Free Mistletoe and Holly by Janet Dailey Page A

thing missing is the presents to be put under the tree,” Leslie concluded.
    “Most of my Christmas shopping is done, but I do have a couple of items yet to buy. I promise I won’t drag you through all the toy departments. We’ll have brunch somewhere before we come home.” He arched an inquiring eyebrow. “Will you come?”
    “Yes.” It didn’t seem necessary to add more than that.
    “I’ll pick a day when the weather’s nice and let you know,” he said.
    “All right,” Leslie nodded.
    When the storm door was opened from the outside, Tagg pivoted and opened the inner door for her aunt. Patsy Evans looked momentarily surprised to see him, then recovered with her usual aplomb.
    “Hello, Taggart,” she greeted him with a curious look. “Was there something you wanted?”
    “No. I was just making sure Leslie got in safely. I have to be getting back. I left Holly at the housealone.” He excused himself and moved to exit through the door Patsy Evans had just entered.
    “I saw your Christmas tree when I drove in. It looks beautiful,” she stated.
    “I’ll tell Holly you said so,” Tagg smiled, then nodded to Leslie. “I’ll see you.”
    When the door closed behind him, Leslie realized her aunt was watching her. She turned and Patsy busily began taking off her coat.
    “I’m glad you didn’t have to spend the afternoon alone,” she commented.
    “I helped string popcorn to hang on the tree,” Leslie explained.
    “I must say I like the way Taggart does things—going out and chopping down his own Christmas tree, encouraging his daughter to make things to hang on it.” Her aunt elaborated on her initial comment.
    “Yes.” Leslie moved over to the sink. “Shall I heat some water for tea?”
    “Sounds good. Please.”
    “By the way—” she held the teakettle under the faucet and began filling it with water, “—he is a widower. His wife died of complications from childbirth a month after Holly was born.”
    “Really?” Her aunt appeared vaguely surprised by the news. “Somehow I had the feeling he was divorced. Not that it really matters.” Her shrewdglance ran keenly over Leslie. “It was thoughtful of him to see you home.”
    “Yes.” She hobbled over to the stove to put the kettle on to heat. “Some morning this next week, he asked me to ride into Montpelier with him.”
    “Are you going?”
    Leslie turned, her eyes widening slightly at the question. “I thought I would, yes. Why?”
    “No reason.” Her aunt shrugged. “I guess I was just wondering whether this was the start of a holiday romance.”
    Her mouth opened to refute the idea, then closed without saying a word. It probably would turn out to be a short-lived relationship. It would be foolish to think that this time would be different from any of the others in the past.

CHAPTER
5

    THE GOLD DOME of the granite Capitol Building glinted in the morning sunlight. A snow-covered, wooded hillside rose abruptly behind it to form an appropriately rural backdrop for the white statue of Ceres, the Roman Goddess of agriculture, standing atop the glittering gold dome.
    There was little traffic on the street as Tagg drove by the State House. Leslie’s gaze was drawn to the statue of Ethan Allen, standing proud and tall on the front portico of the Capitol Building, his arm upraised. This famed leader of Vermont’s Green Mountain Men seemed to be standing guard over the independence they had battled to win from Britain, an independence Vermont hadretained for fourteen years before finally joining the Union formed by the original thirteen.
    “Small but impressive, isn’t it?” Tagg noticed her interest in the Vermont State House and commented on it.
    “Yes.” Its size wasn’t imposing, but there was a quiet majesty in its classic architecture and a solid strength about its granite walls.
    “It always fascinated me when I was growing up. I often wondered whether my perspective as an adult would change that, but it hasn’t,” he