Angels at Christmas - By Debbie Macomber Page 0,43

coach."

Again she smiled her appreciation. She tossed her backpack on the passenger seat. She didn't want to be rude by climbing into her car and driving away, but Roy didn't seem to have anything else to say.

As it turned out, Julie was wrong about that.

"Do you enjoy clam chowder?" he asked unexpectedly.

"Yes, I do." It was one of her favorite soups.

"There's a little hole-in-the-wall cafe not far from here. They used to serve the most incredible clam chowder. I don't even know if the cafe's still open. I haven't been there in years, but I'm willing to look if you are."

Julie wanted to be sure she understood what he was asking her. "Are you inviting me to dinner?" He seemed nervous about this, but she must be misreading him. Roy Fletcher had nothing to be nervous about.

"Yes, I guess I am asking you to dinner." He brushed a hand across his face. "Like I said, I don't know if the cafe's still open. I ate there in college quite a lot. The food was cheap and good."

Money certainly wasn't something he needed to worry about now.

The differences between them - between his fame and wealth and her middle-class obscurity - would probably be a factor if they were to continue seeing each other. In a flash Julie understood; it was more than dinner he was asking her about. He did want to see her, get to know her, and he was asking if she felt the same way about him.

The look in his eyes was intense. "I like what I know about you, Julie."

She was bewildered and a little shaken. Roy Fletcher was interested in dating her, a thirty-year-old teacher with few marriage prospects. "Other than your tendency to be arrogant, I like you, too."

He grinned. "You have your faults."

"Oh, yeah?"

"The word stubborn comes to mind."

"I'm stubborn when I happen to be right." She wasn't letting that one pass.

He smiled. "I think that's a conversation we should reserve for another time," he said, echoing her earlier remark. "Agreed?"

She nodded. "I can go to dinner dressed like this?" She had on a nylon blue-and-white running suit - the Abraham Lincoln school colors. Her name was printed across the back with the silkscreen of a wolf, the team symbol.

"Sure," he said. "Why don't you come with me and then I'll drive you back here to pick up your car when we're finished."

"Sounds good."

Once they were in the neighborhood, it took Roy fifteen minutes to find the cafe. The restaurant had moved in the eight years since he'd last eaten there. They sat in a booth in a far corner, ordered clam chowder and coffee and discussed movies, politics, the stock market, the state of the economy and a thousand other things. Before she realized it, the cafe was closing.

As Julie undressed for bed that night, she could hardly believe they'd had so much to talk about. For three hours, they'd chatted nonstop, as if they'd known each other their entire lives. She felt genuinely comfortable with him, enjoying his warmth and wit, qualities she wouldn't have guessed he had a couple of weeks ago. After a quick e-mail to Emily, she went to bed.

If anything surprised her, it was the fact that Roy didn't kiss her when he dropped her off at the school to get her car. He wanted to - she was sure of it - and she wanted him to, but...

"Are we still on for tomorrow night?" he'd asked.

Julie was looking forward to it more than ever. "Yes. As far as I'm concerned. What about you?"

"Oh, yes."

That was when she thought he might kiss her. He didn't, but she had the distinct impression he intended to make up for it while they watched the Christmas ships.
Chapter Fifteen
Anne Fletcher strolled leisurely along the Seattle waterfront on her way to Pike Place Market. Julie Wilcoff was meeting her at the seafood stand at noon. Christmas was only two weeks away, and the city was festive with holiday decorations and full of contagious excitement. Even the leaden sky couldn't dampen Anne's spirits. Despite being alone, she felt the goodwill and joy of others as they went about their business.

Walking up the tiered stairway called Hill Climb from the waterfront area to the market, Anne paused to look back over Elliot Bay, watching as the green-and-white Washington State Ferry glided toward the pier. On a clear day she'd be able to see the snow-crested tops of the Olympic Mountains to the east and