Free Boo Who by Rene Gutteridge Page A

happens. Your house glitters and shines with all that is magical about Christmas. It’s like something out of a magazine. But as long as you are in my arms, that’s all I want.”
    She swallowed back more tears and smiled. “I know. Me too.”
    “And the more people that are here, the more there are to appreciate what hard work you’ve put into the house to make it look like heaven.”
    She laughed, then looked at him sheepishly. “Did you see the manger scene I set up over the fireplace? I made it glow by adding lights under the cotton material I laid out.”
    He squeezed her hand and led her out of the pantry. “I’ll go look at it right now. Do you need any help in the kitchen?”
    “No, I’m okay. I’m putting you in charge of crowd control though,” she smiled. But her smile faded a little. “I swear, if one more person shows up for dinner, I’m going to—”
    But before she could get the entire sentence out, Melb rushed up to them, her eyes wide with impending news.
    “Set another place. Martin just went to get the reverend.”
    “Why?”
    “Something about an exorcism.”

    Ainsley rushed passed Wolfe and into the living room. Her father was still speaking to Garth about Thief when she pulled him to the side.
    “What is this about an exorcism?” she asked, hardly able to hide the tension in her voice.
    The sheriff rubbed his chin, glancing down at her. “Hmmm. Had never thought of it before, but maybe that’s what would get Thief back on his feet.” This brought a wry smile to Garth’s lips. It quickly faded as Ainsley shot him a look.
    Suppressing her exasperation, she said, “I don’t think it’s for
Thief
.” She gestured toward the mayor, who was sniffing the Christmas tree as if it were a huge bouquet of daisies.
    “Oh.” The sheriff shrugged. “Well, whatever works.”
    “Dad! It is Christmas! I will
not
have an exorcism in this house on Christmas!”
    “Lower your voice,” the sheriff said as a few people glanced their way. “Honey, can’t you see there is something wrong with the mayor?”
    “I realize that,” she scowled. “But we are supposed to be roasting chestnuts on an open fire, not casting demons into one.”
    The sheriff pulled her into a side hug. “I know how much Christmas means to you, and how you always want everything to go perfectly. You are so much like your mother. Tell you what. I’ll speak to the reverend and make sure no exorcisms take place until after we eat.”
    She wanted to cry all over again, but her anger was crowding the tears out. Was the whole world going mad? She was just about to lose her temper when the reverend walked in with a somber expression that quieted the whole room. He looked at the mayor with a compassion that suddenly reminded her of the human being standing by the tree in his pajamas. She watched as the reverend patted the mayor on the back, then looked at the crowd as if the only thing that mattered in the world was this man.
    Guilt now replaced anger, and she sighed, walking back into the kitchen. Melb was in there and said, “The flag popped up. Turkeys ready.”
    Ainsley pulled on her oven mitts. “Thanks.”

    Melb Cornforth stared at the giblet gravy, her hand hovering over the fancy silver ladle. She then stared down at her plate. She’d chosen white meat over dark and two rolls minus the butter, skipped the mashed potatoes, and gotten the green bean casserole instead, which looked very curious with onion rings on top and some kind of lumpy creamed concoction floating the beans. She also had a nice pile of pimentos, her favorite condiment, thanks to Ainsley being generous enough to let her raid the pantry. She’d cut a lot of calories, but the giblet gravy beckoned her.
    “Sweetie pie, you okay there?” Oliver asked.
    “I’m fine,” she breathed. “I, um, I’m just deciding on the gravy.” “Oh.”
    Seconds ticked by, and she was suddenly aware that the line behind her was now waiting for the gravy. She bit