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door. "Come on, I have something to show you."
chapter 8
« ^ »
"Have you been wolf hunting today?" she asked, as he closed the door behind them.
"I'm saving that for tonight," Harry answered. "Today I worked on my case. Come on, I'll show you." Keeping his arm around her, he led her down the hall to the living room. Taffy and Noel tagged along behind them.
When he'd explored the house that morning, he'd found that the living room had a very unlived-in feel to it. In fact, but for the kitchen and Marj's bedroom, the whole place felt abandoned. Everything was clean and neatly in place, but there wasn't any life to this house.
Maybe it was just too big for one person. Maybe Marj's office and the animal shelter were the places her heart called home.
"Now, you're going to wonder what relevance what you're about to see has to luring the kids out of the mountains. I'll explain, but first close your eyes."
He watched to see that she obeyed, then put his hands on her shoulders and guided her to the center of the living room. He positioned her so that she'd see the corner between the living room window and the fireplace.
"Okay. You can look now."
Her body stiffened beneath his touch when she opened her eyes. He'd suspected that she be briefly annoyed at his presumption, but he hadn't expected such deep anger. Or the almost physical wave of pain and grief that washed over her and into him.
"Marj?" He pulled her back against him to wrap his arms protectively around her.
"What have you done?" she demanded. "What right did you have—?"
"It's Christmas," he pointed out. "A house needs a Christmas tree."
He'd found the boxes in a closet. One contained the pieces of an eight-foot artificial pine tree.
Other boxes had held Christmas ornaments, candles, lights, and decorations. He'd spent an hour moving some furniture and assembling the tree in the best place to be seen through the window. He'd placed gold and red candles on the coffee table and mantel, then lit them and a fire in the fireplace.
"I put a few of the ornaments on the tree," he told her, "so it would be pretty when you first saw it." She continued to stay stiff and very still in his arms. "You don't like it, do you?"
"You had no right." She choked on a sob. "No right."
"I didn't think you'd mind."
"I hate Christmas!"
"That's not true. You wouldn't have been at the Holiday Fete if you did."
"Alice made me."
"Nobody makes you do anything," he scoffed. "You're too alpha to do as you're told."
"Christmas is okay for other people," she conceded. "I wish them well."
"You give your Taffy eggnog. You named the greyhound Noel."
"That was luck of the draw. I'm indifferent to the holiday for myself. Please take down the tree."
"I want to use it to lure the kids out of hiding."
That stopped her. "How?"
"They'll see it through the window when they come looking for work, and it'll be a reminder of what they're missing."
"That's cynical."
"No. It is a reminder of what they're missing. And it's a reminder for you, too. You need to come back from being so alone and aloof—or you wouldn't be reacting so strongly."
"Let me go."
He cradled her gently instead. Sometimes people needed contact, whether they thought they did or not, whether they were psychic or not.
The connection between him and Marj was stronger than he'd thought. Her grief, and her effort to bury it, rocked him. He turned her, so that they were facing each other, he cradled her head, and guided it to rest on his chest. "Cry if you need to."
"I don't want to." Her words were muffled in his shirt.
"Then tell me all about it. Do whatever helps."
"I hate Christmas." She lifted her head to look up at him, tears bright in he eyes. "I just do."
"Because your father died this time last year."
"He died at the end of November," she answered, a catch in her voice. "How do you know about it?"
"Research. I've read over a year's worth of the town's newspapers since I started on this case, including
chapter 8
« ^ »
"Have you been wolf hunting today?" she asked, as he closed the door behind them.
"I'm saving that for tonight," Harry answered. "Today I worked on my case. Come on, I'll show you." Keeping his arm around her, he led her down the hall to the living room. Taffy and Noel tagged along behind them.
When he'd explored the house that morning, he'd found that the living room had a very unlived-in feel to it. In fact, but for the kitchen and Marj's bedroom, the whole place felt abandoned. Everything was clean and neatly in place, but there wasn't any life to this house.
Maybe it was just too big for one person. Maybe Marj's office and the animal shelter were the places her heart called home.
"Now, you're going to wonder what relevance what you're about to see has to luring the kids out of the mountains. I'll explain, but first close your eyes."
He watched to see that she obeyed, then put his hands on her shoulders and guided her to the center of the living room. He positioned her so that she'd see the corner between the living room window and the fireplace.
"Okay. You can look now."
Her body stiffened beneath his touch when she opened her eyes. He'd suspected that she be briefly annoyed at his presumption, but he hadn't expected such deep anger. Or the almost physical wave of pain and grief that washed over her and into him.
"Marj?" He pulled her back against him to wrap his arms protectively around her.
"What have you done?" she demanded. "What right did you have—?"
"It's Christmas," he pointed out. "A house needs a Christmas tree."
He'd found the boxes in a closet. One contained the pieces of an eight-foot artificial pine tree.
Other boxes had held Christmas ornaments, candles, lights, and decorations. He'd spent an hour moving some furniture and assembling the tree in the best place to be seen through the window. He'd placed gold and red candles on the coffee table and mantel, then lit them and a fire in the fireplace.
"I put a few of the ornaments on the tree," he told her, "so it would be pretty when you first saw it." She continued to stay stiff and very still in his arms. "You don't like it, do you?"
"You had no right." She choked on a sob. "No right."
"I didn't think you'd mind."
"I hate Christmas!"
"That's not true. You wouldn't have been at the Holiday Fete if you did."
"Alice made me."
"Nobody makes you do anything," he scoffed. "You're too alpha to do as you're told."
"Christmas is okay for other people," she conceded. "I wish them well."
"You give your Taffy eggnog. You named the greyhound Noel."
"That was luck of the draw. I'm indifferent to the holiday for myself. Please take down the tree."
"I want to use it to lure the kids out of hiding."
That stopped her. "How?"
"They'll see it through the window when they come looking for work, and it'll be a reminder of what they're missing."
"That's cynical."
"No. It is a reminder of what they're missing. And it's a reminder for you, too. You need to come back from being so alone and aloof—or you wouldn't be reacting so strongly."
"Let me go."
He cradled her gently instead. Sometimes people needed contact, whether they thought they did or not, whether they were psychic or not.
The connection between him and Marj was stronger than he'd thought. Her grief, and her effort to bury it, rocked him. He turned her, so that they were facing each other, he cradled her head, and guided it to rest on his chest. "Cry if you need to."
"I don't want to." Her words were muffled in his shirt.
"Then tell me all about it. Do whatever helps."
"I hate Christmas." She lifted her head to look up at him, tears bright in he eyes. "I just do."
"Because your father died this time last year."
"He died at the end of November," she answered, a catch in her voice. "How do you know about it?"
"Research. I've read over a year's worth of the town's newspapers since I started on this case, including
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