Join the Sassy Belles this holiday season—it’s Christmas, Southern-style!

With her hair perfectly coiffed, nails freshly manicured and a heavy trail of perfume wafting behind her, local news reporter Dallas Dubois is sure she’s about to kick her career—and maybe her love life—into high gear. The director of the Tuscaloosa children’s Christmas play has fallen ill, and Dallas is ordered by her station manager to take the reins. Everyone is shocked—especially Cal Hollingsworth, who still remembers her as the Ice Queen from high school.

If nothing else, Dallas has never met a challenge that a little lip gloss and a Chanel knockoff couldn’t fix. But she has no idea how to relate to these kids, and their brutal honesty is giving her pause. Things are made even more complicated by the butterflies she gets whenever Cal is near....

But when long-lost family members reenter her life, Dallas’s icy veneer begins to melt. And with Cal by her side, she soon realizes that it’s what’s under all the hair spray that counts.

Sleigh Belles

Beth Albright

www.mirabooks.co.uk

For my Brooks, my son, my precious friend, the center of my universe. I loved you from the moment I thought of you and it has grown into the most wonderful priceless love I have ever known. You are a special soul, and I am the luckiest mother on earth to have you for my child. This book is all about family, and you are the very definition of the word. I am so proud of the man you have become, brilliant and sensitive, thoughtful and loving. As in everything I do, this is all for you.

I love you more than any words could ever express.

For my Ted, and my precious mother, Betty—

our little family is absolutely everything to me.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Acknowledgments

1

Dallas couldn’t believe she was having another flare-up. Not now, not tonight, when she had this huge story to report. For Dallas Dubois, trying to get over Cal Hollingsworth was like trying to get over a chronic allergy. You could pretty much count on flare-ups for the rest of your life. Like if you’re allergic to bee stings. One little prick and you’ll find yourself in the emergency room.

Ironically, that’s exactly where she was when she began having the latest of these chronic flare-ups: in the waiting room of the hospital E.R.

Not that anything was wrong with her. She was there to cover a story: Lewis Heart, the Alabama Crimson Tide star football announcer, was rushing to the hospital to see his brand-new baby girl make her way into the world. He had just finished announcing the big win over rival Auburn in the Iron Bowl Classic, and he was sliding into the E.R. just under the wire. Dallas was right there on the scene to cover the birth of the new baby, which was big news in the college town of Tuscaloosa. Lewis was considered Tuscaloosa royalty since he was the “Voice” of the Crimson Tide, the national champion football team, and that was reason enough to cover this big arrival.

“The biggest rivalry in all of college football is going down today, and this is the day that redheaded Vivi chooses to have her baby,” Dallas muttered as she ran into the emergency room just barely ahead of Lewis.

“Well, I think this is par for her. Remember, they got married on the day of the season kickoff,” Daniel, her cameraman, said as he raced in after her, nearly tripping over the camera cords.

“I know it! Who the hell gets married during football season?”

Lewis dashed into the emergency room, huffing and puffing right past Dallas. His best friend, Cal, was running in right after him, just like the days when they both played for the college football team themselves. In they ran, Cal swooshing right by Dallas without even noticing her. That’s when she felt the acute symptoms of this chronic condition coming on again.

Great, she thought. How can I do my job with him here?

This report had to be good, but Cal always had a way of making Dallas lose her train of thought. Already her heart was racing and her mouth was dry.

How does he do this to me? This is ridiculous. She smoothed her hair and slid her lipstick over her lips one last time, trying to get ready for her live shot.

Dallas had fought this allergy ever since high school when she’d first developed an infatuation with Cal, the super-smart quarterback of the Tuscaloosa High School Warriors. Dallas had such a crush on him back then, and that old crush was the source of all these symptoms now because, the truth was, her feelings never really went away.

Dallas forced herself to focus. She smiled into the camera as Daniel counted her down to showtime.

“Good evening, Tuscaloosa! I’m Dallas Dubois, reporting live from Druid City Hospital for WTAL News where we’re all eagerly awaiting the birth of the newest addition to our football lovin’ town! Our very own Voice of the Crimson Tide and his lovely wife, Vivi, are expecting their first child at any moment, and we’ll be right here to bring the news to you firsthand...” Dallas continued her speech into the camera, but she was having trouble concentrating. She stared at the handsome Cal, the “symptoms” taking over her completely.

Thankfully, it was only minutes before Lewis rushed out to the eager crowd that had gathered in the waiting room. “It’s a girl! Baby Tallulah is finally here! Oh, my God, she is gorgeous!” Lewis was totally over-the-top excited. “I barely made it,” he admitted. “Now I got me two little redheads!”

Everyone clapped and hugged each other, celebrating and high-fiving while Daniel captured the whole event on camera. Before Dallas even knew what happened, she found herself pushed into Cal’s arms.

“Hey, Cal.” She swallowed hard and forced a smile.

“Hey, Dallas...”

They were face-to-face, inches apart.

He looked at her awkwardly. She pulled away with an uncomfortable grin. Seeing Cal was dangerous. It threatened the thick emotional walls she’d built up over the years to protect her most intimate secrets.

The worst part was, in her opinion, Cal could be such a jerk. He’d never really liked her, always telling his friends she was self-absorbed, the Original Ice Queen.

How could he make her heart always feel as if it was fixin’ to jump right outta her chest if they really didn’t even like each other? That little question had always bothered her. But she figured it was pointless trying to make sense of how these things worked. The heart wants what the heart wants and all that. What she did know is that they were never going to be together.

Whatever this was, this chronic allergy she had to Cal, she also knew she could never find herself in this position again—within inches of Cal’s gorgeous face. Being anywhere within five hundred yards of him and she could feel that emotional firewall grow weak and start to crumble. That wall had taken her years to build.

Dallas was a model-like beauty, tall, with long legs and long, bouncy, blond hair. She loved her makeup, too, like any good pageant girl from the Deep South. The saying in the pageant world was More is better, and Dallas followed that to perfection. She justified it because she was on TV. But she would have worn that much makeup if she had been an employee at Taco Casa, her very favorite place to feed her biggest habit, sweet iced tea.

Whenever Dallas was around, you knew it. She was just as generous with her perfume as she was with her makeup. Flowerbomb was her trademark scent, and, since she always wanted to leave her mark, a heavy cloud of it followed her wherever she went.

Dallas glanced around the waiting room. It was literally bursting at the seams, not even room for a sneeze. Her archrival in all things from beauty pageants to men, Blake O’Hara Heart, was there, of course. She was Vivi’s best friend and the two were almost always together. Blake’s mother and grandmother were also there, along with Lewis’s older brother, newly elected Alabama Senator Harry Heart, who Blake was now divorcing. He was talking to everyone in the waiting room as if he was still on the campaign stump.

And Cal, unfortunately, was part of that little clique, making Dallas even more uncomfortable. She spotted him chatting with Blake and Sonny Bartholomew, the chief homicide investigator and Blake’s lover. Cal and Sonny had just solved a huge murder investigation together a few months ago, and they had become fast friends.

Dallas caught herself staring at Cal, and she noticed immediately that he still wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. He was tall—about six foot three—which had really helped him as a quarterback. He had dark golden sandy-brown hair that he wore a little long, swept over his forehead. His eyes were a light grayish green, and that body was still in perfect quarterback shape. People had always told him he was heartthrob handsome. He ran the computer sciences department out at the university now, which gave him a sexy-academic quality that made Dallas weak in the knees.

Dallas stiffened herself and put the microphone to her mouth as the camera began to roll again.

Just then, a child from another family in the waiting room zipped by her, slamming into her thigh and splashing her winter-white skirt with red punch.

“Oh, my Lord,” Dallas screeched. “Can’t y’all keep these kids under control? Look at me!”

Dallas was comin’ unglued, but she refused to ruin her broadcast. Her job was everything to her.

“And you’re on in five, four, three...” Daniel gave the countdown, and then she was on the air, red stain and all.

He pushed in tight, trying not to show the giant red blemish on her skirt. The kids were going wild, running around and around her in the excitement of getting on camera, their mother chasing them down on live TV.

Dallas kept it together. She was a pro.

She was always perfect when it came to her reporting, since there was nothing in the world she valued more than her flourishing career. She was used to shoving down her emotions and just doing her job. She had been doing that for years, working so hard to become the star reporter she was. Now she was pushing for that coveted anchor chair that would soon be vacant, so there was no room to be anything less than stunning.

“Baby Tallulah Heart has finally arrived,” she began, her smile gleaming for the camera, “topping off this incredible night for our Voice of the Crimson Tide. Alabama slammed Auburn in this year’s Iron Bowl earlier today, and our own Lewis Heart adds another redhead to his family, so we can count that as two victories this evening. I’m Dallas Dubois, for WTAL News. Good night and Roll, Tide!”

Daniel gave the signal the mic was off. “Okay, we’re clear.”

“Oh, my God, I cannot stand kids!” Dallas blurted out as soon as she was off the hook. Then she caught a glimpse of herself in the monitor, and the producer began shouting frantically in her ear, “We’re live! We’re still live!”

Dallas froze. Her career and that anchor chair were hanging in the balance.

“I just cannot, uh, stand kids, uh...to be alone during the holidays,” she said trying to save herself.

Daniel had the camera on a tripod and began writing notes on his hand at lightning speed for Dallas to read. She squinted as she spoke.

“So don’t forget to join us in a few short weeks for the Tuscaloosa production of...uhm...Sleigh Bells, to benefit the...uhm...Children’s Home. I’m Dallas Dubois, WTAL News.”

“And now we’re clear.” Daniel knew he was in a heap of trouble.

Dallas was fuming.

“Next time, you idiot, make sure I’m actually clear when you tell me clear. My God, you’re gonna cost me my job.”

She was perched somewhere between infuriated and mortified. With Cal causing a flare-up, kids ruining her skirt, not to mention telling all of Tuscaloosa County that she hated children, Dallas decided it was best to ignore her racing heart and her raging temper, and get the heck outta there as fast as possible.

She ran straight out into the cold November night as fast as her five-inch stilettos would carry her, jumped in the TV truck and switched on the heater. Daniel followed close behind, slamming the double doors in the back and jumping into the satellite truck. They sped away from the happy hospital waiting room, now in full party mode. Dallas had never really been part of that group anyway, although her father had been married to Blake’s mother for about ten years at one time, back when the girls were teenagers. Blake could technically have been considered her stepsister. Instead, they’d remained archrivals throughout their lives.

With Vivi and Blake best friends, and Lewis and Cal best friends, the circle was pretty tight, and they purposely left no room for Dallas. Not that she would have wanted to be part of that group in the first place. They all considered her a snob, and Dallas told herself she was just fine with all that. And she thought she was, till she had that flare-up tonight.

“See Cal’s back in town,” Daniel said, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, I saw. He’s been back since the spring, I think,” Dallas answered, making small talk.

“Didn’t y’all have a fling or somethin’?” Daniel asked her.

“I most certainly did not have a fling with him. I absolutely can’t stand that man,” she shot back. “And if you don’t hush your mouth, I swear I’m fixin’ to beat your ass,” she said with only a hint of sarcasm.

“I know what I saw. You looked a little nervous when he hugged you there.”

“No, I was just surprised. You know, caught in the moment, all the excitement.” Dallas fidgeted in her seat. “I’m cold, can you please just let it go and turn up the heat?”

Daniel had been Dallas’s cameraman the whole time she had worked at WTAL: six years and counting now. He was a smallish man with a dark receding hairline, though he was only about thirty. He had a warm smile and inviting, sweet brown eyes. He wasn’t married, and the girlfriends were here and there—no one at the moment. Dallas had never been interested in him romantically. She towered over him for one thing, and she wouldn’t be caught dead wearing flats to accommodate a man. She hardly was ever really nice to him, though she claimed it was because he was out to push her buttons, which he was doing right this second.

