Free Lone Star Santa by Heather MacAllister

trade information—may I use your notes?” Barbara’s voice was clipped.
    “Sure,” Kristen answered before thinking better of it “—except don’t do anything that’ll hurt Mitch.”
    Silence.
    “Is there anything that’ll hurt Mitch?” she asked in a small voice.

    Barbara gave her a long look. “That depends.”
    “I don’t like the sound of that.”
    “I don’t like the looks of this.” Her mother waved at Kristen’s notes.
    “You mean I actually found something?”
    “You found pieces and I’m going to try to find the links. May I?”
    Kristen nodded and immediately felt queasy. For heaven’s sake, she hardly knew Mitch, and yet, here she was, worried on his behalf. She thought about his smile and that stupid Santa hoodie. She thought about the abs beneath the stupid Santa hoodie. Kristen had developed a theory about potential relationships based on abdominal development. Too squishy and that meant a desk job and no time for a girlfriend. Or a guy who didn’t care and wouldn’t put in any effort. A well-defined six pack required hours at the gym and thus meant no time for a relationship and an attitude that girls were supposed to be grateful to be noticed at all.
    Mitch had girlfriend abs. Defined enough to show that he’d made an effort, definitely cared, but still had time to spare for the right relationship.
    Kristen watched her mother’s fingers dance over the keyboard. She would have made more money temping if she’d typed that well. “Wow. I didn’t know you could type like that.”
    Without taking her eyes from the screen, Barbara commented, “I’m part of the generation where women were nurses, teachers or secretaries. I went for secretary. I remember what a big deal it was when our school got electric typewriters.”

    “Mom.”
    Her mother smiled to herself, but as Kristen watched the smile shrank. “Sloane Property Development and Construction. They really like their name on things, don’t they?”
    Kristen figured it was a rhetorical question.
    Glancing at Kristen’s handwritten notes, Barbara grimaced. “Why didn’t you set up a spreadsheet with this information?”
    “It’s been awhile since computer class.”
    “I’m going to set one up for you.” Barbara had already opened the software. “Then you can input the information while I make a couple of phone calls.”
    Kristen watched for a few minutes and tried to remember anything about spreadsheets. Not happening.
    “Okay. You’re set.” Her mother pushed the chair back from the desk. “I’m going to use Carl’s office phone. I don’t want a record on my cell.”
    Kristen stared after her. “You’re scaring me.”
    “Cell phone calls aren’t secure. Remember that.”
    “Dad’s rubbing off on you.”
    Her mother smiled over her shoulder. “Not often enough.”
    “Mother!”
    Her mother laughed as she shut the office door.
    Type , Kristen instructed herself. Type and do not go there . She stared at the closed door behind which her mother was doing who-knew-what. Do not go anywhere .

Chapter Five
    Mitch popped in a cassette of his third black-and-white movie of the night. Since he’d left home, his parents had upgraded to a DVD player and he’d poked around until he’d found the old video machine in the guest room closet.
    That room had been his sister Kiki’s room and it still looked girly with the pastel walls, her old white-painted furniture and the blue-and-white Chinese-looking bedspread.
    Whereas his room had become the office-slash-gym and the old furniture was long gone.
    Mitch had carried the VCR into the den, connected the appropriate wires with only a couple of miscues, shoved in the first of the tapes and settled back with a bag of microwave popcorn.
    He liked THE BIG SLEEP with Bogey and Bacall, because if he squinted and stared at her mouth, Lauren Bacall reminded him of Kristen. He could see the whole thing Noir Blanc had going now and wondered if Kristen liked it, or just tolerated