Free A Christmas to Remember by Jenny Hale Page A

anything.
    “Look, I have things to deal with that are more important than a tree .”
    “This isn’t about a tree. It’s about being with your children.”
    “You’re making this bigger than it is. The kids spelled it out for you. They need strength and money to get that tree. There’s someone at the lot who will tie it to your car for you, and you have my credit card. There’s no need to throw a wrench in my entire week.”
    “I still remember getting a tree with my dad. I remember each year specifically. Those were great memories, Adam. Your kids aren’t going to have any memories of you except the ones where you’re absent.”
    His jaw clenched—in annoyance, probably—but his eyes looked as though he were considering. She watched him, a glimmer of hope swelling up inside her. “Please,” she said, capitalizing on that possible moment of uncertainty.
    He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, his eyes still on her. “You are definitely not shy about your thoughts,” he said, still studying her face. “I can’t do Saturday…” he said more to himself than to her and shook his head.
    She sat silently, unsure of what to do next.
    There was something so commanding about his stare, but behind it, she could almost swear that she could see something gentler. When he looked at her, it wound her stomach into knots, but she held her ground, nearly pleading with her eyes. The fact that the kids were so unaffected by his presence unnerved her, and she couldn’t help but want to fix it—just like she was always trying to fix herself. This, though, she understood how to fix, so she felt like she needed to intervene.
    The silence between them was deafening as Carrie waited for the outcome of her forward comment. She was willing to bet that demanding things from a boss on day two was not something that any of her books would have recommended, but it felt like the right thing to do. As she sat, waiting, she started to second-guess her method of intervening. There was a reason she’d bought all those books: she didn’t know the right things to do. Perhaps she’d made a mistake in asking him to get a tree. She was out of her comfort zone.
    Then, to her complete surprise, he took a sip of his wine, set down the glass, and started eating his stew, leaving her hanging on that last thought. She’d been waiting so patiently, hoping to hear his answer, and he’d completely abandoned the conversation. He ate slowly, and, watching him, she wondered if he was still mulling it over at all. He could be almost rude at times, and when he was, it made her feel so unimportant, her concerns so trivial. But at the same time, she didn’t want him to leave. Her emotions were confusing to her; they didn’t fit into nice, neat categories, and she was nearly certain she’d never find her specific mix of feelings in any book, which terrified her. How would she ever figure it all out on her own? She watched him eating, wanting to shake him by the shoulders.
    “The Christmas decorations looked very nice when I drove up,” he said at last. “I like what you’ve done with the white lights outside and the window candles.”
    “Thank you,” she said, her voice so quiet it was almost a whisper. She didn’t know what else to say. His reaction puzzled her. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Was he angry? Should she have just left well enough alone? It was only the second day of her employment; she had a long way to go. She’d never faced this situation before. She could always be honest with the women who had employed her, but being honest like she had with a man was different. Being honest with him was different. She couldn’t put her finger on it—perhaps it was the way he smiled at her, or the fact that she could tell there was more to him than he was showing.
    She looked down at her stew and ate a spoonful. It was still hot enough that the steam was rising in front of her. She stirred it around, watching the