But then, she was hardly nice to anyone.

“From what I saw, you were already hot back there in Cal’s arms,” Daniel teased her. He grinned and reached for the heater controls as Dallas yanked her coat up around her neck. Unfortunately, Cal’s cologne was lingering on her jacket, making the flare-up continue, even though they had left the hospital.

Something about Cal made Dallas want to hit him. He was so cocky, for one thing, but mostly it was because he ignored her when what she really wanted was to fall into his arms. That wasn’t going to happen, so she clung to the idea of hitting him. That way she was safe from her own feelings. Add another layer to that emotional firewall.

Whatever emotions and secrets brewed behind her crystal-blue eyes, she was determined no one would find out. With long legs up to here and her busty cleavage usually visible down to there, Dallas looked like a centerfold. It was part of her armor, and she had absolutely no intention of letting those barriers crumble. Ever. And especially not now with her dream job at stake.

With her future on the line, she certainly could not afford to lose any control. And Cal made her lose control. As they arrived back at the TV station, she promised herself she’d stay away from him at all costs. No matter what. She’d managed it since they’d finished college, and she could manage it now.

But with Cal back in town, that might just be a bit harder than she hoped.

2

Two weeks later

“Absolutely not! There is no earthly way I can take over directing that play. I have no time for that. I’m a professional reporter! I have a busy career! And anyway, the rehearsals conflict with my pedicure appointments.” Dallas fumed as she sat at her desk in the WTAL newsroom sipping her sweet tea she’d picked up from Taco Casa. In Alabama, sweet iced tea was a way of life, year-round. Known commonly as the house wine of the Deep South, it was the drink of choice for any time of the day. And after the news Dallas had just received, it was gonna be either sweet tea or vodka.

It was a little over two weeks before Christmas and the director of the children’s Christmas play Sleigh Bells had come down with the flu. Since Dallas had been at a few of the rehearsals because she was the celebrity emcee, the board of the theater had decided she was the best candidate and had asked her to step in and direct. This was the cause for her latest in a recent string of hissy fits.

“Dallas, I’m sorry, but it’s station policy for staff to volunteer for charity during Christmas,” Mike Maddox, the news director, told her. “You know the way it works, and this is the perfect opportunity.”

“I certainly do, and that’s exactly what I was doing by going to the occasional rehearsal—my required community appearances. Appearances! I just cannot direct the whole play, Mike. C’mon.”

“The president of the board called me and asked if we would support this, and I told him absolutely. It’s our duty to the city of Tuscaloosa during Christmas. Imagine the press we’ll get over this. Imagine the press you’ll get over this. I know how bad you want that anchor chair, Dallas, and this ingrains you into the city of Tuscaloosa a little deeper. It’s a win-win, you know?”

While the responsibility of directing a play didn’t appeal to her at all—and the thought of working with kids appealed to her even less—she couldn’t deny that any publicity right now would be good publicity. Dallas rolled her eyes. “Ugh! Fine! I’ll just reschedule my standing mani-pedis. I should tell you, though—I’m not an actress, and I don’t know the first thing about theater and, oh, by the way, I’m not so great with children either. But, sure, if this is what they want...great.”

“Good, I knew you’d see it my way,” Mike said as he headed off toward the studio—either oblivious to the sarcasm in Dallas’s voice or else just ignoring it.

She looked at her Gucci watch. It was early afternoon in mid-December in Tuscaloosa. The crisp fall air had given way to winter, and Christmastime was twinkling from every corner of this college town. She thought about the Christmas parade next week and her spot atop the WTAL-TV News float right behind the mayor’s float. She loved the idea that the entire town would be watching and cheering as she rode on by, but now that she had the Christmas play to direct, her schedule was growing tighter by the minute.

Though she already had another story to cover today, the next rehearsal was in just a couple of hours, Mike had told her, and Dallas knew she had to introduce herself to the kids and try to make this transition as easy as possible. Just get through it, she told herself, as if going to rehearsal was like scheduling surgery.

She grabbed her coat as she ran out the door to visit Miss Peaches Shelby who’d had part of her holiday manger scene stolen from her yard. Peaches was so upset ’cause it was the second year in a row that her plastic Baby Jesus was snatched right outta her plastic stable. “They always leave the shepherds, but they take that Baby Jesus every single time,” she’d complained on the phone to Dallas. It wasn’t exactly big news, but Dallas would never turn down the possibility of camera time.

Climbing into the van where Daniel was already waiting, she buckled in with a loud huff. “Hey, Daniel, let’s get this over with as quick as possible, okay? I have a thing at the Bama Theatre this afternoon,” Dallas barked as they drove out of the parking lot heading to Miss Peaches’s house. “Lucky me, I get all these lead stories. This one should surely get me that anchor chair,” she muttered sarcastically.

“I remember we interviewed her last year about this very same thing,” he said.

“I know, and now she says pictures are being sent to her from everywhere on campus showing her Baby Jesus statue first one place and then another.”

“Kinda like those little gnomes people take on vacation for pictures everywhere, huh?”

They pulled into the driveway of Peaches Shelby’s home, her little plastic manger scene filled to capacity, except for Baby Jesus. Peaches met them outside, and Daniel began setting up the shot with his camera. Dallas trotted across the cold ground in her usual five-inch heels to greet Miss Peaches.

“Hey, Ms. Dubois,” she said, smiling as Dallas showed her where to stand. “I’m so happy to see you again, but of course not under these circumstances.” She quickly switched to a sulky frown, visibly upset as she related the story of the stolen plastic statue to Dallas and the cameraman.

“And the very next morning, he was pure ole dee gone, I tell ya. Just like into thin air. And that ain’t no miracle! I do believe it’s those same boys from that frat house that did this last year.”

“Have you called the police?” Dallas asked with her microphone now under Ms. Peaches’s nose.

“Yes, I most certainly did. They said they’d be lookin’ all over campus.”

“Where have these pictures been taken, can you tell?” Dallas asked her.

“Well, there was one with Baby Jesus at Denny Chimes sittin’ on Joe Namath’s handprints. Then they sent one from the steps of the library. They’s crazy, whoever took it. That’s just pure awful, don’t y’all think?”

“Yes, Miss Peaches. We will do what we can to get the word out.” Dallas thanked her and repositioned herself near the empty manger to do her stand-up.

“As you can see, Miss Peaches’s stable is empty. There have been sightings of the statue all over the University of Alabama’s campus. If anyone knows the whereabouts of Baby Jesus, please call the Tuscaloosa Police department or WTAL TV. I’m Dallas Dubois, WTAL. Okay, Daniel that’s a wrap.”

She told Miss Peaches goodbye and turned toward the van to wait for Daniel with the heater on high. It was nearly four o’clock, and the kids were going to be waiting at the theater. She was dreading this. It was true that she was not really a fan of kids—anyone’s kids—but mostly Dallas just didn’t want to be bothered by other people. Call it selfish or self-preservation, she did whatever she had to do to take care of herself, of her career, and that didn’t leave much room in her life for anyone else. Especially not for little children in a Christmas play.

“Come on, Daniel! Let’s get me to the Bama Theatre. I’ve gotta pretend I care about this Christmas play,” she said as Daniel put the camera equipment in the van and backed out.

When they reached the theater, he pulled up out front to let Dallas out. The Bama Theatre was grand, built in 1937, and was now on the National Register of Historic Places. It was a magnificent old place, one of the last old movie palaces in the Deep South. Dallas and her archrival ex-stepsister, Blake, had been in many a beauty pageant there over the years. But today the beautiful old place would be home to the Christmas play Sleigh Bells. The holiday play was a town tradition. Local theater kids would make up the cast, as well as children from the Tuscaloosa Children’s Home, a group home for children who, for various reasons, couldn’t live at home with their families. Dallas certainly felt sympathy for those kids, but she definitely didn’t consider herself qualified to take care of them. She was not looking forward to what she had to do.

She entered the auditorium and stopped in her tracks. The ghosts of Christmas past were all around, hovering over her, haunting her. She stood motionless, looking up at the tiny, lighted stars that filled the painted night sky on the ceiling.

She hadn’t seen the stage since they had decorated it and added the sets.

She swallowed hard at the memories that invaded her. The playhouse was covered in Christmas lights, the entire room looking like a winter-white forest, dressed up in its Victorian finest for the holidays. On the stage, a set made to look like a Christmas village sat to the right, with a Christmas wreath hanging on a pretend toy-store door lit by the cutest old-fashioned streetlight.

Dallas was reminded of her first play at this theater, back when she was only eight years old. Her mother almost hadn’t made it to the show because of a freak snowstorm—it never snowed in Alabama. Well, almost never.

She took the whole scene in, remembering all the times she’d walked that stage throughout her life. The countless beauty pageants she’d been in, though she’d never really placed better than runner-up. She had stood by while Blake captured most of the titles, while Blake’s mother, Kitty, had cheered loudly from the audience. She tried to envision her own mother clapping and calling her name, but since she’d hardly ever shown up to Dallas’s events, the memory didn’t exist. She began to feel a break in the firewall, so she quickly plugged the dike.

The kids were there already, of course, running around the stage, the choir director trying anxiously, but to no avail, to calm them down. Dallas puffed her chest out, lifted her chin and headed down the aisle toward the stage to say hello and get the worst part over with.

“Children, may I have your attention?” the chubby little lady called out. Ms. Betty Ann had been the choir director at the Bama Theatre since Dallas had been a child in the Christmas plays herself. “Children, have a seat and let Miss Dallas talk to y’all just a minute,” Betty Ann said. The children, distracted for a moment by their visitor, obediently sat down on the stage in the middle of the little pretend village. Dallas approached them, coming up from the side stairs. Betty Ann leaned over and whispered to Dallas, “Good luck. They’re wound up tighter’n Dick’s hatband today. I’m worn slap out already.”

“Hey, kids,” she started, her heart beating out of her chest. She didn’t like to do things she didn’t want to do, and she knew she really didn’t wanna do this. “I’m Miss Dubois and I’m gonna be your new director.”

Some of the kids started talking. One little girl even started crying.

“Why? What happened to Miss Fairbanks?” asked one little boy. They were all mumbling now, most of them between the ages of six and ten years old.

“Well, Miss Fairbanks wasn’t feeling too well, and she wants to make sure we keep practicing,” Betty Ann broke in.

“Exactly, and now I will be the director.” Dallas smiled at them, hoping to look enthusiastic.

The kids all looked sad, some more started to cry, and one boy actually folded his arms and went to the corner of the stage, stomping his feet.

Offended, she tried to reason with them. “Look, it’s hard for me, too, but here we are now, and Christmas is just around the corner, so let’s make the best of this, okay?” Dallas tried to warm them up, but she wasn’t very good at it. She was starting to lose her cool façade.

“I don’t want you, I want Miss Fairbanks back,” announced Sara Grace Griffin, who was nine years old.

“Well, look, I’m not so sure I’ll like doing this either, but this is the way it is.” Dallas turned and began to walk away, hearing the sound of crying children get louder with each step. She stormed off into the stage wings, arms folded, head down, when she slammed right into—

Cal.

3

Cal jumped back, obviously surprised to see Dallas right there in front of him in the theater wings.

“Cal! Sorry, what are you doing here?” Dallas asked, shocked at bumping into him here.

“I’m running the sound system for the Christmas play. What are you doing here?”

“Well...guess who’s the new director?” She smiled awkwardly, feeling completely out of her element.

“What happened to Ms. Fairbanks?”

“Flu.”

