A Season of Miracles Read Online Free PDF Page A

impression of being a doe caught in the headlights of an eighteen-wheeler. She had frizzy dirty-blond hair that seemed like a puffy halo around her head, and huge hazel eyes. Jillian was as nice and soft-spoken as she could be to the woman, but Gracie always seemed to be on edge. Nervous.
    Afraid.
    â€œCookies and tea, Mr. Llewellyn,” Gracie said. “Jillian, I believe your tray has been sent to your office, but I can run down and get it—oh, my God, I called you Jillian. I should have called you Miss Llewellyn. Or are you still going by your married name? Oh, I’m so sorry.”
    â€œJillian is just fine, Gracie. I’ve told you, please, my first name is just fine.”
    â€œCookies and tea?” Daniel said impatiently. “You brought me cookies and tea?”
    â€œFrom the Great Pumpkin above,” Gracie said, trying to joke. She was as slim as a saluki, and appeared frazzled. Joking wasn’t her forte. Maybe she was perfect for Daniel. He didn’t seem to know how to joke anymore, either.
    â€œThanks, Gracie, but we’re finished here. I’ll just run back to my own office,” Jillian said. “Happy Halloween to you both,” she murmured as she got up and moved toward the door.
    â€œUm, happy Halloween,” Daniel said. Then, to her surprise, he called her back.
    She paused in his doorway.
    His voice was slightly gruff when he spoke again. “Go out and have a great night. And remember, it’s only Halloween. You and Connie leave some Christmas stuff out there for the rest of humanity, hmm?”
    â€œWill do,” she promised. Her voice was light. But tight, as well.
    She was sorry about whatever it was that lay so strongly wedged between the two of them, but for the moment, there was nothing she could do about it.
    She had been dismissed.
    She hurried back into her own office.
    Her tray of cookies and tea had been left on her desk. With a few things to clear up, she poured herself tea. She usually liked milk in her tea, but it had gotten cold, so she just shrugged and sipped it black as she started clearing her desk. She picked up one of the cookies, then put it back down, drawn again to her design for this year’s Christmas cross.
    What had possessed her?
    The design was beautiful. Intricate, delicate. One of the best things she had ever done. But contemporary? Definitely not.
    She picked up the cookie again, studying the cross. She leaned low, looking at her own work. It really was so Celtic.
    She set the cookie down again. “Am I unintentionally…stealing?” she murmured aloud. “Did I take that off a gravestone in Ireland or a picture somewhere or—?”
    She heard the tinkling of a small bell. Jeeves, a big black alley cat who had one day made his way inside and become a company pet, suddenly leapt up on her desk.
    She absently stroked his back. “Am I a cheater, Jeeves?” she murmured. “Can’t be.” She shook her head and threw the design into her upper right-hand drawer. Once again she stroked the cat, then poured him a saucer of the milk intended for her tea.
    â€œDrink up, buddy. Have some cookies, too.”
    The cat let out a mournful cry, looking at her with huge golden eyes.
    She smiled. “Excuse me, you’re a cat, not a dog. Lap up that milk.”
    The cat did so, needing no more invitation. Jillian stroked the animal one last time, making a mental note to leave her office door open.
    The litter box was down the hall in Griff’s office. Her cousin did, after all, have his responsibilities. Cat food, water—and the litter box.
    It had been his idea to keep the cat and feed it. Studies had shown that pets were good for people, lowering blood pressure, making them calmer, more friendly. Eileen had pointed out that cat hair also made many people sneeze.
    The cat had stayed. Luckily, no one in the office had been allergic.
    â€œIt’s all yours, Jeeves,” she said