Wicked Christmas Nights: It Happened One Christmas. Leslie Kelly

admitted, “What can I say? I bought that one. It seemed to go with the decor.”

      “Lemme guess…thrift store shopping spree?”

      “Bingo.” Shrugging, he added, “I was on a budget.”

      “I think my groovy, peace-sign Santa would fit in very well here.”

      “Don’t even think about pawning that thing off on me. Even if it weren’t broken, I wouldn’t let that drugged-out St. Nick and those zombie-kids anywhere near my Christmas tree. It might lose all its needles in pure fear.”

      She finally noticed the small tree, standing in the front corner near the window. Her smile faded a little, as if she’d suddenly remembered it was Christmas Eve, albeit very early on Christmas Eve—only about 1:00 a.m.

      It was a sad-looking thing. He’d bought it on impulse—it had been the last one on a lot up the block, scrawny and short, with half its needles already gone. It had reminded him of Charlie Brown’s tree…in need of a home. So he’d shelled out the ten bucks and brought it here, sticking it in a bucket since he didn’t have a tree stand.

      Nor had he had any real ornaments to put on it. Right now, an empty aluminum pot-pie tin served as a star on the top, and a bunch of picture hangers and odds-and-ends hung from the few branches.

      As she stared at the pathetic thing, Lucy’s sadness appeared to fade. She shook her head, a slow, reluctant smile widening her pretty mouth. “Are those beer can tabs?”

      “Just a few,” he admitted. “I was experimenting. I’m not a big drinker, so I only had a few cans in the fridge. I finally raided my toolbox.”

      Putting a hand on her hip and tilting her head, she said, “And you had the nerve to criticize my Christmas decorations?”

      “Hey, mine’s pathetic, not terrifying.”

      “My snow globe from last year wasn’t terrifying.”

      “Oh, no? Let me guess. A tiny female elf wearing pasties and a G-string?”

      Her eyes rounded. “Ooh, that sounds fabulous! But, no, it was just a North Pole scene.”

      He crossed his arms, waiting.

      “With a clown that popped out of Santa’s chimney like a Jack-in-the-Box.”

      Shuddering, he said, “Clowns are terrifying. What’s wrong with Jack?”

      “Why would a Jack-in-the-Box be in Santa’s chimney?”

      “Why would a clown?”

      “Well, that’s the point,” she said, laughing at the ridiculous conversation. “None of it makes any sense!”

      “Which makes it perfect to you and your brother. Merry Christmas to the Scrooge siblings.”

      “Exactly!”

      Liking that her good mood was back, he asked, “Hey, are you hungry? I’ve got frozen pizza, frozen bagels, frozen burgers… .”

      “Typical single guy menu, huh?”

      “Yep. Oh, if you want some wine, I think I have a box in the back of the fridge.”

      She snickered.

      “It was a housewarming gift from a neighbor.”

      One pretty brow went up. “Oh? Not a basket of muffins?”

      “Let’s just say my neighbor’s of the cat persuasion.”

      Her brow furrowed in confusion.

      “The cougar variety.” Frankly whenever his neighbor came over, he felt like putting on another layer of clothes.

      “Never mind,” he said, waving his hand. “So, why don’t you help yourself while I go get cleaned up.”

      “You look clean to me.”

      “Under these clothes is a layer of sawdust—I’m itchy all over. I need to take a shower.”

      “Help yourself,” she said, waving a hand as she headed to the kitchen, already making herself at home. “Want me to make you something?”

      “Whatever you’re having.”

      “Filet mignon it is.”

      He snorted. “Hungry Man Salisbury steak frozen dinner, if you’re lucky.”

      Still smiling, glad her good mood had returned and thoughts of her vicious ex—who still had a lot of bad stuff coming to him—were gone, he headed for his room. The bed was unmade, clothes draped across it, the dresser drawers open. It looked like a single guy’s room. Considering he intended to offer Lucy the bed, and take the couch for himself, he took a few minutes to straighten up.

      As he did so, he couldn’t help thinking about how much different his life seemed now than when he’d left this morning. He’d figured he’d be coming home to a quiet house, a solitary holiday, maybe a turkey sub from Subway. And he’d been okay with that. Not happy, but okay.

      But he had to admit, in recent days, as the holiday season zoomed in like a rocket ship, he had really begun to think about his family back in Chicago. He had a few friends here, but not the type you’d share Christmas with. Being from a big family—which got bigger with every sister’s marriage and the births of new nieces and nephews—he began to realize there were times living alone wasn’t so great. As December marched on, he’d resigned himself to a lonely, kinda pathetic holiday weekend.

      Wow, did things ever change on a dime.

      Still thinking about those changes, he headed into the bathroom—spent another few minutes cleaning it—then got in the shower. He hadn’t been kidding about that sawdust; the stuff had filtered into his clothes as he’d maneuvered the custom-made bookcase into place at Beans & Books.

      Finally, his hair damp from a quick towel-dry, he pulled on a clean pair of jeans and a T-shirt and headed back out to the living room. Smelling something—popcorn?—his gaze immediately went to the kitchen, but didn’t see Lucy there.

      After a second, he spotted her in the one place he had not expected her to be, doing something he had never expected her to do. “Lucy?”

      She looked up and smiled at him, a little self-conscious. “I couldn’t take it anymore, it was just sad.”

      Ross could only stare. It appeared she had gone all Linus on his Charlie Brown Christmas tree, and had decided to give it a little love—how appropriate for a Lucy. What had been just sticks, needles, picture-hangers and beer can tabs an hour ago now at least resembled a bedecked evergreen.

      “Where did you…”

      “I just used stuff that was lying around. Hope you don’t mind, but I cut up a couple of mac-and-cheese boxes…the packets are still in the cupboard. I assume you’ve made it often enough that you didn’t need the directions?”

      “Not a problem,” he mumbled, still a little shocked at how much she’d done, how quickly she’d done it, and how good it looked.

      “I’m glad you’re the healthy type and your microwave popcorn wasn’t buttered. That would have been sticky,” she said as she plucked another piece out of a bowl and stuck it on the edge of a needle. A whole thread full of them dangled on her lap. “Oh, and I hope you don’t mind me digging through your kitchen drawers. I was pleasantly surprised to find that sewing kit.”

      “Old tenant,” he murmured, still a little stunned.

      “Well, thanks to the former tenant then. Unfortunately he didn’t happen to leave any twinkle lights or pretty red bows behind. But luckily, I hadn’t cleaned out my camera bag,” she added. “I had picked up some construction paper, glitter and glue to make decorations for the studio where I’m interning.”

      She’d used all those things to full advantage.