Holiday Wishes Read Online Free PDF Page A

around hers. “We need more time, to talk.”
    Looking at him, she let out a long breath. “You know where to find me, Jason. You always did.”
    â€œLet me walk you home.”
    â€œNo.” Calmer, she smiled. “Not this time.”
    * * *
    From the window of his room, Jason could see most of Main Street. He could, if he chose, watch the flow of business in Porterfield’s Five and Dime or the collection of people who walked through and loitered in the town square. Too often he found the direction of his gaze wandering to the white house near the end of the street. Because he’d been restless, Jason had been up and at the window when Faith had walked outside with Clara to see her off to school with a group of other children. He’d seen her crouch down to adjust the collar of her daughter’s coat. And he’d seen her stand, hatless, her back to him, as she’d watched the children drag themselves off for a day of books. She’d stood there a long time with the wind pulling and tugging at her hair, and he’d waited for her to turn, to look at the inn, to acknowledge somehow that she knew he was there. But she’d walked around the side of the house to her shop without looking back.
    Now, hours later, he was at the window again, still restless. From the number of people he could see walk back to the Doll House, her business was thriving. She was working, busy, while he was standing unshaven at a window with his portable typewriter sitting silent on the desk beside him.
    He’d planned to work on his novel for a few days—the novel he’d promised himself he’d write. It was just one more promise he’d never been able to keep because of the demands of travel and reporting. He’d expected to be able to work here, in the quiet, settled town of his youth, away from the demands of journalism and the fast pace he’d set for himself. He’d expected a lot of things. What he hadn’t expected was to find himself just as wildly in love with Faith as he’d been at twenty.
    Jason turned away from the window and stared at his typewriter. The papers were there, notes bulging in manila envelopes, the half-finished manuscript pages. He could sit down and make himself work through the day into the night. He had the discipline for it. But in his life there was more than a book that was half finished. He was just coming to realize it.
    By the time he’d shaved and dressed, it was past noon. He thought briefly about walking across the street to Mindy’s to see if she still served the best homemade soup in town. But he didn’t feel like chatty counter talk. Deliberately he turned south, away from Faith. He wouldn’t make a fool of himself by chasing after her.
    As he walked, he passed a half dozen people he knew. He was greeted with thumps on the back, handshakes and avid curiosity. He’d strolled down the Left Bank, up Carnaby Street and along the narrow streets of Venice. After a decade of absence he found the walk down Main Street just as fascinating. There was a barber pole that swirled up and around and back into itself. A life-size cardboard Santa stood outside a dress shop, gesturing passersby inside.
    Spotting a display of poinsettias, Jason slipped into the store and bought the biggest one he could carry. The saleswoman had been in his graduating class and detained him for ten minutes before he could escape. He’d expected questions, but he hadn’t guessed that he’d become the town celebrity. Amused, he made his way down the street as he had countless times before. When he reached the Widow Marchant’s, he didn’t bother with the front door. Following an old habit, he went around the back and knocked on the storm door. It still rattled. It was a small thing that pleased him enormously.
    When the widow opened the door, and her little bird’s eyes peered through the bright red leaves of the flowers, he found