“So...you? You’re the director?”

“Yep. It’s my lucky day.”

“Yeah. Well, good luck, I guess. See ya.”

Cal walked away, and Dallas turned to watch him leave. It was obvious that he was unfazed by seeing her. She, however, was having another flare-up.

Dallas stepped over to the staircase in the wings and sat down in the dim amber glow of the footlights. Unbelievable, she thought. How was it possible that not only was she stuck directing this ridiculous play, but now she’d also have to do it alongside the one man who never failed at making her lose her cool?

She inhaled a deep breath, trying to get a grip on everything that was happening, but it didn’t ease the tension that was beginning to consume her. She felt the pressure building, but for the first time in a long time, she wasn’t sure how to take control of the situation. She felt trapped. There was nothing she wanted more than that anchor spot. The announcement, they’d been told, would come just after Christmas. Great timing, she thought, for the person who got the job. They’d be able to start the New Year with an exciting new job. If she didn’t get it, she could be one of the two reporters to lose her job to station cutbacks. For now, she knew she just had to stay focused. Worrying about the worst-case scenario wasn’t going to make her performance any better. The only thing she could do was to keep her eye on the prize. She had to direct this play and somehow find a way to work with Cal.

Dallas pulled her purse closer, as if it were her only friend in this place. She wore a long winter-white Calvin Klein cashmere coat that she’d bought in Atlanta at a secondhand shop. She drove the three hours over there to shop all the time. She didn’t come from much, but she had done quite a job of making it look as though she did. Her dad, businessman Sweeney Sugarman, had divorced Kitty, his second wife and Blake’s mother, about ten years ago. Financially, he’d done little more than help pay Dallas’s way through college at the University of Alabama. He’d died several years ago and had never even seen her first report for WTAL.

Dallas’s mother, on the other hand, had sent her to live with her father when Dallas had only been fourteen years old. The day she’d left was the last time she had seen her mother. They had become estranged ever since. No one in town even saw LouAnn Watkins Sugarman anymore. Last anyone heard, she had tried to become a singing star out in Hollywood, and when that didn’t pan out, she’d come back home to some small town in Alabama but had never tried to get in touch. It had been twenty years since Dallas had spoken to her. None of Dallas’s family had even come to her college graduation. She was used to being alone. And in control.

With Cal working the sound for the play, Dallas would be running into him almost daily over the next couple of weeks. She huffed out a breath and shook her head. Okay, she admitted to herself, he’s still hot. Fine. But I am not going to throw myself at a man who clearly shows no interest in me. I can’t let his gorgeous good looks get the best of me at a time like this. Besides, he has nothing I need right now. All I need is to get this play over with, secure my promotion and get on with my life.

This was typical Dallas. Always thinking of the goal. Always forgetting to actually live along the way. All that armor, the tough-woman mask she donned each day with carefully applied makeup and hairspray, helped shield the real Dallas from everyone. Especially from herself.

“Okay, Ms. Dubois, we’ve got the children settled down, and they’re waitin’ for you,” Betty Ann said, approaching Dallas in the stairway.

“Fine, please tell that production assistant person I need some Diet Dr. Pepper. I’m already exhausted after that scene out there. I mean, really, what is with all that attitude?”

“Certainly, Ms. Dubois, but you understand they’re just nervous. They’re only children, for heaven’s sake.”

“Yeah, well, they aren’t the only nervous ones, I’ll tell you. Do I look like a theater director to you? I belong on TV, with a camera in front of me, not behind the curtain trying to get a bunch of wild animals to stand in their spots and remember their lines. Let’s just be honest—I don’t wanna be here any more than they want me here.”

“Oh, please don’t feel that way. It will all work out just fine,” Betty Ann said, though Dallas could see the doubt written all over her face. “Now, I’ll get Corey to get your drink and we should get started.”

“Great. Thanks.” Dallas smiled weakly and exhaled a deep breath. Her stomach was in knots, but she was careful not to let anyone see that. She was totally on edge with her job on the line and that made it tough for her to be sweet to anyone.

* * *

Cal sat up in the sound booth, adjusting the speaker levels and fiddling with live mic feeds, and trying to figure out how’d he’d managed to find himself working side by side with none other than Dallas Dubois.

He’d always found Dallas attractive—how could you not? With that gorgeous hair, bright blue eyes and curves that should be illegal in most states, Dallas was basically a fantasy on legs.

Not that he was all that that bad himself. He’d been told he was gorgeous by plenty of people all his life, but it never really seemed to sink in. He wasn’t a loud braggart like a lot of athletes he’d known in college. He was more reserved. And he was often single.

What no one knew, except maybe Lewis, who had been Cal’s best friend in both high school and college, was that he was an over-the-top perfectionist. It wasn’t that he was judgmental about the people he dated—it was more that he was tough on himself. He had always been afraid of failing at a relationship, so he’d never got too serious with any one girlfriend.

His grades, however, had been spectacular. He’d pushed himself so hard that it had cut down on his participation in the wild social life that his other friends had enjoyed. Cal was an academic. He took everything super seriously and had gotten his doctorate in computer science by the time he was twenty-six. He had been the star quarterback for the Crimson Tide, leading them to a National Championship in his senior year. He was tough on himself.

That’s why he had never married. Not that all the gorgeous beauty queens and coeds couldn’t measure up. No. Cal was terrified of failing. His two older brothers had great marriages. His parents had been married for well over forty years. He looked at their success, and he realized he wasn’t sure he could ever be that great at it. He’d never met anyone who’d made him feel the things his brothers claimed to feel about their own wives. And he’d always been so focused on school and sports that he couldn’t even imagine having enough time left over to properly devote to another person. The last thing he wanted was to let anyone see that he wasn’t good enough. For Cal, failure at anything was not an option. Growing up, the minute he thought a relationship might not work forever, he ran. Now, at thirty-four, he still found himself more invested in work than in women.

From his spot in the sound booth, he could oversee some of the action on the stage below. And thanks to live mics, he could hear everything being said. Just now, he could hear Corey, the young production assistant, bringing Dallas her drink.

“Here you go, Ms. Dubois,” he said cheerfully.

Cal watched Dallas take the drink from him with a slight nod of her head. “Thanks, and make sure you stay close with that clipboard of yours. I can’t possibly write and talk at the same time.”

“I’ll do my best,” Corey said, though his mood had clearly been taken down a notch.

It made Cal sick to hear her unfriendly treatment of everyone. Her bossy behavior, flinging orders around as if she was throwing rice at a wedding, like this was just business as usual for her. As far as Cal knew, it was. This was the Dallas he’d always known. Cold, selfish and self-absorbed. It had been the reason why, despite how attracted he was to her, he’d never made an attempt to pursue her.

When rehearsal was over, and he was packing up the equipment for the day, he heard Dallas backstage as she gathered her things. Corey had run up the side stairs to say good-night. He knew he should turn off the mic, that he really shouldn’t listen in, but curiosity got the better of him.

“Okay, Ms. Dubois,” he heard Corey say. “That’s it for tonight. Need anything ’fore I leave?”

“No, that’s fine. Can I see your notes from today?”

“Oh, um, well...I didn’t really take notes. Nothing really changed, so I didn’t really have any...”

“God, are you an idiot, too? Why do I always work with idiots? I asked you to take notes of everything we did today.”

“Oh, I’m, uh...sorry, Ms. Dubois, but we didn’t really do anything but run over what we were already doing in the show. But, um...if you want, I can type up something and email it to you.”

“Just forget it. I’ll make up the notes myself. Next time just follow my directions.”

“Sorry, ma’am.”

Corey was a theater student at Alabama, and his professor was the flu-ridden Ms. Fairbanks, and Cal could bet he was really going to miss her not being at the Bama Theatre every day.

He’d heard about all he could take. He left the sound booth and headed down to the stage, running into Dallas as she headed back up the aisle to meet her ride outside.

“You are really something else. I can’t believe you,” he said, stopping right in front of her, his hands folded in front of him.

“Excuse me? I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I have to be back at the station for the newscast so I’m in a hurry.”

“Oh, I’m sure you are. But you need to hear a few things before you speed off to your high falutin’ TV job.”

At well over six feet tall, Cal towered over Dallas—despite the impossibly high heels she was wearing. He used his size to his advantage now, looking down at Dallas with disapproval.

“You haven’t changed a bit since high school. Some of us actually grew up but not you. You’re still just as full of yourself as you always were.”

“What the hell do you mean?” Dallas fought back. “You have no idea the stress I’m under. I don’t need this crap. You don’t know anything about me, Cal. You never did.”

“Well, there’s certainly no excuse to talk to everybody like they need to serve you. That’s disgusting.”

“Cal, I’m late. If you don’t like what you heard, then quit eavesdropping and turn the mics off when the conversation doesn’t concern you. Now, if you’ll kindly move out of my way, I have a newscast to get to.” Her face was red with anger and, Cal hoped, a little embarrassment at being called out.

He stepped aside, and she walked past him, her winter-white coat brushing against his pants, her nose in the air as if to let him know she didn’t care one bit.

Typical, Cal thought, and he stormed off in the opposite direction.

* * *

Dallas was fuming as she made her way up the theater aisle. She held her head up as though she didn’t care, but of course she did. She could feel her face growing hot as she made her way outside to Daniel and the van.

How could her entire world be falling off its axis in just one day? She rode in silence back to the station with Daniel, her eyes stinging, but she wasn’t fixin’ to let even one tear fall. Not until she was in private.

One more thing and her tough façade might become so damaged that the usual quick fix of puffing out her chest with a deep breath and lifting her nose in the air just wouldn’t work. Just one more thing and it would be too much for one day. But she had no time to think about falling apart. She had a story to introduce on set.

Dallas arrived back in the newsroom, the Christmas decorations twinkling on the station tree that stood in the corner. A frantic chatter filled the newsroom. It was typical for the time of day, reporters running around and edit bays full as late stories were still being filed. Dallas hurried in at a clip, her heels not slowing her down one bit. Daniel had already edited her story about Miss Peaches. She ran into an empty bay to voice it before it was time to sit on set next to the soon-to-be retiring female anchor and introduce the missing Baby Jesus statue story to the viewers.

Just as she was wrapping it up and preparing to walk into the live studio, the news assistant delivered a piece of paper with a message to her.

Please call me. I need to see you.—Mom

Dallas felt as if she had been pushed off a building. She hadn’t spoken to her mother in twenty years, and now, today of all days, she’d decided to call. Now. This was the “one more thing” that just might break her. How could she go on the air live in two minutes, right after unexpectedly hearing from the mother who had abandoned her so long ago? She shoved the note into her jacket pocket and marched into the studio smiling. Take control, she reminded herself. She knew how to shove down these emotions, and she’d just have to do it again.

Her mother. Wow. All she knew was that she had no time for her mother now. The same way LouAnn hadn’t had time for Dallas for the past twenty years. LouAnn had never even attempted to make contact with her. She had purely abandoned her. Dallas had no intention of seeing her now, not ever again.

Still, she was thrown for a loop, her stomach tightening with a painful grip, the years of hurt bubbling up. This was far worse than the confrontation with Cal back at the theater, and she couldn’t believe her bad luck.

She barely got through the story on TV, a strained smile pulled across her pretty face. When she returned to her seat in the newsroom, her phone on her desk was ringing. She picked it up without even thinking.

“Dallas Dubois,” she said into the receiver.

“Dallas, it’s your mother. Please don’t hang up.” LouAnn sounded nervous.

“Mother. Hi...” she began, then quickly decided there was no need for politeness. “What do you want? I’m really busy.”

“I need to see you.”

“I’m sorry. Your timing is really bad. Maybe another time.” Dallas kept her voice cold, showing no emotion.

