Free Twelve Days of Christmas by Debbie Macomber

this project and giving her all kinds of encouragement. What her readers liked and mentioned most was the latte Cain had gotten her. Like Julia, her readers saw the fact that he’d gotten Julia her favorite drink as a seismic shift in Cain. This one action was proof that killing him with kindness was working even better than they had hoped. To Julia’s way of thinking, it had taken far longer for that crack to show itself than she would have liked. Nevertheless, she’d take it.
    Although she hadn’t given the Christmas-tree incident more than a casual mention, several of the readers picked up on that as well. As far as Julia could tell, Cain didn’t oppose Christmas, he just wasn’t into it. In retrospect, that made sense. For many years now it’d been just him and his grandfather. It wasn’t like he had an extended list of people he needed to shop for or a big family. Knowing what she did, she had an idea.
    As soon as she was finished with her shift, Julia took the bus to Manor House to see Cain’s grandfather. She’d packed the last of the homemade chocolate-chip cookies to bring him that morning, but that was just an excuse to seek him out a second time in as many days.
    Sharon, the woman who was at the reception desk at Manor House, smiled when she saw Julia.
    “You’re starting to become a regular, aren’t you?”
    “Guess I am,” Julia called out as she rushed past. “Bernie’s in room 316, isn’t he?”
    “Probably not.”
    She skidded to a stop. “Oh, is he up in the game room again?”
    “Could be. Check there first.”
    “Will do. Thanks.” With a wave and a jaunty step, Julia was off to the fifth floor. Sure enough, she found Bernie sitting at the table, working on the same jigsaw puzzle he had been the day before. Two other men were off in the corner, playing cribbage, she noticed.
    Bernie glanced up, and when he saw her, his face immediately broke into a smile. “You’re back.”
    “Promised you home-baked cookies, didn’t I?”
    “You brought them?” His eyes widened with delight.
    “I sure did.” She set her bag down on the tabletop and brought out the plastic container with the cookies.
    “You sweetheart. If my grandson was foolish enough to refuse these, then I’ll gladly accept them.” Right away he peeled off the cover and snatched a cookie. After a single bite, he closed his eyes as if tasting ambrosia. “Better than I imagined. Almost as good as the ones my wife baked, God rest her soul.”
    “Thanks.” She pulled out a chair and sat down. “I didn’t run into Cain this morning.” Missing him had weighed on her mind most of the day. It seemed Cain wasn’t the only one who’d grown accustomed to their morning ritual.
    “He’s sick,” Bernie mentioned casually as he reached for a second cookie.
    “Sick?” That was a shock. “I saw him last night and he seemed well enough then.”
    Cookie in his hand, Bernie looked up. “What time was that?”
    “I don’t remember. Around seven, I think. Why?”
    “Wasn’t feeling great then, either. He usually stops by Sunday afternoon, but he didn’t want to give me whatever it was that upset his stomach. Surprised he didn’t mention it when he saw you.”
    “He helped me haul my Christmas tree up the stairs.” Then, because she felt she needed to explain, she added, “The elevator was out of order.”
    “Talked to him this morning and he sounded sicker than a dog. From what he said, he spent most of the day in bed. Guess it’s the flu.”
    “Oh dear.” Julia immediately felt terrible. What little she knew of Cain told her he wasn’t a man who took easily to being ill.
    “You okay?” Bernie asked.
    “Fine.” She brought her head back to the present. “I had an idea. Don’t know if you and Cain have plans for Christmas Day?”
    “Nothing more than dinner right here at Manor House. What makes you ask?”
    “How about you come to my apartment? I’ll be alone, and it would be a good excuse for me to