Bring Me Home for Christmas

sure I liked him for you.”
    “Huh?”
    “It just didn’t seem… I don’t know. Maybe I was still hung up on you and my best friend or something. I couldn’t see you with Doug.”
    “Now, that’s interesting. Especially since I wouldn’t consider you sensitive. Or intuitive. Or even conscious, most of the time.”
    “Try not to insult the only person on your side, Becca.”
    “Then try to tell me why. If you like Doug, why don’t you like him for me?”
    “Not sure,” Big Richie said. “Maybe it was that stick he has up his ass…”
    She laughed in spite of herself. “The major important contacts through my fraternity stick?”
    “Possibly,” Rich said, laughing.
    “Or could it be the you’d give me up for a guy with only a high school education shtick?”
    “Did he say that?” Rich asked. “I bet he actually said that, didn’t he?”
    “He actually did,” Becca confirmed.
    “See, that’s the thing about Doug. He can be cool. He can be fun. And he can be a real dick. Every once in a while, he has a hard time holding his dickness down.”
    She laughed again. “I think this is the closest I’ve ever felt to you.”
    “We’re the same age,” he informed her soberly. “I never had anyone special. I had a lot of girls I thought might get special, but they didn’t. I saw you all lit up once because you were totally caught… I didn’t know what it was at the time. Then I saw it gone and I started to get it. Then I saw you with Doug and it just wasn’t there. He had all the stuff that was going to make him a winner. But he didn’t have any of the stuff that lit you up.”
    “Richie,” she said, touched and almost teary.
    “Until everyone started freaking out, I thought you’d play it safe. Find a way to go for the lawyer, shtick or not. Problem is…I have no idea where Denny stands. You could be looking for the right one as long as me.”
    “That’s okay. That makes more sense than playing it safe.”
    “And, Becca?”
    “Yes?”
    “You ever lie to me and trick me like that again, you’re gonna pay!”

    After everyone who felt they had a stake in her love life had called, Becca spent most of the afternoon outside watching the rest of the tree trimming, an occupation that required a lot of volunteers and plenty of time in the cherry pickers. From her spot on the porch at Jack’s bar, she had another look at the town. The tree was surrounded by people—children and adults—all smiling, laughing, running around. A few who she assumed lived right on the street, held steaming mugs in their mitten-covered hands.
    Had she called the town dumpy? In one week, it had taken on the appearance of a friendly, welcoming, unpretentious town. It was simple and kind of sweet. And that tree—a town project—was awesome. Finally done, it was trimmed with red, white and blue balls, laminated military unit badges and strung with gold tinsel. It was gorgeous in daylight; it would be magnificent lit against the night sky.
    Denny returned at dinnertime and they were together for some of Preacher’s stew and for the grand, official Christmas tree lighting, after which there was some tree-side caroling. Lots of people stopped into the bar to warm their bones against the snow. Denny spent much of that time behind the bar and even she could see he was kept extremely busy. Too busy to spend much time with her.
    He hadn’t talked a lot during dinner. Becca wanted to believe it was because he’d had to say goodbye to his buddies, friends he hadn’t seen in a while and wouldn’t see again until who knew when. After the way he acted last night, all restless and having a hard time sleeping, she had started to worry that he’d had serious second thoughts about being stuck with her for another week.
    It was typical of her to be direct, to come right out with her concerns or questions. But there was one thing she remembered about her former relationship with Denny—she couldn’t ask him what was wrong more than twice at the very most.
    So she let it ride, even when he escorted her home at around eight o’clock, then went back to Jack’s to help out until closing.
    With a heavy sigh, she treated herself to a bath, unplugged Denny’s phone just in case, then crawled into bed with her borrowed book. By the time Denny came back at a little after ten, she had nodded off, light still lit, opened book in her lap. She snapped awake at the sound of the closing door.
    “Sorry,” he said. “I woke