There's Something About Christmas Read Online Free PDF Page A

she said with as much dignity as she could.
    A little the worse for wear, but okay, she mentally assured herself. Her head was beginning to clear.
    She felt every air pocket and bump as the plane drew closer to the long runway. When the wheels bounced against the tarmac, Emma was ready for the solid thump of the tires hitting concrete, but the landing was surprisingly smooth. She slowly released a sigh of pent-up tension; she’d lied about her weight and lived to tell the tale. Now all she had to do was make it through this interview and find something noteworthy about Earleen Williams and her fruitcake recipe.
    Oliver taxied the plane off the runway. He cut the engine and as the blades slowed, he unbuckled his seat belt and picked up his clipboard.
    Emma was just starting to breathe normally again when Oscar sneezed.
    “You might want to leave the perfume behind for the next flight,” Oliver said matter-of-factly.
    Emma wiped her cheek although most of the spray had been directed elsewhere. She resisted the urge to tell Oliver he could leave his dog behind, too. At this point, she didn’t want to risk offending the pilot—or his dog. And, she supposed, it wasn’t really Oscar’s fault….
    Crawling behind her, Oliver opened the door and climbed onto the airfield. Emma followed, bent double as she made her way out of the aircraft, feeling a sense of great relief. He offered her his hand as she hopped down. She was hit by a blast of cold air, which she ignored. Staring down at the ground, she was tempted to fall on all fours and kiss the tarmac.
    A white van bearing the name of a local furnace company pulled up to the plane. Oliver spoke briefly with the driver, then walked over to where Emma stood.
    “How long do you think the interview will take?”
    “Ah…” Emma didn’t know what to tell him. “I’m not sure.”
    He stared out toward the Cascade Mountains, only partially visible in the distance. “We’ve got bad weather rolling in.”
    “Bad weather? How bad?”
    “Don’t worry about it.”
    “I…” How could he say such a thing and then expect her not to worry? She was already half-panicked about the return flight and he’d just added to her fears.
    “Do what you have to do and then get back here. I want to take off as soon as I can.”
    “All right.” She glanced around and felt a sense of dread.
    “What’s wrong?”
    “I…I don’t have any way of getting to Earleen’s house.”
    “Not a problem,” Hamilton said, walking to the other side of the plane.
    Emma assumed he was going to ask the guy in the van to give her a ride, but that turned out not to be the case. He climbed back inside the Cessna and returned a moment later with a large leather satchel.
    “What’s that?”
    “A foldable bike.”
    Emma watched as he unzipped the bag and produced the smallest bicycle she’d ever seen. “You don’t honestly expect me to ride this…thing, do you?” The wheels were no more than twelve inches around. She’d look utterly ridiculous. Nervous as she was about this first interview, she hoped to make up in professionalism what she lacked in experience.
    “What’s wrong?” he asked, frowning.
    “I’ll phone for a taxi.” It went without saying that the newspaper wouldn’t reimburse her, but she absolutely refused to arrive pedaling a bicycle Oliver Hamilton must have purchased from a Barnum and Bailey rummage sale.
    “Hold on,” Oliver barked, clearly upset. He walked over to the van this time and spoke to the driver. The two had a short conversation before Oliver glanced over his shoulder. “What’s the address you have to get to?” he shouted.
    Fumbling to find the slip of paper inside her briefcase, Emma read off the street name.
    “She can tag along with me,” the driver said.
    “Great.” Oliver flashed the other man an easy smile.
    “Thank you so much,” Emma murmured, grateful to have saved the taxi fare. She hurried around to the passenger side and opened the door.