No Christmas Like the Present by Sierra Donovan Read Free Book Online

sterile, color-coordinated ornaments, aside from the occasional bright-colored ball to be used as filler. This would be a tree filled with sentiment, and Fred realized he hadn’t expected anything less of her.
    After a few minutes she handed him a toy soldier, and stood to hang the first of her ballerinas. As they worked, Fred took care to let Lindsay gravitate toward her favorites, sometimes with a comment or a story, sometimes not. Then he spotted one that had the unmistakable air of a treasured memento.
    â€œNow, here’s something you don’t see every day.” He held up a bedraggled reindeer stick horse, with a huge Styrofoam head and a fake candy cane for a body.
    â€œOh, let me hang that one.” Lindsay snatched it from his fingers and hung it low on the tree, but near the center, where it wouldn’t be missed.
    â€œThat’s Rudolph. My mom let me take him when I moved away from home.” She fingered the reindeer’s bent green tinfoil antlers. “When I was little I always used to hang him from some nice high branch. Then I’d wonder why he turned up in a lower spot later on. Usually near the back.” She put her hands in front of her face to hide her smile. “Isn’t he hideous?”
    â€œSome of the best Christmas decorations are hideous.” Fred peered into the light gray eyes above her folded hands. Undeniably, they sparkled.
    And you were going to leave these boxed up in the closet all year?
    He refrained from saying it.
    The tree filled quickly. Soon there was very little space left, even for those generic ball ornaments, most of which went at the back of the tree. A smattering of decorations still covered the bottom of the box when Lindsay closed the cardboard flaps with a reluctant last look. “I guess I’ll have to save these for next year.”
    Next year. He liked the sound of that.
    Fred flicked out the switch for the overhead living room light, and they both stood back to admire their handiwork. The gray wintry day outside left the apartment fairly dim, so the tree’s colorful lights had a chance to do their work, transforming the room into a picture of holiday tranquility.
    Lindsay stood in the soft light with her arms wrapped around herself. “Thanks,” she said, meeting his eyes. A smile touched her lips, and tugged at his heart. It was her most unreserved moment to date.
    And if he let it continue, he might forget himself and put his arm around her, whether her case called for it or not. Remember the job.
    In the glow of the Christmas tree, that was hard to do. Fred stepped back to the light switch and turned it on. It bought him the distance he needed, but at the cost of the peaceful mood they’d just managed to capture. One glance at Lindsay confirmed he’d broken the moment. She surveyed the boxes they’d emptied, as though calculating the effort it would take to fit them back into the closet.
    â€œSo,” he said, “what’s next?” He winced. His tone sounded overly bright, even to him. Not good.
    Lindsay twisted her fingers in her hair. Fred could see the demons returning. Time to pull her shell back around herself. Why did she keep herself boxed away, like those ornaments that now decorated her tree?
    â€œCards and fudge,” she said.
    â€œOh, yes, the cards.” Fred wandered to the little wooden tray, heaped with cards and bright green envelopes, and glanced at her open address book. “That’s quite a stack. And you’re only on the G’s ?”
    â€œDo you mind?”
    â€œExcuse me, I didn’t mean to pry.” He stepped back. “Hazard of my profession. Who are all these people, anyway?”
    He could absolutely feel some tiny coil inside her tighten. “My family. Friends from high school, and college . . .”
    â€œWhy don’t you just send them all postcards and be done with it?”
    â€œThis is the only time of year most of them hear