Christmas in Seattle: Christmas Letters / The Perfect Christmas. Debbie Macomber

interview but one with more notice.

      “Good morning,” she said in her best businesslike voice.

      “Katherine, it’s LaVonne. I didn’t phone too early, did I?”

      In one easy motion, K.O. drew herself into a sitting position, swinging her legs off the bed. “Not at all.” She rubbed her face with one hand and stifled a yawn.

      “So,” her neighbor breathed excitedly. “How’d it go?”

      K.O. needed a moment to consider her response. La-Vonne was obviously asking about her evening with Wynn; however, she hadn’t had time to analyze it yet. “Dinner was incredible,” she offered and hoped that would satisfy her friend’s curiosity.

      “Of course dinner was incredible. Jerome promised me it would be. I’m talking about you and Wynn. He’s very nice, don’t you think? Did you notice the way he couldn’t take his eyes off you? Didn’t I tell you? It’s just as I saw in the kitty litter and the Raisin Bran. You two are meant for each other.”

      “Well,” K.O. mumbled, not knowing which question to answer first. She’d prefer to avoid them all. She quickly reviewed the events of the evening and was forced to admit one thing. “Wynn wasn’t anything like I expected.”

      “He said the same about you.”

      “You’ve talked to him?” If K.O. wasn’t awake before, she certainly was now. “What did he say?” she asked in a rush, not caring that LaVonne would realize how interested she was.

      “Exactly that,” LaVonne said. “Wynn told me you were nothing like he expected. He didn’t know what to think when you walked into my condo. He was afraid the evening would end with someone calling the police—and then he had a stupendous night. That was the word he used—stupendous.”

      “Really.” K.O. positively glowed with pleasure.

      “He had the look when he said it, too.”

      “What look?”

      “The look,” LaVonne repeated, emphasizing the word, “of a man who’s falling in love. You had a good time, didn’t you?”

      “I did.” K.O. doubted she could have lied. She did have a wonderful evening. Shockingly wonderful, in fact, and that made everything ten times worse. She wanted to view Wynn as a lunatic confounding young parents, a grinch out to steal Christmas from youngsters all across America. How could she berate him and detest him if she was in danger of falling in love with him? This was getting worse and worse.

      “I knew it!” LaVonne sounded downright gleeful. “From the moment I saw those raisins floating in the milk, I knew. The vision told me everything.”

      “Everything?”

      “Everything,” LaVonne echoed. “It came to me, as profound as anything I’ve seen with my psychic gift. You and Dr. Jeffries are perfect together.”

      K.O. buried her face in her hand. She’d fallen asleep in a haze of wonder and awakened to the shrill ring of her phone. She couldn’t explain last night’s feelings in any rational way.

      She wasn’t attracted to Wynn, she told herself. How could she be? The man who believed children should set their own rules? The man who wanted to eliminate Santa Claus? But she was beginning to understand what was going on here. For weeks she’d been stuck inside her condo, venturing outside only to meet Christmas-letter clients. If she wasn’t transcribing medical records, she was filling out job applications. With such a lack of human contact, it was only natural that she’d be swept along on the tide of romance LaVonne had so expertly arranged for her.

      “Wynn told me you were seeing him again this evening,” LaVonne said eagerly.

      “I am?” K.O. vaguely remembered that. “Oh, right, I am.” Her mind cleared and her memory fell into place like an elevator suddenly dropping thirteen floors. “Yes, as it happens,” she said, trying to think of a way out of this. “I invited Wynn to accompany me to the Figgy Pudding event at West Lake Plaza.” She’d invited him. What was she thinking? What was she thinking? Mentally she slapped her hand against her forehead. Before this afternoon, she had to find an excuse to cancel.

      “He’s very sweet, isn’t he?” LaVonne said.

      “He is.” K.O. didn’t want to acknowledge it but he was. He’d done it on purpose; she just didn’t know why. What was his purpose in breaking down her defenses?

      She needed to think. She pulled her feet up onto the bed and wrapped one arm around her knees. He had been sweet and alarmingly wonderful. Oh, he was clever. But what was behind all that charm? Nothing good, she’d bet.

      “I have more to tell you,” LaVonne said, lowering her voice to a mere whisper. “It happened again this morning.” She paused. “I was feeding the boys.”

      K.O. had half a mind to stop her friend, but for some perverse reason she didn’t.

      “And then,” LaVonne added, her voice gaining volume, “when I poured the dry cat food into their bowls, some of it spilled on the floor.”

      “You got a reading from the cat food?” K.O. supposed this shouldn’t surprise her. Since LaVonne had taken that class, everything imaginable provided her with insight—mostly, it seemed, into K.O.’s life. Her love life, which to this point had been a blank slate.

      “Would you like to know how many children you and Wynn are going to have?” LaVonne asked triumphantly.

      “Any twins?” K.O. asked, playing along. She might as well. LaVonne was determined to tell her, whether she wanted to hear or not.

      “Twins,” LaVonne repeated in dismay. “Oh, my goodness, I didn’t look that closely.”

      “That’s fine.”

      LaVonne took her seriously. “Still, twins are definitely a possibility. Sure as anything, I saw three children. Multiple births run in your family, don’t they? Because it might’ve been triplets.”

      “Triplets?” It was too hard to think about this without her morning cup of coffee. “Listen, I need to get off the phone. I’ll check in with you later,” K.O. promised.

      “Good. You’ll give me regular updates, won’t you?”

      “On the triplets?”

      “No,” LaVonne returned, laughing. “On you and Wynn. The babies come later.”

      “Okay,” she said, resigned to continuing the charade. Everything might’ve been delightful and romantic the night before, but this was a whole new day. She was beginning to figure out his agenda. She’d criticized his beliefs, especially about Christmas, and now he was determined to change hers. It was all a matter of pride. Male pride.

      She’d been vulnerable, she realized. The dinner, the wine, Chef Jerome, a carriage ride, walking in the snow. Christmas. He’d actually used Christmas to weaken her resolve. The very man who was threatening to destroy the holiday for children had practically seduced her in Seattle’s winter wonderland. What she recognized now was that in those circumstances, she would’ve experienced the same emotions with just about any man.

      As was her habit, K.O. weighed herself first thing and gasped when she saw she was up two pounds. That fabulous dinner had come at a price. Two pounds. K.O. had to keep a constant eye on her weight, unlike her sister. Zelda was naturally thin whereas K.O. wasn’t. Her only successful strategy for maintaining her weight was to weigh herself daily and then make adjustments in her diet.

      Even before she’d finished putting on her workout gear, the phone rang again. K.O. could always hope that it was a potential employer, but caller ID informed her it was her sister.

      “Merry Christmas, Zelda,” K.O. said. This was one small way to remind her that keeping Santa away from Zoe and Zara was fundamentally wrong.

      “Did