Page 35 of Mistletoe and Mischief

“His son, I believe.”

“Let me go ask your father.”

“That’s okay, Mom, don’t bother. It’s no big deal.”

“Why’d you ask, then?”

“Oh, someone mentioned him, that’s all.” Mack was reluctant to bring up Mary Jo; for one thing, it’d been a chance encounter and he wasn’t likely to see her again. Clearly she wasn’t from here.

“Mack. Tell me.”

“I treated a young woman at the library this morning.”

“The pregnant girl?” Her voice rose excitedly.

Word sure spread fast in a small town, something Mack wasn’t accustomed to yet. “How do you know about Mary Jo?” he asked.

“Mary Jo,” his mother said wistfully. “What a nice name.”

She had a nice face to go with it, too, Mack mused and then caught himself. He had no business thinking about her. None whatsoever.

“I met Shirley Bliss in the grocery store earlier,” his mother went on to say. “The last thing I wanted to do was make a dash to the store. You know how busy they get the day before a big holiday.”

Actually, he didn’t, not from experience, but it seemed logical enough.

“Anyway, I ran out of evaporated milk. I needed it for that green Jell-o salad I make every Christmas.”

Mack remembered that salad well; it was one of his favorites. His mother had insisted on making it, he noted, even though Mack wouldn’t be joining the family for dinner.

“I could’ve used regular milk, I guess, but I was afraid it wouldn’t taste the same. I don’t like to use substitutes if it can be avoided.”

“Shirley Bliss, Mom,” he reminded her.

“Oh, yes. Shirley. I saw her at the store. She was with her daughter, Tanni.”

“O-k-a-y.” Mack dragged out the word, hoping she’d get to the point.

“That’s a lovely name, isn’t it?” his mother asked. “Her given name is Tannith.”

“Tanni’s the one who told you about Mary Jo?” he asked, bringing her back to the discussion.

“No, Shirley did.” She hesitated. “Well, on second thought, it was Tanni’s boyfriend, Shaw, who told her, so I guess in a manner of speaking itwasher daughter.”

“And how did Shaw hear?” he pressed, losing track of all these names.

“Apparently Mary Jo came into Mocha Mama’s this morning and was asking him a lot of questions.”

“Oh.”

“And he suggested she ask Grace Harding about David Rhodes.”

“I see.” Well, he was beginning to, anyway.

“Shirley said Shaw told her that Mary Jo looked like she was about to deliver that baby any minute.”

“She’s due in two weeks.”

“My goodness! Do you think David Rhodes is the baby’s father?” his mother breathed, as if suddenly making the connection. “It makes sense, doesn’t it?”

---