she remembered where she was. Grace Harding had brought her home and was letting her spend the night in this apartment above the barn. It was such a kind thing to do. She was a stranger, after all, a stranger with problems who’d appeared out of nowhere on Christmas Eve.

Stretching her arms high above her head, Mary Jo yawned loudly. She was still tired, despite her nap. Her watch told her she’d been asleep for the better part of two hours. Two hours!

Other than in her first trimester, she hadn’t required a lot of extra rest during her pregnancy, but that had changed in the past few weeks. Of course some of it could be attributed to David and his lies. Wondering what she should believe and whether he’d meant any of what he’d said had kept her awake many a night. Consequently she was tired during the day; while she was still working she’d nap during her lunch break.

Forcing her eyes shut, Mary Jo made an effort to cast David from her mind. She quickly gave up. Tossing aside the covers, Mary Jo climbed out of bed, put on her shoes and left the apartment. The stairway led to the interior of the barn.

As soon as she stepped into the barn, several animals stuck their heads out of the stalls to study her curiously. The first she saw was a lovely horse. Grace had introduced her as Funny Face.

“Hello there, girl.” Mary Jo walked slowly toward the stall door. “Remember me?” The mare nodded in what seemed to be an encouraging manner, and Mary Jo ran her hand down the horse’s unusually marked face. The mare had a white ring around one eye and it was easy to see why the Hardings had named her Funny Face. Her dark, intelligent eyes made Mary Jo think of an old story she recalled from childhood—that animals can talk for a few hours after midnight on Christmas Eve—and she wondered what Funny Face would say. Probably something very wise.

The camel seemed curious, too, and thrust her long curved neck out of the stall, peering at Mary Jo through wide eyes, fringed with lush, curling lashes. Mary Jo had been warned to keep her distance. “Oh, no, you don’t,” she muttered, waving her index finger. “You’re not going to lure me over there with those big brown eyes. Don’t give me that innocent look, either. I’ve heard all about you.”

After visiting a few placid sheep, another couple of horses and a donkey with a sweet disposition, Mary Jo walked out of the barn. She hurried toward the house through a light snowfall, wishing she’d remembered her coat. Even before she arrived, the front door opened and an attractive older gentleman held open the screen.

“You must be Mary Jo,” he said and thrust out his hand in greeting. “Cliff Harding.”

“Hello, Mr. Harding,” she said with a smile. She was about to thank him for his hospitality when he interrupted.

“Call me Cliff, okay? And come in, come in.”

“All right, Cliff.”