Wish Upon a Christmas Star Read Free

work.”
    “You always have to work.” She positioned herself beside him
and grabbed a limb, shaping one of the flexible plastic branches to achieve
maximum fullness.
    “Dad’s at work right now,” he pointed out.
    “Today is only December 17,” she said. “Your father has
Christmas week off like normal people.”
    “The holidays are a great time to network.” Logan had been
employed by a financial planning service in New York City ever since he’d moved
there. He’d steadily climbed the ranks, in large part because he understood what
it took to get ahead. “We’ve got a lot going on for our clients next week.
Parties. Dinners. A suite at the Knicks game. I have to be there.”
    “I’m glad you have a good job,” his mother began. Logan got
ready for the “but,” certain he already knew what she’d say.
    “But don’t you think you should spend your money on the woman
you’re going to marry instead of on me and Dad?” she finished.
    He straightened, went to the box and withdrew more of the tree.
He got another piece in place before answering. “That woman doesn’t exist, Mom.
I’m not engaged.”
    “You’re thirty-three years old, honey. That’s not so young
anymore.” She sounded as though she was breaking a difficult truth to him. “Are
you at least dating someone?”
    “Occasionally.” He dated off and on, when he had the time, but
rarely went out with a woman for more than two or three dates.
    “Anyone special?” She asked the same questions every time he
visited Kentucky or he flew her and Dad up to see him in New York. He was used
to it by now. He even had a strategy to deflect the inquisition: say as little
as possible.
    “Nope,” he said.
    After a few moments of silence, his mother changed the subject.
They talked companionably of inconsequential things for the next hour while they
decorated the tree with the ornaments and lights Logan brought up from the
basement.
    After Logan topped the tree with the traditional gilded angel
that had been handed down from his grandmother, they stood back and admired
their handiwork. With the afternoon sun streaming through the picture windows in
the living room, the tree’s tiny white lights mimicked flakes of snow. His
mother favored an artificial tree because of the risk of fire associated with a
real one. Since she’d started putting pine-scented potpourri underneath the
tree, he couldn’t tell the difference.
    “You’ll never guess who I ran into the other day,” his mother
said conversationally, her voice sounding too innocent to be true. “Maria
DiMarco.”
    Yep. Logan was right. His mother had an agenda.
    “Maria looked great. She’s such a pretty girl, with that black
hair, those blue eyes and the pale skin.” His mom paused. When he said nothing,
she added, “She’s single again, you know.”
    That wasn’t news to Logan. By his estimation, Maria had been
divorced for four years and two months.
    “Real subtle, Mom,” he said wryly.
    “But you haven’t even brought home a girl to meet me since you
and Maria broke up,” she said.
    “Maria and I were over in high school,” he answered. “I haven’t
seen her in years.”
    More than eleven years, to be exact. The last time their paths
had crossed was at Mike’s memorial service. With her then-husband by her side,
Maria hadn’t said more than a few words to Logan. He hadn’t expected her to, not
when her brother wouldn’t have been at the Windows on the World restaurant at
all if it hadn’t been for him. He was amazed that her sister, Annalise, still
used him as an investment advisor.
    “You two used to be so in love,” his mother continued as if he
hadn’t spoken. “What would it hurt to see if the spark is still there?”
    “Maria married somebody else,” he reminded her.
    “Only because she was confused. She wouldn’t have even looked
at another man if you hadn’t—”
    “Drop it, Mom,” he interrupted, more sharply than he’d
intended. It had taken him