It Came Upon A Midnight Clear. Suzanne Brockmann

op, she cooks for me, and she does my laundry, and she keeps me very warm and very, very happy at night. And when I leave, she lets me go, because she knew it was coming. And I walk away—no guilt, no regrets.”

      “Didn’t you learn anything from me at all? All those summers we spent together…”

      Crash looked up. Daisy’s eyes were still so sad. “I learned to be honest,” he told her. “You taught me that.”

      “But what you do seems so…cold and calculated.”

      He nodded. “It’s calculated. I don’t pretend it’s not. But I’m honest about it—to myself and to the woman I’m with.”

      “Haven’t you ever met anyone that you burn for?” she asked. “Someone you just want to lie down in front of and surrender to? Someone you absolutely live and die for?”

      Crash shook his head. “No,” he said. “I’m not looking for that, and I don’t expect to find it, either. I think most people go through life without that kind of experience.”

      “That is so sad.” There were tears in her eyes as she looked up at him. “It’s crazy, too. I’m the one who’s dying, but right now I feel so much luckier than you.”

      Nell was moving at a dead run as she rounded the corner by the stairs and plowed smack into Crash.

      Somehow he managed to catch her and keep them both from landing on the ground in a tangled pile of arms and legs.

      “Sorry.” Nell felt herself blushing as he made sure she was steadily on her feet again.

      “Is everything all right?” he asked, finally letting go of her arms. “Is Daisy…?”

      “She’s fine,” Nell said. “But she said yes.”

      He didn’t bother to ask. He just waited for her to explain. He was dressed all in black again today, but because the chill of winter was in the air, he wore a turtleneck instead of his usual T-shirt.

      Most men managed to look good in a simple black turtleneck. William Hawken looked incredible.

      It hugged his shoulders and arms, accentuating his streamlined muscles. It was funny, Nell had always thought of him as somewhat thin—more lean and wiry than muscular—because most of the time he wore clothes that were just a little too large. His T-shirts were never tight and he always wore his pants just a little low on his hips and slightly loose.

      But the truth was, he was built as solid as a rock.

      Nell felt herself flush again as she realized she was standing there, staring at the man. “You look really good today,” she admitted. “I like that shirt.”

      “Thank you,” he said. If she’d surprised him, he didn’t show it. But then again, he didn’t show much of anything. With the exception of that one time in his apartment, he played all of his emotional cards extremely close to his chest.

      “I’m going to need your help,” Nell started toward the second-floor office she’d shared with Daisy. “What do you know about swing bands and health-food caterers? Or how about where I can find a florist specializing in poinsettias and holly?”

      “Any florist should be able to handle a Christmas-style arrangement,” Crash said, keeping pace. “Health-food caterers—I’m not the one to ask about that. As for swing bands, I’ve always preferred Benny Goodman.”

      “Benny Goodman’s great, but unfortunately he’s dead.” Nell turned on the office lights and sat down at the desk with the computer, using the mouse and the keyboard to sign on to the Internet. “I need to find someone good who’s alive, and ready to be booked for the evening before Christmas eve.” She looked back at Crash. “Any idea where we can get a half dozen twelve-foot Christmas trees with root balls attached—delivered? And then there’s lights and decorations…But we can’t hire a decorator, because they do that ‘monochromatic garbage’—that’s a direct quote—all silver or all red, and that’s not any good. We need real ornaments, all different colors and sizes.”

      Crash sat down on the other side of the desk. “Are we having a Christmas party?”

      Nell laughed. And then, to her horror, her eyes filled with tears. She blinked them back, but she knew he saw them, because for a fraction of a second, a very peculiar mix of trepidation and an answering flash of pain crossed his face.

      “I’m not going to cry,” she told him, fiercely willing herself to do just that. “I’m just…” She forced a smile. “I feel so bad for Jake, you know? In a way, Daisy’s got it easier, because Jake’s the one who’s going to have to go on living. And sometimes, when Daisy’s not around, I see him, and he has this look in his eyes that just breaks my heart.”

      Nell sank down, resting her head on top of her desk.

      Crash knew she was fighting tears again, and she didn’t want him to see. Nell’s loyalty impressed him. He understood loyalty. It was the one strong emotion he could relate to—and could allow himself to feel.

      “You don’t have to be here,” he said.

      She lifted her head and looked at him through a curtain of rumpled hair, her expression aghast. “Yes, I most certainly do. Daisy needs me now more than ever.”

      “This wasn’t what you were hired to do.”

      “I was hired as her personal assistant.”

      “You were hired to take care of all the business aspects of Daisy’s career,” Crash pointed out, “so that she would have more time to paint.”

      “A good personal assistant does whatever’s needed,” Nell argued. “If the dishes need washing, I’ll do the dishes. Or I’ll clean the fish tank, or—”

      “Most people would’ve given their notice weeks ago. Instead of that, you moved in.”

      “Yeah, well, the idea of Daisy having to go into a hospice was unacceptable.” Nell swept her hair out of her face as she reached for a tissue and briskly blew her nose. “And she hated the thought of hiring some stranger to provide round-the-clock personal care. But she didn’t want to dump all that responsibility on Jake, so…” She shrugged.

      “So you volunteered.”

      “I haven’t had any medical training, so when the time comes that she needs a nurse, someone’s still going to have to come in, but at least she’ll know I’ll be there, too.” Nell tossed the crumpled tissue across the room, sinking it expertly into the wastebasket. “It’s no big deal.” She took a deep breath and pretended to look at the computer screen.

      “That’s not true and you know it.”

      She looked up at him, gazing directly into his eyes. “Are you going to help me, Hawken, or what?”

      Crash had to smile. He liked her direct approach. He liked her. He was definitely going to help with whatever it was that she was doing, but first he had to make something clear to her.

      “I know we’re all trying to be as upbeat as Daisy is,” he said quietly, “but that gets hard sometimes. I don’t want you to have to worry about what I’ll say or do if you need to cry. You don’t need that weighing you down, too. We’re living with a lot of emotional upheaval here. There’s nothing normal about this, and we can’t expect each other to behave normally. So, let’s make a deal, okay? You can cry whenever you want, but you can’t hold it against me if I stand up and walk away when you do, because…everything that you’re feeling…I’m fighting it, too.”

      Nell just sat there, looking at him. Her eyes were rimmed with red, she wore no makeup, and she looked as if she’d slept about as much as he had in the past few days—which wasn’t much at all.

      Maybe they’d both sleep better if they shared a bed.

      Crash gently pushed that thought away. He knew it would be true, but he also knew that the