My Lucky Stars by Michele Paige Holmes

let out a weary sigh just as Ben and Ellen came into the kitchen.
    Ben grabbed a slice of pizza and lifted it toward his mouth.
    “We haven’t prayed yet,” Ellen said.
    He stopped, the pizza millimeters from his mouth. “Sorry.”
    Tara watched, both amused and surprised that he let his sister boss him around like that. At the least she expected him to roll his eyes, but instead he set the pizza on a paper plate and folded his arms, waiting as the rest of the helpers filed into the kitchen. When everyone had gathered around the island, they bowed their heads. Tara closed her eyes briefly as Ellen started praying.
    During the prayer Tara peeked, checking out the crowd—mostly guys—surrounding her. They all appeared to be middle-aged and not in particularly great shape. She’d noted earlier that most had rings on their fingers, not that it would have mattered if they didn’t. Honestly the only one who seemed to have any potential in the whole group was Ben. And since his earlier announcement that he was a pig farmer, that potential had washed right down the drain.
    When the prayer ended, she slipped from the kitchen, away from the sweaty, hungry swarm attacking the pizza. She walked to the far end of the family room, near the fireplace radiating warmth into the now-empty space. Standing at the picture window, she looked at the mountains that rose up steeply behind the house, practically in the backyard. Snowflakes fell, adding to the layer of white already on the ground and providing a stark contrast to the brown, rocky mountain.
    Ben was right , she thought. Even with her dislike of snow, she had to admit this place was beautiful, not a place God had forsaken.
    Maybe Ben was right about LA, too. Or me, at least. “ Forsaken” certainly described the way she felt right now. Christmas was two days away, and not only was she stranded here, but there was no one who even cared—or knew, for that matter. The girls in Boulder hadn’t returned her call, and she doubted they would. Her mother probably wouldn’t call over the holiday at all, using the excuse of poor reception or the expense of calling from the ship. Her father—wherever and whoever he was—wouldn’t be searching for her either. Though that had been her fondest wish each and every Christmas since she could remember.
    Tears stung the back of her eyes again, and Tara angrily blinked them away. What had Ben started, scolding her like that, making her cry? She hadn’t cried in a long time—not since she’d moved from Seattle. She’d left both the rain and her tendency toward tears behind, vowing that LA would bring more sunshine to her life, both literally and in her relationships. Too bad she hadn’t figured on the smog.
    A lone tear trickled down her cheek, but she didn’t bother to wipe it away since she wasn’t wearing any makeup. Cadie had all but destroyed her mascara, giving it to the dog to chew on. Her foundation and lipstick hadn’t fared any better. Ellen hadn’t been much help, offering only a new tube of Chapstick as replacement.
    Chapstick, flannel, kids, and overalls . . . only in Utah. Maybe someday she would laugh about this, but right now none of it seemed remotely amusing. Breathing in deeply, she tried to pull herself together and began mentally practicing the request that she was going to have to make. She hadn’t been able to get her credit cards replaced yet, nor had she been successful in getting money wired from her credit union. And with tomorrow being Christmas Eve, she didn’t imagine her luck would change. Which left her having to ask Ellen or Ben for enough money to get a hotel tonight and a rental car home. She’d worry about money for Vegas later. Somehow she just knew Farmer Ben wouldn’t be on board with that plan.
    “It’s not looking good, Sis.”
    Speak of the devil. Tara kept her position facing the window as Ben’s voice, followed by Ellen’s, drifted from the kitchen.
    “Oh, where’s your faith,