He considered pointing out the cold Maine weather and paltry covering on the doll, but was afraid she’d take that to heart too and insist on covering the manger with heavy blankets, which he was sure wouldn’t have been found in Bethlehem.
“Much better,” he replied, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Petite and pretty, pit bull doctor, sentimentalist. Which was she, or was she all those things? It had been a long time since he’d been this intrigued by a woman. It wasn’t exactly an unwelcome feeling.
“Hey, are you all right?”
Charlie’s voice interrupted his less-than-pure thoughts. “Yeah, sure. Sorry.”
He got the feeling Charlie was going to say something more, but one of the church ladies came bearing down on them like a woman on a mission. “Charlene, we could use your help in the sanctuary. We’re putting together the caroling booklets for the tree lighting tomorrow night.”
Ah yes. Dave looked at Charlie’s face and saw it transform into a polite, welcoming mask, and he nearly laughed. He’d bet ten bucks that she adopted the same expression when she walked into an exam room and greeted a new patient.
“Sure thing, Mrs. Henderson. I think the nativity is all done. I’m still working on the lights…”
The older woman’s lips pursed a bit in disapproval. “Well, maybe Bill can finish that up. He knows how we display them.”
Mrs. Henderson moved on to fuss about the figures, muscling a shepherd and staff about two inches to the right before declaring herself satisfied. “There. That’s wonderful. We’re nearly done inside as well. The ladies’ group has provided lunch for the volunteers. Soup and sandwiches, which should be on in exactly…” She checked her watch. “Thirty-six minutes.”
Heaven forbid the lunch be a minute early or late.
“Mr…?” Mrs. Henderson looked up at him suddenly, and he got the strange feeling that she was taking stock of him.
“Ricker,” he supplied with a nod.
“Yes, you just moved here, didn’t you?”
Nosy. Bossy and nosy. She had a way of talking that reminded him of the military. Sharp and precise. “Yes, ma’am. From Virginia.” He tried another one of his smiles on her, thinking that perhaps he and Dr. Yang really weren’t that different after all. “I built the manger.”
“Right.” She eyed him curiously. “You’re working for George Adams down on the docks. Hope he’s got enough work to keep you busy.”
Now it was his turn to be embarrassed and he hoped the raw bite to the air covered any flush in his cheeks. He wasn’t rolling in it but he could make ends meet. Besides, this was just a temporary job until he figured out exactly where he wanted to settle.
“I don’t know about you, but I think I can smell that soup all the way out here. Are you coming in with us, Dave?” Charlie jumped in with the attempted save.
As much as he might enjoy spending more time with the pretty doctor, he wasn’t sure he was up to the sheer volume of hen clucking that was likely to happen over lunch. “No, but thanks for the invite. I’ve got to get back home. I’m running low on wood and should probably split a bunch to tide me over for a few days.”
He waited for lightning to strike through the leaden sky. He’d just flat-out lied, in front of the church with the steeple and cross directly in front of him.
“Well, thank you for all your help,” Mrs. Henderson said. “You be sure to come to the tree lighting tomorrow night in the square. The choir’s leading the caroling and there’s free hot chocolate for everyone.”
“Sounds great,” he responded, giving that automatic smile again.
He looked down at Charlie. She was watching him curiously, as if trying to puzzle him out. Her gaze burned into his, and he thought for a moment he saw a devilish twinkle in their depths. “Oh yes. Everyone comes out for it,” Charlie said. “It’s one of the highlights of the season.” Her voice sounded exactly like an advertisement and he had a hard time not laughing at what he was certain was false enthusiasm.
“Everyone?” he asked.
Mrs. Henderson didn’t miss the skeptical tone in his voice. “Oh, the whole town shows up,” she insisted. “You’ll be there, won’t you, Charlene?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t miss it.” Again with the too-bright enthusiasm. Was Charlie also a bit of a wallflower?
“Maybe I’ll know someone, then,” he offered. Had he really just agreed to go? He had to be off his rocker. Christmas carols? He couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket. And hot chocolate? He’d much prefer a couple fingers of whiskey in front of the fire back at the cottage.
“Right. Well, Charlene, we really need those booklets done up. Thanks for your help, Mr. Ricker.” Mrs. Henderson got right back to business and began stomping her way to the front steps of the church.
“I’d better go,” Charlie said quietly, looking up at him. “That woman means business.”
“She’d be a great drill sergeant,” he remarked.