Free Lakeshore Christmas by Susan Wiggs Page B

regarded the night sky, Maureen looked skeptical.
    “Now what?” he asked her.
    She indicated a guy on a ladder. “Something’s missing,” she said. “I can’t quite put my finger on it.” Her face changed—softened—as she tilted her gaze at the roof of the main structure. “That’s Jabez,” she said. “Have you met him yet?”
    “Briefly,” he said. Something about the kid kept niggling at him. Maybe it was just Jabez himself. He exuded a kind of subtle magnetism. The other high-school kids were drawn to him, handing over light spools and cords as he climbed the ladder. Perched on the roof of the flimsy structure, he appeared to be in a precarious position. Yet he seemed all but weightless as he hoisted the Star of Bethlehem, which was easily as tall as he was, and hung it in place at the peak of the roof.
    “Ready for the lights,” someone called.
    Eddie hit a master switch and the scene came to life. A few moments later, the music changed to Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah.” Bathed in the glow of the lights, Jabez looked even more striking. Maureen’s face changed. Softened, as though overcome by some kind of magic. He’d never known anyone quite like her. There was something about her that moved him; not just her earnest devotionto Christmas, but her air of…he wasn’t quite sure. Optimism, maybe. And earnestness. There was a deep appeal in Maureen that made no sense to Eddie, yet he couldn’t deny it. When he was a kid, he used to dream about a kind of Christmas that simply didn’t exist. Maybe that was the thing about Maureen. She reminded him of the kind of girl who didn’t really exist—not for him, anyway.
    Then the lights flickered out. She shaded her eyes and looked around. Volunteers were putting away the tools and crates. “Where’d Jabez go?”
    “Don’t know. Do you need him for something?”
    “I was going to give him a flyer about auditions. Maybe he’d like to join in.”
    “Hate to break it to you, but being in the Christmas pageant is not exactly a hot ticket for kids his age.”
    “That’s why I made the flyer.” She handed him a few. “Feel free to give these out.”
    He glanced at the sheet, angling it toward the false starlight. “‘Featuring an original composition by Eddie Haven’?” he read aloud. “Since when?”
    “Since you said the music I picked was stale, I thought a piece by you would freshen things up.”
    “And it never occurred to you to ask?”
    “I’m asking. Will you?”
    “I mean before you advertise my services.”
    “If you turn me down now, you’ll feel like a heel.”
    “Christ, and here I was, starting to like you,” he said. “Turning you down is not going to make me feel like a heel.”
    “I know. It’s the kids and everyone counting on an amazing pageant this year,” she said. “They’re the ones who will make you feel like a heel.” She went around collecting empty cups, moving through the crowd with brisk efficiency.
    “I just got screwed,” Eddie said to Ray. “But I don’t remember getting kissed.”
    “By Maureen? Don’t be sore. She does that to everybody.”
    “Does what?”
    “Gets her way. I’ve known her for years, and that’s just the way she operates. No biggie.” Ray headed toward his truck.
    “She’s into you,” Randy Veltry remarked as they reeled in the stereo speakers.
    “What?”
    “That woman. The one you were talking to. Totally into you.”
    “Right.” Eddie gave a derisive laugh. He tried to dismiss the notion. Into him? Maureen Davenport? No way. She made it clear she couldn’t stand him. Her being into him—that was the last thing he wanted or needed.
    And yet…he liked her, bossy attitude, librarian bun and all. It was crazy.
    “You ought to ask her out,” Moby suggested.
    “Nope. No way. We have to work together on this Christmas production so I can’t be getting personal with her.”
    “Chicken.” Omar flapped his wings.
    “I’m not. It’s just…I don’t have