Chapter 2
Two
K.O. waited until she’d worked two hours straight before she phoned her sister. Zelda was a stay-at-home mom with Zoe and
Zara, who were identical twins. Earlier in the year Zelda and Zach had purchased the girls each a dog. Two Yorkshire terriers,
which the two girls had promptly named Zero and Zorro. K.O. called her sister’s home the Land of Z. Even now, she wasn’t sure
how Zelda kept the girls straight, let alone the dogs. Even their barks sounded identical. Yap. Yap and yap with an occasional yip thrown in for variety, as if they sometimes grew bored with the sound of their own yapping.
Zelda answered on the third ring, sounding frazzled and breathless. “Yes?” she snapped into the phone.
“Is this a bad time?” K.O. asked.
“Oh, hi.” The lack of enthusiasm was apparent. In addition to everything else, Dr. Jeffries’s theories had placed a strain
on K.O.’s relations with her younger sister.
“Merry Christmas to you, too,” K.O. said cheerfully. “Can you talk?”
“Sure.”
“The girls are napping?”
“No,” Zelda muttered. “They decided they no longer need naps. Dr. Jeffries says on page 125 of his book that children should
be allowed to sleep when, and only when, they decide they’re tired. Forcing them into regimented nap- and bedtimes, is in
opposition to their biological natures.”
“I see.” K.O. restrained the urge to argue. “Speaking of Dr. Jeffries . . .”
“I know you don’t agree with his philosophy, but this is the way Zach and I have chosen to raise our daughters. When you have
a family of your own, you can choose how best to parent your children.”
“True, but . . .”
“Sorry,” Zelda cried. It sounded as if she’d dropped the phone.
In the background, K.O. could hear her sister shouting at the girls and the dogs. Her shouts were punctuated with the dogs’
yapping. A good five minutes passed before Zelda was back.
“What happened?” K.O. asked, genuinely concerned.
“Oh, nothing.”
“As I started to say, I saw Dr. Jeffries.”
“On television?” Zelda asked, only half-interested.
“No, in person.”
“Where?” All at once she had Zelda’s attention.
“On Blossom Street. You aren’t going to believe this, but he actually lives in my building.”
“Dr. Jeffries? Get out of here!”
Zelda was definitely interested now. “Wait—I heard he moved to Seattle just before his book was published.” She took a deep breath. “Wow! You really saw him?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Oh, my goodness, did you talk to him? Is he as handsome in person as he is in his photo?”
Feeling about him the way she did, K.O. had to consider the question for a moment. “He’s fairly easy on the eyes.” That was
an understatement but looks weren’t everything. To her mind, he seemed stiff and unapproachable. Distant, even.
“Did you tell him that Zach and I both read his book and what a difference it’s made in our lives?”
“No, but . . .”
“K.O., could you . . . Would it be too much to get his autograph? Could you bring it on the fifteenth?”
K.O. had agreed to spend the night with the twins while Zelda and Zach attended his company’s Christmas party. Her sister
and brother-in-law had made arrangements to stay at a hotel downtown, just the two of them.
“All the mothers at the preschool would die to have Dr. Jeffries’s autograph.”
“I haven’t met him,” K.O. protested. It wasn’t like she had any desire to form a fan club for him, either.
“But you just said he lives in your building.”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure it’s him?”
“It looks like him. Anyway, LaVonne said it was.”
Zelda gave a small shout of excitement. “If LaVonne says it’s him, then it must be. How could you live in the same building
as Dr. Jeffries and not know it?” her sister cried as though K.O. had somehow avoided this critical knowledge on purpose.
“This is truly amazing. I’ve got to have his autograph.”
“I’ll . . . see what I can do,” K.O. promised.
This was not good. She’d hoped to find common ground with her sister, not become a .
. . a go-between so Zelda could get her hero’s autograph.
Some hero! K.O.’s views on just about everything having to do with parenting were diametrically opposed to those purveyed by Dr. Wynn Jeffries.
She’d feel like a fraud if she asked for his autograph.
“One more thing,” Zelda said when her excitement had died down. “I know we don’t agree on child-rearing techniques.”
“That’s true, but I understand these are your daughters.” She took a deep breath. “How you raise them isn’t really any of
my business.”
“Exactly,” Zelda said emphatically. “Therefore, Zach and I want you to know we’ve decided to downplay Christmas this year.”
“Downplay Christmas,” K.O. repeated, not sure what that meant.
“We aren’t putting up a tree.”
“No Christmas tree!” K.O. sputtered, doing a poor job of hiding her disapproval. She couldn’t imagine celebrating the holiday
without decorating a tree. Her poor nieces would be deprived of a very important tradition.
