Debbie Macomber - Christmas in Seattle - Christmas Letters / The Perfect Christmas

LaVonne stared at her. “In case you’re interested, he’s not married.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” K.O. muttered. Only a man without a wife and children could possibly come up with such ludicrous ideas. He didn’t have a family of his own to test his theories on; instead he foisted them on unsuspecting parents like her sister, Zelda, and brother-in-law, Zach. The deterioration in the girls’ behavior was dramatic, but Zelda insisted this was normal as they adjusted to a new regimen. They’d “find their equilibrium,” she’d said, quoting the book. Zach, who worked long hours, didn’t really seem to notice. The twins’ misbehavior would have to be even more extreme to register on him.

“Would you like me to introduce you?” LaVonne asked.

“No,” K.O. responded immediately. Absolutely not. Well, maybe, but not now. And not for the reasons La-Vonne thought.

“Do you have time for tea?” LaVonne asked. “I wanted to tell you about the most recent class I attended. Fascinating stuff, just fascinating.” Since her retirement, LaVonne had been at loose ends and signed up for a variety of workshops and evening classes.

“I learned how to unleash my psychic abilities.”

“You’re psychic?” K.O. asked.

“Yes, only I didn’t know it until I took this class. I’ve learned so much,” she said in wonder. “So much. All these years, my innate talent has lain there, unused and unfulfilled. It took this class to break it free and show me what I should’ve known all along. I can see into the future. ” She spoke in a portentous whisper.

“You learned this after one class?”

“Madame Ozma claims I have been blessed with the sight. She warned me not to waste my talents any longer.”

This did sound fascinating. Well…bizarre, anyway. K.O. would have loved to hear all about the class, but she really needed to start work. In addition to writing Christmas letters—which she did only in November and December—she was a medical transcriptionist by training. It paid the bills and had allowed her to put herself through college to obtain a public relations degree. Now she was searching for a job in PR, which wasn’t all that easy to find, even with her degree. She was picky, too. She wanted a job with a salary that would actually meet her expenses. Over the years she’d grown accustomed to a few luxuries, like regular meals and flush toilets.

Currently her résumé was floating around town. Anytime now, she was bound to be offered the perfect job. And in the meanwhile, these Christmas letters gave her some useful practice in creating a positive spin on some unpromising situations—like poor Bill Mulcahy’s.

“I’d love a cup of tea, but unfortunately I’ve got to get to work.”

“Perhaps tomorrow,” LaVonne suggested.

“That would be great.”

“I’ll call upon my psychic powers and look into your future if you’d like.” She sounded completely serious.

“Sure,” K.O. returned casually. Perhaps LaVonne could let her know when she’d find a job.

LaVonne’s eyes brightened. “I’ll study my class notes and then I’ll tell you what I see for you.”

“Thanks.” She reached over and scratched Tom’s ears. The big cat purred with pleasure.

With a bounce in her step, LaVonne went into her condo, closing the door with a slam that shook her Christmas wreath, decorated with golden moons and silver stars. K.O. headed for her own undecorated door, which was across the hall. Much as she disapproved of her sister’s hero, she could hardly wait to tell Zelda the news.

K.O. waited until she’d worked two hours straight before she phoned her sister. Zelda was a stay-at-home mom with Zoe and Zara, who were identical twins. Earlier in the year Zelda and Zach had purchased the girls each a dog. Two Yorkshire terriers, which the two girls had promptly named Zero and Zorro. K.O. called her sister’s home the Land of Z. Even now, she wasn’t sure how Zelda kept the girls straight, let alone the dogs. Even their barks sounded identical. Yap. Yap and yap with an occasional yip thrown in for variety, as if they sometimes grew bored with the sound of their own yapping.

Zelda answered on the third ring, sounding frazzled and breathless. “Yes?” she snapped into the phone.

“Is this a bad time?” K.O. asked.

“Oh, hi.” The lack of enthusiasm was apparent. In addition to everything else, Dr. Jeffries’s theories had placed a strain on K.O.’s relations with her younger sister.

“Merry Christmas to you, too,” K.O. said cheerfully. “Can you talk?”

“Sure.”

“The girls are napping?”

“No,” Zelda muttered. “They decided they no longer need naps. Dr. Jeffries says on page 125 of his book that children should be allowed to sleep when, and only when, they decide they’re tired. Forcing them into regimented nap-and bedtimes, is in opposition to their biological natures.”

“I see.” K.O. restrained the urge to argue. “Speaking of Dr. Jeffries…”

“I know you don’t agree with his philosophy, but this is the way Zach and I have chosen to raise our daughters. When you have a family of your own, you can choose how best to parent your children.”

“True, but…”

“Sorry,” Zelda cried. It sounded as if she’d dropped the phone.

In the background, K.O. could hear her sister shouting at the girls and the dogs. Her shouts were punctuated with the dogs’ yapping. A good five minutes passed before Zelda was back.

“What happened?” K.O. asked, genuinely concerned.

“Oh, nothing.”

“As I started to say, I saw Dr. Jeffries.”

“On television?” Zelda asked, only half-interested.

“No, in person.”

“Where?” All at once she had Zelda’s attention.

“On Blossom Street. You aren’t going to believe this, but he actually lives in my building.”

“Dr. Jeffries? Get out of here!”

Zelda was definitely interested now. “Wait—I heard he moved to Seattle just before his book was published.” She took a deep breath. “Wow! You really saw him?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Oh, my goodness, did you talk to him? Is he as hand-some in person as he is in his photo?”

Feeling about him the way she did, K.O. had to consider the question for a moment. “He’s fairly easy on the eyes.” That was an understatement but looks weren’t everything. To her mind, he seemed stiff and unapproachable. Distant, even.

“Did you tell him that Zach and I both read his book and what a difference it’s made in our lives?” “No, but…”

“K.O., could you…Would it be too much to get his autograph? Could you bring it on the fifteenth?”

K.O. had agreed to spend the night with the twins while Zelda and Zach attended his company’s Christmas party. Her sister and brother-in-law had made arrangements to stay at a hotel downtown, just the two of them.

“All the mothers at the preschool would die to have Dr. Jeffries’s autograph.”

“I haven’t met him,” K.O. protested. It wasn’t like she had any desire to form a fan club for him, either.

“But you just said he lives in your building.”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure it’s him?”

“It looks like him. Anyway, LaVonne said it was.”

Zelda gave a small shout of excitement. “If LaVonne says it’s him, then it must be. How could you live in the same building as Dr. Jeffries and not know it?” her sister cried as though K.O. had somehow avoided this critical knowledge on purpose. “This is truly amazing. I’ve got to have his autograph.”

“I’ll…see what I can do,” K.O. promised. This was not good. She’d hoped to find common ground with her sister, not become a…a go-between so Zelda could get her hero’s autograph. Some hero! K.O.’s views on just about everything having to do with parenting were diametrically opposed to those purveyed by Dr. Wynn Jeffries. She’d feel like a fraud if she asked for his autograph.