Feeling like a fool, particularly where the quick-witted reporter was concerned, he thrust his hands into his pockets and struck a casual pose. At least he hoped it was casual, because his gut was churning and he could feel perspiration developing on his forehead.
“I’m not very sentimental,” he said flatly.
“You celebrate Christmas, don’t you?”
“Of course. I went forward, accepted Pastor Garman’s invitation and joined the church.”
“I don’t mean that. How about customs and childhood remembrances? Didn’t your family celebrate with a tree and presents and things like that when you were young?”
Josh decided it was best to explain. Maybe then she’d stop expecting him to produce the nonexistent card.
“My father didn’t go in for a lot of sentimental stuff,” Josh said. “He preferred to look at Christmas as an opportunity to further his business interests, and my mother abided by his wishes. Putting wrapped gifts under his fancy, decorator tree would have spoiled the artistic effect.”
“That is so sad,” Whitney said softly, laying her hand gently on his forearm.
The tenderness in her response caught him unawares and gave him the feeling that her empathy could reach all the way into his heart if he let it.
“Not really,” Josh insisted, stepping back just enough to escape her tender touch.
She dropped her hand. “You referred to him in the past tense. Is your father living?”
“No. He passed away just over two years ago.”
“What about your mother? Are you planning to go home for Christmas or is she coming here to Bygones?”
“Neither,” he said soberly. “My mother is wisely going on a cruise with friends. I’m delighted to see her finally making a new life for herself.”
“And you have no siblings?”
He couldn’t decide where Whitney was going with these questions but since he had already revealed so much he decided he might as well continue. “I was an only child.”
“Oh, dear.”
Josh huffed. “You don’t have to look so solemn, Ms. Leigh. I assure you, I don’t need anything beyond my own company to be content—no matter what day it is.”
Instead of arguing with him the way he had expected her to, she stared. He could see her eyes glistening.
A solitary tear tipped over her lower lashes and slowed as it passed the rim of her glasses.
Whitney whisked it away and smiled, although Josh was certain it was an effort for her to do so. “Well, you’ve promised to bring hot drinks to the tree-lighting ceremony on Saturday so I guess I’ll see you there. Right?”
“Of course.”
She held out her hand as if wanting to shake his. What could he do? He accepted her friendly overture.
The moment their fingers touched, however, he felt a surge of emotion that went straight to his heart and sent warmth flowing through and around him as if an invisible blanket now encompassed them both.
His first mistake had been taking her hand. His second was looking directly into her eyes and recognizing their emotional connection.
Time stopped. It was as if they were totally alone in the midst of the coffee shop, even though Matt was currently waiting on another customer.
More moisture sparkled in Whitney’s eyes and Josh sensed his own vision beginning to cloud. He was a practical man, just like his father had been. So what in the world was wrong with him? He didn’t need anything but his work to be content. He was planning to sell out and leave Bygones soon. His company needed him back in the home office.
Besides, maudlin sentiment was not a part of his makeup. Nor did he need sympathy. He liked his life as it had been. He knew who he was and where he belonged. Period.
Whitney was the first to break contact. Blinking, she turned away and started for the door.
As Josh watched her leave he was struck by a sense of loss beyond anything he had experienced in the past. Common sense had nothing to do with it.
And that was what scared him all the way from the top of his head to his toes.
If he could no longer rely on pure logic to answer his questions and direct his life, what else was there?
Chapter Four
Whitney felt like patting herself on the back as she carried the pink bakery box from her car to the park Saturday evening. It had taken monumental self-control to keep from opening it at home and having just one or two tastes of the goodies within. Knowing herself well, she had refrained from breaking the tape holding the flaps closed. In her opinion, there was no such thing as having only one cookie.
Besides, it was the Christmas season. If a girl couldn’t break a few diet rules now, when could she?
That thought brought a wide smile, as did the friendly waves of others who were arriving early to set up for the event. Spotting Coraline standing at a long table next to the fence surrounding the snow-blanketed community garden plot, Whitney headed straight for her.
The decorating committee had outdone itself once again. Every tree, whether evergreen or deciduous, was festooned with twinkling lights, apparently powered by the library on one side of the park and Elwood Dill’s Everything store on the other. The lights decorating the gazebo where the carolers would soon gather were reflected off the glassy, half-frozen waters of the nearby pond, making the surface glimmer as if glazed with silver and dotted with diamonds.
In the center of the park, between the fallow garden and the playground, stood a stately fir. Whitney remembered it as being very tall when she was a child but of course she and the tree had both grown since then. The evergreen had been planted long before her birth by descendants of Bygones’s founders, Saul and Paul Bronson, whose legendary feud over a woman had led them to finally settle there and let bygones be bygones. Hence the town’s unusual name and its motto, Family First.
Coraline greeted her with a wide grin and reached for the bakery box. “Thank you so much, dear. I’m afraid my volunteer elves are planning on eating more than they pass out. We’re going to need every spare cookie.”
“Well, I didn’t nibble,” Whitney told her, “but I was tempted. Melissa’s place smells so much like Christmas it made me really crave a taste.” She scanned the park, noting that daylight was rapidly fading. “Where’s the hot cocoa going to be set up?”
“Looking for a certain handsome barista?”
Whitney scowled. “Of course not. I was just wondering if he’d need power and how we’d get it to him.”
“Ah, yes. I see.”
“Well, I was.”
“Whatever you say, dear.” Coraline handed Whitney a tray of neatly arranged cookies. “Why don’t you put those over there on the end of the second table and stand guard so the kids don’t grab them ahead of time?”
“Over there?” Whitney inclined her head to point since she had her hands full.
“Yes,” Coraline said sweetly. “Right next to where I told Josh to park his van.”
* * *
Inching into the park with Matt Garman seated beside him, Josh leaned over the wheel to peer through the frosty windshield. He’d been to Bronson Park often enough, helping with the community garden project and other things, to know where he was going. Still, he didn’t want to damage the grass. There wasn’t enough snow to make traveling dangerous, just slippery going if he wasn’t cautious.
He flashed his headlights