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

K.O. accepted the wine and Wynn took his drink.

With her own goblet in hand, LaVonne claimed the overstuffed chair, which left the sofa vacant. Evidently Dr. Jeffries was not eager to sit; neither was K.O. Finally she chose one end of the davenport and Wynn sat as far from her as humanly possible. Each faced away from the other.

“Wynn, I see you tried the crab dip,” LaVonne commented, referring to the appetizers on the coffee table in front of them.

“It’s the best I’ve ever tasted,” he said, reaching for another cracker.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it. The recipe came from Katherine.”

He set the cracker down and brushed the crumbs from his fingers, apparently afraid he was about to be poisoned.

K.O. sipped her wine in an effort to relax. She had a feeling that even if she downed the entire bottle, it wasn’t going to help.

“I imagine you’re wondering why I invited you here this evening,” LaVonne said. Phillip, her white Persian, strolled regally into the room, his tail raised, and with one powerful thrust of his hind legs, leaped into her lap. La-Vonne ran her hand down the length of his body, stroking his long, white fur. “It happened again,” she announced, slowly enunciating the words.

“What happened?” Wynn asked, then gulped his drink.

Dramatically, LaVonne closed her eyes. “The sight.”

Obviously not understanding, Wynn glanced at K.O.,

his forehead wrinkled.

“LaVonne took a class this week on unleashing your psychic abilities,” K.O. explained under her breath.

Wynn thanked her for the explanation with a weak smile.

LaVonne’s shoulders rose.“I have been gifted with the sight,” she said in hushed tones.

“Congratulations,” Wynn offered tentatively.

“She can read cat litter,” K.O. told him.

“That’s not all,” LaVonne said, raising one hand. “As I said, it happened again. This morning.”

“Not with the litter box?” K.O. asked.

“No.” A distant look came over LaVonne as she fixed her gaze on some point across the room.

Peering over her shoulder, K.O. tried to figure out what her neighbor was staring at. She couldn’t tell—unless it was the small decorated Christmas tree.

“I was eating my Raisin Bran and then, all of a sudden, I knew.” She turned slightly to meet K.O.’s eyes. “The bran flakes separated, and that was when two raisins bobbed to the surface.”

“You saw…the future?” K.O. asked.

“What she saw,” Wynn muttered, “was two raisins in the milk.”

LaVonne raised her hand once more, silencing them. “I saw the future. It was written in the Raisin Bran even more clearly than it’d been in the cat litter.” She pointed a finger at K.O. “Katherine, it involved you. ”

“Me.” She swallowed, not sure whether to laugh or simply shake her head.

“And you.” LaVonne’s finger swerved toward Wynn. Her voice was low and intent.

“Did it tell you Katherine would do her utmost to make a fool of me at the French Café?” Wynn asked. He scooped up a handful of mixed nuts.

As far as K.O. was concerned, nuts was an appropriate response to her neighbor’s fortune-telling.

LaVonne dropped her hand. “No.” She turned to K.O. with a reproachful frown. “Katherine, what did you do?”

“I…” Flustered she looked away. “Did…did you know Dr. Jeffries doesn’t believe in Santa Claus?” There, it was in the open now.

“My dear girl,” LaVonne said with a light laugh. “I hate to be the one to disillusion you, but there actually isn’t a Santa.”

“There is if you’re five years old,” she countered, glaring at the man on the other end of the sofa. “Dr. Jeffries is ruining Christmas for children everywhere.” The man deserved to be publicly ridiculed. Reconsidering, she revised the thought. “He should be censured by his peers for even suggesting that Santa be buried under the sleigh.”

“It appears you two have a minor difference of opinion,” LaVonne said, understating the obvious.

“I sincerely doubt Katherine has read my entire book.”

“I don’t need to,” she said. “My sister quotes you chapter and verse in nearly every conversation we have.”

“This is the sister who asked for my autograph?”

“Yes,” K.O. admitted. Like most men, she concluded, Dr. Jeffries wasn’t immune to flattery.

“She’s the one with the children?”

K.O. nodded.

“Do you have children?”

LaVonne answered for her. “Katherine is single, the same as you, Wynn.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” he returned.

K.O. thought she might have detected a smirk in his reply. “It doesn’t surprise me that you’re single, either,” she said, elevating her chin. “No woman in her right mind—”

“My dears,” LaVonne murmured. “You’re being silly.”

K.O. didn’t respond, and neither did Wynn. “Don’t you want to hear what I saw in my cereal?”

Phillip purred contentedly as LaVonne continued to stroke his fluffy white fur.

“The future came to me and I saw—” she paused for

effect “—I saw the two of you. Together.”

“Arguing?” Wynn asked.

“No, no, you were in love. Deeply, deeply in love.”

K.O. placed her hand over her heart and gasped, and then almost immediately that remark struck her as the most comical thing she’d ever heard. The fact that La-Vonne was reading her future, first in cat litter and now Raisin Bran, was ridiculous enough, but to match K.O. up with Wynn—It was too much. She broke into peals of laughter. Pressing her hand over her mouth, she made an effort to restrain her giggles.

Wynn looked at her curiously.

LaVonne frowned. “I’m serious, Katherine.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude. LaVonne, you’re my friend and my neighbor, but I’m sorry, it’ll never happen. Never in a million years.”

Wynn straightened. “While Katherine and I clearly don’t see eye to eye on any number of issues, I tend to agree with her on this.”

LaVonne sighed expressively. “Our instructor, Madam Ozma, warned us this would happen,” she said with an air of sadness. “Unbelievers.”

“It isn’t that I don’t believe you,” K.O. rushed to add. She didn’t want to offend LaVonne, whose friendship she treasured, but at the same time she found it difficult to play along with this latest idea of hers. Still, the possibility of a romance with just about anyone else would have suited her nicely.

“Wynn?” LaVonne said. “May I ask how you feel about Katherine?”

“Well, I didn’t officially meet her until this morning.”

“I might’ve given him the wrong impression,” K.O. began. “But—”

“No,” he said swiftly. “I think I got the right impression. You don’t agree with me and I had the feeling that for some reason you don’t like me.”

“True…well, not exactly. I don’t know you well enough to like or dislike you.”

LaVonne clapped her hands. “Perfect! This is just perfect.”

Both K.O. and Wynn turned to her. “You don’t really know each other, isn’t that correct?” she asked.

“Correct,” Wynn replied. “I’ve seen Katherine around the building and on Blossom Street occasionally, but we’ve never spoken—until the unfortunate incident this morning.”

K.O. felt a little flustered. “We didn’t start off on the right foot.” Then she said in a conciliatory voice, “I’m generally not as confrontational as I was earlier today. I might’ve gotten a bit…carried away. I apologize.” She did feel guilty for having embarrassed him and, in the process, herself.

Wynn’s dark eyebrows arched, as if to say he was pleasantly surprised by her admission of fault.