gloves, she walked out of her condo wearing a smile. She refused to let anyone know she was suffering from a broken heart.
“Katherine,” LaVonne called the instant she saw her. She stood at the lobby mailbox as if she’d been there for hours, just waiting for K.O. “Merry Christmas!”
“Merry Christmas,” K.O. returned a little too brightly. She managed a smile and with her shoulders squared, made her way to the door.
“Do you have any plans for Christmas?” her neighbor called after her.
K.O.’s mouth hurt from holding that smile for so long. She nodded. “I’m joining Zelda, Zach and the girls this evening, and then I thought I’d spend a quiet Christmas by myself.” Needless to say, she hadn’t issued any invitations, and she’d hardly seen LaVonne in days. Tomorrow she’d cook for herself. While doing errands this morning, she planned to purchase a small—very small—turkey. She refused to mope and feel lonely, not on Christmas Day.
“Have dinner with me,” LaVonne said. “It’ll just be me and the boys.”
When K.O. hesitated, she added, “Tom, Phillip and Martin would love to see you. I’m cooking a turkey and all the fixings, and I’d be grateful for the company.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure!”
K.O. didn’t take long to consider her friend’s invitation. “I’d love to, then. What would you like me to bring?”
“Dessert,” LaVonne said promptly. “Something yummy and special for Christmas.”
“All right.” They agreed on a time and K.O. left, feeling better than she had in days. Just as she was about to step outside, she turned back.
“How’s Max?” she asked, knowing her neighbor was on good terms with Wynn’s father. Exactly how good those terms were remained to be seen. She wondered fleetingly what the Jeffrieses were doing for Christmas, then decided it was none of her business. Still, the afternoon K.O. had found Max in LaVonne’s condo, she’d been shocked to say the least. Their brief conversation the following day hadn’t been too enlightening but maybe over Christmas dinner LaVonne would tell her what had happened—and what was happening now.
Flustered, LaVonne lowered her eyes as she sorted through a stack of mail that seemed to be mostly Christmas cards. “He’s completely recovered. And,” she whispered, “he’s apologized to Tom.”
A sense of pleasure shot through K.O. at this...and at the way LaVonne blushed. Apparently this was one romance that held promise. Her own had fizzled out fast enough. She’d come to truly like Wynn. More than like... At the thought of him, an aching sensation pressed down on her. In retrospect, she wished she’d handled the situation differently. Because she couldn’t resist, she had to ask, “Have you seen Wynn?”
Her friend nodded but the look in LaVonne’s eyes told K.O. everything she dreaded.
“He’s still angry, isn’t he?”
LaVonne gave her a sad smile. “I’m sure everything will work out. I know what I saw in that Raisin Bran.” She attempted a laugh.
“When you see him again, tell him...” She paused. “Tell him,” she started again, then gave up. Wynn had made his feelings clear. He’d told her it would be best if they didn’t see each other again, and he’d meant it. Nine days with no word told her he wasn’t changing his mind. Well, she had her pride, too.
“What would you like me to tell him?” LaVonne asked.
“Nothing. It’s not important.”
“You could write him a letter,” LaVonne suggested.
“Perhaps I will,” K.O. said on her way out the door, but she knew she wouldn’t. It was over.
Blossom Street seemed more alive than at any other time she could remember. A group of carolers performed at the corner, songbooks in their hands. An elderly gentleman rang a bell for charity outside the French Café, which was crowded with customers. Seeing how busy the place was, K.O. decided to purchase her Christmas dessert now, before they completely sold out.
After adding a donation to the pot as she entered the café, she stood in a long line. When her turn finally came to order, she saw that one of the bakers was helping at the counter. K.O. knew Alix Townsend or, at least, she’d talked to her often enough to know her by name.
“Merry Christmas, K.O.,” Alix said.
“Merry Christmas to you, too.” K.O. surveyed the sweet delicacies behind the glass counter. “I need something that says Christmas,” she murmured. The decorated cookies were festive but didn’t seem quite right. A pumpkin pie would work, but it wasn’t really special.
“How about a small Bûche de Noël,” Alix said. “It’s a traditional French dessert—a fancy cake decorated