This conversation had been years in rehearsal. Dallas had spent a long time imagining that her mother would call her, say she was sorry, maybe cry and beg forgiveness. As she grew older, the pretend conversation took on a different tone, as Dallas grew bitter and developed the hard exterior she’d soon be known for. Now that the moment was finally happening, somehow it wasn’t playing out just as she’d practiced.

“Please. It’s important,” LouAnn begged.

“I’m really sorry. But I’ve got important things going on, too. So, call me another time, okay? But not anytime soon.” And with that, Dallas hung up on her.

A lump swelled in her throat, and she made a beeline to the ladies’ room, locking herself in a stall. Finally alone for a moment, she allowed herself to cry silently into her hands, flushing the toilet over and over to cover the sounds of her anguish in case anyone walking by could hear her. All those years of not hearing her own mother’s voice, of wishing that she’d just come home and tell Dallas she hadn’t forgotten about her, suddenly made her feel as though she were that young, naïve girl once again. With everything she’d faced today, plus her own guilt of hanging up on a call that had been twenty years in the making, it all became too much. Even for Dallas.

The firewall was down, and Dallas was desperate to put it back together as fast as she could.

4

That evening, Dallas went home to her empty house. It was a little place near the university that she was renting. If she got that anchor seat, maybe she could afford to buy herself a real place of her own. Maybe she could finally afford to stop running to Atlanta to hide the fact that she shopped at consignment stores. Everyone in town just assumed she had lots of money. She worked hard to make it look that way. But the truth was that reporters didn’t make that much. She had bills to pay and, unlike Blake and Vivi, she didn’t come from family money. But that wouldn’t hold her back. She’d just have to keep climbing her way to the top. Anchors made much more, a lot more. That’s what she had her eye on.

She made her way to the shower, petting her big white cat, Wilhelmina. Wilhelmina was her only companion since she had broken up with Dan Donohugh, Harry Heart’s campaign manager, right after the election. Both of them had really been using each other, hoping to benefit from Harry’s run for the senate, so the brief fling had ended soon after.

Here in her home, Dallas was finally in her safe haven. Just she and Wilhelmina.

Dallas stood under the hot water of her shower thinking of her mother, but trying not to. Why would she be calling after all these years? Dallas had tried to make contact with her when she was still just a teenager. She’d hated living with her father, and she’d really hated living with Blake when her dad had married Blake’s mother, Kitty. Blake had let her know immediately it was her house, so Dallas hadn’t wasted a minute of her time trying to be sisters with her.

Instead, she’d spent her time trying to prove herself worthy of her mother’s love. She’d become a high school cheerleader just as her mother had been when she was young. She’d worked hard to become the most popular—and that had sometimes been nasty work. You didn’t always become popular by being nice, so she’d had to crush a few hearts along the way. Eventually, she had been named the salutatorian of her class. Cal was the valedictorian and had gotten a football scholarship. But Dallas, after receiving a small scholarship of just a thousand dollars, had still been asked to give one of the speeches. She’d pulled together all her courage to call her mother when she found out, but no one had answered the phone. She’d left a message, asking her mother to please come and hear her speak, that it would mean a lot to Dallas to show her what she’d accomplished. She’d never heard back from her mother. Maybe she didn’t get my messages, she always thought to herself. But she knew it wasn’t true.

Eventually, Dallas quit trying to make contact.

As she stood in the shower, the memories of what happened all those years ago haunted her warm oasis.

When Dallas had been only three and her brother, Houston, had been eleven, their father had walked out on their family. He’d left them to marry his secretary, the woman he’d been with just before he’d married Blake’s mother, Kitty. As they’d grown up, Houston had stepped up to become the man of the house and their mother, LouAnn, had leaned on him in that role. The three of them had been an incredibly close, tight-knit family—and, yes, her mother had a thing for Texas and had named her children after her two favorite cities there.

As they grew up, Dallas had loved her brother like no one else in her life. He had been her hero. They had always had an incredibly close relationship. Houston always told her that whoever married her would be the luckiest young man in history, since he would get to have Dallas forever. To say she put him on a pedestal was a major understatement. She used to tell him he was her favorite person in the world. And he’d let her know she was the most special person in his life, too. Even when he’d moved out to campus, they’d still talked all the time and he’d taken her to the movies and out for ice cream once a month. She’d loved him more than anyone. He had been her security.

When Dallas was in the ninth grade, she was basically living life like most teenaged girls her age. Makeup, boys, fashion and cheerleading practice filled her days. Houston, meanwhile, was twenty-two, gorgeous and fixin’ to graduate from Alabama.

One day he’d brought a woman, Eleanor Walsh, home with him to meet his family. As smart and charming as Houston was, they weren’t at all surprised that he’d found someone special. But when Eleanor walked in the door, she was definitely a surprise, all right. She was about thirty years old, though Houston was just barely twenty-two. He was defensive right away, explaining to LouAnn and Dallas that they were in love and that it was serious. He told them he was planning on marrying her. Dallas, being so young, was actually really excited and wanted to get to know her new “older sister” right away. She trusted her brother’s instincts on everything, so if he said this woman was the right one, Dallas was happy to accept it.

As they continued dating, Houston made sure that she and Eleanor became close. They’d take shopping trips together, go to movies and the couple made a real effort to spend time at the house with Dallas and her mother. So one day, Dallas and Eleanor went to Eleanor’s house to get ready to go out to a movie together with Houston. It was the first time she’d been invited to Eleanor’s place, so she was both nervous and excited. When Dallas entered the house, she immediately was shocked at the mess. The home was filthy—dirty pots and pans on the stove, so much old grease on the floor she couldn’t even see the color of the tile. As she moved through the house, following closely behind Eleanor, she heard noises coming from the laundry room. As they passed by, heading up the hall to Eleanor’s bedroom, Dallas caught a figure out of the corner of her eye.

A man was sitting on the floor, surrounded by parts from the washing machine, along with screwdrivers and other tools spread out around him. The man glanced up as Dallas walked by. He locked eyes with young Dallas, and instantly she felt a pang in her stomach: that uh-oh feeling you got when things weren’t quite right. She had a feeling that Houston might not know this woman as well as he thought.

“Who’s that?” she asked Eleanor.

“No one. Just the repairman,” she answered casually.

Dallas still felt that feeling. From another bedroom up the hall, Dallas could hear the sounds of children. One was crying. One was arguing with an older woman. As they walked toward the open door, she could see that the older woman was sitting in a small chair designed for a child. She was smoking a cigarette and staring out the window as she “babysat” the kids. As they walked past the door, the older of the two little boys ran out of the room and latched himself on to Eleanor’s leg, wrapping himself around her. “Mommy! Hi! Will you stay home tonight?”

Dallas was stunned. The child was about four years old and the other looked to be only two. They were Eleanor’s kids. Eleanor had kids! In all the time she’d known her, there had never, not once, been mention of her sons.

“Momma, can’t you do something with them?” Eleanor said to the older woman.

“Y’all get off of your momma now,” the woman said, ashing her cigarette on the windowsill. “She’s goin’ out. Go in there and see what yer daddy’s doin’.”

Dallas couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Was the man with the washing machine the father? She froze in place, trying to take this news in for a second. Several seconds.

Dallas got an instant stomachache. She was afraid she had stumbled onto a secret. Surely her beloved brother had no idea he was dating a married woman, with children. Not dating, but fixin’ to marry!

Dallas didn’t want to go to the movies anymore. She wanted to rush home to save her brother from this horrible woman. She wanted to protect him now. She absolutely knew her brother would never be involved with her if he knew the truth. But as she stood there trying to imagine how she’d break the news, Eleanor shuffled her off to her bedroom and began chatting away as she got ready, as though none of this were out of the ordinary. In shock, Dallas wasn’t able to do much but follow along and wait for the right opportunity to speak up.

Houston, Eleanor and Dallas made it to the movies anyway, but late that night, after they’d dropped Eleanor off, Dallas decided she had to tell Houston what she’d found out. When they pulled into the driveway of her mother’s house, she just blurted it all out in one breath, thinking it might be better to rip it off like a Band-Aid.

“Yeah, I know,” he answered, once Dallas had finished.

“What? You know she’s married and has kids? How could you still want to marry her?”

“I just do, Dallas. You have no idea what the situation really is. Her husband doesn’t love her, and they are getting a divorce.”

“When? I mean he was there fixing the washing machine and her kids were screaming and crying for her to stay home.”

But rather than listen to her concern, rather than talking things out with her as he always did, Houston seemed to have grown cold. “You need to stay out of this. It’s none of your business. She thought no one would be home when she took you there today. I’m sorry you had to see all that.”

“Does Mom know?” she asked.

“Yeah, and she understands,” he said pointedly. “She knows Eleanor loves me and I love her.”

“But what about her kids? They were dirty, and her mother was smoking while she was taking care of them. I mean—” she paused and swallowed hard “—is this the kind of woman you really want to marry? Someone who cares so little about her family? Think about how Dad—”

He cut her off midsentence by hitting his fist on the wheel. Houston had had about all he could take from what he suddenly saw as a meddling little sister.

“Don’t imply she’s not good enough, Dallas. You have no idea what you’re talking about. Now just get out, okay?”

She was brokenhearted as she slowly climbed out of his car and went into the house. Her hero had fallen off his pedestal.

The next morning, she asked her mom all about it, and LouAnn confirmed her worst fears. It was all true. But Dallas wasn’t going to give up that easily. She’d always thought her mom was far too easy with Houston, trying to make up for the fact that she had depended on him to take their father’s place for so much of his life.

“He’s happy and that’s all that matters,” LouAnn said.

“But he won’t be for long. He just likes the attention right now. She’s older. That’s all it is,” Dallas reasoned. “You have to know that. Even I know that.”

“That’s enough,” LouAnn snapped, stopping the conversation cold. She’d walked out of the room, leaving Dallas alone with her worry.

Over the next few weeks, Dallas continued to try in vain to save her precious brother. Her tears and pleas fell on blind eyes and deaf ears. Until one day it reached the boiling point.

“Dallas, you have to stop this,” LouAnn shouted.

“Please, don’t let him ruin his life like this,” she begged through tears. It was just after Houston had graduated from Alabama. He was standing in the hallway, LouAnn in the kitchen with Dallas.

“I’ve had enough of this. I can’t be around her anymore. She’s messing up my life. She’s calling Eleanor at home and asking her to leave me alone,” Houston shouted. He walked into the kitchen and faced his mother. “Get her away from me or you won’t see me anymore.”

One threat to LouAnn and that’s all it took. She’d already lost one man in her life, and she was not going to let that happen twice.

“That’s it, Dallas,” her mother said, turning to look at her. “You’ve been nothing but selfish. Look around! Because of you, my family is falling apart all over again. I will not let you drive my son out of my life. You’re going to live with your father. Pack your things right now.”

“What? No, Mom, please,” Dallas begged. “Please, don’t send me away. Look, I’m sorry. I just love Houston and I don’t want anything bad to happen to him. But...just give me another chance. I promise I won’t say anything else.” Dallas was overwhelmed, hysterical that her mother could really do something like this, that she would lose her home and her mother along with her brother.

“No, I’m sorry, that’s it,” LouAnn said, sitting down in a chair at the kitchen table. She looked older, suddenly. Worn out. Exhausted. And done with Dallas. “I can’t take this anymore. I just can’t...I’m callin’ your daddy. I’m sorry,” LouAnn said, head in her hands.

Houston went storming out the front door and jumped in his car. Dallas cried as she packed, as she heard her mother on the phone with her father. On the drive over, her mother looked like a different person. Like the shell of the mother she’d grown up knowing.

