Lakeshore Christmas. Сьюзен Виггс

Haven?” her friend clarified.

      He gave them an easy smile. “I guess that would be me.”

      “We thought so. You look the same as you did in that movie.”

      “Oh. Not good,” he said.

      “No, you were adorable.” The three women looked jubilant. “And we saw you on Extra just last week.”

      Here was something that always seemed to be true. Attractive women tended to hang out together. Each of these had the looks of a former cheerleader—brighteyed and smiling, in jeans and high-heeled boots, fitted sweaters.

      “So…would you mind if we got a picture together?”

      “Actually, I’m kind of in the middle of something—”

      “Just a cell phone pic,” she said, whipping out an iPhone and thrusting it at Maureen. “Here, would you take it?”

      Before Maureen could reply, one of the women showed her how to point and shoot. The three draped themselves around Eddie and—it had to be said—he lit up like a Christmas tree.

      “Thanks. You were really cool about that.” The woman addressed Eddie as she saved the image on the phone. “And I know you must hear this all the time, but I loved you in that movie. I still love you in that movie, every time it airs.”

      “Thanks,” said Eddie. “Nice of you to say so.”

      She handed him a card. “Here’s my number. For, you know, if you ever feel like hanging out.”

      “You bet.”

      The three took off, putting their heads together and scurrying away, giggling like schoolgirls. Maureen felt a little stunned. The woman had hit on him right in front of Maureen. For all they knew, Maureen could be on a date with him. She wasn’t, but still. The thing that hurt—and she hated the fact that it hurt—was knowing the women looked at her and clearly did not consider, even for a moment, that she might be…with him. His date. His girlfriend. Instead, they had treated her as if she was his assistant or secretary.

      “Sorry about that,” Eddie said. “Now, where were we?”

      Maureen shook her head. “I have no idea.” She’d never witnessed anything quite like that before. It was slightly shocking, like an ambush. “That happens to you a lot, doesn’t it? People—women—just appear out of the blue and ask for an autograph or picture.”

      “Not sure what you mean by a lot,” he said.

      “Has it happened before?”

      His face confirmed it.

      “More than once constitutes a lot,” she said.

      “I wish they hadn’t been so rude to you,” he said.

      She was surprised he’d noticed.

      “I should have spoken up,” he told her. “I should have pointed out they were being rude.”

      “Thank heaven you didn’t,” Maureen said. “That would have been flat-out embarrassing.”

      “And you don’t like being embarrassed,” he observed.

      “Do you? Does anybody?”

      “I’ve been a performer all my life, and like it or not, being embarrassed on a regular basis comes with the territory.”

      “I wouldn’t know,” she said. Thank goodness. “But don’t be embarrassed. They called you adorable.”

      “Hell, I was adorable,” he said with a curious lack of vanity.

      “I know. I’ve seen The Christmas Caper.” Maureen paused. It was strange, knowing more about him than he knew about her. Generally speaking, that was the librarian’s role, to be the woman behind the desk. The woman no one wondered about or speculated about.

      As for Eddie’s movie, she’d not only seen it. She watched it every year with rapt attention. She had already bought the just-released commemorative edition DVD and had played and replayed all the special features, paying particular attention to the interviews with the grown-up Eddie. She’d memorized every frame, every word of every song in the film. She loved that movie so much it was ridiculous. “Would it make you feel old if I said I saw it when I was in the second grade?”

      “Nah, because I was six at the time of the theatrical release.”

      “Oh, I see.”

      “Yeah, I peaked at age six and it’s been downhill ever since.”

      There was something about his smile. Something that made Maureen understand why grown women would approach him for a picture, giggling like schoolgirls. The other thing about his smile was that when she looked at him, she could see the precious little boy who had captured the hearts of America more than two decades ago.

      He had played little Jimmy Kringle in The Christmas Caper, which was universally acknowledged to be one of the most sentimental Christmas movies ever made. Yet he’d transcended the stigma, taking a character who was trite and absurd and transforming him into a little boy everyone could believe in. And did, for years to come, thanks to the wonders of digital remastering, DVD extra features and the unending routine of round-the-clock cable.

      “It can’t have been easy, being made a star at such a young age,” she observed.

      “Wasn’t so bad, back in the day. But nobody saw the Internet coming. Or cable TV on this scale.”

      Maureen was getting much too interested in him on a personal level. “We should finish up,” she suggested.

      “Can’t wait to get rid of me, eh?”

      “Yes, I mean, no, but—” Flustered. She was getting flustered, talking to this guy. Which was ridiculous. She was an established professional in her field. Still, she couldn’t help getting unnerved over Eddie Haven, with his sexy attitude, his earring and his too-pretty face. He must think she was a total loser. She didn’t like being around people who thought she was a loser. She liked people who propped her up. Her family. Library patrons. Children.

      “I have a lot to tell you about this production,” she said. “For starters, it’s going to be filmed for a PBS special.” It still excited her, just saying it. “A production company from the city is coming up to cover it as part of a story about small-town Christmas celebrations.”

      “Cool,” he said, but he didn’t look thrilled.

      “It doesn’t really change our plans, but I wanted you to be aware of it.” She handed him a printed document. “Here’s the program I’m planning. You can take a look at it tonight.” She’d spent weeks finding the perfect combination of story and song for the traditional Christmas Eve celebration at Heart of the Mountains Church. It was a wonderful program, designed to bring the magic of Christmas to life. She had envisioned the ideal pageant for a long time, ever since she was small. She conjured up images of an evening aglow with candlelight, the air infused with incense and alive with song. It would be the quintessential celebration, one that would soften even the most jaded of hearts and remind people that the joys of the season could be felt all year.

      He took a cursory look at the script and song list. “Sure, whatever. But it doesn’t lead with the angels,” he said. “When Mrs. Bickham was in charge, we always led with the angels.”

      Ah, the ghosts of Christmas pageants past, thought Maureen, clasping her clipboard to her chest. She was going to be haunted by them for a long time. “Not this year.”

      “It’s your show,” he said. “Hell, I don’t even like Christmas.”

      He was so obnoxious, she thought. But so ridiculously good-looking, in a shaggy-haired, skinny-jeans, tight-T-shirt way. A lethal combination. “Nonsense. Everyone likes Christmas.”

      He laughed. “Right. Okay, I guess I didn’t explain this very