Free The Christmas Shoppe by Melody Carlson

interested, Tommy was fairly well respected by everyone. Still, she wasn’t dumb—there could be other reasons.
    She’d been thrilled when he’d called Monday afternoon to schedule an interview with her, but then dismayed when she checked her calendar. The only time that worked for both of them was Friday morning. For the past four days, she’d hoped to bump into him somewhere in town, but despite her best efforts to be out and about, their paths had never crossed once. Maybe it was fate. Or perhaps God was trying to tell her something. She’d be smart to listen. For now she was simply looking forward to seeing him again.
    She was back in her office and just starting to get impatient when Alice buzzed her. “Tommy Thompson’s here for the interview.”
    “Send him in,” Susanna told her. She looked at her watch. He was only four minutes late, but for some reason it had seemed like longer.
    “Sorry to be late,” he said as he caught her still looking at her watch. “You know that commute from the newspaper office to city hall is killer this time of morning.”
    She chuckled as she stood to shake his hand. “I was thinking about that same thing as I drove to work this morning. I live less than three minutes from here—really, I should be walking—but the funny thing is I still bring my commuter cup in the car with me.” She pointed to the shiny aluminum cup on her desk.
    “Small-town life is hard to beat.”
    “I’m sold.” She nodded to the chair across from her desk. “Make yourself comfortable, Tommy. We have just a little less than an hour.”
    He pulled a notebook from his inside coat pocket. It was a brown suede blazer that looked well made and expensive. He removed his jacket and casually laid it in the other chair, then sat down. Susanna noticed he was wearing an attractive navy sweater, probably cashmere. Well, the guy had taste.
    He took the cap off of a silver pen, then smiled at her. “Ready?”
    She blinked. “Is that all you use? Pen and pad? No electronics?”
    He nodded. “I’m an old-fashioned kind of guy. This works for me.”
    “Interesting.” She almost confessed that she was an old-fashioned kind of girl, but that felt like too much information. “Ready when you are. Fire away.”
    He started with the usual queries about educational background and past work experiences, but gradually the questions grew more personal. Not that she minded. She had nothing to hide. Not really. She explained that she’d grown up in a somewhat unconventional family. “My maiden name was Garcia, and my father was fourth-generation Mexican American with a Stanford degree in engineering. He worked for the city too. My mother was a blue-eyed, blonde beauty with no college education. She’d grown up in a dysfunctional family and really didn’t want to be married. Consequently, my parents divorced when I was four and my father raised me.”
    “That is a bit unconventional, but interesting.” He continued writing, glancing up occasionally. She wondered how he was really getting all this down because, as usual, she was talking fast.
    “My father saw to it that I got a good education, and I suppose I kind of followed in his footsteps by working for city government.”
    “Your father sounds like a great guy.”
    She nodded. “He was. He died shortly after Megan was born.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    “Thanks. At least he got to see his granddaughter, and . . .” She paused to weigh her words. “He didn’t have to witness me going through my divorce.” She shook her head. “I know that would’ve hurt him deeply. Especially since he was the one who introduced me to my ex-husband.”
    Tommy nodded with a sympathetic expression. “How long ago was that? Your divorce, I mean. Well, not that it matters . . .” He seemed uncomfortable. “That doesn’t need to be in the article. I didn’t—”
    “It’s okay. I don’t mind telling you, but I agree it probably doesn’t need to be in the