LITMIR.BIZ

       One

      Sam Henry hated December.

      The days were too short, making the nights seem an eternity. It was cold and dark—and then there was the incessant Christmas badgering. Lights, trees, carols and an ever-increasing barrage of commercials urging you to shop, spend, buy. And every reminder of the holiday season ate at the edges of his soul and heart like drops of acid.

      He scowled at the roaring fire in the hearth, slapped one hand on the mantel and rubbed his fingers over the polished edge of the wood. With his gaze locked on the flames, he told himself that if he could, he’d wipe the month of December from the calendar.

      “You can’t stick your head in the snow and pretend Christmas isn’t happening.”

      Sam flicked a glance at the woman in the open doorway. His housekeeper/cook/nag, Kaye Porter, stood there glaring at him through narrowed blue eyes. Hands at her wide hips, her gray-streaked black hair pulled back into a single thick braid that hung down over one shoulder, she shook her head. “There’s not enough snow to do it anyway, and whether you like it or not, Christmas is coming.”

      “I don’t and it’s only coming if I acknowledge it,” Sam told her.

      “Well, you’re going to have to pay attention because I’m out of here tomorrow.”

      “I’ll give you a raise if you cancel your trip,” he said, willing to bargain to avoid the hassle of losing the woman who ran his house so he didn’t have to.

      A short bark of laughter shot from her throat. “Not a chance. My friend Ruthie and I do this every year, as you well know. We’ve got our rooms booked and there’s no way we’re canceling.”

      He’d known that—he just hadn’t wanted to think about it. Another reason to hate December. Every year, Kaye and Ruthie took a month-long vacation. A cruise to the Bahamas, then a stay at a splashy beachside hotel, followed by another cruise home. Kaye liked to say it was her therapy to get her through the rest of the year living with a crank like himself.

      “If you love Christmas so much, why do you run to a beach every year?”

      She sighed heavily. “Christmas is everywhere, you know. Even in hot, sandy places! We buy little trees, decorate them for our rooms. And the hotel lights up all the palm trees...” She sighed again, but this time, it was with delight. “It’s gorgeous.”

      “Fine.” He pushed away from the hearth, tucked both hands into the pockets of his jeans and stared at her. Every year he tried to talk her out of leaving and every year he lost. Surrendering to the inevitable, he asked, “You need a ride to the airport?”

      A small smile curved her mouth at the offer. “No, but thanks. Ruthie’s

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