Read Online On Strike for Christmas by Sheila Roberts - Free Book Online Page A

eavesdropping.
    â€œMr. Robertson?” The young reporter stood and moved to shake hands with Bob. “I’m a big fan of yours. In fact, I was at your last book signing.”
    Bob hated book signings. All that schmoozing with the public was painful for him, and Joy usually attended the events with him, chatting with readers and running interference between him and his most ardent fans.
    But he was great one-on-one. He also knew how to put up a friendly facade. He smiled for the reporter. “Did you enjoy the book?”
    â€œOh, yes, it was great. Um, do you mind giving us a statement for this article?”
    â€œNo, I guess not.”
    Joy stared at him, shocked. What happened to not talking to the press?
    â€œWhat do you think of your wife’s strike?”
    â€œIt could be worse. She could be on strike for higher wages.”
    Bob Humbug does Bob Hope. Ha, ha, ha.
    â€œWhat do you think about your wife’s theory that women do it all this time of year and the men do nothing?”
    Had she said that exactly? What had she said? And, more important, what was this article going to say?
    â€œI can only speak for my own household,” Bob said diplomatically. “My wife does a lot.”
    Well, that was very kind. Joy waited to see if he’d add, “Who needs it?” He didn’t, the big coward.
    â€œSo are you going to pick up the slack while she’s on strike, and do you think you’ll be able to do everything she does?” asked Rosemary Charles, scribbling in her pad.
    â€œNot everything,” Bob said. “Christmas will probably look a little different this year.”
    Yeah, bleak .
    â€œBut I’m not sure that’s a bad thing,” Bob continued. “I think most men would appreciate seeing the holiday simplified.”
    â€œSo, if all the wives in Holly went on strike, how do you think the men would do?” Rosemary asked.
    â€œI think they’d do fine.”
    â€œYou’re a real sport, Mr. Robertson,” said Rosemary Charles. “Especially considering the fact that your wife is going to probably be the hero of every woman in town.”
    If Joy was the hero, that left only one person for the villain. Bob’s polite smile did a slow fade.
    â€œWell, then,” said Rosemary Charles briskly. “How about a picture of you two in front of the tree? Could we do that?”
    This disaster of a tree would be in the paper? Joy looked at the reporter in horror.
    Bob surveyed his masterpiece of mess, and then a sly grin grew on his face. Joy could see the wheels turning. Here was petty revenge served up on a platter, and an unwritten message to any potential strikers. Go ahead, strike. But this is what your Christmas will look like.
    â€œOkay. Come on, hon.” He held out a hand to her. He was enjoying this, the sicko! They got in front of the tree and he pulled her close to his side.
    â€œMaybe we should each stand on one side of the tree,” Joy said, pulling away. “So you can see it better.”
    â€œOh, good idea,” agreed the reporter.
    â€œYeah, that works,” said Rick, the photographer. Joy and Bob posed on opposite sides of the tree and he aimed the camera and snapped.
    â€œWell, thanks. I guess that does it,” Rosemary Charles said when Rick had finished. “And who else is involved in this strike besides…” She consulted her tablet. “Sharon Benedict?”
    Joy gave her Laura’s and Kay’s names and numbers; then Rosemary and the photographer collected their coats and departed.
    As soon as the door was shut, Joy turned to Bob. “I thought you weren’t available for comment.”
    â€œI decided I’d better come out and defend myself. Things get twisted when you only hear one side of a story.”
    â€œAnd speaking of twisted.” She pointed to the tree. “That monster you created is going to be in the paper.”
    â€œI created it,