Risky Christmas: Holiday Secrets / Kidnapped at Christmas. Jill Sorenson

weighed the merits of each offering, giving them equal attention. “I like the Christmas tree,” he said to Alyssa, who beamed at the praise. Smiling, he turned to Mandy. “And you write very well for a first-grader.”

      “I’m in kindergarten,” she said.

      “Really? You must be the smartest girl in class.”

      She glanced sideways at Leah, her face solemn. Mandy wasn’t as good a reader as Brittany, one of the other students. But she tried very hard at school and Leah couldn’t have been more proud of her. “I’m not.”

      He chuckled at her honesty. “What about you?” he asked Alyssa.

      “I’m the best drawer,” she said, ever-humble.

      “I can see that.”

      “Why don’t you girls set the table?” Leah suggested.

      While Mandy transferred the good plates from the hutch, Alyssa dispersed the silverware, and Leah walked to the kitchen to take the rolls out of the oven. It was a warm day, even by California standards, and she was sweating. Shifting the rolls into a basket, she pushed a lock of hair off her forehead.

      “Can I do anything to help?” Brian asked.

      “Yes,” she said, taking the basket to the table. “We need drinks.” She’d already set out cups of water for the girls. “Do you like iced tea?”

      “Sure.”

      “There’s a pitcher in the fridge, and glasses in the cabinet.”

      He found the iced tea and poured them each a tall glass, following her as she moved the serving dishes to the table. Alyssa had given herself two spoons, so Leah switched one with Mandy, nodding her approval. “Let’s eat.”

      She’d planned to sit at the head of the table, but Brian took that chair. Although it felt odd to see another man in John’s place, asking him to move would be impolite. Leah glanced at the pronged fork near his right hand, aware that it could be used as a weapon.

      He seemed to notice her discomfort. “Is this okay?”

      “Of course,” she said, as if nothing was amiss. Instead of sitting down, she stood beside Brian and picked up the sharp fork, spearing a juicy section of ham. She served him first, because he was a guest. Then she dispersed slices of ham to the girls and herself. Bringing the fork to the opposite end of the table with her, she sat down.

      The side dishes were passed around next, and with slightly less trepidation. Alyssa expressed her hatred for all vegetables and Mandy dropped a dinner roll, but that was par for the course. Leah put her napkin in her lap and reminded the girls to do the same, noting that Brian mimicked them. He also waited for Leah’s cue to start eating.

      She felt self-conscious about not trusting him with the pronged fork. Instead of making stilted conversation, she tucked into her plate, pleased when Brian did the same. Unlike her daughters, who were picky eaters, he appeared to appreciate a home-cooked meal. Leah had forgotten how satisfying it felt to watch someone enjoy her food.

      When the girls were finished, they started fidgeting and kicking their legs under the table. “Can we have ice cream?”

      “In a few minutes,” she said, noting that they’d both eaten a fair amount. She rarely insisted that they clean their plates. “Wash up and go play.”

      They took their dishes to the sink and ran off, eager to get back to their Christmas fun. Leah hadn’t been able to afford many gifts this year, but the Witness Protection Program had come through with some toys and art supplies. Along with the inexpensive items she’d purchased, and Santa’s surprise gifts, they had plenty to occupy them.

      Brian ate every morsel on his plate, his fork scraping the flat surface.

      “Would you like another helping?” Leah asked, amused.

      He deliberated, obviously wanting more. She didn’t know where he’d put it on that lean frame.

      “Go ahead,” she said with a smile, taking her own plate to the sink. “There’s plenty.” While she rinsed some dishes and tidied up the kitchen, he polished off a second serving of everything. “How is it?”

      “Delicious. I think this is the best food I’ve ever eaten.”

      Her cheeks heated at the compliment, which sounded sincere. She left the ice cream to thaw on the countertop and brought the cherry torte to the table, wondering how long it had been since he’d had a decent meal.

      “I’ve been living on convenience store burritos.”

      “That explains it,” she said, taking her seat.

      He wiped his mouth with the napkin, shaking his head. “No, this is something special. Are you a chef?”

      Before the girls came along, she’d gone to culinary school. “I decorate ice cream cakes in a warehouse,” she said, rolling her eyes, “but I’ve always loved to cook.” Her current job was a waste of her creative talents. Maybe in a few years she’d be placed somewhere more fitting. “What kind of construction work do you do?”

      “Any kind. I specialize in custom carpentry, but I have a general contractor’s license, so I can take whatever’s available.” He leaned back in his chair, his expression sardonic. “Sometimes I dig ditches.”

      Leah admired his good-natured attitude. Here she was, feeling sorry for herself because cake-decorating wasn’t a challenge. At least she didn’t have to dig trenches and lay bricks or whatever else he did. This poor guy had no furniture, no appliances. But he’d been kind enough to buy Christmas gifts for his neighbors.

      “I know those presents were expensive,” she said. “Would you be offended if I offered to pay you back?”

      His eyes darkened. “Yes.”

      She drank another sip of tea, feeling awkward. Although he seemed nice, she didn’t know anything about him. She wanted to ask why he’d decided to play Santa, why he was alone on Christmas, and if he had a family of his own.

      “I have two nieces,” he said, as if reading her mind. “Twins.”

      Leah warmed to the subject. “Twins? How old are they?”

      “Almost four. I bought the Santa suit two years ago, with them in mind.”

      “How did they like it?”

      A creased formed between his brows. “They never saw it. My sister…their mother…died in a car accident that year.”

      She lifted a hand to her lips. “Oh, my God. I’m so sorry.”

      He inclined his head. “Her husband was from the East Coast, so he moved back there with my nieces a few months later.”

      “Have you seen them since?”

      “No. He’s remarried and…they don’t remember me. I don’t think they remember her.”

      “Oh, my God,” she repeated, stunned. “That’s awful.”

      He didn’t disagree.

      She struggled to think of something comforting to say. “Alyssa was a baby when her father died, so it’s been easier for her. Mandy took it hard. I try not to dwell on the loss, but I can’t imagine pretending he didn’t exist.”

      “You still talk about him?”

      “Maybe not as much as I should,” she admitted, seeing her neighbor in a different light. When he’d read Mandy and Alyssa’s letter, he must have been reminded of his nieces. It was a tragic situation. “I’m so sorry I threw you out earlier. I didn’t realize.”

      “It’s okay,” he replied, relaxing a little. “I’m only telling you this because I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about…what kind of person I am.” His gaze fell to the pronged fork on the table, out of his reach.