Free Cold Comfort by Ellis Vidler

"Hi, this is Mary, Ray's sister. Claire's not here, but she should be back any minute."
    "What? Where the hell is she?" He'd told her specifically not to leave until he got there.
    "I see why you two hit it off so well," Mary said. "She's at the doctor's office, but — "
    "Is she hurt? Did something happen? Why didn't she call me?" He fished the keys to the Bronco out of his pocket. He could be there in less than fifteen minutes.
    "Slow down. She's all right. Nothing's happened to her. Her doctor's office wanted to know something about her medical records."
    "When she gets back, keep her inside until I get there. Remind her that someone has a big problem with her — and I don't mean me." He slammed the phone down and started out the door. He reached for the knob when he remembered the alarm. Dammit! He turned back and set it.
    Downtown, he circled the block, alert for any unusual activity. So far, so good. He spotted an empty parking place a block away from Mistletoe and jammed the Bronco into the tight space. He squeezed himself out of the car, but didn't want to waste time finding a bigger spot. He needed to see Claire, assure himself she was all right. God, what if someone got to her? He hurried along the sidewalk, leaning into the wind; the cheery little shop shining through the darkness drew him. Inside, several customers still browsed.
    Claire stood on a portable step, removing a glittering angel from a tree. He let out a long, slow breath. A little girl stood below, clasping her hands, her face eager with anticipation. Claire bent down to hand the child the angel. That dress should come with a warning sign. Another woman, the mother he guessed, waited patiently beside the child, holding a basket stuffed to overflowing. He concentrated on her.
    The lecture he'd planned would have to wait.
    Claire led them to the cash register while Riley made his way through the trees and displays to the sitting area where he'd first seen her. Two comfortable chairs and a small table stacked with magazines sat by the fireplace, an ideal spot for a long-suffering husband or father — a stroke of marketing genius in his opinion. Focused as she was on her customers, he didn't think she'd seen him. He sat back to observe, his lecture bubbling beneath the surface.
    The woman and girl accepted cookies and cider while Claire rang up the assortment of items. The mother filled a small paper cup from the insulated carafe while the child carefully selected a cookie. Claire chatted easily, wrapping each of the fragile purchases in red tissue. She finished and said something to the child, who nodded solemnly. The little girl, after some deliberation, placed two large cookies on a napkin. Then she took a cup of cider from Claire and turned toward him. Taking small, careful steps and watching the liquid with fierce concentration, she brought him the refreshments. Riley glanced up. The woman watched her daughter's progress with a proud smile.
    "Here, Mithter Riley. Mith Claire thaid to give you thith." Her smile revealed two missing front teeth. "I picked out the biggeth cookieth for you."
    "Thank you," he said, accepting the gifts. If the guys could see me now. How the hell did I get into this?
    Relieved of her burden, the child bounced happily back to her angel, which Claire slipped into a small bag with a string handle for her to carry.
    He munched. Something light, maybe Mozart, played softly, barely discernable above the low chatter and bustle of the customers. Not one of those singing dog things or even a carol. If he hadn't been a confirmed Scrooge, this place might have given him the Christmas spirit. Resigned, his anger at Claire mellowed. But he would mention it.
    As if reading his mind, Mary wandered by. "You must be Scrooge," she said, holding out her hand. "I'm Mary Miller, Ray's sister." She cocked her head.
    "Ben Riley." He stood, taking her hand.
    "I know. Anything you want me to tell Ray?" Her broad smile and the sparkle in her dark