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“Tell her,” Steve said to Lincoln.
“You tell her.”
“No, you wanted to do it,” Steve countered.
“I can’t.”
“Sure you can.” Steve pulled the envelope from his pocket and handed it to Lincoln. “Go on.”
Lincoln turned it over and over.
“What do you have?” Hope coaxed, hand extended. “May I see?”
“It’s for you.” He thrust the envelope at her.
“Is it from you?” she asked.
“No. It’s from Ray.”
Hope cocked her head, confused. “Ray?”
“Ray Capellini,” Lincoln said, exasperated, as if there was only one man named Ray in town. “He’s—”
Steve covered his brother’s mouth with a gloved hand and said to Hope, “Open it.”
She lifted the flap and pulled out what appeared to be a document. Not an official document. It looked more like an award. She read it out loud. “One free unit in Capellini Towers.” She glanced at Steve. His eyes were glistening with anticipation. “What is this?”
“Ray Capellini will be building Capellini Towers, a sixty-unit housing project.”
“I heard on the radio.”
“He’s putting it on the fast track, and it’ll be completed by June. And you, Hope Lyons, after suffering the humiliation of being chased by reporters, thanks to me, and after enduring the heartache of looking for your missing child, also thanks to me, have been awarded the first unit. All of them will be two bedrooms.”
“Steve, I can’t afford—”
“Shh, there’s more.” He held up a finger. “For my part in conceiving the project, Ray granted me the opportunity to dole out the first unit, rent free for two years, to whomever I pleased. I chose you for your indomitable spirit and your giving heart. He will be covering the expense for all of the other units for one year, and—”
Hope yelped with joy and threw her arms around Lincoln. He ducked out of her embrace and backed up two steps. “Sorry, Lincoln,” she said. “I didn’t mean to invade your space, but you did this. You made this happen.”
Lincoln shook his head and pointed at Steve. “Not me. Him.”
Steve slung an arm around Lincoln. “Both of us, bro. You were the inspiration. Without you, I never would have come up with the idea.” He knuckled his brother in the belly. “You, you, you.”
Hope laughed, loving their camaraderie.
Lincoln scuffed his shoe. “Can I look at the tree, Steve?”
“Sure.” Steve gave him a nudge. “I’m going to talk to Hope outside. Okay?”
“Yep.”
“Grab your coat, ma’am.” Steve removed his gloves and stuffed them in his pocket. “The sky is clear, but it’s cold.”
Hope fetched her parka and exited the building first. Dusk had settled in and the crisp air stung her cheeks but she didn’t mind. Delight was effervescing inside her, keeping her warmer than she could ever remember. “I don’t know what to say,” she turned to face Steve. “I can’t believe it.” She eyed the envelope in her hand. “I . . .”
Steve put a finger to her lips. “My turn.” He clasped her arms gently. “Hope, you opened my eyes. Because of you, my belief in humanity and the spirit of Christmas is renewed. Because of you, I have gotten back my self-respect and, even more, my desire for a better life and brighter future. Because of you, I realize that family matters. Not me by myself. Family. As a thank you, I wanted to do something to pay you back and lift you up.”
Hope glanced at the envelope and back at Steve.
Softly, he said, “By the way, I’m staying in town.”
“Until New Year’s?”
“For good. My folks are buying the radio station. I’m going to become the voice of KQHV.”
Hope’s eyes widened. “You’re giving up your sports anchor career?”
“No. I’m giving up TV.”
A star shot across the sky. Hope trembled.
Steve stroked her hair and gazed into her eyes. “So I was wondering, um, may I take you to dinner soon?”
“Are you asking me on a date?”
“Yes. I have a few questions I need answered.”
“Like what?”
“The secret to your pie crust.”
“Why?”
“I told you I’m an occasional baker. My specialties are chocolate chip cookies and snickerdoodles, but I’d love to learn to make a killer pie. Also”—he ran a finger along the line of her jaw—“I want to know why your nose twitches.”
Hope covered her nose with her hand. “It does not.”
“It does. Like a bunny’s. I figure it’s because you’re sensitive to aromas, the sign of a good cook.”
Hope chuckled. “I suppose I am always trying to pick up what might work in a new recipe, and now I’ll get the chance.”
“What do you mean?”
She told him about Gabe’s offer.
“You said yes, right?”
Hope rolled her eyes. “Do I look stupid?”
“No one will ever call you stupid, Hope Lyons, ever.” Steve lifted her chin with his index finger. “May I kiss you?”
“Um, the beard, Santa.” She wrinkled her nose on purpose. “Who knows where that bad boy has been?”
Steve removed the beard, mustache, and hat, and then he kissed her tenderly and, for the first time in a long time, Hope felt wonderfully and merrily at peace.
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