Lakeshore Christmas. Сьюзен Виггс
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It was worth the trouble just to witness outrage on Maureen’s face. She didn’t say anything, though, because everyone else had a different reaction. The suggestive thump of rhythm and ridiculous lyrics immediately took hold, as he’d known it would. One thing he was good at was music selection—matching songs to occasions.
“Superfreak” was one of those pieces no one could resist. Even the Veltry brothers, whose taste ran to hip-hop, stepped up their pace.
As she tilted back her head and regarded the night sky, Maureen looked skeptical.
“Now what?” he asked her.
She indicated a guy on a ladder. “Something’s missing,” she said. “I can’t quite put my finger on it.” Her face changed—softened—as she tilted her gaze at the roof of the main structure. “That’s Jabez,” she said. “Have you met him yet?”
“Briefly,” he said. Something about the kid kept niggling at him. Maybe it was just Jabez himself. He exuded a kind of subtle magnetism. The other high-school kids were drawn to him, handing over light spools and cords as he climbed the ladder. Perched on the roof of the flimsy structure, he appeared to be in a precarious position. Yet he seemed all but weightless as he hoisted the Star of Bethlehem, which was easily as tall as he was, and hung it in place at the peak of the roof.
“Ready for the lights,” someone called.
Eddie hit a master switch and the scene came to life. A few moments later, the music changed to Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah.” Bathed in the glow of the lights, Jabez looked even more striking. Maureen’s face changed. Softened, as though overcome by some kind of magic. He’d never known anyone quite like her. There was something about her that moved him; not just her earnest devotion to Christmas, but her air of…he wasn’t quite sure. Optimism, maybe. And earnestness. There was a deep appeal in Maureen that made no sense to Eddie, yet he couldn’t deny it. When he was a kid, he used to dream about a kind of Christmas that simply didn’t exist. Maybe that was the thing about Maureen. She reminded him of the kind of girl who didn’t really exist—not for him, anyway.
Then the lights flickered out. She shaded her eyes and looked around. Volunteers were putting away the tools and crates. “Where’d Jabez go?”
“Don’t know. Do you need him for something?”
“I was going to give him a flyer about auditions. Maybe he’d like to join in.”
“Hate to break it to you, but being in the Christmas pageant is not exactly a hot ticket for kids his age.”
“That’s why I made the flyer.” She handed him a few. “Feel free to give these out.”
He glanced at the sheet, angling it toward the false starlight. “‘Featuring an original composition by Eddie Haven’?” he read aloud. “Since when?”
“Since you said the music I picked was stale, I thought a piece by you would freshen things up.”
“And it never occurred to you to ask?”
“I’m asking. Will you?”
“I mean before you advertise my services.”
“If you turn me down now, you’ll feel like a heel.”
“Christ, and here I was, starting to like you,” he said. “Turning you down is not going to make me feel like a heel.”
“I know. It’s the kids and everyone counting on an amazing pageant this year,” she said. “They’re the ones who will make you feel like a heel.” She went around collecting empty cups, moving through the crowd with brisk efficiency.
“I just got screwed,” Eddie said to Ray. “But I don’t remember getting kissed.”
“By Maureen? Don’t be sore. She does that to everybody.”
“Does what?”
“Gets her way. I’ve known her for years, and that’s just the way she operates. No biggie.” Ray headed toward his truck.
“She’s into you,” Randy Veltry remarked as they reeled in the stereo speakers.
“What?”
“That woman. The one you were talking to. Totally into you.”
“Right.” Eddie gave a derisive laugh. He tried to dismiss the notion. Into him? Maureen Davenport? No way. She made it clear she couldn’t stand him. Her being into him—that was the last thing he wanted or needed.
And yet…he liked her, bossy attitude, librarian bun and all. It was crazy.
“You ought to ask her out,” Moby suggested.
“Nope. No way. We have to work together on this Christmas production so I can’t be getting personal with her.”
“Chicken.” Omar flapped his wings.
“I’m not. It’s just…I don’t have such good luck with women around this time of year. You know what I call Christmas? Ex-mas. With an E-X. I’ve been dumped three times at the holidays.” It was true; he hadn’t learned his lesson with Natalie. He’d never tried proposing again, but his next two girlfriends both dropped him at Christmastime, too.
“Oh, let me get out my tiny finger-violin.” Randy pantomimed the action.
“I’m just saying.”
“You’re looking for excuses.”
Eddie regarded the three brothers. Thinking about their background and current troubles, he was amazed they even spared a thought for his love life. “Yeah, you’re a bunch of wiseguys,” he said. “That’s what you are.”
“Hear that?” Omar said. “We’re wiseguys, all three of us.”
“Which reminds me, you’re going to try out for the pageant.”
“Ha. That’s a good one.”
“You think I’m kidding? I wouldn’t kid about something that’s going to get you released from school an hour early, three times a week.”
That clinched the deal for them. The Veltry boys caught a ride home with Noah and Max, leaving Eddie to finish up with the other volunteers. People trickled away, heading home, nagging their kids about weekend chores, checking their e-mail and seeing what was on TV. Eddie didn’t have to worry about any of those things, so he lingered to finish up with the lighting. After a while, he realized only he and Maureen Davenport remained.
“Pretty cold tonight,” he said, just to fill the silence.
“I hope the snow comes soon,” she said. “It’s always so lovely to have snow at Christmas. It never officially feels like the season has started until it snows.”
“Not a fan. But don’t worry. You’ll get your snow any minute now.”
“No, the weather report earlier said there’s no snow in the forecast.”
“Maybe not, but it’s still going to snow. Tonight,” he said.
She shook her head. “I’ve been checking the weather report regularly. There’s not a hint of snow.”
“Have a little faith, Miss Davenport.”
“I have plenty of faith,” she retorted.
“Right.”
She studied him for a few minutes, her gaze both probing and compassionate. “What is it with you and Christmas? Did it start that night?”
Eddie studied her keen-eyed expression. So she’d heard the story. Maybe she’d been at the church when his van had gone flying into the nativity scene. He wondered how much she knew. “Wasn’t my best night.”
“People said it was a miracle you survived the wreck,” she said.