Trading Christmas - Debbie Macomber [33]
They made a point of getting together every summer. Usually they met in Seattle or California. The long-distance aspect of the relationship hadn’t been a hindrance.
Faith’s family and friends were important to her; romance, though, was another matter. She was rather frightened of it. Her marriage had burned her and while she’d like to be settled and married with children, that didn’t seem likely now.
As she walked through town, Faith waved at people she recognized. Some immediately waved back; one woman stopped and stared as if she had yet to place her. The living Nativity wasn’t scheduled until the afternoon, so she was safe from the goat Charles had mentioned. She’d figured out that the infamous Clara Belle—she remembered Emily’s hilarious story about a farm visit with her kindergarten class—had to be the goat in question.
Thinking of Charles made her smile. He was an interesting character. If he hadn’t already told her, she would’ve guessed he was an academic. He fit the stereotype of the absentminded professor perfectly—a researcher who became so absorbed in his work, he needed someone to tell him when and where he needed to be.
He did have a heart, though. Otherwise she’d probably be hitchhiking back to California by now. As long as she made herself invisible, they would manage.
Once inside the store, she got a grocery cart and wandered aimlessly down the aisle, seeking inspiration for dinner. She decided on baked green peppers stuffed with a rice, tomato soup and ground beef mixture. The recipe was her mother’s but Faith rarely made it. Cooking for one was a chore and it was often easier to pick up something on the way home from school. Fresh cranberries were on sale, so she grabbed a pack age of those, although she hadn’t decided what to do with them. It seemed a Christmassy thing to buy. She’d find a use for them later.
She’d come up with menus for the rest of the week this afternoon, and write a more complete grocery list then.
On the walk home, Faith discovered the Kennedy kids and about half the town’s children sledding down the big hill in the park. If her arms hadn’t been full, she would’ve stopped and taken a trip down the hill herself.
The kids were so involved in their fun that they didn’t notice her. Breathless, Faith brought everything into the kitchen. She removed her hat and gloves and draped her coat over the back of a chair. Unpacking the groceries, she sang a Christmas song that was running through her mind.
The door to the den flew open and Charles stood in the doorway glaring at her.
Faith stopped midway to the refrigerator, a package of ground beef in her hand. “Was I making too much noise?” she asked guiltily. In her own opinion, she’d been quiet and subdued, but apparently not.
“I’m trying to work here,” he told her severely.
“Sorry,” she mouthed and tiptoed back to the kitchen counter.
“You aren’t planning to do anything like bake cookies, are you?” He wrinkled his nose as if to say he wasn’t interested.
“Uh, I hadn’t given it any thought.”
“In case you do, you should know I don’t want to be distracted by smells, either.”
“Smells?” With an effort, Faith managed not to groan out loud.
“The aroma of baking cookies makes my stomach growl.”
He wasn’t kidding, and Faith found that humorous, although she dared not show it. She was able to stay here only with his approval and couldn’t afford to jeopardize her position. “Then rest assured. I won’t do anything to make your stomach growl.”
“Good.” With that, Charles retreated into the den, closing the door decisively.
Faith rolled her eyes. What was she supposed to do all day? Sit in a corner and knit? Play solitaire? If that little bit of commotion had bothered His Highness, then she couldn’t see this arrangement working. And yet, what was the alternative?
The awful part was that she felt an almost overwhelming urge to bang lids together. Standing in the middle of the kitchen, she had to bite her lower lip to restrain herself from singing at the top of her lungs and