Christmas Wishes: Christmas Letters / Rainy Day Kisses. Debbie Macomber

free. That’s exactly what my book’s about, allowing children freedom to become themselves,” he said seriously.

      “Okay.” She was biting her tongue but managed not to say anything more. Surely there were great rewards awaiting her in heaven for such restraint.

      “Would you like to stop at the bookstore?” he asked. “I like to sign copies when I’m in the neighborhood.”

      “You mean an autographing?” She hoped it wouldn’t be at the same bookstore that had caused all the trouble.

      “Not exactly an autographing,” Wynn explained. “The bookseller told me that a signed book is a sold book. When it’s convenient, authors often visit bookstores to sign stock.”

      “Sort of a drive-by signing?” she asked, making a joke out of it.

      “Yeah.” They started walking and just as she feared, they were headed in the direction of the bookstore.

      As they rounded the corner and the store came into sight, her stomach tightened. “I’ll wait for you outside,” she said, implying that nothing would please her more than to linger out in the cold.

      “Nonsense. There’s a small café area where you can wait in comfort.”

      “Okay,” she finally agreed. Once she’d made it past the shoplifting detector K.O. felt more positive. She was afraid her mug shot had been handed out to the employees and she’d be expelled on sight.

      Thankfully she didn’t see the bookseller who’d asked her to leave. That boded well. She saw Wynn chatting with a woman behind the counter. He followed her to the back of the store. Some of the tension eased from K.O.’s shoulder blades. Okay, she seemed to be safe. And she didn’t have to hide behind a coffee cup. Besides, she loved to read and since she was in a bookstore, what harm would it do to buy a book? She was in the mood for something entertaining. A romantic comedy, she decided, studying a row of titles. Without much trouble, she found one that looked perfect and started toward the cashier.

      Then it happened.

      Wynn was waiting up front, speaking to the very bookseller who’d banished K.O. from the store.

      Trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, K.O. set the book aside and tiptoed toward the exit, shoulders hunched forward, head lowered.

      “Katherine,” Wynn called.

      With a smile frozen in place, she turned to greet Wynn and the bookseller.

      “It’s you!” The woman, who wore a name tag that identified her as Shirley, glared at K.O.

      She timidly raised her hand. “Hello again.”

      “You two know each other?” Shirley asked Wynn in what appeared to be complete disbelief.

      “Yes. This is my friend Katherine.”

      The bookseller seemed to have lost her voice. She looked from Wynn to Katherine and then back.

      “Good to see you again,” K.O. said. She sincerely hoped Shirley would play along and conveniently forget that unfortunate incident.

      “It is you,” Shirley hissed from between clenched teeth.

      “What’s this about?” Wynn asked, a puzzled expression on his face. “You’ve met before?”

      “Nothing,” K.O. all but shouted.

      “As a matter of fact, we have met.” Shirley’s dark eyes narrowed. “Perhaps your friend has forgotten. I, however, have not.”

      So it was going to be like that, was it? “We had a difference of opinion,” K.O. told Wynn in a low voice.

      “As I recall, you were permanently banned from the store.”

      “Katherine was banned from the store?” Wynn asked incredulously. “I can’t believe she’d do anything deserving of that.”

      “Maybe we should leave now,” K.O. suggested, and tugged at his sleeve.

      “If you want to know,” Shirley began, but K.O. interrupted before she could launch into her complaint.

      “Wynn, please, we should go,” she said urgently.

      “I’m sure this can all be sorted out,” he murmured, releasing his coat sleeve from her grasp.

      Shirley, hands on her hips, smiled snidely. She seemed to take real pleasure in informing Wynn of K.O.’s indiscretion.

      “This friend of yours is responsible for causing a scene in this very bookstore, Dr. Jeffries.”

      “I’m sure no harm was meant.”

      K.O. grabbed his arm. “It doesn’t matter,” she said, desperate to escape.

      “Katherine does tend to be opinionated, I agree,” he said, apparently determined to defend her. “But she’s actually quite reasonable.”

      “Apparently you don’t know her as well as you think.”

      “I happen to enjoy Katherine’s company immensely.”

      Shirley raised her eyebrows. “Really?”

      “Yes, really.”

      “Then you might be interested to know that your so-called friend nearly caused a riot when she got into an argument with another customer over your book.”

      Wynn swiveled his gaze to K.O.

      She offered him a weak smile. “Ready to leave now?” she asked in a weak whisper.

       Chapter Eight

      K.O.’s doorbell chimed, breaking into a satisfying dream. Whatever it was about seemed absolutely wonderful and she hated to lose it. When the doorbell rang again, the sound longer and more persistent, the dream disappeared. She stumbled out of bed and threw on her flannel housecoat.

      Reaching the door, she checked the peephole and saw that it was LaVonne. No surprise there. Unfastening the lock, K.O. let her in, covering a yawn.

      “What time did you get home last night?” her neighbor cried as she hurried in without a cat—which was quite unusual. “I waited up as long as I could for you.” LaVonne’s voice was frantic. “I didn’t sleep a wink all night,” she said and plopped herself down on the sofa.

      K.O. was still at the front door, holding it open. “Good morning to you, too.”

      “Should I make coffee?” LaVonne asked, leaping to her feet and flipping on the light as she swept into the kitchen. Not waiting for a response, she pulled out the canister where K.O. kept her coffee grounds.

      K.O. yawned again and closed the front door. “What time is it?” Early, she knew, because her eyes burned and there was barely a hint of daylight through her living room windows.

      “Seven-twenty. I didn’t get you up, did I?”

      “No, I had to answer the door anyway.” Her friend was busy preparing coffee and didn’t catch the joke. “How are the guys?” K.O. asked next. LaVonne usually provided her with daily updates on their health, well-being and any cute activities they’d engaged in.

      “They’re hiding,” she said curtly. “All three of them.” She ran water into the glass pot and then poured it in the coffeemaker.

      Katherine wondered why the cats were in a snit but didn’t have the energy to ask.

      “You haven’t answered my question,” LaVonne said as the coffee started to drip. She placed two mugs on the counter.

      “Which one?” K.O. fell into a kitchen chair, rested her arms on the table and leaned her head on them.

      “Last night,” LaVonne said. “Where