turkey with sage stuffing resting in the center. She’d imagined Christmas music playing and the tree lights blinking merrily, enhancing the celebratory mood. She couldn’t believe she’d even considered such a thing, knowing what she did now.
“I have a Christmas surprise coming your way,” Mickey said. “I’m just hoping it arrives in time for the holidays.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she assured her brother, dragging her thoughts away from Jake. She focused on her brother and nephew—which was exactly what she intended to do from this point forward. She needed to forget this romantic fantasy she’d invented within a day of meeting Jake Finley.
“I can guarantee Gabe will like it and so will you,” Mickey was saying.
Holly couldn’t begin to guess what Mickey might have purchased in Afghanistan for Christmas, but then her brother had always been full of surprises. He’d probably ordered something over the internet, she decided.
“Mom and Dad mailed us a package, as well,” she told him. “The box got here this week.”
“From Haiti? What would they be sending?”
“I don’t have a clue,” she said. Once the tree was up she’d arrange the gifts underneath it.
“You’re going to wait until Christmas morning, aren’t you?” he asked. “Don’t open anything before that.”
“Of course we’ll wait.” Even as kids, they’d managed not to peek at their gifts.
Mickey laughed, then grew serious. “This won’t be an ordinary Christmas, will it?”
Holly hadn’t dwelled on not being with her parents. Her father, a retired dentist, and her mother, a retired nurse, had offered their services in a health clinic for twelve months after the devastating earthquake. They’d been happy about the idea of giving back, and Holly had been happy for them. This Christmas was supposed to be Mickey, Gabe and her for the holidays—and then Mickey’s National Guard unit had been called up and he’d left to serve his country.
“It could be worse,” she said, and her thoughts involuntarily went to Jake and his father, who refused to celebrate Christmas at all.
“Next year everything will be different,” Mickey told her.
“Yes, it will,” she agreed.
Her brother spoke to Gabe for a few more minutes and then said goodbye. Gabe was pensive after the conversation with his father and so was Holly, but for different reasons.
“How about toasted cheese sandwiches and tomato soup for lunch?” she suggested, hoping to lighten the mood. “That was your dad’s and my favorite Sunday lunch when we were growing up.”
Gabe looked at her suspiciously. “What kind of cheese?”
Holly shrugged. “Regular cheese?” By that she meant the plastic-wrapped slices, Gabe’s idea of cheese.
“You won’t use any of that buffalo stuff, will you?”
She grinned. “Buffalo mozzarella. Nope, this is plain old sliced regular cheese in a package.”
“Okay, as long as the soup comes from a can. That’s the way Dad made it and that’s how I like it.”
“You got it,” she said, and moved into the kitchen.
Gabe sat on a stool and watched her work, leaning his elbows on the kitchen counter. Holly wasn’t fooled by his intent expression. He wasn’t interested in spending time with her; he was keeping a close eye on their lunch in case she tried to slip in a foreign ingredient. After a moment he released a deep sigh.
“What’s that about?” she asked.
“I miss my dad.”
“I know you do, sweetheart. I miss him, too.”
“And Grandma and Grandpa.”
“And they miss us.”
Gabe nodded. “It’s not so bad living with you. I thought it was at first, but you’re okay.”
“Thanks.” She hid a smile and set a piece of buttered bread on the heated griddle, then carefully placed a slice of processed cheese on top before adding the second piece of bread. She planned to have a plain cheese sandwich herself—one with real cheese.
Obviously satisfied that she was preparing his lunch according to his specifications, Gabe clambered off the stool. “Can we go to the movies this afternoon?”
“Maybe.” She had to be careful with her entertainment budget, especially since there were additional expenses coming up this month. “It might be better if we got a video.”
“Can I invite a friend over?”
She hesitated a moment, afraid he might want to ask his new friend, Billy.
“Sure,” she said. “How about Jonathan Krantz?” Jonathan was another eight-year-old who lived in the building, and Caroline, his mother, sometimes babysat for her.
That was acceptable to Gabe.
After lunch they walked down to the neighborhood video store, found a movie they could both agree on and then asked Jonathan to join them.
Holly did her best to pay attention to the movie; however, her mind had a