A Christmas Message - Debbie Macomber Page 0,40

K.O. had walked a good mile and felt refreshed in both body and mind. When she entered her building, LaVonne—wearing a housecoat—was stepping out of her condo to grab the morning paper. Her eyes were red and puffy and it looked as if she hadn’t slept all night. She bent over to retrieve her paper.

“LaVonne,” K.O. called out.

Her friend slowly straightened. “I thought I should see if there’s a report in the police blotter about Tom scratching that...that man,” she spat out.

“I doubt it.”

“Is he...back from the hospital?”

“Max Jeffries is alive and well. He sustained a few scratches, but it isn’t nearly as bad as we all feared.” Wynn’s father seemed to be under the delusion that he’d narrowly escaped with his life, but she didn’t feel the need to mention that. Nor did K.O. care to enlighten LaVonne regarding Max’s supposed amnesia.

“I’m so glad.” LaVonne sounded tired and sad.

“Is there anything I can get you?” K.O. asked, feeling partially to blame.

“Thanks for asking, but I’m fine.” She gave a shuddering sob. “Except for poor Tom being in jail...”

“Call if you need me,” K.O. said before she returned to her own apartment.

The rest of the morning passed quickly. She worked for a solid two hours and accomplished more in that brief time than she normally did in four. She finished a medical report, sent off some résumés by email and drafted a Christmas letter for a woman in Zach’s office who’d made a last-minute request. Then, deciding she should check on Max Jeffries, she went up for a quick visit. At twelve-thirty, she grabbed her coat and headed out the door again. With her hands buried deep in her red wool coat and a candy-cane striped scarf doubled around her neck, she walked to Wynn’s office.

This was her first visit there, and she wasn’t sure what to expect. When she stepped inside, she found a comfortable waiting room and thought it looked like any doctor’s office.

A middle-aged receptionist glanced up and smiled warmly. “You must be Katherine,” she said, extending her hand. “I’m Lois Church, Dr. Jeffries’s assistant.”

“Hello,” K.O. said, returning her smile.

“Come on back. Doctor is waiting for you.” Lois led her to a large room, lined with bookshelves and framed degrees. A big desk dominated one end, and there was a sitting area on the other side, complete with a miniature table and chairs and a number of toys.

Wynn stood in front of the bookcase, and when K.O. entered the room, he closed the volume he’d been reading and put it back in place.

Lois slipped quietly out of the room and shut the door.

“Hi,” K.O. said tentatively, wondering at his mood.

He smiled. “I see you received my note.”

“Yes,” she said with a nod. She remained standing just inside his office.

“I asked you to come here to talk about my father. I’m afraid he’s going a little overboard with all of this.”

“I got that impression myself.”

Wynn arched his brows. “You’ve spoken to him?”

She nodded again. “I stopped by to see how he’s doing. He didn’t seem to remember me right away. He says he’s suffering from memory loss.”

Wynn groaned.

“I hate to say this, but I assumed that hypochondria’s what he’s really suffering from.” She paused. “Either that or he’s faking it,” she said boldly.

Wynn gave a dismissive shrug. “I believe your second diagnosis is correct. It’s a recurring condition of his,” he said with a wry smile.

K.O. didn’t know quite what to say.

“He’s exaggerating, looking for attention.” Wynn motioned for her to sit down, which she did, sinking into the luxurious leather sofa. Wynn took the chair next to it. “I don’t mean to sound unsympathetic, but for all his easygoing hippie ways, Moon Puppy—Max—can be quite the manipulator.”

“Well, it’s not like LaVonne did it on purpose or anything.”

There was a moment’s silence. “In light of what happened yesterday, do you still want me to accompany you to your sister’s?” he asked.

K.O. would be terribly disappointed if he’d experienced a change of heart. “I hoped you would, but if you need to bow out because of your father, I understand.”

“No,” he said decisively. “I want to do this. It’s important for us both, for our relationship.”

K.O. felt the same way.

“I’ve already told my father that I have a business appointment this weekend, so he knows I’ll be away.”

That made K.O. smile. This was business. Sort of.

“I’d prefer that Max not know the two of us will be together. He’ll want to join us and, frankly, dealing with him will

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