Three Christmas Wishes. Sheila Roberts

obliged, and Jo nodded again. “Actually, that’s kind of buff and sexy. I think they’ll be fine, for the first encounter, anyway. You can wear the boots another time. Now,” she said, turning back to the pile of clothes on the bed, “what about the outfit for your second encounter?”

      Noel wasn’t sure there’d be a second encounter. She wasn’t even sure she could pull off a first encounter. Jo handed her a simple white shirt.

      “This,” she said. “And leggings.” She picked up a pair of patterned black leggings. “And the boots.”

      “How about this necklace?” Riley suggested, holding up a chunky stone number.

      “Definitely. Third encounter wear the heels and this dress.” She handed Noel a black dress with a scoop neck. “Redheads look great in black.”

      More jewelry, a Victoria’s Secret bra, a black cashmere sweater, a white blouse—a wardrobe basic according to Jo—a little faux fur-trimmed jacket and Noel was in business. “Thanks,” she said as they loaded her new wardrobe into the back of her car. “I really appreciate this.”

      “They’re just hanging in my closet all sad and lonely,” Jo said. “They may as well be out there doing some good. And I hope they do,” she added and hugged Noel. “Wear the coat when you go see him, but make sure you shed it the second you’re in his office. Got it?”

      “Got it.”

      “And don’t forget to wear makeup. And perfume.”

      Perfume. Oh, yeah. That. She had a bit of Viva La Juicy left.

      So, she was going to look good, smell good, and bring something good as a bribe. Hopefully, by putting her best foot forward, she could impress him enough to convince him to reconsider buying her house.

      She frowned, remembering his comment about price points. Bah, humbug!

      Sunday afternoon she made her way to beautiful downtown Whispering Pines in search of the perfect wine for a house thief. Thanksgiving weekend kicked off the holiday shopping season, and it appeared that every business in town (including ones that often closed on Sundays) was open. She passed her favorite bakery, Hey, Cupcake, as quickly as possible, averting her gaze from the display of holiday treats. She’d indulged in eggnog at Jo’s, and Riley, who was in a manic baking phase, had brought her M&M cookies when she came to collect the rats. If she didn’t turn off the eating machine, she’d eat herself right out of Jo’s wardrobe before she even had a chance to use it.

      She did stop by Wilton’s Hardware Store to pick up a few replacement bulbs for her Christmas lights. Mr. Wilton, Jo’s father-in-law, was behind the counter and gave her a friendly hello as she approached. He had circles under his eyes and she noticed he took in a deep breath while ringing up her sale, as if he was trying to draw in extra energy. She knew the signs of overwork. She’d done that to herself a few times, staying up late at night working on illustrations for her Marvella books, trying to meet her deadline. She wondered how old he was. Her dad’s age? Older? He had some gray hairs and wrinkles. Did he want to retire?

      “Men never want to retire,” Dad often said. Poor Dad.

      “Hey, Darrel, what are you doing still hanging around?” called an older man as he entered the store. “Thought you’d be in Hawaii.”

      “With a grandkid about to arrive? Are you kidding?” Mr. Wilton called back. “Anyway, who’s got time?” he added with a shrug and a wink for Noel.

      “Looks like you’re busy,” she said. The place was full of people, buying everything from chain saws to mechanical reindeer.

      “Always,” he said. “And it looks like you’re going to be busy hanging Christmas lights, young lady.” He gave back her credit card.

      Young lady, code for I don’t remember your name. Hardly surprising, considering how many people came into the store. She’d been there with Jo a couple of times, but other than that she only came to buy seeds and fertilizer for her flowers from the nursery section. And Christmas lights, of course.

      “I like dressing my home for the holidays,” she said, and hoped this wouldn’t be her last Christmas there.

      “Be careful hanging them,” he cautioned as he handed over her purchase. “Better yet, send your boyfriend up on that ladder.”

      She smiled and nodded as if she did, indeed, have a boyfriend to send up a ladder.

      “Us guys are expendable.”

      Not as far as Noel was concerned. She thanked him and left with her purchases. Next stop, Cheese and Wine.

      She entered the shop and was almost overwhelmed by the huge selection of wines for sale. One corner had a refrigerated case displaying a variety of cheeses, and boxes of crackers surrounded artfully displayed gift baskets on a table in the center of the shop.

      Several customers were browsing. One woman was gobbling little cheese bits from a tray of samples. A large man in an overcoat, carrying his purchase in a tall bag, brushed past Noel. She walked over to a shelf and tried to pretend she knew what she was doing.

      “May I help you?”

      Noel gave a start and turned to see a pencil-thin middle-aged woman, all dressed in black, her dark hair pulled into an elegant upswept style. She looked like a transplant from Paris. Noel took in the cashmere sweater and wool slacks, the simple gold jewelry and black heels. Another Jo Wilton. And here she was in yoga pants, her favorite ratty sweater and an old coat. She hadn’t wanted to waste any of her borrowed finery on a quick run downtown. Now she wished she had.

      “I need a bottle of wine,” she said, stating the obvious.

      “Did you want a red or a white?”

      “I’m not sure. I don’t really drink it.”

      This brought a look of disdain from the woman, but she quickly covered it with a smile. “We have some very affordable ones over here,” she said, moving Noel to the wine equivalent of a low-rent district. The way Noel was dressed, the woman probably thought she couldn’t afford much of anything. The woman probably thought right.

      “Can I get something decent for twenty dollars?” Noel asked. She preferred to spend ten, but that might look cheap. A cheap bribe wouldn’t be good.

      “I think so,” said the woman.

      “Never be afraid to seek advice when you need it,” Mom always said.

      “This is a gift. For a man. Would you recommend red or white?”

      “You can’t go wrong with a nice red. We have some lovely ones from Walla Walla as well as the Yakima Valley.”

      “Would you pick one for me?” Noel asked.

      “Of course.” The woman plucked a bottle from the shelf. “Here’s a cab from Chateau Ste. Michelle, one of the oldest wineries in Washington. It has plenty of complexity and structure.”

      And it was in her price range. “I’ll take it.”

      The woman rang up the wine and put it in a cheery red bag with the shop’s gold logo. Perfect. Armed with wine and Jo’s new clothes, Noel would be a force to reckon with.

      She hoped.

      Monday morning she showered, washed and straightened her hair, put on makeup, and donned her man-killer clothes. Then, with the wine in tow and sprayed with enough perfume that he’d be able to smell her coming for miles, she drove downtown to the office of Fordham Enterprises. A big red truck sat in front of the building, just the kind of vehicle a construction guy would drive. So Ben Fordham was in the building.

      She took a deep breath, grabbed her red bag and went into the enemy camp. The first-floor offices were occupied by the Realtor and the escrow company. The second floor held two offices. The name on one door read Elegant Interiors. The other was Fordham Enterprises.

      She entered Ben Fordham’s domain