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

unusual?—year it has been for our lovely family. K.O. decided on eventful. Bill and I are so proud of our children, especially now as they approach adulthood. Where have all the years gone?

       Mason had an opportunity he couldn’t turn down and is currently away at school. Our son is maturing into a fine young man and is wisely accepting guidance from authority figures. Our sweet Julie is in her second year of college. She and her boyfriend have decided to deepen their relationship. Who knows, there might be wedding bells—and perhaps even a baby—in our daughter’s future.

      So intent was she on putting a positive spin on the sad details of Bill Mulcahy’s year that she nearly missed Wynn Jeffries. When she looked up, it was just in time to see Dr. Jeffries walk to the counter. K.O. leaped to her feet and nearly upset her peppermint mocha, an extravagance she couldn’t really afford. She remained standing until he’d collected his drink and then straightening, hurried toward him.

      “Dr. Jeffries?” she asked, beaming a winsome smile. She’d practiced this very smile in front of the mirror before job interviews. After her recent cleaning at the dentist’s, K.O. hoped she didn’t blind him with her flashing white teeth.

      “Yes?”

      “You are Dr. Jeffries, Dr. Wynn Jeffries?”

      “I am.” He seemed incredibly tall as he stood in front of her. She purposely blocked his way to the door.

      K.O. thrust out her hand. “I’m Katherine O’Connor. We live in the same building.” He smiled and shook her hand, then glanced around her. He seemed eager to escape.

      “I can’t tell you what a surprise it was when La-Vonne pointed out that the author of The Free Child lived in our building.”

      “You know LaVonne Young?”

      “Well, yes, she’s my neighbor. Yours, too,” K.O. added. “Would you care to join me?” She gestured toward her table and the empty chairs. This time of day, it was rare to find a free table. She didn’t volunteer the fact that she’d set up shop two hours earlier in the hope of bumping into him.

      He checked his watch as if to say he really didn’t have time to spare.

      “I understand The Free Child has hit every bestseller list in the country.” Flattery just might work.

      Wynn hesitated. “Yes, I’ve been most fortunate.”

      True, but the parents and children of America had been most unfortunate in her view. She wasn’t going to mention that, though. At least not yet. She pulled out her chair on the assumption that he wouldn’t refuse her.

      He joined her, with obvious reluctance. “I think I’ve seen you around,” he said, and sipped his latte.

      It astonished her that he knew who she was, while she’d been oblivious to his presence. “My sister is a very big fan of yours. She was thrilled when she heard I might be able to get your autograph.”

      “She’s very kind.”

      “Her life has certainly changed since she read your book,” K.O. commented, reaching for her mocha.

      He shrugged with an air of modesty. “I’ve heard that quite a few times.”

      “Changed for the worse,” K.O. muttered.

      He blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

      She couldn’t contain herself any longer. “You want to take Santa away from my nieces! Santa Claus. Where’s your heart? Do you know there are children all over America being deprived of Christmas because of you?” Her voice grew loud with the strength of her convictions.

      Wynn glanced nervously about the room.

      K.O. hadn’t realized how animated she’d become until she noticed that everyone in the entire café had stopped talking and was staring in their direction.

      Wynn hurriedly stood and turned toward the door, probably attempting to flee before she could embarrass him further.

      “You’re no better than…than Jim Carrey,” K.O. wailed. She meant to say the Grinch who stole Christmas but it was the actor’s name that popped out. He’d played the character in a movie a few years ago.

      “Jim Carrey?” He turned back to face her.

      “Worse. You’re a…a regular Charles Dickens.” She meant Scrooge, darn it. But it didn’t matter if, in the heat of her anger, she couldn’t remember the names. She just wanted to embarrass him. “That man,” she said, stabbing an accusatory finger at Wynn, “wants to bury Santa Claus under the sleigh.”

      Not bothering to look back, Wynn tore open the café door and rushed into the street. “Good riddance!” K.O. cried and sank down at the table, only to discover that everyone in the room was staring at her.

      “He doesn’t believe in Christmas,” she explained and then calmly returned to the Mulcahys’ letter.

       Chapter 3

      The confrontation with Wynn Jeffries didn’t go well, K.O. admitted as she changed out of her jeans and sweater later that same afternoon. When LaVonne invited her over for appetizers and drinks, K.O. hadn’t asked if this was a formal party or if it would be just the two of them. Unwilling to show up in casual attire if her neighbor intended a more formal event, K.O. chose tailored black slacks, a white silk blouse and a red velvet blazer with a Christmas tree pin she’d inherited from her grandmother. The blouse was her very best. Generally she wore her hair tied back, but this evening she kept it down, loosely sweeping up one side and securing it with a rhinestone barrette. A little lip gloss and mascara, and she was ready to go.

      A few minutes after six, she crossed the hall and rang LaVonne’s doorbell. As if she’d been standing there waiting, LaVonne opened her door instantly.

      K.O. was relieved she’d taken the time to change. Her neighbor looked lovely in a long skirt and black jacket with any number of gold chains dangling around her neck and at least a dozen gold bangles on her wrists.

      “Katherine!” she cried, sounding as though it’d been weeks since they’d last spoken. “Do come in and meet Dr. Wynn Jeffries.” She stepped back and held open the door and, with a flourish, gestured her inside.

      Wynn Jeffries stood in the center of the room. He held a cracker raised halfway to his mouth, his eyes darting to and fro. He seemed to be gauging how fast he could make his exit.

      Oh, dear. K.O. felt guilty about the scene she’d caused that morning.

      “I believe we’ve met,” Wynn said stiffly. He set the cracker down on his napkin and eyed the door.

      Darn the man. He looked positively gorgeous, just the way he did on the book’s dust jacket. This was exceedingly unfair. She didn’t want to like him and she certainly didn’t want to be attracted to him, which, unfortunately she was. Not that it mattered. She wasn’t interested and after their confrontation that morning, he wouldn’t be, either.

      “Dr. Jeffries,” K.O. murmured uneasily as she walked into the room, hands clasped together.

      He nodded in her direction, then slowly inched closer to the door.

      Apparently oblivious to the tension between them, LaVonne glided to the sideboard, where she had wine and liquor bottles set on a silver platter. Sparkling wineglasses and crystal goblets awaited their decision. “What can I pour for you?” she asked.

      “I wouldn’t mind a glass of merlot, if you have it,” K.O. said, all the while wondering how best to handle this awkward situation.

      “I do.” LaVonne turned to Wynn. “And you, Dr. Jeffries?”

      He looked away from K.O. and moved to stand behind the sofa. “Whiskey on the rocks.”

      “Coming right up.”

      “Can