little bit more of the woman before him and her history.
Lost in his own thoughts, he stood there, looking at the glass ornaments but not really seeing them. She was humming Christmas carols and hanging decorations on the fir tree.
She stopped humming "Jingle Bells" after a few minutes and glanced at him over a shoulder. "Don't you want to help?"
He looked down at the ornament, then shrugged, "Sure." The next thing he knew he was decorating the first Christmas tree he'd decorated since his grandmother died.
A few hours later they finished the tree. Together. It sparkled with strings of electric lights with colored bulbs shaped like fruit. Tin birds in gilded cages hung from the branches along with paper chains and popcorn balls. Fine blown-glass ornaments from Germany were scattered all over while golden angels with porcelain faces looked like they were flying from branch to branch. Paper St. Nicholas likenesses hung from satin ribbons, and clay animals from Noah's ark were scattered on branches everywhere.
It was the best looking tree he'd ever seen, even if it was crooked. And when he stood away from it and really took it all in, he realized that they had accomplished more than simply creating a stately looking tree from a fir that at first reminded him of a hunchback.
The most valuable thing they had accomplished had nothing to do with Christmas trees, crooked or straight. Conn felt as if they were old friends. Nellibelle and him. There was a comfort he hadn’t felt in ages. Who would have thought it possible? He could have never imagined talking and laughing as they had.
Now she stepped back, sipping steaming coffee from a thick mug she held with two hands. "It looks lovely." She turned to him. "Now it feels like Christmas."
"You like Christmas?" He asked, thinking she was like him and didn't do much celebrating. Why bother when you lived alone. Christmas had become only another day to him.
"Don't you like Christmas?”
He shrugged. "I haven't thought about Christmas much. I did as a kid. But not in years."
"You should be ashamed. Everyone needs some bit of Christmas around them." Something caught her eye, and she looked past him. Her face lit up like the tree. "Oh, look!" She raced over to the window. "It's snowing!"
He joined her at the window, and for a few minutes they both stood silently watching the snow fall. As he stood behind her, the snow lost his attention. He was looking down at her, at that shiny black hair he thought might escape from its tight bun and fall down her back, maybe to the backs of her thighs. Her straight nose, white skin, and bright pink cheeks. Her brows tilted upward at the ends and gave her average face expression an exotic look.
There was an easiness about her, something he'd learned about her today, and he liked that. He'd had a good time tonight. He never even looked at his pocket watch, never looked at her clock. He wasn't bored, and it was almost two in the morning.
He studied her face, intrigued by what he saw. Her thoughts were there plain as day. She was completely lost in the pleasure of something as simple as falling snowflakes. She looked about sixteen.
She must have felt his stare because she turned and smiled up at him. He felt as if he'd taken a punch in the gut. Her smile was so powerful, he was certain it could knock him right out of the ring.
He thought about that moment a lot afterward. After he'd left and after he was in bed. And for years he would remember that smile, that wonderful joyous smile, as the one moment in his life when he saw how truly beautiful a woman could be.
Chapter 6
She found the hole in the floor the very next morning, when she was trying to find one of the cats. The hole was underneath her rag rug and was about the size of a dime—just big enough to see through. She pushed the cat out of the way and pressed her face to the wooden floor. There it was—his apartment. She shifted a little to try to get a better view.
Someone pounded on her front door, and she shot up so fast the cat shrieked. She stared at the door.
"Nellie?" He knocked on the door again.
She swiped a strand of loose hair from her face, brushed off her dress, and walked to the front door. When she opened it, he