At her father’s that night, she cried herself to sleep and skipped school the next day. Her eyes nearly swollen shut from tears, she began writing what would be the first of many letters to her brother over the next year. She wouldn’t be able to go back to school for several days. Her world had collapsed, snatched away from her by the very people she’d trusted the most, and she couldn’t do a thing about it. She thought of running away, but in the end, she developed a coping mechanism. If the people she loved could be so cold and cruel, then so could she. And the armor and the firewalls began to take shape.

She never even knew what became of her brother after all that. She thought he might still be in Alabama somewhere, but she hadn’t seen him or looked for him. And he had never tried to contact her.

She took in a deep breath and turned off the water, exhausted from reliving the memories she’d buried so deep and tried to forget. Wilhelmina was sitting at her water dish in the bathroom.

“I do love you, little girl,” she said as she reached down to pet her. After drying off, she and Wilhelmina crawled into bed.

Dallas tossed and thrashed all night. Every time she closed her eyes, she remembered one by one the things she’d faced today: the realization that, with Christmas only two and a half weeks away, they’d be announcing the anchor job and, with it, the fate of her career. That she’d been ordered to direct a children’s play when she knew nothing about directing or children. That she’d be stuck working closely with Cal until the play was over—a man who she managed to both despise and be drawn to at the same time. And then, worst of all, the mother who had abandoned her so long ago, who had chosen one of her children over the other, had decided she wanted to be in touch. It was all too much for one day, for one person, and Dallas couldn’t bring herself to face it.

The best thing she could do was to shove it all down as she had been doing for years. She would have to hold herself together just a little longer to get through Christmas. She exhaled and closed her eyes.

Wilhelmina curled up next to her, purring as she snuggled. Dallas tried to rest and fall sleep, but it was almost impossible to turn her mind off.

How much longer could this coping mechanism work?

5

Dallas woke up early the next morning. Between thoughts of her mother and the house across the street decorated for Christmas with more lights than Times Square, she’d barely gotten any rest at all. She wondered if they were trying to get her to notice them and put them on TV, and she said as much to Daniel as they left to cover their first story of the day.

“They’ve put up so many lights, I swear, I wake up believing I’m in New York City,” Dallas told him as they pulled out of the station lot.

“Why don’t you complain?” he asked.

“I think that would just egg them on,” she said. Surprisingly, she felt pretty good this morning in spite of all that was going on. It was a new day and that meant she was a day closer to that anchor seat...she hoped.

“I can’t believe we’re going to cover the Christmas promotion at Lewis’s new radio station. That just sounds crazy,” she said.

“I know. But he’s hired these two new girls from Tennessee and they’re doing wonders over there. They’re twins but don’t look a thing alike.“

“I thought we were covering their Twelve Days of Christmas thing?” she asked.

“Oh, we are, but those new girls are so cute...I hoped we could spend some time getting to know them, too. One of them is the promotions director and that’s who you’re interviewing, Abigail Harper.”

“Okay, great. I’ll talk to her while you gawk.” Dallas smirked at him.

She was happy to be busy with this story today. She’d gotten a message earlier from her news director, Mike Maddox, saying he wanted to meet with her later on. Just thinking of that meeting made her heart jump. She hoped it wasn’t about her less-than-stellar performance at yesterday’s play practice. She also had another rehearsal tonight, which she was not at all looking forward to.

They arrived at the newly restored Brooks Mansion, a historic building in the center of town that housed the brand-new WRCT—Lewis Heart’s new Crimson Tide radio station. This was Lewis’s dream come true. He’d fought to save the building when it had faced being torn down, and he’d risked a lot to turn it into the place it had become.

Dallas knew Lewis and his family very well. They all had gone to both high school and college together. Dallas suddenly recalled yesterday’s nasty confrontation with Cal after rehearsal. Cal was Lewis’s best friend, so he would definitely tell Cal all about her being there to cover the Twelve Days of Christmas promotion at the new radio station. What would Cal tell Lewis about her?

Dallas decided to try her best to get off the naughty list and be nice. She needed a good public image if she wanted to move up in the ranks. She was quite familiar with that whole more flies with honey thing, and it was time to use that to her advantage.

“Hey, Lewis, I hear you have a promotion going on around here,” she said as she came through the front door. Lewis was just stepping out of his office to head to the studio when she and Daniel arrived.

“Hey, there, Dallas, good to see y’all. Lemme get Abigail. She can tell y’all all about it.” He headed to the front office where Caroline Mayfield was tending the phones. She was a local beauty pageant winner with long golden-brown hair and green eyes, and she always kept that gorgeous summer tan—even in the dead of winter.

“Hey, Ms. Dubois, Abigail is expecting y’all,” Caroline said, flashing her perfect pageant teeth.

She picked up the phone and announced their arrival. While they waited, Dallas and Daniel wandered around the beautiful lobby, noticing all the exquisite details. Lewis had restored the place even beyond its former glory. The lobby was in a parlor to the left of the front door; a gorgeous wide curving staircase led up to the second floor from the center hall. Just to the back of the stairs on the right was the massive double doorway leading to Lewis’s office. Tapestry carpets and sconce lighting created an amber glow throughout the first floor.

Just to the back of the lobby, behind the staircase, a huge studio surrounded with glass windows held all the very latest microphones and technical equipment. Windows from the outside made the studio visible from the sidewalk, so fans could stand on the street and watch the recording of the shows, usually starring Alabama football players and other athletic stars from the campus.

Alabama was the national champion in four different sports some years, but with the reign of the famous football coach, Paul “Bear” Bryant, having lasted over twenty years, the university was mostly famous for their Crimson Tide football team. Though the Bear had died thirty years ago, the winning dynasty continued under coach Nick Saban. Dallas certainly knew her football well. She’d cheered for the Crimson Tide while Cal was their quarterback.

“Ms. Harper will be right down,” Caroline said.

Dallas relaxed a bit in the gorgeous surroundings. The regal Brooks Mansion was all decked out for Christmas. A twelve-foot tree stood in the front hall, greeting guests and tourists with warm, glistening lights. A huge wreath covered in Crimson Tide decorations and crimson-and-white ribbon hung on the beveled glass front doors of the large porch. Christmas carols were even playing over the speakers hooked up throughout the building.

“I’ll Be Home for Christmas” began next, and it shot a little pang through Dallas as she waited for Abigail. Home for Christmas likely meant another lonely Christmas alone with Wilhelmina.

Abigail appeared at the top of the stairs. A big smile on her face, she was a Princess Kate look-alike. She wore a dark-colored suit with a Ralph Lauren ruffled blouse and high-heeled black patent leather pumps.

“Hey, Ms. Dubois. Thanks so much for coming out,” she said, her hand outstretched to Dallas.

Dallas smiled, but remained guarded. This woman was Lewis’s family now. Abigail was Vivi’s cousin, a sort of cousin-in-law for Lewis. She knew she needed to at least act as if she was interested. But really, was this the type of story that would get her recognized? Get her that anchor seat? She didn’t think so at all. Maybe she needed to mention this to her news director. It was starting to feel as though they were sending her out on less important stories on purpose. Maybe someone had it in for her.

“Hey, Ms. Harper, so nice to meet you. Where would you like to do the interview?” Dallas asked her. “And, please, call me Dallas.”

“Right here is just fine, I think. We can get the big Christmas tree in the background. And do call me Abigail.” The two ladies chitchatted for a minute while Daniel set up the shot.

“Okay, ready when y’all are,” Daniel announced. Abigail began her description of the big Twelve Days of Christmas promotion.

“This fabulous contest will benefit the Tuscaloosa Children’s Home, along with other worthwhile charities here in town,” she explained.

“How does it work?” Dallas asked.

“Well, we’re staging a sort of themed scavenger hunt where people will have to track down specific items that represent the twelve days of Christmas. Our new talk show host, Annabelle, who hosts a segment called Saved by the Belle every day at noon, will be giving out clues. We ask that no one really bring us live animals here to the station,” she said with a laugh, “but something that represents the days themselves. We’ve hidden those items all over town. The person who can gather all the twelve days wins an iPad. To enter, anyone can fill out the form online and make a small donation. Remember, all proceeds will go to the Tuscaloosa Children’s Home, a wonderful organization.”

“Well, this is just terrific,” Dallas said, forcing a smile. “Anything else you’d like to add?”

“That’s all for now. Just stay tuned to WTAL and WRCT for updates,” Abigail finished.

Dallas wrapped up the story and thanked Abigail for her time.

“I’m so happy your news director agreed to partner with us on this. It gives us tremendous visibility,” Abigail said as Daniel began to pack up the cords.

Suddenly Dallas realized that her news director had also set up her new job directing the play. Was he using her to do all the station’s charity work? Especially when there were bigger, higher profile stories she should be spending her time on? Maybe he didn’t want her to get the anchor seat after all. She’d always thought Mike liked her, but if that were true, why would he do this to her? It felt as if she was being sabotaged. All charity work. Every single story, except the one about the missing Baby Jesus statue, was about charities. Not a single lead story had been assigned to her since Thanksgiving, now that she thought about it. She would most definitely bring this up with Mike this afternoon at their meeting.

“Thanks again, Ms. Harper. I’m sure we’ll be back for a follow-up story next week to check in on how it’s all developing. Good luck with the contest,” Dallas said as she turned to walk out.

Just then, Daniel shouted, “Good Lord almighty, do ya’ll know there are three chickens on the front porch?”

“Oh, no. That didn’t take very long at all, did it? I was so afraid of this.” Abigail sighed. She stepped out in front of them, nearly tripping over the animals, one taking flight right into the mansion.

“Y’all, please, you have to take these chickens outta here,” she shouted to the skinny man in overalls.

“This here is the three French hens. That count for somethin’?”

Abigail lunged after the birds, shaking her hands wildly and shooing them off the porch. “This is gonna be a long two weeks,” she said, smiling at Dallas before making her way over to re-explain the rules of the contest to her visitor.

“Good luck,” Dallas responded, a bit surprised at how sweet Abigail seemed to be, even when chasing chickens around a porch. Dallas wasn’t used to that. People who were close to Lewis and Vivi didn’t usually smile at Dallas. But Abigail and her sister didn’t seem to know anything about her history with the little clique from her past. The sisters had just moved here from Tennessee. Dallas kinda liked that fact. She had never had a girlfriend. Too many people in town knew what her mother had done, abandoning one child for the sake of the other; they knew about Dallas’s woman-lovin’ father and his tarnished reputation and they assumed she’d be just the same. When her relationship with Blake hadn’t panned out either, people mostly assumed Dallas was to blame, since everyone thought Blake was perfect. Truthfully, Dallas had never had a chance to prove to herself that she could even have a girlfriend. She flashed Abigail a real smile as she turned toward the news van, the possibility of a new friendship cheering her mood.

Dallas practiced her speech to Mike all the way back to the station. Why would he be trying to hurt her chances for the anchor seat? She couldn’t even fathom an answer. As they pulled into a parking spot, she took a deep breath, ready for the confrontation. Well, the meeting. But now she had an agenda. She was determined to get to the bottom of this latest possible sabotage and find herself a lead story to cover. Dallas always had a bit of a chip on her shoulder, always assumed someone was out to get her. Maybe this time she was right.

6

Dallas jumped out of the news van, walking at a steady clip to the newsroom to find Mike. She was early for their meeting and could see he was in with someone else. She paced outside his window.

Her tenacity and focus had always been strong suits. She certainly never gave up on anything she wanted. That drive and bulldog mentality hadn’t always benefited her, though. In fact, it had been one of the problems back when her mother had abandoned her. She just couldn’t give up on her brother. She was a fighter. That’s why she wrote all those letters to him that first year. But eventually, she realized he would never answer her, so she gave up trying to contact him. But she tried as hard as she could to hold what was left of her family together, even at fifteen she thought she could fix it all. That never-give-up attitude was always her innate personality.

