Good morning. I’ll be gone by the time you read this. I’m meeting Thom in the park and we’re driving to an antique store outside Portland to check out a tea service. Kristen knows I’m with Thom, but not why.

I’m asking you to keep my whereabouts a secret for now. No, wait—you can mention it to Dad if you want. Mom’s the only one who really can’t know. I don’t think she’ll ask, because she’s got a lot to do this morning delivering the Christmas baskets.

This whole mix-up with those baskets has really got her in a tizzy. I find it all rather humorous and I suspect Dad does, too.

I’m trusting you with this information, little sister. I figured you (and your romantic heart) would want to know.

Love,

Noelle

Chapter Eight

The car had made a grinding noise as soon as Mary started it—the same sound as the day before. Greg had said he’d look into it after the holidays, but she’d assumed it was safe to drive. Apparently not.

The car had slowed to a crawl, sputtered and then died. That was just great. The Salvation Army was waiting for these Christmas baskets which, according to Melody, were already late. If Mary didn’t hurry up and deliver them to the organization’s office before closing time, six needy families would miss out on Christmas. She couldn’t let that happen.

Reaching for her cell phone, she punched in her home number and hoped Greg was home. She needed rescuing, and soon. Greg would know what to do. The phone had just begun to ring when Sarah McDowell drove past.

Mary bit her lip hard. Pride demanded that she wave her on. She didn’t need that woman’s help. Still, she felt Sarah should’ve stopped; it was no less than any decent human being would do.

Well, she should know better than to expect compassion or concern from Sarah McDowell. Good Christian that she professed to be, Sarah had shown not the slightest interest in Mary’s safety.

Mary clenched her teeth in fury. So, fine, Sarah didn’t care whether she froze the death, but what about the Christmas baskets? What about the families, the children, whose Christmas depended on them? The truth was, Sarah simply didn’t care what happened to Mary or the Christmas baskets.

The phone was still ringing—where on earth was Greg? Suddenly an operator’s tinny voice came on with a recorded message. “I’m sorry, but we are unable to connect your call at this time.”