Page 28 of Dragged Home for Christmas

Mike smiled. “That’s a great idea.”

“I can always sell a few dresses,” Anthony said with a shrug.

“You can’t do that,” Mike retorted. “They’re yourlivelihood.”

Anthony rolled his eyes. “Notallof them. I’ll save a couple. Besides, I can always make new ones.” He buffed his nails on his sweater. “I taught myself to sew when Cal left.”

“I could sell Nick’s dresses,” Mike suggested with as innocent an air as he could muster.

Sam’s eyes sparkled. “You could—as long as you remember to save one for your Christmas performance.” He cocked his head. “Or did you think I wasn’t serious?”

“A guy can hope, right?” Mike wasn’t sold on the idea. Besides, people wouldn’t come to see him.

“What about Nick’s costume jewelry?” Jim suggested.

Mike blinked. “How much are we talking?”

Elliott chuckled. “Nick was a sucker for anything sparkly. There’s a box someplace where he kept it all.”

Mike shook his head. “I’m learning something new every day. I guess I can take a look.”

“Nick wouldn’t mind if you sold it all.” Sam’s face glowed. “Not if it’s in a good cause.”

“Nick would’ve given the shirt off his back if someone needed it,” Anthony said in a low voice. “That’s the kind of guy he was.”

Mike stared at him, surprised to hear his own thoughts mirrored so exactly. “Yes, yes he was.”

“About what we said earlier…” Elliott stared into his coffee. “I’ve been thinking. I might pay Stephan Yeager a visit.”

“Who’s he?” Mike inquired.

“He runs a gallery on Commercial Street, near Washington Avenue,” Jim told him.

“I’ve walked past his gallery lots of times and taken a look at his paintings. There’s some good stuff in there.” Elliott shrugged. “It’s worth asking him.” Jim stifled a snort,and Elliot glared at him. “Something wrong with that?”

Jim gave him an innocent glance. “Nothing at all, sugar. Would that be the same Stephan you drool over every time he goes running through the town, wearing those gray sweatpants of his?”

Elliott gasped. “I donotdrool over him.”

“Bitch, please. I catch you staring at his bulge every goddamn time. You know, that makes it look as if he’s stuffed a large paintbrush down there? Not that I blame you. The way that thing moves around? EvenI’mhypnotized.”

“Can we focus here? Please?” Sam gave them a hard stare.

Elliott’s and Jim’s cheeks pinked.

“There’s the guy who plays piano at the Crown & Anchor sometimes,” Anthony mused. “Phil something. I’ve seen him in one of the bars too. I can ask if he’d do a show.”

“And I know a couple of DJs,” Elliott added. “I’ll have a word, see what their rates are.”

“One more thing. The Thanksgiving brunch.” Mike gazed at them. “If we’re going to do this, we need to start advertising itnow. And that means flyers, posters…”

“Leave those to me,” Ashley announced. She frowned. “I also have a question. Who’ll be doing the cooking?”

Three voices rose in unison. “Not Jim!”

Mike laughed. “Yeah, I think we already worked that out. And as soon as we have flyers, someone needs to deliver them everywhere. And I mean everywhere.”

“I’ll deal with that one,” Sam told him. The others glanced at him with wry smiles, and he raised his eyebrows. “What? So I’m practical. Bite me. We all work to our strengths, right?”

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