“You came along to protect me,” Trudy said.
“Yeah,” Nolan said. “But don’t go giving me any medals because that turned out great for me. We ended up with everything we needed because I got in that cab. Following you around made me look like a genius to my boss.” He shook his head. “And now we have this year’s codes. You’re good for me, Gertrude.”
Trudy wrapped her arms around the Mac, feeling the crunch of its duct tape against her stomach. “You turned out pretty good for me, too, Nolan.”
He nodded and met her eyes for a long moment.
Kiss me, she thought.
Then he said, “I have to go.”
“Of course,” Trudy said, deflating.
“But I would like to come back,” he said, as if he were choosing his words very carefully. “Can I have you, uh”—he shook his head—“see you later tonight?”
Under the Christmas tree with all the lights on. “Yes,” Trudy said primly. “That would be very nice.” Kiss me.
“Okay then.” Nolan looked at a loss for words. “About seven?”
“Seven is good,” Trudy said. Kiss me.
“I’ll see you at seven then,” Nolan said. “I really will, I promise.”
“I believe you,” Trudy said. “Thank you for the MacGuffin.” Kiss me, you idiot.
“Uh, you’re welcome. Thank you for the Chinese spy codes.” He turned to go.
“Wait,” Trudy said, and when he turned back, she grabbed the lapel of his coat and pulled him down to her and kissed him good, and he dropped the Twinkletoes and pulled her close, squashing the Mac One between them.
“I’m crazy about you,” he whispered when he broke the kiss.
“I’m crazy about you, too,” she said, dizzy with happiness. “Hurry back.”
“I will,” he said fervently, and then he was gone, off into the snow, but he’d be back. He’d promised, and she believed him.
She closed the door and went back into the living room just in time to see Leroy squeeze the Mac Two so that green toxic waste shot across the room as Madonna sang “Santa Baby” on the radio and Courtney dipped a broken gingerbread arm into her gin.
“I love Christmas,” Trudy said, and went to join her family.
Christmas at Seashell Cottage
by Donna Alward
Chapter One
Charlie Yang had never considered herself much of a joiner. So it went without saying that she was surprised to find herself in the middle of setting up a nativity scene in front of the Jewell Cove church, stuffing scratchy straw into a crudely constructed manger. They’d had an early snow, and the layer of white covering the ground and the branches of trees and shrubbery added to the feeling of holiday spirit that had taken over since Thanksgiving.
Like a well-oiled machine, Gloria Henderson and her army of church ladies had taken charge of the volunteers and had assigned jobs to everyone. The men were tasked with anything requiring a ladder and heavy lifting—including lugging three wise men, Mary and Joseph, the shepherds and sheep, and every last bit of the nativity to the front yard. Right now Bill—Charlie had forgotten his last name—from the service station was positioning the figures in the proper places, which were the exact same spots they occupied each and every year, apparently. Charlie gave a dry chuckle. You could always count on small towns, and Jewell Cove, Maine, was no different. It was practically steeped in saltwater traditions.
Still, it stung a little that the committee had taken one look at Charlie’s attempt at the red-and-green velvet bows and suggested she might be better suited to helping with something else. She was a doctor, for heaven’s sake. She could suture a wound and leave barely a trace of a scar. Surely her bows weren’t that bad …
She’d been sent off to the front of the church with specific instructions: set up the manger, uncoil and string the lights, and put Baby Jesus in place. Charlie huffed. She’d been number three in her graduating class from med school. She could set up a nativity scene with one hand tied behind her back. She shivered against the cold, zipped her puffy jacket up the last three inches, and wished she’d thought to wear a hat to keep her ears warm.