Home in Time for Christmas Read Online Free PDF Page A

seen such a vision.
    Well, to be truthful, not many people had. Her folks did get carried away.
    â€œJake.”
    â€œUm, yes! Sorry.”
    He looked at her again. His eyes gave the impression that he was entirely sane, completely honest, and giving her his steadfast attention. She felt a little start. Something that tightened and trembled within her.
    Why did he have to be a madman?
    They were striking eyes. They made him something other than just a handsome man. They made him real. Deep and hazel, and seeing her, really seeing her.
    â€œJake, whatever happened before in your fantasy world, trust me. My folks own this home. They paid off the mortgage several years ago. They worked hard, they love it—and they own it.”
    â€œOf course.”
    â€œYou’re not ready for this,” she said worriedly.
    He had turned to stare at all the lights again in pure wonder. “How do the lights work?” he marveled.
    â€œElectricity. Your buddy, Ben Franklin, laid all the foundations. Hundreds of years later, I think Thomas Edison got it all really going, and hey, now we’re in the age of real technology— you cannot stare at everything like a kid in a candy store! ”
    He looked at her. “I’m sorry. But it’s just wonderful. The colors, the brilliance! So very, very beautiful. Ben always was a genius.”
    â€œYes, of course. There have been a few improvements,” she said dryly. Oh, this was going to be a disaster. She leaned her head on the steering wheel and groaned. “What am I going to do?”
    He waited. “My dear young woman, it will be all right.” He smiled.
    She gave him a fierce stare. “Listen, we can’t tell my family the truth or they will take you to the nearest hospital. Let’s say we know each other for now—until I can figure out what to do. Soo… We met at college. You’re an historian, okay? You dress up and give people tours.”
    â€œAll right. Tours of what?” he inquired.
    â€œUm—Boston. You work for Boston Tours, Incorporated. All right?”
    â€œBoston Tours, Incorporated. Yes, I understand.”
    He still stared at her.
    She shook her head. “Just follow my lead. And don’t gape at anything that’s—that’s not familiar to you in your, um, current state of mind.”
    He smiled, but his eyes were grave, as was his tone.“You must understand. I was hanged during the Revolution.”
    â€œSure.”
    He looked at the house with the Christmas lights blazing and then looked back at her, that odd and endearing smile teasing his lips once again. “You need to learn to believe in magic,” he told her. “But, I do understand. We met at Boston College. I studied English literature. Now, I’m working for Boston Tours.”
    â€œYou’re a costumed interpreter,” she said, nodding.
    â€œThe lights are beautiful,” he said.
    She shivered suddenly. Reality. It was getting cold in the car.
    â€œCome on. Let’s go in,” she said.
    She leaned over and opened his car door. He grimaced, thanked her and stepped out into the glittering snow. Then he waited.
    She got out of the car, questioning her own sanity once again as she walked around and crooked a hand around his arm. They hurried up the walk and onto the porch together. As they neared it, the door burst open.
    Her mother had been waiting for her.
    Mona wasn’t exactly a hippie. She was a strange combination of old-fashioned lady of the house with a bit of the wild child thrown in. She had tons of thick, curling blond hair that had only a few strands of gray. She loved yoga and Enya and anything that smacked of man’s peaceful coexistence with his fellow man. She had grown her own food years before the word organic had begun to appear in supermarkets.
    She’d been at the original Woodstock.
    She always wore long, flowing shirts and dresses, like the flower grower’s