A Home of Her Own (Dundee, Idaho #4)(34)
Author: Brenda Novak

She nodded and waved before she drove away. But she knew she’d never call him, and she didn’t go home. She drove past Garth’s house. It still looked empty, so she sat at the diner for almost an hour, nursing a cup of hot cocoa and reading the paper. Christmas was less than a week away, and she hadn’t done any shopping for her nieces and nephews yet. She needed to do it soon; she couldn’t seem to get into the spirit of the season. She generally spent Christmas serving dinner to the homeless, but there weren’t any soup kitchens in Dundee. She’d been crazy to come here, especially now. What had she been thinking?

She’d been thinking of that Christmas long ago when she’d moved into what felt like a castle, and there’d been so many presents under the tree she thought she’d become a princess.

Finally, Lucky paid her bill, gathered up her purse and her keys and went home. It wasn’t quite eight o’clock, but she figured she could watch television for a couple of hours before bed. Mr. Sharp was supposed to arrive at six in the morning to finish painting the downstairs, so she planned to turn in early.

But the minute she stepped inside her dark house, she knew something was different. The air smelled strongly of fresh pine, a scent that definitely hadn’t been there before. What was going on?

A large, amorphous shape to her right made her jump. “Hello?” she said, struggling to keep her voice steady.

No one answered. She flipped on the light, then felt her jaw drop. In the middle of her previously empty living room stood a giant Christmas tree, freshly cut from the smell of it. Next to its base sat a cardboard box, which held several brand-new strands of lights and the most unusual assortment of ornaments she’d ever seen. It looked as if someone had gone to Finley’s and bought everything at random—red, green, blue and white balls; dancers, drummers and Santa ornaments; plastic candy cane garland, gold garland, a silver star for the top and a lighted angel, even two colors of tinsel.

But who had bought all this stuff? And how did they get it into her house?

CHAPTER ELEVEN

LUCKY SAT on the floor as she piled all the decorations back in the box. It had to be Mr. Sharp, she decided. He’d mentioned her lack of a tree, and he was the only one who had a key to her house. She’d given it to him so he’d have access whether she was home or not. She wanted him to get as much work done as possible before he pulled off on December twentieth.

But when she called him a few minutes later, he sounded genuinely surprised.

“Thanks for what Christmas tree?”

“The one standing in my living room.”

“I didn’t know you had one in your living room. You told me you weren’t going to bother this year.”

“I didn’t. Someone else did.”

“Who?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out,” she said. “I thought it was you. You’re the only one with a key to my house.”

“I put the key over the door.”

“You what?”

A note of defensiveness crept into his voice. “I didn’t want to lose it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t think of it. I hide a key on every job.”

Over the door was a mite obvious for “hiding.” But this was Dundee. “That means anyone could’ve gotten in.”

“Were you robbed?” He sounded a bit sheepish.

“No. At least, not that I’m aware of. I haven’t checked upstairs, but I doubt a thief would take the time to put up a Christmas tree or buy me a bunch of decorations.”

“You needed a little holiday cheer,” he said. “Must’ve been Santa Claus.”

Santa Claus, indeed, Lucky thought as she pressed the End button on her cordless phone. If there was a Santa Claus, he was more than a little late getting around to her.

She stared up at her tree. It was tall and full, perfectly shaped. A tree like that at the lot in town would cost seventy or eighty bucks. And the decorations weren’t cheap. Whoever had delivered this gift seemed indifferent to price. The hodgepodge of ornaments and garlands further suggested that he or she didn’t have a clue about decorating.

It was a man, Lucky figured. A man who wasn’t worried about money. Someone close enough to know she didn’t have a tree. Someone who wouldn’t think twice about entering her house.

She rubbed her lip thoughtfully. Mike. He was the only one besides Mr. Sharp who’d even been over, and judging by the way he’d barged in that first night, he had no problem making himself at home.

Picking up the phone she’d put on the floor beside her, she dialed information for his number and soon had him on the line.

“Someone put up a Christmas tree in my house,” she stated without preamble.

Evidently, he recognized her voice because he didn’t ask her to identify herself. “No kidding. Who do you suppose might’ve done that?”

“I’m not sure, but I’m thinking it was someone close by, someone like…” She glanced at the decorations. “You, for instance.”

“Why would it have to be me?”

“No one else lives out this way.”

“Josh and Rebecca do. I’ve got office staff who come and go each day, a housekeeper who only goes home on the weekends, at least during the cold months, Fernando, my ranch manager, and a few cowboys to help us get through the winter until breeding season starts and things really get busy.”

“You expect me to believe Josh or Rebecca, or even someone who works for you, did this?”

“I don’t expect you to believe anything. I’m just saying it could have been them.”

“And it could have been you.”

“I thought you said I’d lead a parade through town if something ever happened to you.”

Was he teasing her? He didn’t sound serious. “You would, because then you’d finally get the house.”

“So why would I bother to buy you a Christmas tree?”

That was the one question Lucky couldn’t answer. She hesitated, wondering if she could’ve guessed wrong, after all. “I suppose you wouldn’t,” she said, backing off. “Sorry to bother you.”

“Lucky?” he said before she could hang up.

“Yes?”

“Christmas is only a week away. When were you going to get a tree?”

“I wasn’t.”

“Why not?”

Closing her eyes, she rubbed her temples. Decorating for Christmas smacked too much of belonging. She’d chosen to leave the Victorian as empty as possible to remind herself that she wouldn’t be staying long.