A Snowglobe Christmas: Yuletide Homecoming / A Family's Christmas Wish. Lissa Manley

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ guy. Don’t worry, Mom.”

      Dana gave her a quick hug. “I just want you to be happy.”

      “I am.” Most of the time. She’d love to settle down and have a family, but God would send her someone. She hoped.

      After slipping into her coat, she headed to her car, her mother’s words ringing in her head. Rafe was a good man. He was. He always had been, but his faith had been wobbly back then. Since coming home she’d seen how he’d thrown himself into the town, into the church, into his business, into the needs of others. He’d matured.

      Okay, so she appreciated the man he appeared to have become, but she knew better than most that appearances could be deceiving.

      * * *

      The church family hall was crowded on this particular night, but Rafe knew the minute Amy arrived. The truth troubled him. Any time Amy was anywhere in the vicinity, he felt her presence. He’d thought he was over her, but the more he saw her, the more he wondered. She was a reminder of his failures as a man, but she also reminded him of what it had been like to be crazy in love. He’d never come close to that feeling with any other woman.

      He’d prayed about it lately. Almost as much as he prayed about the bad dreams. Apparently, God wanted him to notice her. Maybe the Lord was pushing him to bring up the past, set it to rights. He certainly thought about it often enough, just as he thought about her.

      She came toward him, shedding her coat, and he let himself enjoy the sight. Vibrant, glowing with health and energy, Amy made him appreciate the differences in male and female.

      “What’s my assignment, Chief?” she asked.

      “Early deliveries start tomorrow. Since you’re our premiere basket wrapper, why don’t you show some of the other ladies how to fancy up the finished boxes with those bow thingies your mom donated.”

      “Works for me. Should we wrap the toys, too, or leave those for the parents to wrap?”

      “Leave them. We’ll include gift wrap in the boxes. Your mother donated that, too.”

      “Great lady, my mom.” Amy moved away to do his bidding and gathered a group of women around a table. In minutes, colored ribbon became fancy bows and boxes became pretty gift packages. The lady had a knack for making things beautiful.

      Busy sorting and directing and keeping an eye on all phases of the operation, Rafe could work anywhere he chose. And he chose to work near Amy. He directed conversation her way and was gratified when she didn’t freeze him out. The talk turned from the Christmas tree lighting and the annual church drama to the amount of snow on the ski slopes.

      “Have you been skiing yet?” he asked, pretending the question was casual conversation for all, though he directed it at Amy. There were at least twenty other people in the room, most of them asking him questions from time to time, and yet he kept returning to Amy.

      Something was going on here, whether he liked it or not.

      “I’ve been too busy with the shop,” Amy said as she wound ribbon around her outstretched fingers to deftly, quickly create a glittering bow. “Mom wants to go part-time after the holidays so I’m in a time crunch to learn everything.”

      She zipped the edge of her scissors along the dangling length of red and silver ribbon. The strips curled into long ringlets around the central bow.

      “You’ve worked in that shop all your life.”

      “But Mom did all the ordering, dealt with vendors and billing. I know how. I just have to learn the nuances.”

      “Ah, those pesky nuances,” he said wryly and handed her a roll of cellophane tape.

      She laughed and the sound pleased him, warming him like a mug of hot chocolate after a fast ride on the Arctic Cat.

      “How’s the sports rental business? Jake says you’re making a killing.”

      She ripped off a strip of tape and handed him the dispenser. He laid it aside and went back to checking his list. When had she talked to Jake? And why? Was his brother up to something?

      “The ski race brings in a lot of tourists,” he said. “Tourists want to have fun. The Westfield brothers are the kings of fun.”

      Amy’s eyes puckered in amusement. “Who knew the two of us could become regular entrepreneurs?”

      “We’ve always had a lot in common.”

      Her smile faded. “Yeah, well...” She fluffed an already fluffy bow and then scooted a box marked with a name and address to one side. “This family is really far from town. Who’s doing the deliveries on the distant homes?”

      He wasn’t sure what he’d said to upset her, but he wanted her smile back. “Don’t know yet. No one’s signed up for the outer limits yet.”

      “I will.”

      “You’ll have to take a snowmobile to most of these places.” He tapped a finger on the cardboard box. “Crick Pass is impassable in any other vehicle this time of year.”

      She cocked her head to one side, eyes twinkling. “Then why do they call it a pass?”

      Ah, there she was, the real Amy, the girl who loved to have fun. Suddenly, he felt better.

      “Come on. The list of addresses is in the office. Let’s go map out the houses we can only reach by snowmobile.”

      “You gonna let me take one of your fancy new rides? Or do I have to drive Mom’s old sled?”

      “Is that thing still running?”

      “Most of the time.”

      “I think you better try out Jake’s new Arctic Cat. It’s a sweet machine.”

      “Sounds like a plan.” She moved away from the table toward the office in the back of the Family Center. “You have GPS?”

      “On everything we rent now.”

      “Good. Map out the route, and I’ll dress up in my elf suit and start delivering tomorrow afternoon.”

      Rafe stopped in his tracks. “You have an elf suit?”

      Her eyebrows wiggled playfully. “Doesn’t everyone?”

      Then she did something the old Amy would have done. She bumped him in the side with her shoulder and giggled.

      * * *

      The next afternoon the air was so still Amy could hear the ground snow crackle like breakfast cereal. She blew out her breath, a frosty cloud, though she was so heavily attired she’d probably be sweating shortly.

      She pushed open the door to Westfield Sports Rentals and stepped inside the warm warehouselike structure. Loud rock music jarred the space. It was her first visit to Rafe’s business and she took in the orderly rows of equipment, the well-swept concrete floor, the waiting area. A couple of round tables with chairs encouraged customers to relax, and on a table against one wall, a pot sent up СКАЧАТЬ