Page 137 of Our Little Secret

Neal followed her gaze and lifted a shoulder. “I know. All of the other figurines were wrapped in plastic, but Joseph has left the building.” He paused, then said, “Maybe he realized that his wife wasn’t faithful and just took off.”

Did his eyes darken just a tad? A silent accusation? Or just a bad joke?

She felt the muscles of her neck tense but managed a half smile. “That’s sacrilegious.”

“Since when do you care?” Again, he seemed more serious than the conversation warranted.

“I just think it’s a little odd.” Was there something more to his words or was she just overreacting because her nerves were frayed, her emotions strung out from finding the bracelet?

“Things sometimes get lost,” he said as he dusted slivers of wood from his gloves.

Once more the underlying meaning. “We are talking about this, right?” she said, touching the mantel above which the crèche was displayed.

“What else?”

“I don’t know, but it seems like you’re saying something more here.”

A beat.

“Something metaphorical,” she clarified. If they were going to have this discussion, it may as well be now. Before Marilee arrived.

Another bit of hesitation. Then he shook his head. “No.”

She folded her arms over her chest and stared at him. “This”—she motioned with one hand to include the entire house—“the decorating, the whole getting into the Christmas spirit, is so not you.”

“Maybe that’s part of the problem,” he said.

“The problem?”

“Ourproblem.”

“Oh. So now wearetalking about something else?”

The intensity in his expression softened a bit. “Maybe we—both of us—have lost our ability to have a little fun.”

That’s what this is about?

“What do you mean?” she asked but remembered how the two of them had once enjoyed being together. Simple things were a part of their lives: playing cards or video games or drinking cheap wine and beer with old friends who seemed to have disappeared over the years.

Once all-encompassing and filled with expectation, the holiday “season” had slowly eroded to a company party, maybe an open house, and a small celebration with their tiny family on the big day. No midnight mass, no caroling, no eggnog drinks by the fire, no hiding presents or playing Santa Claus, no feeling of eager anticipation as the holidays approached.

He raised his eyebrows, daring her to argue, but she couldn’t.

“Okay,” she said, trying to get into the spirit and tamp down her anxiety about Gideon Ross. She was here, now, with Neal, waiting for Marilee, hoping to mend fences and strengthen their little family. She couldn’t let anything get in the way. “Okay, I’m in! Retro Christmas it is.”

“Good!” One side of Neal’s mouth lifted. “Let’s get started. I’ll be right back.” He picked up a second basket and headed for the door. She watched through the window as the dog followed him to the woodshed that angled off the porch.

Relax, she told herself. Everything was going to be fine. Despite finding the bracelet. If Neal was more into the holidays and the family thing this year, that was good, right? Odd, yes, but good. She poured herself a cup of coffee, considered adding a shot of booze if she could find one, and glanced at the woodshed through the windows. The shed’s plank door was hanging open, the light inside on, but Neal wasn’t visible near the stack of dry cordwood.

No big deal, except that Shep was standing at the edge of the porch, ears cocked, looking behind the door expectantly. His tail wagged slowly, brown fur ruffling with a gust of wind.

Again, not all that odd.

She took a sip, her gaze glued to the window.

Soon Neal hurried from around the door and stuffed something—his phone?—into his jacket pocket. He paused to slip on his gloves before stepping inside to take up the axe again.

So what? He took a call. But why hide behind the screen of the door?