“Why?” Her eyes narrowed as if appraising him for sincerity. “If you don’t plan on sharing the information, why is it so important for you to know?”
“Let’s just say one of your candy cane wishes helped me through a dark season of my life.” When he saw her features soften a notch, he held out the drink carrier. “I brought you a hot chocolate and peppermint bark. Even if you don’t want to talk, it’s yours as a gesture of goodwill.”
A faint smile surfaced. “Now you’re speaking my language.”
“Does that mean I’m in?” He flashed a boyish grin in hopes of bolstering his chances.
She sighed. “I’ll be honest—I don’t have a good history with the media. Past experiences have shown me they can’t be trusted.”
His heart sank. “I’m sorry on behalf of those who broke that bond of trust.”
“Thanks, but it wasn’t your doing.” She grazed her teeth against her bottom lip. “I’ve heard only good things about you at church. I might regret it, but come in. I’ll share, but on the condition, this stays between us.”
“You have my word.” To seal his promise, he handed her the hot chocolate and peppermint bark.
She took it then let him through the door. “Excuse the mess. I’m in the middle of decorating.”
He scanned the area and saw the floor littered with boxes and garlands. A nutcracker caught his attention. “May I pick it up?” After she gave permission, he set down his coffee and lifted the figurine. Examined the wooden toy soldier. “This is excellent craftsmanship. It didn’t come from a department store, did it?”
An odd expression flittered across her face and she shook her head. “My dad bought it for me in Germany. It’s handcrafted and painted by a family business who’s been crafting them since the early 1800’s.”
Awe struck him. “I love handmade items. The small imperfections remind me of the hard work and dedication that went into making them.”
Appreciation showed in her smile. “I agree.”
He set down the nutcracker and reached for his coffee. Now that he was here and inside, his nerves relaxed. “Do you set up a tree?”
“Of course.” She scoffed, then smiled. “I always get a live one. Growing up, my parents never allowed it, said they created too much of a mess, but I wanted the experience. I thought my R.A. my freshman year of college would faint when I brought in a small one, but she let me keep it.”
He waved an arm over the boxes. “You’ve always been a Christmas fan?”
She scrunched her nose. “Yes and no. I’ve always loved it, but not for the right reasons. Even that tree my freshman year was partially an act of defiance against my parents.”
“Gotcha.”
“Anyway, come in to the living room.” She gestured for him to follow her. “Watch your step, so you don’t trip over the mess.”
The layout of her apartment was similar to Thad’s. Zoe’s had a fireplace, Thad’s did not. Apparently, she’d started her decorating at the front door and worked backward. The living room didn’t have any Christmas decorations yet, save a holiday plaid fleece throw draped over the white leather sofa.
After they’d sat down, Zoe broke off a piece of peppermint bark and offered it to him.
“No, thanks.” A solid white cat jumped on his lap and made himself at home. “Hello there.”
“That’s Snowball, and you’re in her seat.” She laughed lightly. “She thinks she owns the place, but if you give her a nudge, she’ll get down.”
“She’s fine.” He stroked the cat’s back. “My son’s been begging me for a cat or dog. His mother’s allergic, so I’m his next plan of attack.”
“I’ve never been much of an animal person, but the cats have grown on me. They’re low maintenance but good company.” Her eyes held questions, but for whatever reason, she didn’t ask them.
He figured he’d offer the answers—partial ones at least. If he wanted her to open up to him, it only seemed right he should divulge a slice of personal information. “I’m divorced, and my son lives with his mom most of the time. On our first Christmas apart I found one of your candy canes, which told me I wasn’t alone and had a Bible verse to look up. I can’t tell you how much that meant to me.”
Sharing had been the right thing to do.
Her face came alive with excitement, and a broad smile stretched across her mouth. “I pray that each candy cane will touch someone’s life, but I never know. It means a great deal to know yours helped you.”
“My personal experience is the primary reason why I’m curious, but it’s a great thing you’re doing.” He hesitated to add the second part to his statement but decided it would encourage her more than raise alarm he only wanted a story. “The newspaper has received countless inquiries as to whether we know the identity of the candy cane wisher because they wish to thank the person.”
Her eyes grew large. “Are you serious?”
“Yes. You’ve made quite the impact on Nativity.”
She sighed with contentment and leaned against the back cushion. “That makes me happy. It means the candy canes are serving their purpose.”
“Which is?” He could make an educated guess but wanted to hear it from her mouth.
“To spread hope. Christmas is the most joyful time of the year, but for many, it’s also a time when depression amps up for a multitude of reasons.” An all-black cat jumped on her lap, and she petted the feline under its chin. “Loneliness, discouragement, disappointment, financial struggles, family estrangement. The list goes on.”
His own trials testified to that. The passion behind her tone told him she’d been through her own as well. “Which of those prompted you to begin this mission?”
