Mistletoe and Holly Read Free Page B

the door; and no movement in the kitchen window facing the driveway. Leslie pushed the cards into a pile at the end of the table and grabbed for her crutches. With growing deftness, she maneuvered them under her arms and swung toward the door in long strides. Steam and frost covered the glass pane in the door, preventing Leslie from seeing who was outside.
    In New York, she wouldn’t have dreamed of opening the door without knowing who was out there, but this was Vermont. She opened the inner door and saw a short, red-coated child standing on the other side of the storm door. Leslie pushed it open too, her glance running past the little girl, but there was no sign of her father.
    “Hello.” The hood to her red snow jacket wasn’t covering her head, revealing long, shining black hair. Its blackness made the girl’s eyes seem all the more blue.
    “Hello, Holly.” Leslie was a bit confused as she glanced at the paper sack the girl clutched against the front of her unbuttoned jacket. A pair of blue barrettes secured the black hair swept away from her temples.
    “May I come in?” she asked with a look that fairly beamed with friendly warmth.
    “Of course.” She shifted her crutches to back out of the opening and let the young girl step inside.
    Holly paused on the rug and painstakingly wiped all traces of snow and moisture from her shoes. “I forgot to wear my boots.” There was a hint of mischief in the rueful expression. “My dad’s probably gonna be mad when he finds out.” But she obviously wasn’t concerned.
    “Was there something you wanted?” Leslie still wasn’t too sure about the reason for this visit. Her aunt hadn’t indicated the little girl was in the practice of coming over.
    “I saw Mrs. Evans drive away a while ago and I thought you might like some company,” she declared and walked to the kitchen table to lay her paper sack on it.
    “That’s very thoughtful of you.” Leslie had been wishing for someone to talk to, but she wryly wondered if her desperation for company stretched to conversing with a six-going-on-seven-year-old girl.
    “I know,” the girl agreed blandly and shrugged out of her jacket, draping it on a chair back. Underneath the jacket, she was wearing a pair of blue corduroy overalls and a white blouse with a ruffled collar. She managed to look both the little lady and the tomboy. “Is it all right if I call youLeslie? Dad said I should ask before I called you that,” she explained to Leslie over her shoulder.
    “I don’t mind if you call me Leslie.” A little bemused, she edged around the girl to resume her seat in the kitchen chair.
    “Do you want me to put your crutches somewhere?” Holly volunteered.
    “No, that’s all right,” Leslie refused gently. “I’ll just stand them up against the wall where I can reach them.”
    “I always thought Leslie was a boy’s name, but Daddy said it can be a girl’s name, too.” She emptied the contents of her paper sack onto the table. There were a dozen pieces of red and green construction paper, a bottle of glue, and a pair of blunt-ended, child’s scissors.
    “I guess it must be true since my name is Leslie and I’m a girl,” she offered, containing an amused smile. “What’s all this you have here?”
    “I remembered when I was sick with the measles, it made me feel better if I had something to do. So I brought this over. I thought you might like to help me make a paper-chain to hang on our Christmas tree.”
    “I see.” Actually what Leslie saw was the irony of the situation. She, who abhorred the commercialized Christmas and all its trappings, was being asked by a little girl to help make a Christmas decoration.She liked children, so how could she refuse without appearing heartless and cold.
    “I can show you if you don’t know how to make them. It’s real easy,” Holly assured her and picked up the scissors to cut a strip of green construction paper crosswise. “You start with a piece of paper like