Page 7 of Wrapped in You

"But really," Derek said, gesturing to the holiday decorations with his spoon. "Is all this necessary? We're already smack-dab in the middle of a winter wonderland. Every building downtown has holiday decorations strewn across it. There's even a thirty-foot-tall Christmas tree right over there." He pointed toward the courthouse with annoyance.

Sophie blinked at him.

"Your job, it seems to me, is to bring food to us while we put together this aggressively cheerful Christmas film," Derek said.

Aggressively cheerful Christmas film? Sophie's ears rang.

"We're already drowning in Christmas cheer," Derek stammered. "If I see another piece of holly or bit of tinsel, I will scream."

Then scream!Sophie wanted to tell him.Go on! You won't take away my love of Christmas!

But Sophie needed this gig. She needed to remain professional in the face of this horrendous Hollywood man.

So she said, "In Willow Creek, we just love the holiday season. I'll try to turn it down a notch."

"Turn it down ten notches," Derek shot. "Turn it all the way down to zero."

Derek glowered and took a bite of chili. Immediately, his face transformed. He couldn't help himself. The chili was just that good. But a split second later, he remembered who he was and how he wanted to seem, and he turned and stomped away from the catering table.

Sophie watched him run away from her.Why would that Christmas Grinch agree to direct a Christmas film in the magical town of Willow Creek?she wondered.

But the reason came a moment later.

He was doing it for the money.

Stop being so naive, Sophie.

Chapter Three

It was the final day of November and the Saturday after Sophie's first week of catering forSilver Bells. Joe and Mary were hosting a family dinner at the house where they'd raised Sophie and Cindy—a house on the other side of the Willow Creek library, directly next to the elementary school. Sophie was able to walk from her little light-blue house, which was two streets from the courthouse. It was a relief not to drive. After an incident with her engine, the only operational vehicle she technically owned right now was the catering van. Currently, it reeked of the pork sandwiches she'd made for the cast and crew yesterday. Plus, it was difficult to parallel park.

A few minutes before five, Sophie finished icing the carrot cake she'd made for dessert, packed it into a cake carrier, donned her winter coat, and set out. As usual, she arrived long before her sister. Now that Cindy had two children and a husband, she had an excuse for being late. But the reality was, Cindy had always been late—even when she'd been unmarried and child-free.

"There she is! My film caterer!" Her mother, Mary, carried the carrot cake into the kitchen, and Sophie removed her coat and hung it on the rack near the door. Her father was on thephone in the next room, talking to someone about going hunting last week. Now that he was retired, his life had opened up for him, and leisure activities were his every day.

Sophie often wondered if she would ever have enough money to retire. She certainly wouldn't be able to by sixty-one.

Maybe she'd retire by eighty-five? Ninety-one?

"Sit down and tell me everything," Mary ordered when Sophie entered the kitchen. "Don't leave anything out."

Sophie laughed. "Catering for the movies is a lot like catering for anyone else."

"But being on set must be magical!" Mary said as she stirred the curry she was making for dinner. "The actors! The makeup trailer! The costumes! The sound people! The director!"

Sophie wrinkled her nose. "The director is a piece of work."

"Now there's some gossip!" Mary said with a smile. "I want more of that!"

Joe got off the phone in the next room and strode in with a big smile. "My daughter! Where have you been?"

Sophie laughed and hugged her father. "You were out hunting and didn't miss me at all."

"Not true," Joe countered.

It was true that she'd often spent more time at her parents' place than she had since she'd started catering for the film. Long hours on set forced her home after work for as much sleep as she could get.

"Try your mother's Christmas cookies," Joe ordered, opening the fridge to grab himself a beer. "She tried a new recipe. She might have outdone herself."

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