Wrapped Up in Christmas Joy - Janice Lynn Page 0,27

a sewing machine in her bedroom; an old-fashioned Singer model that had belonged to her grandmother. It had seen many hours of use over the decades. Prior to the shop closing, she’d started sewing on the Santa suit, then the quilt, and hadn’t wanted to quit to go home even long after Isabelle had locked up and headed out.

She stood, stretched her arms over her head, then behind her back, rolling her shoulders several times. She should’ve stopped to stretch more. She tried to maintain good body mechanics and habits, but sometimes, she got so caught up in what she was doing she didn’t notice how much time had passed and would sew to the point of all her joints going stiff.

Like tonight. It was nearly eleven. She’d have to be quiet when she snuck into the house.

She packed her supplies and stowed them in their bag. No need to bring it home with her as she wouldn’t be doing any more sewing tonight.

Her gaze fell on the Santa suit. She’d leave it here, as well, and have Cole pick it up. After all, he’d insisted her repairing it was a business transaction. So she’d be all business.

She set the alarm, stepped outside the front of the shop, then locked the deadbolt. The night air was brisk, and she wished she’d brought a heavier jacket with her that morning. Thankfully, her walk home would take less than ten minutes.

Despite the chill and her rumbly belly from being too busy sewing to remember dinner, she paused to admire the courthouse across the street, majestic as the center of the square and the town. The entire square was well lit, displaying picturesque lampposts and streetlights and Christmas decor, but the courthouse always seemed so grand with the lights shined upward illuminating the flag whipping in the wind.

Pride filled her at the sight of her hometown. She loved Pine Hill so much.

Unable to resist, she pulled her cell phone from her bag and snapped a photo of the building with its haloed-in-light flag, planning to post it on the shop’s social media page the following morning, then slid the phone into her back pocket.

She was still thinking about how pretty downtown looked when it was decorated for Christmas as she exited the commercial district and rounded the corner to the residential street where she lived. As with the square, her neighbors took Christmas seriously and almost every house already boasted festive lights. A few had big, blow-up decorations filling their yards, and Christmas trees twinkled from inside windows.

Despite the chill nipping at her, Sophie smiled at the pretty scenery around her. All that was needed was Santa to make the night complete. Santa Cole, that is.

“Meow.”

Oh, no. Guilt hit Sophie, and she stopped walking and looked around for the yellow cat. Her belly wasn’t the only thing she hadn’t fed that evening. No doubt the poor thing wondered why she hadn’t given him dinner yet.

But where was he?

“Meow.”

This time, she realized the sound came from overhead. Sophie searched the branches of the old oak trees that lined the street, illuminated by the streetlights.

“Meow.”

“There you are.”

Way up in the branches, the half-grown cat paced back and forth, looking distressed.

He was stuck in the tree. She’d heard of that happening, but had never expected to experience it in real life. Eek. No way could she leave him up there.

Looking at the limbs, Sophie calculated whether she’d be able to climb up to get to the cat. He appeared to be about fifteen feet up, maybe a little higher. There weren’t any really low branches on that tree, but the tree next to it had several large, low ones—and then higher branches that reached over into the other tree’s space. If she climbed up the one, then crossed over, she thought she could then make it up to where the cat was.

The cat meowed for help. “I’m coming, baby,” she promised, dropping her bag to the ground and preparing to climb.

He’d stopped pacing and was now watching her as she reached for the first branch. It was a struggle, but she got a hold of it and pulled herself up, snagging her sweater in the process. Ugh. She really liked this sweater, too. Maybe she’d be able to repair it.

“You know, after this, you have no choice but to like me.” Once securely on the branch, she carefully stood, then began climbing. Slowly, but surely, she made her way over to where she could transfer over