friendly. There were get-togethers for most every holiday, wedding and baby showers, and summer picnics. It was like having a second, albeit slightly more normal, family than her own.
Much as Jimmy had just a few minutes earlier, Jess exchanged holiday greetings, friendly kisses, and hugs on her way to the door.
The hallway was deserted, but for the stuffed reindeers and a plastic Santa that hung—lopsided—on the wall. Lorraine, a self-proclaimed Christmas nut, had spent half a day decorating not only the main office, but the hallway and Dean’s office as well.
Jess had the elevator to herself, and she tried to think only of the wonderfully relaxing holiday she had planned for herself. Chocolate chip cookies and tomato soup, but not at the same time. Old movies and a quilt and her flannel pajamas. A pot of mocha coffee.
Perfection.
Unfortunately the memory of that kiss continued to intrude.
The sparsely furnished lobby was cold and deserted, and Jess gathered the lapels of her coat together as she burst through the front doors and into a cold night. The rain was already beginning to freeze, and it pelted her face as she ran to her car. It was a nasty night, bitter and mean, and it made the promise of home all the more inviting.
Her apartment was a mere fifteen minutes from the office, on a good day, but she imagined it would take her twice that long to get home tonight. Traffic was light, but the freezing rain slowed everyone down.
She caught the first red light, naturally. The car wasn’t even warm yet, and she shivered as she waited for the light to turn green. With a gloved hand she flicked on the radio, and Christmas music poured softly from the speakers. That was all she was likely to find for tonight. She loved the appropriate song that was playing, “Baby, It’s Cold Outside,” and she especially loved this version. It was hauntingly romantic. Without wanting to, she thought of Jimmy.
The light turned green, and she took off at a near crawl. “Baby, It’s Cold Outside” concluded and the next song, which came on without a break or introduction of any kind, was Jimmy’s rendition of “Blue Christmas.”
She thought about turning the radio off, but instead kept both hands firmly on the steering wheel. This was, after all, a beautiful song, beautifully sung. Jimmy had left his Stratocaster at home for this recording, and strummed slowly on an old beat-up Martin he’d brought to the studio with him.
That classic guitar had seen better days, cosmetically, but the notes Jimmy pulled from it were warm and comforting, just like the voice that accompanied it.
What woman could listen to that voice and not melt? The simple way this song had been recorded, just Jimmy and the guitar, gave it an intimate quality. She could almost imagine that Jimmy was right here in the car with her.
She glanced sharply at the radio as she listened to the words. “Yeah, right,” she whispered. “You’ll do just fine without me, Jimmy Blue.”
She wasn’t falling for a musician’s smooth lines, not ever again. Once bitten, twice shy, isn’t that what they say? Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me . Another saying worth remembering.
It didn’t take her as long as she’d thought it would to reach her apartment building. She parked in the open lot, then ran from her car to the front entrance. She couldn’t outrun the icy rain. It collected in her hair and on her coat, and once she was in the warmth of the foyer she took a moment to knock some of it off.
She loved this old building, which was neither chic nor in the most upscale part of town. As her salary had risen, she’d shopped a few times for a new apartment. The alternatives she found were, for the most part, cold and impersonal and all the same. They weren’t her . So here she stayed.
While she shook off the cold rain and sleet, Mrs. Courtney stepped off the elevator. Eleanor Courtney lived on the second floor, and had been there for
Much as Jimmy had just a few minutes earlier, Jess exchanged holiday greetings, friendly kisses, and hugs on her way to the door.
The hallway was deserted, but for the stuffed reindeers and a plastic Santa that hung—lopsided—on the wall. Lorraine, a self-proclaimed Christmas nut, had spent half a day decorating not only the main office, but the hallway and Dean’s office as well.
Jess had the elevator to herself, and she tried to think only of the wonderfully relaxing holiday she had planned for herself. Chocolate chip cookies and tomato soup, but not at the same time. Old movies and a quilt and her flannel pajamas. A pot of mocha coffee.
Perfection.
Unfortunately the memory of that kiss continued to intrude.
The sparsely furnished lobby was cold and deserted, and Jess gathered the lapels of her coat together as she burst through the front doors and into a cold night. The rain was already beginning to freeze, and it pelted her face as she ran to her car. It was a nasty night, bitter and mean, and it made the promise of home all the more inviting.
Her apartment was a mere fifteen minutes from the office, on a good day, but she imagined it would take her twice that long to get home tonight. Traffic was light, but the freezing rain slowed everyone down.
She caught the first red light, naturally. The car wasn’t even warm yet, and she shivered as she waited for the light to turn green. With a gloved hand she flicked on the radio, and Christmas music poured softly from the speakers. That was all she was likely to find for tonight. She loved the appropriate song that was playing, “Baby, It’s Cold Outside,” and she especially loved this version. It was hauntingly romantic. Without wanting to, she thought of Jimmy.
The light turned green, and she took off at a near crawl. “Baby, It’s Cold Outside” concluded and the next song, which came on without a break or introduction of any kind, was Jimmy’s rendition of “Blue Christmas.”
She thought about turning the radio off, but instead kept both hands firmly on the steering wheel. This was, after all, a beautiful song, beautifully sung. Jimmy had left his Stratocaster at home for this recording, and strummed slowly on an old beat-up Martin he’d brought to the studio with him.
That classic guitar had seen better days, cosmetically, but the notes Jimmy pulled from it were warm and comforting, just like the voice that accompanied it.
What woman could listen to that voice and not melt? The simple way this song had been recorded, just Jimmy and the guitar, gave it an intimate quality. She could almost imagine that Jimmy was right here in the car with her.
She glanced sharply at the radio as she listened to the words. “Yeah, right,” she whispered. “You’ll do just fine without me, Jimmy Blue.”
She wasn’t falling for a musician’s smooth lines, not ever again. Once bitten, twice shy, isn’t that what they say? Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me . Another saying worth remembering.
It didn’t take her as long as she’d thought it would to reach her apartment building. She parked in the open lot, then ran from her car to the front entrance. She couldn’t outrun the icy rain. It collected in her hair and on her coat, and once she was in the warmth of the foyer she took a moment to knock some of it off.
She loved this old building, which was neither chic nor in the most upscale part of town. As her salary had risen, she’d shopped a few times for a new apartment. The alternatives she found were, for the most part, cold and impersonal and all the same. They weren’t her . So here she stayed.
While she shook off the cold rain and sleet, Mrs. Courtney stepped off the elevator. Eleanor Courtney lived on the second floor, and had been there for
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