Coming Home for Christmas by Marie Ferrarella Page B

of it, although not exactly in those words.” In her opinion, he’d sounded not just detached but also a tad sarcastic, neither of which would work in this situation once he started calling and talking to his mother’s friends. “I thought all lawyers knew how to charm juries.”
    Keith frowned again as he looked down at the page he’d opened the book to. “The people in this book aren’t a jury,” he pointed out.
    Okay, so her choice of words left something to be desired. “Maybe not, but the charm thing can still work. Besides, juries are comprised of people, and these
are
people you’ll be calling,” Kenzie said, indicating the address book.
    Keith sighed, frustrated. “Illegible people.” He shook his head. “My mother had the world’s worst handwriting. A chicken with its beak dipped in ink could write more legibly than my mother did.” And that was being charitable. “For all I know, this could be an annotated list of a herd of ponies,” he grumbled, waving the address book.
    â€œMay I?” Kenzie held out her hand toward him, her indication clear. She wanted him to surrender the book to her so she could see firsthand what she would be up against.
    Keith gladly surrendered the cause of his eyestrain and blossoming headache. “Be my guest. And if you can read any of those names and numbers, I’ll buy you a filet mignon dinner.”
    The grin Kenzie gave him told Keith how game she was even before she said, “You’re on.”
    Kenzie skimmed down the first couple of pages quickly before she raised her eyes to his again. She fixed Keith with a mesmerizing look he found almost too hypnotic. Drawing his eyes away proved to be a real problem—which in turn annoyed him. He didn’t need extraneous thoughts right now.
    â€œWhat restaurant?” she asked him, the grin still playing along her lips.
    He looked at her sharply. She had to be bluffing. “You’re kidding.”
    â€œFrequently,” Kenzie allowed. “Going along with the popular belief, laughter really
is
the best medicine. However,” she went on, “I’m not kidding this time. Would you like me to type these names and numbers up for you?” she offered.
    â€œYou can read them?” he asked in disbelief.
    â€œAbsolutely,” she told him without hesitation.
    For a moment, he was going to accuse her of lying, but why would she lie? She had to know he’d call her on it, and she obviously was ready to back up her claim by recreating the entries.
    Getting up, he circled around her until he was looking over her shoulder at the same page she was.
    Incredible
, he thought.
    â€œDo you want me to write them down?” she offered again, prodding him for an answer.
    He wouldn’t have use for any of those names once the people listed in it were notified.
    â€œNo need,” he told her. “As long as they know the date, time and location of the funeral—”
    â€œAnd the reception,” she added. Didn’t he realize that there was always some sort of a reception held after a funeral?
    Obviously not, she thought, judging by the blank expression on Keith’s face when he looked at her. “What reception?”
    Kenzie gave him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe the man had never been to a funeral before. “The one you’re going to be holding for everyone after your mother’s funeral.”
    â€œNo, I’m not. I’m not holding anything. I’m flying back to San Francisco right after the funeral,” he told her firmly.
    â€œAre you expecting some sort of an emergency?” Kenzie questioned innocently.
    He saw right through her and it irritated him, but there was no point in letting her see that. After all, she was just trying to help here. But he could be honest with her.
    â€œThe emergency is that I can’t take being here for any length of time.”
    Kenzie very