The Christmas Lamp by Lori Copeland Read Free Book Online Page B

kung pao chicken, Roni felt the day’s tension draining away. She wanted to be mad at the man sitting across from her. Chair-kicking furious. After all, he was stealing her Christmas. But she couldn’t summon the emotion. He was only doing what he’d been hired to do, and she didn’t envy his work or his judgments.
    “This is good,” he said, reaching for the soy sauce. “What’s with the owner’s Spanish accent?”
    “Mr. Wong? He watches old westerns. Some days he talks in Spanish, other days he calls you pilgrim, imitating John Wayne. He’s delightful.”
    He replaced the lid on the bottle. “Hey, I have to ask you something.”
    She knew the question would have nothing to do with her opinions about the recent cuts; she’d found that out the hard way. “Shoot.”
    “Okay, pilgrim. Is it just me, or has one of us grown two heads?”
    “It’s you,” she confirmed. “You’ve only been in town a few days, and you’re acquiring quite a … shall we say, reputation?”
    “Bad guy,” he surmised.
    “If we rule out Grinch and Scrooge, I suppose bad guy will be adequate.” She bit into a crab rangoon. “Though I’ve pointed out to several people that it was the town’s mistake hiring you before Christmas.”
    “The theory being that after Christmas I couldn’t touch tradition?”
    “Not until next year.”
    “But this year, Nativity would have its holiday.”
    She thoughtfully studied her plate. “I know we seem very shallow and tied to tradition.”
    “I hadn’t thought much about it, but every look you send my way accuses me of being a calloused, heartless management analyst.”
    She smiled without looking up. “I haven’t openly accused you.”

    Roni was a tough one to figure out. From Jake’s observations, he figured she valued convention as much as, if not more than, the other towns people, but yet she gave him the least flak. Grandma’s earlier phone conversation drifted through his mind. You’ ll do what you must, Jake.
    Yes, like Grandpa he’d do his job with the most sensitivity possible, but he would do his job.
    It was past ten when Jake walked Roni home, and Nativity’s streets were empty. “Is the town always this quiet?”
    “Business will pick up after Saturday’s parade. Santa comes to town that night.” Last year Earl Bentley’s grandson parachuted in by air, dressed as the jolly old man with a bag full of toys strapped to his back. The children’s round eyes were more rewarding than the small payment the town had given him.
    They passed the community church where Roni attended. “Do you sing?”
    “Only in the shower,” he admitted. “Why?”
    “I wanted to invite you to choir. We’re practicing for the Christmas cantata. We can always use an extra baritone.”
    “Tenor.”
    “Really?”
    “Would I fib about a thing like that? Thanks, but you really wouldn’t want me there. Even Grandma says I should steer clear of music.”
    She shook her head. “You’re a hard one to figure.”
    “How so?”
    “I know little about you, other than the fact that you’re a card-carrying Scrooge.”
    “What’d you want to know?”
    “Well — let’s start with your abnormal lack of Christmas enthusiasm.”
    “Must we? Can’t a person enjoy the true meaning of Christmas without all the fuss?”
    “Sure, but something’s caused you to be the way you are.”
    “And how is that?”
    “Not a sentimental bone in your body.”
    “Okay.”
    “Okay what?”
    “You want my history. Here it goes. After I graduated from high school, I did a stint in the air force, and then opted out to come home for a while. I enrolled in college, got my masters, and then joined the Patton firm.”
    “And?”
    “And that’s my life’s background.”
    “Christmas didn’t exist in your life?”
    “It came around every twenty-fifth of December.”
    They passed the hardware store, where the leg lamp still glowed brightly.
    “That is looking more tempting every day,” he