A Fortune's Children's Christmas by Barbara Boswell, Lisa Jackson, Linda Turner

Supposedly alone. That’s when he died.” Her throat grew thick, and she stared at the fire, remembering the pain, feeling the heartache of betrayal all over again. “That was a lie, of course. He was with the same woman that he’d supposedly stopped seeing.” Lesley lifted a shoulder. She wasn’t going to dwell on Aaron and his infidelity. “And that, as they say, was that. So now it’s just Angela and me.” And it was fine. The way it should be. She didn’t need a man in her life. Certainly not one who cheated on her.
    “Did you love him?”
    The question jolted her, though she’d asked it ofherself a thousand times. “Aaron?” She thought for a moment. “In the beginning I thought I did. Now—” she shook her head at the complexity that had become her life; once, everything had been so clear “—I’m not so sure.”
    “Doesn’t matter, I suppose,” he said. “I think love’s highly overrated.”
    “Do you?”
    “Mmm.”
    “Sounds like the philosophy of someone who’s been burned.”
    “We’ve all been burned. It’s part of living.” He took a long sip from his wine, then, without glancing in her direction, said, “I think tomorrow, if you’re feeling up to it, you can go home.”
    “Thank you, oh, master,” she teased, but the joke fell flat.
    He didn’t so much as crack a smile. All day long his mood had eroded, and now, near midnight, he scowled darkly, wrestling with his inner demons.
    “What is it with you?” she finally asked.
    “What do you mean?”
    “You haven’t been yourself today.”
    “Sure I have.”
    “Oh, come on, Chase.” She wasn’t about to play word games. “Something’s eating at you, and I don’t think it’s a great, all-encompassing sadness because Angela and I are leaving.” She shook her head, her hair brushing the back of her sweater. “Nope. There’s something else.”
    Twirling the stem of his glass between the flat ofeach hand, he thought for a moment. “New Year’s Eve isn’t my favorite time of year.”
    “But it’s a time for new beginnings.”
    “Fine.” He rolled to his feet as if to dismiss the subject, but she was having none of it. Not when they’d been getting so close. “I don’t think the holidays are that big a deal.”
    “What is it with you?” she asked.
    He hesitated. “Let’s just say I’ve got some bad memories all tied up with tinsel and red ribbon, okay?”
    Lesley wasn’t about to be put off. This man had seen her naked, delivered her baby, cared for her and Angela for over a week, taken the time to tend to her stock and house. The least she could do was lend a sympathetic ear.
    “What happened?” she asked as he walked to the kitchen.
    “I don’t want to talk about it.”
    “Why not?”
    He reached for his jacket, which was hung on a peg by the back door. “It’s private.”
    She’d pulled herself to her feet and gritted her teeth against a twinge of pain in her ankle. Anger propelling her, she hitched her way to the kitchen. “And having a baby and talking to guardian angels isn’t?”
    “Leave it alone, Lesley.”
    “Don’t put me off, Chase. If there’s anything I can do—”
    “There’s nothing, okay? End of subject.” Angrily he shoved his arms through the sleeves of his jacketand reached for his hat. “I’m gonna check on the calves. I’ll be back in a while.”
    “It’s nearly midnight.”
    He didn’t listen, just yanked open the back door and strode into the night. “You’re running from something, Fortune,” she said under her breath, and decided to wait for him.
    She fiddled around the kitchen, cleaning up, then folded clothes at the table. Nearly forty-five minutes passed and she was starting to get worried, when she heard him stomp up the steps to the back porch. A few minutes later he opened the door, and cold air rushed into the room, causing the fire to flare and the candles to flicker.
    “I thought you’d be in bed.”
    “I didn’t think our discussion was