Those traits helped her enormously as a reporter, though, and were much of the reason she’d been as successful as she had been so early in her career. She would do whatever it took to get a story—and that had never been truer than it was now. She’d fight Mike on this if she had to, but she really hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

Dallas went to her desk to wait on Mike. She thumbed through the message notes that had been left on her desk. At the top of the pile was another one from her mother.

I need to see you.

She sighed and put it in her drawer. Dallas got out her calendar, looking over the next few days. Some of her stories had already been assigned. Obviously, if they had already been assigned, they were just fluff. No breaking news. No lead stories.

Mike emerged from his office and nodded his head to Dallas. He would see her now. She straightened her spine and gave her long hair a toss, ready to go after what she wanted and get her questions answered.

“Hey, Dallas,” Mike said, shutting the door after her. “Come on in and have a seat.”

Dallas sat down and crossed her long tan legs. She had on a cream-colored shift dress that hit above her knees and tall, knee-high boots with spiky high heels in nude leather. Since Mike had been the one to schedule the meeting, she had to sit through whatever he had to say before she could dig in and ask him why he was sabotaging her. But she knew she’d better rephrase that before she actually said it, for fear of sounding too accusatory. She braced herself for Mike’s comments.

“Dallas, I need to talk to you about yesterday.”

Here it comes.

“I wanted to call you in here to thank you.”

Wait...what?

“I know this whole directing thing is really out of your comfort zone, especially since you have a lot on your plate competing for the anchor chair. So thanks for agreeing to do the play.” Mike leaned back in his swivel chair and smiled.

Dallas didn’t know what to think. She tried to smile, to look gracious, but she was instantly suspicious. It was her nature not to trust.

“Sure, Mike. No problem. I mean...I knew I had to do it. It’s fine.” Dallas really didn’t know what to say. She really didn’t have any idea how she was going to bring up the topic of being shoved into all the fluff pieces lately, especially after the unexpected praise. The timing seemed off, but waiting was not something Dallas did very well, especially when it came to questions about her career. With no other plan available to her, she dived right in.

“Mike, I’ve been wondering about something.... Lately, I seem to be coverin’ a lot of...charity-based stories, you know? I just sorta miss having something more challenging. I miss the excitement of the leads.” There. It was out there and she’d used that honey method that had come to serve her so well. She batted her long lashes and uncrossed her legs, leaning forward toward Mike.

“Oh, I don’t know. I think you’re doing the same amount of leads as all the reporters here. And you know everyone is doing lots of charity stories right now. It’s just that time of year.”

Dallas wasn’t buying it. She leaned back in her chair and shifted position so that her skirt inched up a little higher on her thigh. She had Mike’s attention.

“Look, Mike,” she began, “it’s no secret between me and you that I want that anchor seat. I just wanna make sure I’m on the right track to get it.”

“Don’t worry, Dallas. It’s all good. Now look, I gotta get to another meeting downtown, but I did want you to know I appreciate you doing that play. Now, take care and get outta here.”

He winked at her as they both stood, her towering over the short, rather chubby news director in her five-inch boots. She wasn’t satisfied but went on back to her desk anyway. Her phone was ringing as she approached. Any call could be a lead to something big, so she hurried to the ringing phone.

“Dallas Dubois,” she answered.

“Please don’t hang up again.” LouAnn was on the other end of the line.

“Mother, I told you now is a bad time,” Dallas said, shocked at her persistence.

“I just want to see you, that’s all. It’s been too long. Please.” LouAnn sounded desperate.

“Yes, it has been a really long time. And that was most certainly not my choice. You can’t wait twenty years and expect that we’ll just pick up where we left off. Now I have a job to do. Please don’t call me again.” And she hung up.

There it was again. That lump in her throat. It was choking her. Daniel must have seen the emotional call from his edit bay, because he was now making his way toward her.

“Hey, you okay?” he whispered, almost nervously.

“No, not really. But I will be. I just need a minute.”

“What’s going on? Did Mike have a problem with the Baby Jesus story?”

“No, it’s nothing about Mike. It’s private.”

“Well, I’m here if you need me. I hate seein’ you sad, ya know?”

Dallas knew Daniel had a good heart, but if she had to work with him on a daily basis, there was no way she could let her guard down in front of him. Business was business and she had to keep it that way.

“I’m fine, Daniel. Don’t worry. Just the time of year...all that sentimental stuff. And then, you know, the fact that two reporters will be let go in a few weeks. I guess I just let it get to me, but I’m fine now.”

“Aw, Dallas, they would never let you go. I mean, after all that fantastic election coverage and that Find Lewis campaign you launched last spring, you’re a famous reporter. Come on, you know that,” he reminded her.

She smiled a weak smile as she reached for a tissue. Not to dab her eyes, but to blot her lipstick. She had managed to swallow that lump and move past the moment with the help of Daniel, although she would never admit she needed anyone.

Christmastime or not, she had grown used to going it alone. And she wasn’t fixin’ to change that for anyone—not for Mike, not for Daniel and especially not for a long-absentee mother.

7

Late that afternoon, Dallas and Daniel wrapped up the editing on the Twelve Days of Christmas story they’d shot that morning, then she grabbed her coat to head to the Bama Theatre for another rehearsal. The weather had turned bitter cold, which was totally abnormal for Tuscaloosa in mid-December. It was normally mild in Tuscaloosa, but this time of year the weather could be unpredictable. A freak snowstorm one day, then the next, sunny and sixty degrees. The current drop in temperature had Dallas bundled up beyond recognition—something she really didn’t like.

She parked in the front of the theater and made her way inside. Just as she entered the lobby, she heard her name mentioned from around the corner in the auditorium. Cal was talking to Betty Ann, the choir director. Dallas turned her back so they wouldn’t see she was there and listened.

“Oh, Cal. Give her a chance. I think she’ll figure it out,” Betty Ann was reasoning.

“I’m not so sure,” Cal shot back. “I have known this woman most of my life, and I’m telling you, she never changes. She’s probably the worst choice we could make for a director replacement. She’ll scare those poor kids to death and they’ll quit.”

Dallas bristled at that. Maybe she was a bit standoffish, but scary? Come on!

“Well, I think that’s just a tad harsh,” Betty Ann said. “Now, don’t you? She’s a media professional, which I would say makes her quite qualified—more than you or me, at least. And I know the board checked with her news director, and the TV station is fully behind her. Don’t judge her too quickly, okay? Let’s give her another chance.”

“I guess we don’t have a choice,” Cal said. “But I’m watching out for those kids. They’re my priority. Some of them from the foster home don’t have a soul in the world to protect or support them. I’m not gonna be able to just stand back and watch her make demands they can’t meet, or talk down to them and make ’em feel worse about themselves.”

Dallas thrust her nose in the air and rounded the corner, surprising them both.

“Good afternoon,” she said as she walked quickly right by them.

Both of them stood, bug-eyed, likely wondering if she’d heard them. Betty Ann made a quick exit down the theater side aisle as Cal headed to the sound booth upstairs.

“Okay, children take your places,” Dallas said as she removed her long coat and warm gloves, throwing them on a theater seat and climbing the stairs to the stage. “We don’t have any time to waste today.” She clapped her hands together and got right to work, directing them to their positions for the first scene. Better to make this successful than to fail in front of everyone, she thought. Nobody really thinks I can do this, so I’ll just have to prove them wrong. Plus, she knew Cal was listening to everything up there in the booth, as if he was God, so she was more determined than ever to show him just what she was capable of.

“Wait, Ms. Dubois,” Betty Ann broke in. “The children are still in choir practice right now. You’re a bit early.”

“Well, can’t they practice the songs second today instead of first?”

“Well, no, not really.”

“And why would that be?” Dallas demanded impatiently.

“Some of the children only come for the choir practice. Once we’re finished, they can go on home while the rest of the children stay for play rehearsal. It won’t be long, okay?” Betty Ann didn’t wait for an answer. She began to round the children up and head them down the hall off stage left to the choir room.

“Wait. Wait, please. Now, I’m a little confused. Am I the director or are you the director, Ms. Betty Ann?”

“Well, of course you are in charge,” replied Betty Ann, stunned. “But this is what works best for the children, Ms. Dubois. Is this a problem for you?” Her voice was almost sickly sweet, and she was smiling back at Dallas as if she could take her down with one little flick of the wrist. Betty Ann was an old-school Southern belle, schooled in the way of all good Southern women who smiled while they were ripping your head off, slowly. Or choking you with their string of pearls. It took quite a woman to intimidate Dallas, but suddenly she wasn’t so sure she was up for a fight.

“Of course not, but I just wanted to be clear so I know my responsibilities,” Dallas said, backing down. The whole take-charge attitude wasn’t really working at the moment.

“Wonderful. I knew I could count on you,” Betty Ann said, grinning as she took the children on to the choir room.

With the children off the stage, Dallas wandered around the set. It was precious, really, with little candy-cane streetlights and fake snow atop all the rooflines. A life-size gingerbread house sat in the corner, complete with Twizzler candies and gumdrop trimmings. Dallas was lost in the memories of her early childhood, where she stood singing on that very stage in a long-ago Christmastime production. She smiled briefly, softening in her recollection.

The set was actually too perfect—since when Dallas took her next step, she lost her footing on the stairs down the trap door, which was concealed by a carefully arranged pile of fake snow. Unable to steady herself, she fell right to the bottom, twisting her ankle on the way down. She was in a lot of pain, but still she was thankful that no one was around to see her in an embarrassed heap at the bottom of the stairs, her cream-colored dress dirty with dark marks and shoe prints from the wooden stage steps.

She tried to get up, but her ankle was hurt terribly. Suddenly, she heard someone walking across the stage. She thought it must be Cal and hurriedly tried to get up again. He couldn’t see her like this. She’d managed to shift only slightly to the side when she looked up to notice a cute little pudgy boy was standing at the top of the steps looking down at her. His mop of dark curly hair hung loosely around blue eyes that stared down at her.

“Ms. Dubois, are you okay? Do you need help?” he asked.

“No, I’m fine,” she said dismissively, her cheeks aflame. “Just go back to class. What are you doing out here anyway?” She hated feeling even remotely vulnerable and wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to break that habit, even when the most adorable little boy was looking into her eyes.

“I was going to the potty and I saw you fall down,” he said. Just then, Cal appeared next to him.

“Need some help?” he asked with a smirk.

“No, actually, I’m fine. Now, both of you just go. Really. I’m fine.”

“Well, are you plannin’ on stayin’ there long? The kids’ll be back here pretty soon to get started,” Cal said with his hands on his hips.

“Yes. Go. Really.” She winced as she tried to pull herself up, regretting the five-inch boots that, she admitted to herself, weren’t exactly the proper footwear for directing a children’s play.

“Go! Both of you.” She winced again.

“Come on, don’t be so stubborn. Can you just let me help you?” But Cal didn’t wait for a response. He skipped down the stairs and slipped his arm under hers and his other arm around her waist and helped her up. He was inches from her face. This was the very position she had promised herself to never be in again. The one she’d found herself in at the hospital when she’d been covering the birth of baby Tallulah. It was that dangerous spot that made her unable to think. Made her heart quicken and her palms sweat. His gray-green eyes fixed on hers, she could feel his breath on her face.

It didn’t seem to matter that they really didn’t get along; being that close stirred something inside her, made her feel a spark. And by the look in his eyes, she bet he felt it, too.

But she couldn’t even begin to think about that right now. Instead, she pushed away from him and began dusting herself off. She moved toward the stairs and tentatively climbed to the top, moving slowly on her tender ankle.

