LITMIR.BIZ

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it! Now you try again, just you.”

      Emma sang the bob tails ring part just right that time, then ran over to Clementine’s assistant for the show, Louisa Perkins, who also happened to be the foster mother at the group home where Emma lived. All six foster children had auditioned. Just as Clementine had when she was a foster kid in Blue Gulch before Charlaine and Clinton Hurley had taken her in and then adopted her. Clementine admired Louisa, amazed the woman gave so much of her time. Clementine had been in a few foster homes, one decent, two not so good, and it warmed her heart to know Louisa and her husband were wonderful parents to kids who needed them.

      Clementine sat back down in her chair and called up the next child to audition.

      “...bells on bob tails ring...” the ten-year-old sang without a hitch.

      Clementine breathed a sigh of relief. The holiday show would have ten songs and a short play, an original about the founding of Blue Gulch on Christmas Eve back in 1885. The town’s residents loved the annual show, even if everyone had seen it a thousand times over the past twenty-five years, ever since a beloved drama teacher from the high school had written the play and started the town tradition. Clementine had a few big parts to fill for some of the speaking roles and she’d just found her Lila-Mae.

      “Bells on bobcats ring,” the next boy sang, and Clementine had to smile. It had been long day and it was going to be a long night, but she adored kids and come the show on Christmas Eve, these kids would be singing bob tails ring just right. Or not, she knew. Perfect lyrics didn’t matter to Clementine. It was all about trying, about effort, about showing up and wanting to be part of something special. That was what Clementine wanted to teach these kids.

      As the boy continued to bungle the song, Clementine’s heart went out to him.

      “Jingle bells, Batman smells, Robin laid an egg,” the boy sang, then burst into anxious giggles.

      “Sillybones,” Clementine said, tsking a finger at him. But she laughed too. “From the top, young man.”

      He smiled and nodded and sang it again, even getting bob tails ring right.

      Three more auditions later, and Clementine was finished. She had the dinner shift at Hurley’s Homestyle Kitchen ahead of her, then needed to work on the Creole sauce that she was perfecting and afterward she could look forward to an hour-long soak in a hot bath. It was Thursday, and every day this week she’d spent an hour at the foster home working with the kids to learn the song, then had done her waitressing shifts at Hurley’s, then babysat all over town for infants and toddlers and small and big kids. Clementine had a twofold reason for all the babysitting. She was on her way to fulfilling a dream she’d had since she was a teenager, since the Hurley family had taken her in from that not-so-great foster care situation. Clementine was working toward becoming a foster mother herself. She’d gone to the many meetings, done the thirty-five hours and then some of training, gotten additional training in medicines and CPR and first aid, and completed the home study with her supportive grandmother at her side.

      Soon, a child—whether an infant, a toddler, a little kid, a tween or teen—would come to live with Clementine in the home she shared with her grandmother, the apricot Victorian on Blue Gulch Street that also housed their fifty-year-old restaurant, Hurley’s Homestyle Kitchen. She’d shower that child with the love and care she’d been provided when her parents had taken her in. She was hoping that her final paperwork would be signed off very soon so that she could be matched with a girl or boy before Christmas. Oh, did she want to give her foster child a very special Christmas.

      The other reason Clementine babysat so much was because she was trying to earn extra money to surprise her grandmother with a Christmas present—an outdoor dining section in her beloved garden. And she had just enough to ask her friend, a female contractor, to start work on the project right after the busy holidays. Hurley’s was doing a lot better than it had been just six months ago, especially thanks to her sister Annabel’s generous husband, West. But Essie Hurley, who’d opened the restaurant in her home as a newlywed fifty years ago, refused to take any more of West’s money now that Hurley’s was making a small profit. All Essie wanted was to stay open, pay her bills, make payroll and have some left over for an emergency fund. Clementine couldn’t wait till she could tell Essie about her present. When Clementine’s parents had died in a car crash when Clementine was thirteen, Essie had taken in her three orphaned granddaughters, and as always, she’d made Clementine feel like an equal part of the family as she had from the moment she’d met Clementine at age eight. Clementine wanted to do something special for her gram.

      Finally, the community room was empty and Clementine packed up her folder of lyric sheets and slid it in her tote bag. She glanced around the room, suddenly feeling very much alone. Last summer, when Logan had broken her heart by shutting her out, her sisters, both older and wiser than Clementine, had advised her to fill her life with what she loved doing. So she had, volunteering at the foster home, working toward the foster parent requirements, babysitting, helping her family in the kitchen between her shifts and now directing the town’s children’s play. But still, when she was alone, like right now, she still felt a strange emptiness, something inside her was still raw. Heartbreak? Longing?

      “Uh-oh, boys, I think we’re too late.”

      There was no mistaking the voice that came from outside the door to the community room. Logan Grainger. He’d been avoiding her for three months, keeping his head down in town, and he hadn’t come into Hurley’s for takeout once since he’d fired her. The man loved Hurley’s po’boys and barbecue burgers and had a weakness for spicy sweet potato fries. That he hadn’t stepped foot in Hurley’s Homestyle Kitchen in three months was a clunk over the head of reality: he really wanted nothing to do with her anymore. He was here for the boys, she knew. Whether because they missed her or because he knew they’d love being in the holiday show or both.

      He appeared in the doorway, all six feet plus of him, his handsome face showing no emotion. He tipped his dark brown Stetson at her. “Looks like you’re packing up,” he said. “We’re too late?”

      “We can’t dishen?” Henry said, poking his blond head in and looking up at his uncle. He turned his attention to Clementine. “Hi, Clementine!”

      Clementine smiled at the twins. “Hi, Henry. It’s so nice to see you. Hi, Harry. And of course you can both audition.”

      “You’re one of the only people who can tell the boys apart,” Logan said. “And thank you. I’d hate if they missed out because of me. We got so busy decorating the tree in the barn and when I remembered the audition, I drove them into town as fast as I could without speeding.”

      What happened back in August? she wanted to shout. Why did you shut me out? She tried not to look at Logan, but his blue eyes drew her, as did the way his thick dark hair brushed the collar of his brown leather jacket. How could she still be so in love with a man who wanted nothing to do with her?

      “No problem,” she said, turning her attention to the twins. “Do you boys know the song ‘Jingle Bells’?” Kids under five only had to sing the chorus for their audition since the tryout was really just to see who could take on the speaking roles.

      “Jingle bells,” Henry sang.

      “Jingle all the way,” Harry added.

      “Oh fun one a sleigh,” Henry sang.

      “A!” Harry ended with flourish.

      Clementine suppressed her laugh. She wanted to scoop up those adorable Grainger twins and smother them with hugs and kisses. She hated the boundary Logan’s very presence demanded. She glanced at the cowboy, moved by the utter love she saw in his expression for his nephews. He adored the boys and that was the most important thing. Not whether she was in their lives.

      “You know what, guys?” she said to them. “You did great. You are both in the holiday show!” No matter how the littlest kids did on their “dishens,” they were in the show, even if they couldn’t get through the word jingle.

      They ran over to Clementine and hugged her. She’d missed the feel

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