Mistletoe and Holly Read Free

enough bad marriages to keep me single for the rest of my life.” Not just her parents, but those of her friends as well.
    “You’ll change your mind someday,” her aunt declared with certainty.
    Leslie glanced at her, then laughed. “You’re probably right. What is it they say about ‘famous lastwords?’ ” It was a rhetorical question that trailed off tiredly at the end.
    Patsy Evans took a closer look at her niece and suggested, “Why don’t you go into the living room and get that leg propped up? I’ll bring the tea when it’s ready.”
    The prospect was too inviting for Leslie to refuse. “I think I’ll do that and give this pain pill a chance to work.” As she pivoted on her good leg and swung the crutches around to start for the living room, one of the crutches banged into a kitchen chair. “I’m like a bull in a china shop with these things,” she grumbled in irritation. “I’d like to know why it’s more difficult to maneuver on four legs than it is on two.”
    “Coordination will come with practice,” her aunt assured.
    “I’ll be a pro with these things by the time this cast comes off in five weeks,” Leslie agreed and clumped out of the kitchen.
    Like the house itself, the furniture in it was strong and solidly built, some of the pieces bordering on antique. The thick cushions on the gold corduroy sofa were firm, indicating to Leslie that the upholstery was new, but the sofa wasn’t. She sat at one end and lifted her casted leg onto the cushions, plumping handmade crewelwork pillows behind her back for additional support. Closing her eyes, shelet the quiet of the old house spill over her. Peace was something she had always appreciated, and it was no less precious to her now at twenty-five.
    A reflective expression stole over her features in repose. It was true that, despite all her antimarriage remarks, she secretly desired a lifelong partner to love, and to be loved by him. There had been moments in her life when she had thought she had found him, only to discover fundamental differences of opinion. Those relationships, like most others, had died an early death. Leslie knew she was wary; sometimes she wondered if she wasn’t expecting too much, but she wasn’t prepared to settle for less.
    A sigh broke from her lips. An instant later, she heard her aunt’s footsteps entering the living room. She opened her eyes, smelling the fragrance of freshly brewed tea. A cup was set on the table within easy reach for Leslie as her aunt took a seat in the matching armchair that faced the fireplace.
    “How’s your father? I haven’t heard from him lately.” Her aunt asked to be filled in on the family.
    “He and Millie and the kids are spending the holidays at their condominium in Hawaii. They’re all fine.” Both of her parents had remarried after their divorce when Leslie was fourteen. Each had stepchildren.
    Having wanted brothers and sisters all throughchildhood, she had been disillusioned when she had finally acquired both. The sibling rivalry and setting parent against stepparent were painful things for her; almost as painful as the way her parents had tore at her, trying to be the sole object of her love and depriving the other of her affection. Her parents’ marriage and divorce had both been fought with Leslie as the battleground. Growing up had been unpleasant, dimming what few happy memories she possessed.
    “Hawaii,” her aunt repeated. “It must be wonderful to escape all this snow and cold.”
    “As soon as Daddy was notified about my fall, he had prepaid tickets waiting at the airport for me to fly over there and stay with them.” Her grimace showed her opinion of that invitation. “You know what it’s like at Christmas—everyone trying to outdo the other and complaining if their present isn’t as expensive as the one they gave. The endless parties. Decorations all over the place.” She shook her head to show her dislike for such things. “Needless to say, Daddy