Free Mistletoe and Holly by Janet Dailey Page B

stated.
    “Are you from Vermont?” Leslie ran her glance over his profile. It was a piece of information she didn’t recall her aunt mentioning.
    “Yes, I grew up here.” His attention remained on the street they were traveling, watching the intersections and glancing at the businesses. “Then I left for college, and came back only once or twice since.” His gaze flicked briefly to her, absently amused. “Don’t I look like a crusty native to you?”
    “No.” Although she conceded that Tagg had retained that air of reserve even if it was behind a smiling mask. “Did your work bring you back?” It was a probing question since he didn’t appear to do any kind of work.
    “No.” The answer was accompanied by a brief, negative movement of his head, but he didn’t seemto regard her question as prying into his personal affairs. “It was time for Holly to start attending school on a regular basis—and I guess I wanted her to grow up in the kind of background I did. How about yourself?” A traffic light turned red and he slowed the car to a stop, sliding a glance at her. “Are you from New York—or somewhere else?” And Leslie realized that she didn’t know any more about what he did for a living than she had before.
    “I was born and raised right in Manhattan,” she answered his question while she tried to think of a tactful way to ask her own again.
    “Then you’re a city girl.” The light changed to green and Tagg started the car smoothly forward.
    The faintly mocking tone of his remark made Leslie add, “I’ve never thought of myself as a city girl. My parents had a house on Fire Island so we usually spent the summers there. In the winter, we’d go skiing—sometimes here to Vermont and visit Aunt Patsy. So I had a blend of citylife and countrylife, until the divorce changed things.”
    “Your parents moved away from New York after they split up?” he asked if that’s what her remark meant.
    “Eventually,” she nodded and huddled into her coat, not from the cold since the car’s heater kept the interior warm. Mainly Leslie was withdrawingfrom unpleasant memories. “Both of them remarried. Dad and his new family live on the West Coast; and Mom and her family live in Baltimore. ‘And never the twain shall meet,’ as the saying goes.” The last was issued with a certain rawness.
    “It was a bitter divorce,” Tagg guessed by her tone. “It was a more bitter marriage.” She shrugged, trying to make believe neither had mattered.
    “Do you see them very often?”
    “Not any more than I have to,” Leslie admitted dryly. “I’m the spoils of their war, so they’re both still fighting to claim me as theirs alone. And I don’t like being the rope in a tug of war. That’s why I came to stay with Aunt Patsy.”
    “I’m glad you did.” Tagg smiled at her briefly, then noticed the store just ahead on the right. “There’s where we’re going—and there’s an empty parking place out front. We’re in luck.”
    There wasn’t an opportunity for Leslie to turn the conversation back around and question Tagg about his occupation. So she had to bury her curiosity for the time being while he did his Christmas shopping.
    Over an hour later, they returned to the car with his purchases made. Tagg stowed the brightly wrapped and ribboned packages in the back seat of the car, then held her crutches while Leslie maneuvered into the front passenger seat.
    “And now to find someplace to eat,” he declared as he slipped behind the wheel and took the car keys out of his pocket. “Hungry?”
    “Just starting. I cheated and had toast and jam this morning,” she confessed.
    “So did I.” Tagg chuckled softly, his glance moving over her. As he turned the car onto the street, he said, “I think I’ve figured out why you pretend not to like Christmas. It gives you a perfect excuse not to go through all this rigamarole of buying presents for people.”
    “Wrong.” She laughed. “I just don’t wait