Cal followed closely behind her, and the little boy was still waiting on stage when she made it to the top. He reached out a small hand to Dallas, but she only shook her head.

“Thanks, but I’m fine. Go on back to class, uhm...” She didn’t know the child’s name yet.

“Tristan,” he smiled sweetly. “Tristan Brooks is my name.”

“Well, go back to choir, Tristan. Now.”

“Ms. Dubois,” he said, “Why don’t you like us?”

Dallas stopped fixing herself and stood in the silence. Cal looked at her with his eyebrows raised, apparently as interested in her answer as Tristan. She swallowed hard and cleared her throat, but before she could answer, the little boy ran off, disappearing into the darkness off stage. She gave herself a final dust-off, then smiled a forced grin at Cal and limped off to the ladies’ room.

In the bathroom, she sat down on an antique couch by the makeup mirrors and took off her boots. Her right ankle looked bruised and a tad swollen. She stood on it with all her weight. It hurt, but she decided it was just twisted. It felt good to be barefoot on the cold tile floor.

Then a knock.

“Hey, Dallas. The kids are coming back.” It was Cal. Was he worried about her?

“Okay, I’ll be right there,”

“Can you walk?” he asked through the door.

“I most certainly can.” She couldn’t help her tone—it came out snippy before she could even think about it. “Uh, thanks, though,” she added.

“Sure.” She could hear him walk away.

Her palms were still sweaty. Her heart was still jumping. If there would never be anything between them, she was going to have to learn to tone down her reactions to him along with everything else. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t shake that image of his face so close to hers.

8

Dallas arrived back at her place that evening and turned on the fireplace. It was a gas fireplace, so all you had to do was click on a switch and the flame appeared like magic. She had set up her little Christmas tree, the same one she had used for the past several years, in the corner next to the front window where the little twinkling lights could be seen from the street—though nothing would compete with the glaring monstrosity that was her neighbor’s decorations. She changed into some comfortable clothes, poured herself a glass of wine and flicked on the TV. Then she sank into the couch with a bag of frozen peas from the freezer on her swollen ankle.

Wilhelmina snuggled up next to her fuzzy socks, eventually creeping up to Dallas’s lap. The two of them sat together watching her favorite Christmas channel—Hallmark movies. You couldn’t beat those at Christmastime.

Alone in her house, Dallas let her walls come down. With her precious cat asleep on her lap, she felt safe and at peace from the frantic life she lived outside. She could take a break from the façade she constructed in front of the public. Here, she didn’t have to be tough or abrasive, cold or stoic. In the safe confines of her home, she was soft and romantic and longed for closeness. But she didn’t trust anyone with that side of her anymore. Not anyone but Wilhelmina. She sat comfortably, dozing early.

It was barely 7:30 p.m. when she heard a knock on the door, followed by giggling. What would a bunch of kids want with her? She moved Wilhelmina to the side, pushed the blanket off and hobbled awkwardly to the door. When she opened it, she was greeted by a chorus of young voices.

“You’re a mean one, Mrs. Grinch...” the kids sang.

Well, isn’t this sweet, she thought, wondering when caroling had become so cruel.

The kids continued to sing their own version of the famous Grinch song, personalizing it just for Dallas. She was not amused. Some of the faces she recognized as a few of the older kids from the play, and she was a little shocked that they’d be brave enough to play this kind of prank. Instead of laughing and being in on the joke, she rolled her eyes and slammed the door on them, remembering exactly why she had never been a fan of kids to begin with.

She scooped up Wilhelmina and limped to her bedroom. Her cell phone rang just as she’d sat down, so she reached across her bed and fumbled through her bag to find it.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s just me,” Daniel said on the other line. “We gotta set up early. That Dickens thing is all day, so you want me to swing by and just pick you up?”

“Sure, that’d be great. Thanks.” She was starting to think she might actually like Daniel, that they might be able to get along, after all.

“Well, this way you won’t have to drive your car, and I can just drop you off when it’s over,” he explained.

“Awesome. I really appreciate it. Parking for that thing is gonna be just awful. So, thanks again.”

“No problemo,” he said. “See ya at eight sharp.”

“Okay, good night.”

“Night.”

Dallas smiled as she turned over in her bed. Daniel was slowly becoming a friend. And for once, she decided she was going to allow that. She was glad he hadn’t been around to witness her great escape down the trap door stairs. All she could think of was how mortified she had been today with Cal and Tristan staring down at her.

It bothered her even more because it was Cal. Part of her wanted to appear perfect to him, to prove to him she was something special. Make him see just what he was missing. The same part of her wanted to prove something to her mother, to everyone, to show them that she was something, and weren’t they just sorry that they weren’t in her circle? But the trouble was, she had been pushing everyone away for so long that no one was even in her immediate circle to care. She had locked everyone out.

Quit it, she scolded herself. This was not the time to sulk over what she didn’t have. Instead, she needed to keep her eye on the prize. She needed to get the anchor spot and remain employed. Blaming the wine and lack of dinner for making her feel gloomy, she gingerly got to her feet and stumbled into the kitchen looking for something to eat.

Dallas had another secret that no one knew, and she’d never let anyone know this deep, dark part of herself. It was embarrassing, since so much of her life had been about competition—though not necessarily when it came to the basic skills of living.

Dallas had a huge problem when it came to blissful domesticity. She’d never learned to cook. Anything. She couldn’t bake something from a box. Somehow she even managed to burn noodles. And it didn’t stop there—she couldn’t iron, let alone sew on a button. She was a disaster as a homemaker. Her secret dream was to marry someone rich enough that those things just wouldn’t matter.

But until she could learn to let someone in, to trust someone enough to even consider marriage, her best friend would continue to be her microwave.

After a quick frozen dinner, she fed Wilhelmina and turned in early. She promised herself to go talk to those idiot neighbors before tomorrow night. Their Christmas lights were shining like the Las Vegas strip and she did need her beauty sleep, after all. Tomorrow was a big day. Dixie Dickens was the big story and she had finally been assigned the lead. She just hoped Cal wouldn’t be there to throw her off.

9

Dallas awoke excited. It was her first lead story in two weeks and she was ready. Dixie Dickens was a wonderful Christmas festival held every year. It was a time when the whole city was full of holiday excitement. Dallas and Daniel made their way downtown and parked in front of the old bank building near the city clock.

Every business and storefront was decked out for a Victorian Christmas. People were showing up in droves in period costumes. Long, velvet, cranberry-colored dresses, huge brimmed hats, tuxes with tails, white spats over black shiny shoes. Men wore tall top hats, offering their arm to the ladies. Costumed carolers strolled along the downtown streets.

The streetlights were wrapped in garland and topped with deep red velvet bows. Stands for hot cider and warm cocoa were set up along the sidewalks and down near the river. Tiny white lights were strung across the main street with huge wreaths draped right in the middle. Downtown historic sites would be open for candlelight tours as soon as dusk fell.

And at the end of the street, Father Christmas awaited the children who would anxiously stand in line for a chance to whisper their sugarplum wishes in his ear.

All of the romance of the Victorian period was alive and made Dallas feel better just being at the event. Even she was excited, if a tad nervous. It was the big story in town that day, and she knew Cal and the entire gang would be milling around somewhere.

“Let’s set up near the downtown Christmas tree first,” Dallas said.

“Perfect. I was thinking the same thing,” Daniel agreed as he began to unload the van and set up the camera. “People won’t start to arrive till the afternoon, and the lights won’t come on till dusk.”

“I was thinking I might like to do my stand-up tonight in front of the bagpipe parade. It’ll have great visuals and natural sound and they’ll be just far enough away” Dallas said. She was always a pro. Born to do the job she was doing. And she was a natural on camera, too.

The mood was light as she made her way around the area, taking a few notes and watching the shops set out their stands and put their candles in the windows. Her ankle was still a bit swollen but feeling much better. She’d decided to wear her three-inch heels today to play it safe. And she didn’t have to worry about a rehearsal tonight because the children from the choir were actually downtown marching in the evening parade.

The mayor would also be here making the rounds tonight. Kitty, Dallas’s former stepmother and Blake’s mother, was practically engaged to him, so she’d likely be at his side. They had been fused at the hip since late June and that made Dallas cringe a little.

Her relationship with Kitty wasn’t so bad. She had been married to Dallas’s dad for about ten years, starting just before Dallas had been sent to live with them. During that time, Kitty had tried to be a mother or at least a friend to Dallas, but she hadn’t actually spoken to Kitty since Vivi’s wedding back in September. It wasn’t really Kitty who was making her so nervous, though—it was her daughter, Blake, who would also be at the festival tonight.

Dallas worked hard that day, talking to many different merchants and making sure she was covering the event as thoroughly as she could. Late afternoon came, and she and Daniel sat in the satellite van to package the story, editing all the interviews and extra footage into the video that would run just before Dallas did the live stand-up to close the segment. She’d be the lead story tonight on the six o’clock news, and that was in just a couple of hours.

“I’m heading out for some hot chocolate. Want anything?” she asked Daniel.

“Yeah, I’ll take a hot cider.”

“Okay, be back in a few.” Dallas slipped out of the news van and into the cold night air.

Dusk was falling, and the clear cold winter air helped create a magnificent sunset over the Warrior River. Vibrant orange and turquoise illuminated the evening sky like a painting, casting a warm glow over downtown Tuscaloosa, now awash in the evening’s blush. In moments, the twinkling lights appeared, sprinkled over downtown like decorations on a cake.

Dallas walked over to the hot chocolate house and got in line. The closed-off streets were starting to fill up with families.

“Hey, aren’t you Dallas Dubois? I recognize you from TV,” said the young woman at the window.

“Oh,” Dallas said with a practiced smile. “Yep, it’s me, in person.” She loved being recognized. “I’ll take a hot chocolate and an apple cider, please.”

“Comin’ right up.” The girl disappeared to the side and returned with the warm drinks. “That’ll be two dollars.”

“Thanks so much,” Dallas said as she handed the money to the girl.

“Would you mind if I have your autograph?” she asked Dallas. “My momma will just die when she sees it.”

“Sure,” Dallas replied, basking in the attention. She set the cups down on the counter and took a pen from the girl and signed her order pad.

“Oh, thank you, Ms. Dubois. This is so awesome.”

“No problem,” she said, picking up her drinks again and turning around.

“Yes, Ms. Dubois, I’d love to get your autograph, too.”

Cal was standing right behind her, a look of sarcastic admiration on his face, and the surprise had her stumbling back, her warm drinks sloshing onto her winter-white Calvin Klein coat.

“Oh, no! Look at this mess,” she cried. “And I have a live shot in an hour.”

“Oh, crap. I’m so sorry. I really didn’t mean to scare you like that.” Cal did look genuinely sorry as he grabbed handfuls of napkins from the stand to help her clean up. He had a young man with him, his oldest nephew, Justin, there for the night. Justin was a freshman at Alabama. He looked enthralled to meet the star news reporter, even though she was currently splattered with a little hot chocolate.

“This is my nephew, Justin,” Cal said, offering her the napkins once she’d put down her cups. “He’s a freshman at Alabama. Justin, this is Dallas Dubois.”

“Wow. Nice to meet you, ma’am. I love watching you on TV,” the boy said, looking a little starstruck. She knew it wasn’t typical for the younger crowed to be familiar with local TV reporters, aside from maybe the anchors since they appeared on air nightly, but her Barbie-doll looks had garnered her more than a few male fans from the around town.

Dallas was busy trying to dab herself off before the stains set in, but she stuck her hand out to give Justin’s a shake.

