so rude to you,” he said.
She was surprised he’d noticed.
“I should have spoken up,” he told her. “I should have pointed out they were being rude.”
“Thank heaven you didn’t,” Maureen said. “That would have been flat-out embarrassing.”
“And you don’t like being embarrassed,” he observed.
“Do you? Does anybody?”
“I’ve been a performer all my life, and like it or not, being embarrassed on a regular basis comes with the territory.”
“I wouldn’t know,” she said. Thank goodness. “But don’t be embarrassed. They called you adorable.”
“Hell, I was adorable,” he said with a curious lack of vanity.
“I know. I’ve seen The Christmas Caper.” Maureen paused. It was strange, knowing more about him than he knew about her. Generally speaking, that was the librarian’s role, to be the woman behind the desk. The woman no one wondered about or speculated about.
As for Eddie’s movie, she’d not only seen it. She watched it every year with rapt attention. She had already bought the just-released commemorative edition DVD and had played and replayed all the special features, paying particular attention to the interviews with the grown-up Eddie. She’d memorized every frame, every word of every song in the film. She loved that movie so much it was ridiculous. “Would it make you feel old if I said I saw it when I was in the second grade?”
“Nah, because I was six at the time of the theatrical release.”
“Oh, I see.”
“Yeah, I peaked at age six and it’s been downhill ever since.”
There was something about his smile. Something that made Maureen understand why grown women would approach him for a picture, giggling like schoolgirls. The other thing about his smile was that when she looked at him, she could see the precious little boy who had captured the hearts of America more than two decades ago.
He had played little Jimmy Kringle in The Christmas Caper, which was universally acknowledged to be one of the most sentimental Christmas movies ever made. Yet he’d transcended the stigma, taking a character who was trite and absurd and transforming him into a little boy everyone could believe in. And did, for years to come, thanks to the wonders of digital remastering, DVD extra features and the unending routine of round-the-clock cable.
“It can’t have been easy, being made a star at such a young age,” she observed.
“Wasn’t so bad, back in the day. But nobody saw the Internet coming. Or cable TV on this scale.”
Maureen was getting much too interested in him on a personal level. “We should finish up,” she suggested.
“Can’t wait to get rid of me, eh?”
“Yes, I mean, no, but—” Flustered. She was getting flustered, talking to this guy. Which was ridiculous. She was an established professional in her field. Still, she couldn’t help getting unnerved over Eddie Haven, with his sexy attitude, his earring and his too-pretty face. He must think she was a total loser. She didn’t like being around people who thought she was a loser. She liked people who propped her up. Her family. Library patrons. Children.
“I have a lot to tell you about this production,” she said. “For starters, it’s going to be filmed for a PBS special.” It still excited her, just saying it. “A production company from the city is coming up to cover it as part of a story about small-town Christmas celebrations.”
“Cool,” he said, but he didn’t look thrilled.
“It doesn’t really change our plans, but I wanted you to be aware of it.” She handed him a printed document. “Here’s the program I’m planning. You can take a look at it tonight.” She’d spent weeks finding the perfect combination of story and song for the traditional Christmas Eve celebration at Heart of the Mountains Church. It was a wonderful program, designed to bring the magic of Christmas to life. She had envisioned the ideal pageant for a long time, ever since she was small. She conjured up images of an evening aglow with candlelight, the air infused with incense and alive with song. It would be the quintessential celebration, one that would soften even the most jaded of hearts and remind people that the joys of the season could be felt all year.
He took a cursory look at the script and song list. “Sure, whatever. But it doesn’t lead with the angels,” he said. “When Mrs. Bickham was in charge, we always led with the angels.”
Ah, the ghosts of Christmas pageants past, thought Maureen, clasping her clipboard to her chest. She was going to be haunted by them for a long time. “Not this year.”
“It’s your show,” he said. “Hell, I don’t even like Christmas.”
He was so obnoxious, she thought. But so ridiculously good-looking, in a shaggy-haired, skinny-jeans, tight-T-shirt way. A lethal combination. “Nonsense. Everyone likes Christmas.”
He laughed. “Right. Okay, I guess I didn’t explain this very well.”
“Explain what?” In spite of herself, she was intrigued, and found herself leaning toward him, hanging on his every word like the most hopeless sort of Fan-girl.
“This whole Christmas thing.”
“What about it?”
“This is probably going to throw you for a loop, but in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not a big fan of the holiday.”
Maybe, she thought, he appealed to her because he challenged her. It had been a long time since anyone over the age of five had challenged her. “Don’t be silly. Everybody loves Christmas.”
“You slay me, Maureen. You really do. News flash—everybody does not love Christmas.” Then his gaze slipped down the list of songs. “I’m not seeing a lot of variety here. Nothing new.”
“We could always add ‘The Runaway Reindeer’ from your hit movie. Your fan club would love it. Would that make you happy?”
“That would make me gag.”
The meeting was going so badly. She wished she knew how to bring it back on track. “Here’s the sign-up sheet for auditions.”
“Ought to be interesting. Everybody wants to be a star.”
“So it seems. We’ll try to be as inclusive as possible. We should remind everyone that there are no small actors—”
“Only small parts,” he finished for her. “And everybody knows that’s bullshit.”
She winced, wondering why he felt compelled to antagonize her. Her friend Olivia would say it was because he liked her. The notion intrigued Maureen far too much. She busied herself with her printouts, hoping to disguise her nerves. “And then we’ll go right into rehearsals. Here’s a schedule.”
“Got it, boss.”
“Are you patronizing me?”
“I’m
