On Strike for Christmas Read Online Free PDF Page A

if Bob decided he wanted Christmas presents he could wrap them in that…if he could find it.
    She went to the grocery store next, then stopped at Skeedaddles, her favorite gift shop, and bought a present for her knitting group’s December gift exchange.
    When she returned home Bob met her at the door, all smiles. “Did you change your mind and do some Christmas shopping?” he asked, pointing to her bags.
    â€œNo, I just picked up something for my knitting group’s gift exchange. I’m not shopping this year. Remember? I’m not doing Christmas.”
    Bob frowned. “That again.” He plopped on a chair and watched her hang up her coat. “So, what else did you do today?”
    She shrugged. “Oh, just this and that. I must say it’s rather nice not to have to worry about making the holidays merry.”
    â€œJoy, you can’t ignore the season,” Bob chided sweetly.
    â€œWhy not? If you can’t share the Christmas spirit with me, there’s no sense in doing any of it.”
    â€œI share it,” he insisted.
    You and Ebenezer Scrooge. “I really meant what I said, Bob. I’m not doing anything.”
    â€œWell, I don’t have time,” he said, the sugar coating slipping from his voice.
    â€œThen I guess Christmas will be canceled for lack of interest this year,” Joy said with a shrug.
    Bob was looking very pouty now. “I have to get back to work,” he said, and retreated to his office.
    Joy just smiled and put away her groceries. She found a station playing Christmas music on the radio and turned the volume low—no sense letting Bob think she was getting in the mood to do something. Then she started a chicken stir-fry, humming as she worked.
    At six she tapped on his office door. “Dinner.”
    â€œI need to keep writing,” he called. “Go ahead without me. I’ll eat later.”
    He was still pouting. She could hear it in his voice. Very mature, Bob.
    â€œSuit yourself.”
    She dished up a plate for herself, then settled in front of the TV. Bob stayed away through the entire six o’clock news, and was still holding out when she left for her knitting group. She opened his office door and found him slumped at his desk, staring at the computer monitor. She noticed he had very few words on the screen. Poor Bob. Maybe his muse had left town for the holidays.
    â€œYou can come out and eat now. I’m leaving,” she told him.
    â€œVery funny,” he replied, and started typing. Probably “the quick brown fox jumped over the fence.”
    She shut the door on him. It wasn’t quite so easy to shut the door on the vision of herself all dressed up in an Elvis suit, singing, “Blue Christmas.”
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    The Stitch In Time was a small shop in downtown Holly that sold yarn and fancy teas. Debbie, the shop’s owner, taught several knitting classes, and she hung around after closing on Monday nights to help anyone who came in with a knitting crisis. Some of her students had gone on to form a knitting club, affectionately known as the Stitch ’N Bitch, and they’d been meeting at the shop every Monday night since August. It hadn’t taken long for them to become good friends.
    Debbie was still closing out the cash register when Joy walked in, but four other women were already seated around an old, oak table, cups of tea or coffee steaming in front of them. Someone had brought in the first Christmas cookies of the season and the plate sat in the middle of the table—easy access temptation. Well, calories only counted half as much when you ate them with friends.
    â€œHi, Joy,” Debbie greeted her. “How was your Thanksgiving?”
    â€œIt was interesting,” Joy replied as she set her project bag on the table.
    â€œSugar, from what I’ve heard of your family, I’m not surprised,” drawled Sharon Benedict, a pretty, transplanted Texan in her late