“Yes, uhm... Hi, Justin, nice to meet you, too.” She gave a tight smile and then went back to the mess on her coat.

“Let me help you,” Cal said. And before she could say no, he was trying to wipe off the hot chocolate, too, patting the collar of her coat, his face in that dangerous place again, much too close to her own.

“Don’t worry, Cal, it’s fine. I’ve gotta go. These are gettin’ cold and Daniel is waiting.”

She grabbed the drinks and headed back to the news van in a hurry.

* * *

“So, Uncle Cal. Your friend is pretty hot,” Justin said as they walked back to Vivi and Lewis. “Why don’t you ask her out?”

“No way, kiddo. I’ve known that woman my whole life and she is nothing but bad news.” Then he laughed. “No pun intended.”

“I think I’d sacrifice the headline for her,” Justin teased. “She’s easily the hottest reporter Tuscaloosa has ever had.”

“Yeah, but she’s also incredibly full of herself. No room for me and all that hairspray in my little car.”

They laughed and rejoined the others curbside, waiting for the parade to begin.

10

Dallas positioned herself on the street corner where the bagpipe parade would march right behind her as she did her live stand-up. Everything was in place and ready to go. For a quick fix, she’d taken her scarf out of her coat and let it hang over the chocolate spatters so no one could see her little accident. Dallas was nothing if not resourceful.

The top of the newscast was playing in her earpiece, and she could hear the anchors introduce her. Daniel pointed and, giving her the signal, she was on.

“Good evening, Tuscaloosa. We are live at Dixie Dickens Downtown where we have traveled back to the lush and lovely times of the storybook Victorian era. So many Tuscaloosans are braving the chilly temperatures to be out here tonight just to have a chance to immerse themselves in the days of Charles Dickens and Tiny Tim.”

That was the toss to her packaged story, which was now playing while she waited for the engineers to toss it back to her for her live stand-up. Dallas could hear the bagpipes approaching from down the street. It was all going just as she’d planned.

Just then, the children’s choir rounded the street corner singing “I’ll Be Home For Christmas” as they came up behind her in front of the bagpipes. She turned, recognizing the little faces as those from the Christmas play she was directing, and Betty Ann was walking backward in front of them, directing.

As Dallas watched them, her eyes locked with little Tristan, who had been there when she’d fallen down the stairs. She was suddenly caught in the memory of what he’d asked her: Why don’t you like us? The question shook her even more now as the children sang the song that reminded her of the days when her own childhood was happy, when she’d had her older brother and her mother home with her for Christmas. Behind Tristan she recognized one of the older children who’d caroled cruelly on her doorstep the night before. Behind the choir, Kitty and the mayor walked happily, arm in arm, waving merrily at the gathered crowds.

A knot began to form in her stomach. It was as if the town had planned this—to parade all the uncomfortable moments she’d been dealing with lately in front of her right before she was meant to be live on TV.

Dallas was fixin’ to hit overload when she turned and saw Lewis and Vivi, Blake and Sonny, all standing and laughing with Cal. In that very second, the engineers threw the shot back to her. Between the cute little boy, the song, the thought of being Mrs. Grinch and seeing the Cal clique, it was just too much for her.

Daniel signaled her to go. “You’re on....”

“We are live in downtown Tuscaloosa....”

She could feel all the eyes searing her like laser beams. She locked gazes with Blake, who smiled at her. Dallas took that as a dare, assuming Blake meant, Go on, I dare you to finish the broadcast under all this pressure.

“So come on out and join us...um... Yes, we are live at the, uh, Dixie Dickens....”

She looked at Cal. Of course he could tell she was having trouble, but he didn’t smile back, and she took that as a vote of no confidence. It was her first live shot in weeks, yet suddenly, every single insecurity Dallas had ever had hit her all at once in this one important moment. The anchor seat hung in the balance. And Dallas was blowing it. In front of everyone.

“Dallas Dubois...good night.” She didn’t even utter the station call letters. Totally embarrassed, she tossed her microphone to Daniel and ran off into the darkness. This was the first major mistake she had ever made on live TV. Well, unless you counted a few weeks ago when she’d told all of Tuscaloosa she hated children, but she had covered herself on that one, so it didn’t count. This time, there was no way to hide her blundering.

Everyone heard her stutter. The Cal clique watched her run off. Anyone who’d had the TV on tonight would have seen her fail miserably—including Mike, her station manager. Dallas couldn’t imagine how this night could get any worse.

* * *

Blake felt terrible as she watched Dallas make a quick exit through the commotion of the parade. Even after everything she and Dallas had been through over the years, Blake still wanted her to succeed. She placed her hand on her burgeoning belly, her other hand held tightly by the love of her life, police chief Sonny Bartholomew. It hadn’t been an easy road to find this kind of happiness, to find the love and the family she’d always hoped for. She knew Dallas must be searching for the same thing, even if she wasn’t exactly the warmest person Blake knew.

Suddenly Blake was struck with the memory of a certain beauty pageant when she and her best friend, Vivi, had covered Dallas’s sparkly dress with itching powder. Dallas had been driving them crazy with her bad attitude and downright meanness, so they’d thought a little public humiliation might put her in her place. But once the plan was in effect, Blake regretted having gone so far. She’d felt so bad when they found Dallas sitting in the wings of the stage, sixteen years old, itching and crying and all alone. Dallas didn’t have a mother to come backstage and tend to her, they’d realized. And Blake was supposed to have been her family.

In a split second, Blake knew she had a once-in-a-lifetime chance to fix that. To make up for that awful trick and to take some responsibility. She kissed Sonny on the cheek and said, “I’ll be right back,” then she darted off into the darkness after Dallas.

Eventually she found her sitting on a dark street corner behind the courthouse, and she was crying. Dallas never cried in front of anyone, Blake knew. Not ever. She had buried her face in her knees, and didn’t see Blake approaching until she was right in front of her. Blake knelt down on one knee.

“Dallas. It’s okay. Really.” She barely knew what to say, with all their history of bad blood.

“Oh, perfect,” Dallas groaned. “Blake, just get out of here. Leave me alone.”

“Please, let me talk to you. I promise I am being for real. Listen to me, it’s all okay.”

“What do you know about it? Anyway, I can’t trust you. You’ve lived for this moment!” Dallas was furious, her cheeks wet with tears but her eyes blazing with anger. “You’ve always wanted to see how hard I can fall. So, go ahead and have your laugh. You’ve been out to get me my whole life. I’m sure you and your friends are just delighted with that display back there. Just get the hell outta here.”

“Dallas, I’m not going anywhere. I can be just as stubborn as you. I’m a lawyer, remember?”

“How could I forget?” Dallas rolled her eyes. “You’ve been bragging about that since graduation day.”

“What I mean is, we’re a lot alike, Dallas. Strong and determined. And no matter what happened out there tonight, you are a wonderful reporter.”

Dallas’s mouth hung open. Her brows were bent. She looked utterly stunned to hear that statement from her archenemy.

“You are.” Blake was looking Dallas right in the eyes as she spoke, and she meant every word that she said. Blake had been through some huge changes recently—her divorce from political-minded Harry, finding Sonny, her high-school sweetheart and true love, and now she was carrying Sonny’s baby. She had matured since those days when all she and Dallas could do was bicker. She was genuine and sincere in her words to Dallas, and she just hoped Dallas would be able to see that.

“I know it seemed rough out there,” Blake continued, “but you did better than you think. Honestly, it just looked like those damn bagpipes were too freakin’ loud and you couldn’t hear yourself think. That’s all. You were great, and I bet no one will even think twice about that. Don’t worry about it anymore. You need to get out there and enjoy this party now.”

“Blake, I don’t know why you’re doing this. Is this just some way to mock me?” Dallas seemed worn down but hopeful.

“No...not at all. I just wanted you to know you’re good at this. I know we’ve never been all that nice to each other, and I’m really sorry about that. We’ve both made mistakes, but, listen, I want to put all that in the past, okay?”

“Sure, I mean...I guess.” Dallas took a tissue from her coat pocket and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I still have no idea why in the world you are doin’ this.”

“I’m doing it ’cause it’s time. That’s all. It was overdue.” Blake reached over and squeezed Dallas’s cold hand and smiled a confident smile. “Now, go have some fun. I’ll see you later.” And Blake walked away.

* * *

Dallas stood alone on the dark street corner. What the hell had just happened? She felt her head swimming as she tried to process everything. Something was stirring inside her that she hadn’t felt in a very long time. Even though she had messed up her report, even though everything seemed to be hitting her at once, and her job—heck, her happiness—was on the line, something inside her felt really good. It was a feeling she hadn’t felt since childhood. It was a sense of hope, and she held on to it as tightly as she could.

Dallas walked slowly back to the news van, and Daniel hugged her as soon as she stepped up into the back.

“You were fine, ya know?” he said softly. “Besides, nobody really heard anything, those freakin’ bagpipers were so loud,” he added, laughing. She knew it was obvious that she’d been crying, and he was trying to lighten the mood. He knew she put so much pressure on herself, and the bubble had burst tonight. At least in her eyes.

Dallas sat in the passenger seat and buckled up. “Let’s just head back, okay? I need to go home.” She had to reconcile to herself that tonight’s performance didn’t do anything to help her shot at the anchor seat. And she had to try to wrap her mind around the idea of Blake and...friendship? Even the thought of that was too crazy to process.

“You sure you don’t wanna go back to the station?”

“No, I really need to get off this ankle.” She gave him a small smile. She was tired. And she really didn’t want to face anyone at WTAL. She just wanted to get home to Wilhelmina, where she felt safe. Where everything still made sense.

* * *

Daniel let Dallas out in front of her house, and she made her way up to the front porch. It was dark. She had forgotten to leave the light on, and her few Christmas lights weren’t on any sort of automatic timer. The neighbor’s Times Square lights were glaring, as usual, so she used them to find her way up the stairs of her front porch and fumbled to put her key in the front door. Out of the shadows of the porch, a figure approached her.

“Dallas?” The person reached for her arm, and Dallas nearly jumped out of her skin.

“I’m sorry to show up like this,” the woman said softly. “I didn’t mean to scare you, but I really needed to see you. And since you wouldn’t return my calls, I had to come here.”

“Mother!” Dallas had to take this in a minute. She hadn’t seen her mother in so many years and, looking at her now, she realized she would have hardly recognized her on the street. “You shouldn’t have come here,” she said as she opened her front door and flicked on the porch light, all of the Christmas lights coming on at the same time.

“Please, let me come in. It’s freezing out here.”

“Fine,” Dallas said after a slight pause. “But you can’t stay long. I have an early meeting tomorrow and I just got back from work.” She allowed her mother inside. LouAnn looked frail. She was certainly not aging well. She was already a small woman, but she had withered over the years. Her dry gray hair was unruly, sticking out from under her knitted winter hat.

Dallas took her coat and hat, hanging them on a hook by the door before leading her mother into the living room. They sat awkwardly at opposite ends of the couch, both of them silent for a few moments.

Eventually, LouAnn spoke. “Dallas, I want you to know I think it’s time we all get together this year, you know, for Christmas.”

“Really? You think it’s time? Why not last year? Why not twenty years ago, Mother?”

“Look, I know you’re still angry...”

“Angry? Is that all you think I am? Let me clue you in. I’m infuriated. I’m appalled. I want nothing to do with you. Ever! You left me. You chose Houston over me—something no proper mother would ever even consider. I’m not just angry, Mother. I’m alone! And it’s because of you and your inability to take responsibilities. I was your daughter and you abandoned me. I’m not sure why you think you can turn up on my doorstep after twenty years of silence and think we’re gonna have a nice little chat. It’s laughable, really. Now, thank you very much for this little surprise visit, but I want you to go.”

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