Christmas in Seattle: Christmas Letters / The Perfect Christmas. Debbie Macomber

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СКАЧАТЬ true, but Katherine isn’t part of the interview.”

      Big Mouth chuckled. “I thought we’d bring her in after the break and get her views on your book.”

      “Uh…”

      “Don’t go away, folks—this should be interesting. We’ll be right back after the traffic and weather report.”

      On hearing this, K.O. tossed aside the magazine and started to make a run for the elevator. Unfortunately Big Mouth was faster than his size had led her to believe.

      “I…I don’t think this is a good idea,” she said as he led her by the elbow to the control booth. “I’m sure Wynn would rather not…”

      “Quite the contrary,” Big Mouth said smoothly, ushering her into the recording room, which was shockingly small. He sat her next to Wynn and handed her a headset. “You’ll share a mike with Dr. Jeffries. Be sure to speak into it and don’t worry about anything.”

      After the traffic report, Big Mouth was back on the air.

      “Hello, Katherine,” he said warmly. “How are you this afternoon?”

      “I was perfectly fine until a few minutes ago,” she snapped.

      Big Mouth laughed. “Have you read Dr. Jeffries’s book?”

      “No. Well, not really.” She leaned close to the microphone.

      “You disagree with his philosophies, don’t you?”

      “Yes.” She dared not look at Wynn, but she was determined not to embarrass him the way she had in the French Café. Even if they were at odds about the validity of his Free Child movement, he didn’t deserve to be publicly humiliated.

      “Katherine seems to believe I’m taking Christmas away from children,” Wynn blurted out. “She’s wrong, of course. I have a short chapter in the book that merely suggests parents bury the concept of Santa.”

      “You want to bury Santa?” Even Big Mouth took offense at that, K.O. noticed with a sense of righteousness.

      “My publisher chose the chapter title and against my better judgment, I let it stand. Basically, all I’m saying is that it’s wrong to lie to a child, no matter how good one’s intentions.”

      “He wants to get rid of the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny, too,” K.O. inserted.

      “That doesn’t make me a Jim Carrey,” Wynn said argumentatively. “I’m asking parents to be responsible adults. That’s all.”

      “What does it hurt?” K.O. asked. “Childhood is a time of make-believe and fairy tales and fun. Why does everything have to be so serious?”

      “Dr. Jeffries,” Big Mouth cut in. “Could you explain that comment about Jim Carrey?”

      “I called him that,” K.O. answered on his behalf. “I meant to say the Grinch. You know, like in How the Grinch Stole Christmas. Jim Carrey was in the movie,” she explained helplessly.

      Wynn seemed eager to change the subject. He started to say something about the macabre character of fairy tales and how they weren’t “fun,” but Big Mouth cut him off.

      “Ah, I see,” he said, grinning from ear to ear. “You two have a love/hate relationship. That’s what’s really going on here.”

      K.O. looked quickly at Wynn, and he glared back. The “hate” part might be right, but there didn’t seem to be any “love” in the way he felt about her.

      “Regrettably, this is all the time we have for today,” Big Mouth told his audience. “I’d like to thank Dr. Jeffries for stopping by this afternoon and his friend Katherine, too. Thank you both for a most entertaining interview. Now for the news at the top of the hour.”

      Big Mouth flipped a switch and the room went silent. So silent, in fact, that K.O. could hear her heart beat.

      “We can leave now,” Wynn said stiffly after removing his headphones.

      Hers were already off. K.O. released a huge pent-up sigh. “Thank goodness,” she breathed.

      Wynn didn’t say anything until they’d entered the elevator.

      “That was a disaster,” he muttered.

      K.O. blamed herself. She should never have accompanied him to the interview. She’d known it at the time and still couldn’t resist. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone on the air with you.”

      “You weren’t given much choice,” he said in her defense.

      “I apologize if I embarrassed you. That wasn’t my intention. I tried not to say anything derogatory—surely you could see that.”

      He didn’t respond and frankly, she didn’t blame him.

      “The thing is, Katherine, you don’t respect my beliefs.”

      “I don’t,” she reluctantly agreed.

      “You couldn’t have made it any plainer.” The elevator doors opened and they stepped into the foyer.

      “Perhaps it would be best if we didn’t see each other again.” K.O. figured she was only saying what they were both thinking.

      Wynn nodded. She could sense his regret, a regret she felt herself.

      They were outside the building now. The street was festive with lights, and Christmas music could be heard from one of the department stores. At the moment, however, she felt anything but merry.

      The Figgy Pudding contest, which was sponsored by the Pike Market Senior Center and Downtown Food Bank as an annual fund-raiser, would’ve started by now and, although she didn’t feel the least bit like cheering, she’d promised Vickie she’d show up and support her efforts for charity.

      K.O. thrust out her hand and did her utmost to smile. “Thank you, Wynn. Last night was one of the most incredible evenings of my life,” she said. “Correction. It was the most incredible night ever.”

      Wynn clasped her hand. His gaze held hers as he said, “It was for me, too.”

      People were stepping around them.

      She should simply walk away. Vickie would be looking for her. And yet…she couldn’t make herself do it.

      “Goodbye,” he whispered.

      Her heart was in her throat. “Goodbye.”

      He dropped his hand, turned and walked away. His steps were slow, measured. He’d gone about five feet when he glanced over his shoulder. K.O. hadn’t moved. In fact, she stood exactly as he’d left her, biting her lower lip—a habit she had when distressed. Wynn stopped abruptly, his back still to her.

      “Wynn, listen,” she called and trotted toward him. “I have an idea.” Although it’d only been a few feet, she felt as if she was setting off on a marathon.

      “What?” СКАЧАТЬ