Page 5 of Once Upon A Christmas Song

“You lost me.”

Even as she glared at me, I was struck, as always, by her pale-gray eyes, deep bronze skin, and auburn curls that fell in wild, tumbling waves to her shoulders. It could never be said that Simone Howard was not a stunning woman. Last week, I’d seen a man step right into traffic, and only her yelling at him to stop had saved his life.

“Chris?”

“You’re beautiful and funny and a little mean⁠—”

“What did you—I’m a little what?”

“In a good way,” I rushed out. “And you’re super smart. Any man would be crazy not to be into you, and Michael is a doctor for crissakes, so he’s more on the ball than most guys. He got it the first time he came in here with… What was her name?”

She rolled her eyes. “Brynn.”

“All I remember is very big hair.”

“His parents liked her. She was a socialite. Really good old-money family.”

“Sure. But who do they like now?”

I watched her try very hard not to smile. “Me.”

“Yep. The judge and his wife, the cardiac surgeon, are very enamored by their son’s girlfriend of two years.”

“Are you done?”

“I’m just saying you’re a catch, so it’s no big jump that the nice ladies in the traveling book bus were certain you were going to be moving in with your man.”

“Whatever you say, but I think those two ladies are psychic.”

The last time I was on the bus was a week ago, and when I was looking around, I noticed the short shelves toward the back where the seating was. When the rainbow painted bus was moved, they were lifted in front of the windows, and lowered whenever it was stopped. The rest of the high shelves that were there when you climbed the stairs to enter, were unmovable.

“You’re impressed with the sitting area shelves,” Jane said to me, waggling her eyebrows. “I made those you know.”

It was always jolting whenever I looked at her because the colors the woman wore were assaulting. So vibrant, so very many. “I am,” I agreed. “I like how you can crank the shelves up and then down when you move the bus.”

“The books on those still have to be packed and unpacked whenever we move this baby,” she said slowly. “And you know, my back isn’t what it used to be.”

I shook my head at her. Subtle she was not. “Do you want me to help you put the books on those shelves?”

“Oh well now, Christopher, that would be so kind of you.”

As I worked, something occurred to me. “Why did you move the bus, anyway? You have a permit to park here. Why were you driving it?”

Jane’s eyes narrowed as she regarded me. “I know what you’re really thinking.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” I replied innocently.

“You’re wondering, at my age, why I’m driving anything at all, let alone a bus.”

Yes, I was.

“I’ll have you know, I’ve never gotten a ticket in my life. Can you say the same?”

I could not. “Fine. But really, why move it?”

“Cybil wanted Mexican, and we certainly weren’t going to walk.”

“There’s streetcars and cabs and––”