Mitch hadn’t called. Surely he’d seen the DVD by now, but he hadn’t called.

Shay sat up and squinted at the clock on her bedside table. It was five-fifteen. No point in going back to sleep; Hank would be up and ready to rip into the presents at any moment.

She lay back on her pillows, setting the phone away from her. Her hands came to rest in the deep, lush fur of the coat and tears smarted in her eyes. Maybe Mitch didn’t see her as wife material after all. Maybe she was more of a kept woman, a bird in a gilded cage.

Shay bounded off the bed, tore off the fur coat and flung it across the room. Then, in just her flannel nightgown, she padded out into the living room to turn up the thermostat and light the tree. She had just turned away from the coffeemaker when she heard Hank’s first squeal of delight.

When Shay reached the living room, her son was whizzing over the linoleum on his new skateboard. She couldn’t help smiling. “Hank Kendall, get off that thing!” she ordered, a mother to the end.

“I suppose we can’t open presents until Grammie gets here,” he threw out as he came to a crashing stop against the far wall.

“You suppose right, fella.”

Hank was beaming as he left the skateboard behind to crouch in front of the tree and examine his electric train. “This is going to be a great Christmas, Mom!”

Shay leaned against the jamb of the kitchen doorway, her smile a bit shaky now. She’d bared her soul to Mitch Prescott, like a fool, and he hadn’t even bothered to call. Sure, it was going to be a great Christmas. “I’ll get breakfast started.” She waggled a motherly finger at her son. “You content yourself with the Santa Claus things and whatever might be in your stocking, young man. No present-peeking allowed!”

The doorbell rang fifteen minutes later and Shay greeted a package-laden Alice.

“Look, Grammie!” Hank crowed, delighted, as his electric train raced around its track, whistle tooting. “Look!”

Alice laughed and rumpled her great-grandson’s red-brown hair, but it was obvious that she had noticed Shay’s mood. She placed her packages under the tree, took off her coat and bright blue knitted hat and joined Shay in the kitchen.

Shay was thumping dishes and pans around as she set the table for breakfast.

“What’s the matter, Shay?” Alice asked. The look in her eyes indicated that she already knew the answer.

“He gave me a mink coat!” Shay exclaimed, slamming down a platter of sausage links.

“I always said that man was a waster,” Alice mocked in a wry whisper.

Shay was not about to be amused. “It’s some kind of sick game. I made an absolute fool of myself proposing to him—”

“I take it he’s had an opportunity to watch the commercial?”

“He’s had all night!” Suddenly tears began to stream down Shay’s cheeks. “Oh, Alice, he’s going to say no!”