Free Kissing Under the Mistletoe by Marina Adair Page A

her from trying to use her affair to extort money out of the family. He’d done itto protect Abby from more pain, to make up for introducing her to Richard. But when he looked into Regan’s face and saw her dump of a car, her well-worn clothes, doubt began to weigh in.
    Regan mistook his silence for censure. “Never mind, I don’t even know why I bothered.” She shoved at his hand, which still secured the door shut. “I answered your question. Now move. I. Said. Move!”
    He did, and she jerked the car door open, its rusty hinges groaning under the force. She climbed in and slammed it shut. With the car in reverse, eyes forward, she cracked the window and said, “Life is messy, Gabe. It sucks and it’s hard and people get hurt, but they move on. So do me a favor and figure out how long you need to get over this so I don’t have to wonder if today is the day when
I
finally get to move on.”

CHAPTER 5

    A t precisely 1:50 p.m., Regan pulled into Holly’s school. Situated just east of the main part of town, behind St. Helena Corkery, and on the south side of one of the DeLucas’ vineyards, St. Vincent’s Academy looked more like a winery than a private school. The main building was faced with hand-shaped stone and boasted two massive wooden doors at its entrance and a front lawn that could easily host an RV-and-boat fair.
    It was Friday and raining, and that meant that the parking lot was packed with high-end cars and moms wielding designer galoshes and matching umbrellas. Regan had just finished her second tour of the parking lot when she gave up and parked down the street by the school’s Performing Arts Building.
    “He’s just one man. His opinion doesn’t matter,” she said, flipping down the visor. She gasped when she saw her face. Eyes red, nose even redder, she looked like a woman who had spent the last seven blocks bawling her eyes out. Whichshe had. Because no matter how many times she told herself that she could do this, that she wouldn’t let some man hurt her again, it didn’t stop the tears from coming.
    After a good blow of the nose and a new layer of cover-up, Regan stepped out of the car and, dollar store umbrella in hand, ran down the block. The wind blasted her, causing her umbrella to bend backward.
    By the time she made it inside the school, she was officially drenched and reality had set in. All she could do now was find the bathroom, transform herself into some believable form of successful mommy, and then face ChiChi. No matter what the older woman wanted to talk about, Regan understood that she would have to withdraw Holly from the school. She was jobless, practically broke, and, come Sunday, homeless. Talk about humiliating.
    She passed the front office, the glass display case that was filled with photos of last year’s graduates in front of the Arc de Triomphe, and had just opened the bathroom door when something caught her eye.
    Full-color flyers hung on each stall, one after the next, all the same, spanning the entire length of the bathroom, and making Regan’s palms sweat.
    “Missing: Randolph and Christmas Cheer. A $5,000 reward for the safe return of St. Helena’s most beloved mammal.”
    It even had the heart-melting photo of Gabe when he was a boy hugging the ceramic statue. Dropping to her hands and knees, she checked to ensure that every last stall was empty. Coast clear, she scrambled to her feet and went to work, ripping down one, then the next. She got to six when she noticed that Randolph’s sad little face was also plastered on the insides of the stalls. They must have been posted bythe high school basketball team because some were taped to the ceiling, dangling like banners.
    Hiking up her skirt, she closed the lid on the first toilet, crawled on top, and, teetering dangerously on her heels, gave a hard tug on the flyer just as someone cleared their throat.
    Frozen, hand in mid-rip, Regan turned to find herself staring down at not one but three gawking grannies.