Page 67 of A Very Naughty Christmas

“I don’t think this is from the boutique in town,” Emmaline declared as she examined a section of the skirt through her reading glasses. “This appears hand stitched.”

Jan stepped up and helped her search for a label, finding it first. “Adrianna Pappell?”

“That’s a designer label,” the older woman advised, “and they start at three hundred dollars.”

“It’s a mistake,” Dixie cried. “Put it back before we get something on it.”

“There’s a note,” Emmaline said, as she passed her an envelope.

Shaking, she opened it and started to read a printed-out email message.

For Saturday night…

I haven’t been able to reach you by phone, and you didn’t respond to the message I left with Pete. I hope all is well.

I was called away on an urgent consult in South America, but will be home Friday. Cell signal is patchy in this little village and I won’t be able to call, unless I can get to a satellite phone.

Since I couldn’t pick this out myself, I gave my sister, Alana, explicit instructions. Sophisticated and alluring, but not baring all because that’s mine.

Can’t wait to see you all decked out for the gala.

Thinking of you always,

Kyle

When she was done, she took a shuddering, hitching gulp of air.

“Uh-oh, we need napkins, stat,” Janice said, reaching for the aluminum holder in front of one of the customers at the counter.

“Who is it from?” the woman whispered.

“I don’t know yet,” Jan whispered back, only she was loud enough for everyone to hear. “Stay tuned.”

“I thought he du-u-umped m-me…” she stuttered, breaking down in sobs, which she hardly ever did. “But he was o-ou-out of town helping a sick child. I’m an awful p-pe-person and do-don’t…” She sniffled, grabbing a wad of napkins from the holder Jan held out to her. She blew her nose. “I don’t deserve him.”

“Who?” Jan demanded.

“Kyle.”

“Prescott?” the customer asked.

“Yes…” Dixie answered on a quivering breath.

“I didn’t know you were seeing him? He hasn’t been in for a while,” Jan pointed out, “so I thought he gave up.”

“We’ve only been seeing each other for a week.” She began wailing again. “And… and… I suck as a girlfriend.”

“What the hell is going on out here? Are we having a knitting circle or are we running a diner?” Pete bellowed from the kitchen doorway.

Dixie spun on him and stormed his way. “Did you take a message from Kyle?”

“Who?”

“Kyle Prescott,” the entire diner full of customers replied.

“The football player?” Pete asked, blinking in surprise.

“Yes, did he call and leave me a message?”

---