Kissing Under the Mistletoe Read Free Page B

nice except she smells like saltines and says ‘shhh’ too loud.” Holly interrupted herself to explain. “A fact, not gossip, so it’s not bad. Then today we had the tryouts for the Christmas musical, and I went out for the role of Christmas Kitty and the music teacher, Mrs. Dee, said my purring was ‘purrrrfect.’”
    Holly demonstrated said purr, and it was pretty dang perfect.
    “You know what I was thinking?” A long blink was Holly’s only response. “Maybe next weekend we could go chop down a tree.”
    “Chop down a tree? Like a real one?” That got her attention. “For the front room?”
    “Yup. I saw a banner for a Christmas tree fund-raiser in town. It sounded fun.”
    “I want a big one, like they have in the middle of town, with twinkle lights, white ones only, and snow. Real snow. It has to smell like camping and have Grandma’s star on top. Maybe even birds in it. And when I come out Christmas morning, there will be presents with red and green bows all around and the birds will sing.”
    Regan was already making a mental spreadsheet of the cost. Then stopped herself. This Christmas was going to be perfect. She had a new, plush job and a little in savings. “How about tomorrow we measure the front room and then go and see what they have that might fit?”
    “How ’bout we measure it now?” Holly suggested, eyes alert, already sitting up.
    “Tomorrow.” Regan placed a hand on her daughter’s shoulder, steering her back down. “
Now
we go to sleep.”
    Holly stared at her, clearly trying to think of a way to buy just five more minutes of awake time, but not even one of the million or so excuses she usually used came out. With a resigned sigh and a good-girl bat of the lashes, she folded her hands under her cheek and feigned sleep.
    Realizing she was stalling too, Regan gave one last tuck to the sheets and stood.
Tonight’s party will be fine
, she tried to convince herself. Fun, even. And with Christmas only three weeks away, what better way to beef up the yuletide spirit than a holiday party?
    She kissed her daughter’s hand and gave it three little I-love-you squeezes. Holly squeezed back with her two me-too grips.
    “’Night, sweetie.”
    She’d crossed the room and was about to shut the door when the sleeping Holly spoke. “I forgot about the best part of my week.”
    “What’s that?” Regan asked, even though she already knew the answer.
    “When Mrs. Schultz said I could have a kitty of my very own. Not like in Newberg where I pretended that Miss Tuffett was mine, but one that sleeps in my bed and watches TV with me.”
    Regan’s throat closed. One of the concessions she’d made to compensate Holly for leaving all her friends behind was the promise of a kitty of her very own. Last year, after Regan had finally gone under, financially speaking, they had been evicted from their apartment and forced to move to the other side of town and rent from a landlord who wouldn’t allow pets of any kind. Holly had resorted to feeding a stray cat their dinner leftovers.
    However, Jordan Schultz, Regan’s new boss, current landlord, fast friend, and the first woman to take a chance on her in nearly six years, had merely waved her fingers dismissively at the request and said a cat would be a great addition to the house, instantly making Holly the happiest girl in the world.
    Regan’s eyes rested on her sleeping daughter and conceded that she was the luckiest mom in the world.

CHAPTER 2

    R egan debated changing her order from a Sangiovese to a shot of Jack. The invitation had specifically said “cocktail attire.” Apparently Oregon’s definition and the Napa Valley’s differed.
    It had taken four laps around the lobby, three visits to the ladies’ room, two pep talks, and a partridge in a pear tree for Regan to muster the courage to walk into that ballroom. She’d decided that her simple red sheath wasn’t dressy enough and her heels not name brand enough and was making a beeline