Free Christmas On Nutcracker Court by Judy Duarte

different. What do you think about me adding highlights and shortening it a couple of inches?”
    Susan laughed. “Honey, you’re too funny. You’d look good if you dyed your hair purple and shaved it into a Mohawk style.”
    â€œYeah, right.”
    Susan clicked her tongue. “What are we going to do with you, Lynnie? You always look as though you just stepped out of a fashion magazine, and you’ve got more money than the Rockefellers. Yet you don’t seem to realize just how much you have going for you.”
    Lynette slowly shook her head, her mind flooding with thoughts, as well as an argument or two. Sure, she’d come a long way from a crummy childhood, but deep inside, she still felt like that geeky little girl from the other side of the tracks, the shy and awkward young woman who’d had crooked teeth and vision problems that had hampered her ability to read and learn in school.
    Yet through some miracle of miracles, that mousy young woman with a slew of defects had somehow touched Peter Tidball’s heart, become his wife, and entered his storybook world.
    So wasn’t it any wonder that she still had to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming about the way her life had turned out?
    â€œHave you heard from Rosa?” Susan asked, as they headed for the kitchen. “Is she going to be able to join us?”
    â€œI’m afraid not. She has another commitment. Apparently, she and her husband deliver meals to housebound seniors on Wednesdays.”
    Susan’s steps slowed. “Since when? Is that a new project they’ve taken on?”
    â€œYes, I think so. It’s so hard to keep up with all the volunteer work they do.”
    As they entered the kitchen, the teakettle began to whistle, and Helen’s cousin removed it from the heat.
    After Susan made the introductions, Maggie reached for a pot holder.
    Lynette tried to spot a family resemblance in the middle-aged blonde, but couldn’t see it right off. Helen’s hair was a bright Irish red, although the color came from a bottle these days. And Maggie’s was the color of pale moonbeams.
    â€œHave a seat,” Maggie said, as she carried the teakettle to the table.
    As Lynette watched Helen’s cousin pour hot water into the china cups, her gaze landed on the cake in the center of the table, and she turned to Susan. “Oh, my goodness. Did you make that?”
    Susan smiled. “Everyone kept asking when I was going to whip up my mango-coconut recipe again, so I decided today was as good a day as any.”
    â€œI’m glad you did. That cake is to die for.”
    â€œWith your sweet tooth, Lynnie, I’m surprised that you don’t take some baking classes and utilize that fancy oven of yours.”
    Lynette might have a state-of-the-art kitchen in her custom-built house, thanks to Peter’s insistence, but she rarely used it. And for good reason.
    But not one she wanted to share.
    â€œWhy should I go to the trouble of learning how to cook?” she asked Susan. “My best friends are all talented bakers and chefs. And they’re more than willing to share the fruits of their culinary labors with me.”
    As Lynette reached for a tea bag—something herbal—Susan crossed her arms. “Every woman should know how to cook and bake, Lynnie, especially you. What if you get married again and your new husband doesn’t want to eat all of his meals in restaurants?”
    Lynette had certainly lucked out when she’d stumbled upon Peter, no doubt about it. But what were the chances that she’d find another man who was so gentle, kind, and generous? One who understood her quirks?
    One who’d become the father figure she’d never had?
    â€œI’m not looking for a husband,” she reminded Susan. “But even if I was, I’d be as big as a barn if I spent too much time in my kitchen.”
    â€œCut it out, Lynnie.”