he had only shared one name with her.
She carried the lunch meat back inside, closing the back door on the sight of Banner’s workshop.
Working in comfortable unison, Lucy and Joan assembled the ingredients for sandwiches. Lucy’s curiosity about Joan was growing, and she had never been very successful at reining in her curiosity. She would, however, try to be as tactful as possible with her prying.
“Your children are very well behaved,” she began. “Considering everything, they’ve been real troupers today.”
Joan’s brown eyes brightened in response to the compliment. “Thank you. I really appreciate everything you all have done to entertain them.”
Lucy shrugged. “It keeps us entertained, too. Are you a single mom?”
She had tried to slip the question in casually, but subtlety had never been one of Lucy’s talents. Joan stiffened a bit. “Yes,” she replied after a moment. “I’m divorced. The kids haven’t seen their father in several years.”
“You’re doing a wonderful job with them.”
“I do my best.”
It couldn’t be easy raising two children alone, Lucy mused. Which was why a solemn respect for the responsibilities of fatherhood was high on her list of husband qualifications. Lucy definitely wanted children, and it was her intention to provide those children with a good father.
“Have you ever been married?” Joan asked, turning the questioning around.
“No, but I’m looking,” Lucy replied cheerfully.
“Um, you are?”
“Yep. I’ve been on more blind dates than I can count during the past year. None of them has led to anything promising, but I haven’t given up.”
“So you really are looking.”
“Oh, yes. I concentrated on establishing my career first, but now I’m ready to establish a family. I’ll be twenty-eight in a few months.”
“I was married at twenty-three,” Joan confided as she spread mustard on a slice of wheat bread. “Three years later we were on the verge of a breakup when I found out I was pregnant with Tyler. We struggled along for another couple of years, but Roger left while I was pregnant with Tricia. He said he couldn’t handle the pressure of a wife and two children.”
What a jerk. Keeping that thought to herself, Lucy said only, “I’m sorry.”
Joan shrugged. “It was all for the best, I suppose. The kids and I have gotten along fine without him.”
More determined than ever to make sure Tyler and Tricia had a nice Christmas, Lucy asked, “Do you have their Christmas gifts in your car?”
“Yes, hidden in the trunk. Why?”
Lucy glanced quickly toward the doorway. She could hear Pop and the children singing “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” in the living room, so she felt safe enough saying, “Would you like for Santa Claus to stop here for them tonight? We have a tree—and the rest of us could help you.”
Joan turned to face her, obviously intrigued by the suggestion. “I had thought I’d just wait until we reached my mother’s house, but maybe—”
“Wouldn’t they get a kick out of waking up tomorrow morning to discover that Santa found them after all?”
Joan’s smile turned tremulous in anticipation. “They would be thrilled.”
“Then let’s do it.”
Joan nodded. “It’s a deal.”
Lucy called Banner in from his workshop for lunch, which they ate around the dining room table. Bobby Ray was moving more easily now, the pain reliever having done its job, and everyone seemed to be in good spirits.
After lunch Banner carried in the six-foot-tall cedar he and Bobby Ray had found earlier. Banner had nailed a wooden stand to the bottom of the tree, which he set in one corner of the living room.
“We don’t have any twinkle lights,” Tricia said, studying the bare branches.
Her brother gave a long-suffering sigh. “We don’t have any electricity, dopey-head. The lights wouldn’t work even if we had some.”
“I’m not a dopey-head,” Tricia protested, lower lip protruding.
“Are, too.”
“Am not!”
Joan interceded quickly. “It’s Christmas Eve, kids. Don’t forget who might be listening.”
They fell silent immediately. Tricia looked around as if searching for hidden Santa listening devices. Joan and Lucy exchanged conspiratorial smiles.
Joan helped the children drape strung popcorn and paper chains around the tree. A stack of imaginative paper-glitter-button-and-ribbon ornaments waited to be hung from the branches. Pop, Miss Annie and Bobby Ray watched indulgently, offering occasional suggestions.
Lucy remembered seeing a box of cocoa in the pantry. She leaned toward Banner. “Would you mind if I make hot chocolate?”
He made a sweeping gesture toward the kitchen. “Mi casa es su casa. At least until the ice melts.”
She gave him a sympathetic smile and patted his arm. “You’re a very gracious host.”
“I’ll be even more gracious,” he countered. “I’ll help you make the cocoa.”
“You’re just trying to avoid decorating.”
He smiled, a very brief flash of white teeth against his tanned face. “You’ve got that right.”
She very nearly melted into a puddle right there at his feet. All it took was a tiny little smile, she thought in bemusement. Amazing…
He took her elbow and led her into the kitchen. By the time they’d reached the pantry, Lucy had herself under control again. Mostly.
“Well, it’s almost three o’clock,” Banner said, handing her the cocoa and sugar. “It should take an hour—at most—to decorate the tree. Then what?”
“Then…we’ll do something else,” she said with a shrug. “Games or stories or anything to keep the kids entertained until bedtime.”
She cast a quick, furtive glance toward the doorway, making sure neither of the children was within hearing range. “Joan and I were talking earlier. She has the children’s Christmas presents in the trunk of her car. We were thinking maybe Santa Claus could visit here tonight so they would have gifts under the tree on Christmas morning.”
He nodded. “What do you want me to do?”
She giggled in response to his stoically resigned expression. “What makes you think I want you to do anything?”
“Experience,”