“I might allow a small potted one for the kitchen table.” Zelda seemed a bit doubtful herself. She should be doubtful, since a Christmas tree had always been part of their own family celebration. The fact that their parents had
moved to Arizona was difficult enough. This year they’d decided to take a cruise in the South Pacific over Christmas and New
Year’s. While K.O. was happy to see her mother and father enjoying their retirement, she missed them enormously.
“Is this another of Dr. Jeffries’s ideas?” K.O. had read enough of his book—and heard more than enough about his theories—to suspect it was. Still, she could hardly fathom that even Wynn Jeffries would go this far.
Outlaw Christmas? The man was a menace!
“Dr. Jeffries believes that misleading children about Santa does them lasting psychological damage.”
“The girls can’t have Santa, either?” This was cruel and unusual punishment. “Next you’ll be telling me that you’re doing
away with the tooth fairy, too.”
“Why, yes, of course. It’s the same principle.”
K.O. knew better than to argue with her sister. “Getting back to Christmas . . .” she began.
“Yes, Christmas. Like I said, Zach and I are planning to make it a low-key affair this year. Anything that involves Santa
is out of the question.”
Thankfully her sister was unable to see K.O. roll her eyes.
“In fact, Dr. Jeffries has a chapter on the subject. It’s called ‘Bury Santa Under the Sleigh.’ Chapter eight.”
“He wants to bury Santa Claus?” K.O. had heard enough. She’d personally bury Dr. Jeffries under a pile of plowed snow before
she’d let him take Christmas away from Zoe and Zara. As far as she was concerned, his entire philosophy was unacceptable,
but this no-Santa nonsense was too much. Here was where she drew her line in the snow—a line Wynn Jeffries had overstepped.
“Haven’t you been listening to anything I’ve said?” Zelda asked.
“Unfortunately, I have.”
Her doorbell chimed. “I need to go,” K.O. told her sister. She sighed. “I’ll see what I can do about that autograph.”
“Yes, please,” Zelda said with unmistakable gratitude. “It would mean the world to me if you could get Dr. Jeffries’s autograph.”
Sighing again, K.O. replaced the receiver and opened the door to find her neighbor LaVonne standing there. Although standing wasn’t exactly the right word. LaVonne was practically leaping up and down. “I’m sorry to bother you but I just couldn’t
wait.”
“Come in,” K.O. said.
“I can’t stay but a minute,” the retired CPA insisted as she stepped over the threshold, clutching Tom. “I did it!” she exclaimed.
“I saw the future.” She squealed with delight and did a small jig. “I saw the future of your love life, K.O. It happened when
I went to change the kitty litter.”
“The . . . kitty litter.” That was fitting, since it was where her love life happened to be at the moment. In some kind of
toilet, anyway.
“Tom had just finished his business,” LaVonne continued, gazing lovingly at her cat, “and there it was, plain as day.”
“His business?” K.O. asked.
“No, no, the future. You know how some people with the gift can read tea leaves? Well, it came to me in the kitty-litter box. I know it sounds crazy but it’s true. It was right there
in front of me,” she said. “You’re going to meet the man of your dreams.”
“Really?” K.O. hated to sound so disappointed. “I don’t suppose you happened to see anything in the kitty litter about me
finding a job?”
LaVonne shook her head. “Sorry, no. Do you think I should go back and look again? It’s all in the way it’s arranged in the
kitty litter,” she confided. “Just like tea leaves.”
“Probably not.” K.O. didn’t want to be responsible for her neighbor sifting through Tom’s “business” any more than necessary.
“I’ll concentrate on your job prospects next.”
“Great.” K.O. was far more interested in locating full-time employment than falling in love. At twenty-eight she wasn’t in
a rush, although it was admittedly time to start thinking about a serious relationship. Besides, working at home wasn’t conducive to meeting men.
Zelda seemed to think that as a medical transcriptionist K.O. would meet any number of eligible physicians. That, however,
hadn’t turned out to be the case. The only person in a white coat she’d encountered in the last six months had been her dentist,
and he’d been more interested in looking at her X-rays than at her.
“Before I forget,” LaVonne said, getting ready to leave. “I’d like you to come over tomorrow for cocktails and appetizers.”
“Sure.” It wasn’t as if her social calendar was crowded. “Thanks.”
“I’ll see you at six.” LaVonne let herself out.
“Concentrate on seeing a job for me,” K.O. reminded her, sticking her head in the hallway. “The next time you empty the litter
box, I mean.”
LaVonne nodded. “I will,” she said. As she left, she was mumbling to herself, something K.O. couldn’t hear.
The following morning, K.O. set up her laptop on a window table in the French Café, determined to wait for Dr. Jeffries. Now