On a Snowy Night: The Christmas Basket / The Snow Bride. Debbie Macomber
I don’t think there’s any reason to squabble here.” Janice raised both hands in a calming gesture. “Let me look at your lists.”
“Fine,” Sarah snapped.
“Good idea,” Mary added in a far more congenial tone. She opened her purse and dug out the list Melody Darrington had given her.
Janice examined both pages. She ran down Sarah’s first and then Mary’s. She frowned. “Here’s the problem,” she said, handing them back. “You have the same list.”
“That’s impossible,” Mary protested.
“Let me see.” Sarah snatched Mary’s from her hand with such speed it was a wonder Mary didn’t suffer a paper cut.
“That’s what I think happened,” Janice said. “You were accidentally given one list instead of two.”
Sarah glanced over each page. “She’s right.”
Mary wanted to weep with frustration. “Do you mean to say we’re actually working from the same list?” It made sense now that she thought about it. Melody had been so busy that morning. and the phone was ringing off the hook. It was no wonder the secretary had been distracted.
“You were supposed to pick up the grocery items,” Mary said.
“I most certainly was not. That was your job.”
If Sarah was trying to be obtuse and irritating, she was succeeding.
Janice glanced from one to the other. “Ladies, this is for the Christmas baskets, remember?”
Mary smiled benevolently at the pastor’s wife, who was new to the area. Janice couldn’t know. But then, a twenty-year-old feud wasn’t something Mary was inclined to brag about.
“She’s right,” Sarah said again. “We’re both behaving a bit childishly, don’t you think?”
Mary was staying away from that question.
“I’ll call Melody in the morning and pick up the second half of the list.”
“No, you won’t,” Mary told her. “I’ll do it.”
“I said I would,” Sarah said from between clenched teeth.
“You don’t need to, I will.”
“Would you ladies prefer that I do it?” Janice volunteered.
“No way,” Sarah muttered.
“Thank you, but no,” Mary said more politely.
Janice looked doubtful. “You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“Yes.” Sarah’s voice blended with Mary’s.
“All right, ladies, I’ll leave you to your good works then.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Mary watched Janice stroll away.
As soon as the pastor’s wife was out of earshot, Sarah said, “You can pick up the list if you want.” She made it sound as though she was making a big concession.
Naturally, she’d agree now. Mary sighed; this problem with the list complicated everything. “I’ll need time to shop for the groceries.”
“And your point is?”
“Shouldn’t it be obvious?” Clearly it wasn’t. “We’ll need to meet on the morning of the twenty-fourth now.”
“Christmas Eve?”
“Yes, the twenty-fourth is generally known as Christmas Eve,” Mary told her a bit sarcastically.
“Fine. Let’s meet at the club at nine and deliver the baskets to the Salvation Army from there.”
“Fine.”
“In the meantime,” Sarah suggested, “let’s do the sensible thing and divide up the toys on this list. Why don’t I get the girls’ stuff and you get the boys’?”
Wordlessly, they each returned half of their purchases. Mary hated to follow Sarah’s lead, but for once the woman had come up with a reasonable idea. “I’ll see you Tuesday morning at nine,” she finally said.
Sarah gave a curt nod.
Mary wheeled her cart to the front of the store. All the cashiers were busy, so she found the shortest line and waited her turn. Not until a few moments later did she notice that Sarah stood in the line beside hers.
Mary took a magazine from the stand, leafed through it and tossed it into her cart.
Sarah placed two magazines in hers.
Mary decided to splurge and buy a candy bar. As she put it in the cart, she glanced at Sarah. The other woman grabbed one of every candy bar on the rack. Refusing to be outdone, Mary reached for two.
Sarah rolled her eyes and then emptied the entire container of candy into her cart.
Mary looked over and saw two men staring at them. A woman was whispering to her companion, pointing in her and Sarah’s direction.
Once again, they’d managed to make spectacles of themselves.
NOELLE McDOWELL’S JOURNAL
December 22
I just got back from church, and it was lovely to attend services with Mom and Dad and Carley. The music was stirring and brought back so many memories of Christmases spent in Rose. I wish I’d paid closer attention to the sermon, but my mind refused to remain focused on the pastor’s message. All I could think about was Thom.
Now that we’ve talked, I think we’ve actually created more problems than we’ve solved. We’re going to get together again later in the day, but that’s not until one. We both realize we can’t leave things as they are, yet neither one of us knows where to go from here.
Still, it’s wonderful to know my faith in him was justified. That makes this decision even harder, though. I’m afraid I’m falling in love with him again—if I ever stopped!—but there are so many complications. In fact, I wonder if our best choice would be simply to call it quits. But I’m not sure we can, because we made a mistake last night. We kissed.
If we hadn’t done that, I might’ve found the courage to shake Thom’s hand, claim there were no hard feelings and walk away. But we did kiss and now…well, now we’re in a quandary. I wish his kisses didn’t affect me, but they do. Big time. Oh boy, nothing’s changed in that department. It’s as if I was sixteen all over again, and frankly, that’s a scary feeling.
I felt Thom’s kisses all the way through me, from head to toe. Thom felt them, too, and I think he’s just as confused as I am. Things got intense very quickly, and we both recognized we had to stop. Now it’s decision time.
Thom withdrew from me, physically and emotionally, and I did from him, too. We both tried to play it cool—as if this was all very nice and it was good to clear the air. He acted as if we should just get on with our lives. I played along and was halfway back to the car when he stopped me. He wanted to know if we could meet at the mall today to talk again.
God help me, I jumped at the invitation. Maybe I should’ve been more nonchalant, but I couldn’t do it. I was just happy for the chance to see him again.
Shopping was the perfect excuse to get out of the house on Sunday afternoon, and Noelle used it. Her mother was gone, her father was absorbed in some televised football game and Carley was in her room checking “Buffy” websites on her computer.
“I’m going out for a while,”