Mack didn’t understand why his mother felt she had to review her dinner menu with him, but he let her chatter on, knowing it made her feel better.

“I was thinking,” she said, abruptly changing the subject.

“Yes, Mom?”

“You should get married.”

If Mack had been swallowing a drink at the time he would’ve choked. “I beg your pardon?”

“You’re settling down here in Cedar Cove?”

He noticed that she’d made it a question. “Well, I wouldn’t go that far.”

“I would,” she said. “You have a steady job.” She didn’t add that this was perhaps his tenth career change in the last six years. Mack was easily bored and tended to jump from job to job. He’d worked part-time for the post office, done construction, delivered for UPS and held half a dozen other short-term jobs since dropping out of college. He’d also renovated a rundown house and sold it for a tidy profit.

Mack’s restlessness had contributed to the often acrimonious relationship he’d had with his father. Roy McAfee hadn’t approved of Mack’s need for change. He felt Mack was irresponsible and hadn’t taken his life seriously enough. In some ways Mack supposed his father was right. Still, his new job with the fire department seemed to suit him perfectly, giving him the variety, the excitement and the camaraderie he craved. It also gave him a greater sense of purpose than anything else he’d done.

He and his dad got along better these days. Roy had actually apologized for his attitude toward Mack, which had come as a real shock. It had made a big difference in their relationship, though, and for that Mack was grateful.

“You think I should be married,” he repeated, as though it was a foreign word whose meaning eluded him.

“You’re twenty-eight.”

“I know how old I am, Mom.”

“It’s time,” she said simply.

“Really?” He found his mother’s decree almost humorous.

“Have you met anyone special?” she asked.

“Mom!” he protested. Yet the picture of Mary Jo Wyse shot instantly into his mind. He knew from the conversation he’d overheard at the library that she was pregnant and single and that David Rhodes was her baby’s father. He’d also heard a reference to Charlotte and Ben Rhodes. He was familiar with them, but completely in the dark about David.

“I’m not trying to pressure you,” his mother continued. “It’s just that it would be nice to have grandchildren one day.”

Mack chuckled. “If you want, I’ll get to work on that first thing.”

“Mack,” she chastised, “you know what I mean.”

He did but still enjoyed teasing her. While she was on the phone, he decided to take the opportunity to find out what he could about the father of Mary Jo’s baby. “Can you tell me anything about David Rhodes?” he asked.

“David Rhodes,” his mother said slowly. “Is he related to Ben Rhodes?”

“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 it was her 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?”

He already knew as much but preferred not to contribute to the gossip obviously making the rounds. Regardless, Mack couldn’t get Mary Jo out of his mind. “Did Shirley happen to say where Mary Jo is right now?” Maybe someone should check up on her. Mack had recommended she rest for the remainder of the day but he didn’t like the idea of her being alone.

“No,” his mother said. “She’ll be fine, won’t she?”

“I assume so….”

“Good.”

“Where’s Dad?” Mack asked.

His mother laughed softly. “Where do you think he is?”

It didn’t take a private eye—which his father was—to know the answer to that. “Shopping,” Mack said with a grin.

“Right. Your father’s so efficient about everything else, yet he leaves gift-buying until the last possible minute.”

“I remember that one year when the only store open was the pharmacy,” he recalled. “He brought you a jigsaw puzzle of the Tower of London, two romance novels and some nail polish remover.”

“And he was so proud of himself,” Corrie said fondly.

“We all had a good time putting that puzzle together, didn’t we?” It’d been one of their better Christmases, and the family still did jigsaw puzzles every holiday. A small family tradition had come about as a result of that particular Christmas and his father’s last-minute gift.

“You’ll call in the morning?” his mother asked.

“I will,” Mack promised. “And I’ll stop by the house as soon as I’m relieved. It’ll be late tomorrow afternoon. Save me some leftovers, okay?”

“Of course,” his mother murmured. “Gloria’s schedule is the reverse of yours, so she’s coming over in the morning.” Corrie sounded slightly more cheerful as she said, “At least we’ll see you both for a little while.”

After a few words of farewell, Mack snapped his cell phone shut and clipped it back on his waistband.

He’d no sooner started getting everything ready for that night’s dinner than Brandon Hutton sauntered into the kitchen. “You got company.”

“Me?” Mack couldn’t imagine who’d come looking for him. He was new in town and didn’t know many people yet.

“Some guy and a woman,” Brandon elaborated.

“Did they give you a name?” Mack asked.

“Sorry, no.”

Mack walked toward the front of the building and as he neared he heard voices—one of them unmistakably his sister’s.

“Linnette!” he said, bursting into the room.

“Mack.” She threw herself into his arms for a fierce hug.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. The last he’d heard she was in Buffalo Valley and intended to stay there for the holidays.

She slipped one arm around his waist. “It’s a surprise. Pete suggested it and offered to drive me, so here I am.”

Mack turned to the other man. In a phone conversation the month before, Linnette had told him she’d met a farmer and that they were seeing each other. “Mack McAfee,” he said, offering his hand.

Pete’s handshake was firm. “Pleased to meet you, Mack.”

“Happy to meet you, too.” He turned back to his sister. “Mom doesn’t know?”

Linnette giggled. “She doesn’t have a clue. Dad, either. It’s going to be a total shock to both of them.”

“When did you arrive?”

“About five minutes ago. We decided to come and see you first, then we’re going to the house.”

“Dad’s out doing his Christmas shopping.”

Linnette laughed and looked at Pete. “What did I tell you?”

“That he’d be shopping,” Pete said laconically.

“Mom’s busy cooking, I’ll bet.” This comment was directed at Mack.

“My favorite salad,” he informed her. “Even though I won’t be there, she’s making it for me. I’m already looking forward to the leftovers. Oh, and she decided on ham this year.”

Linnette laughed again. “She discussed her Christmas menu with you?”

“In minute detail.”

“Poor Mom,” Linnette murmured.

“I wish I could see the expression on her face when you walk in the door.”

“I love that we’re going to surprise her.” Linnette’s wide grin was perhaps the best Christmas gift he could have received. His sister, happy again.

Mack hadn’t seen her smile like this in…well, a year anyway.

“Call me later and let me know how long it takes Mom to stop crying.”

“I will,” Linnette said.

His sister and Pete left for the house, and Mack returned to the firehouse kitchen, where he was assigned cooking duty that evening. He resumed chopping onions for the vat of chili he planned to make—how was that for Christmas Eve dinner? He caught himself wishing he could be at his parents’ place tonight, after all. Although he’d just met Pete, Mack sensed that he was a solid, hard-working, no-nonsense man. Exactly what Linnette needed, and someone Mack wanted to know better.