She watched him walk away under an arch of bowing trees, snow drifting around him, and was possessed by a sudden, crazy urge to chase after him, to grab him and kiss him and tell him to come in the house and get warm. Instead, she ran inside the house and shut the door and locked it.

Josh had gone to college in Idaho, so snow didn't bother him. He was at home skiing on it, driving in it, and walking in it. He also liked to end a day in the snow in front of a roaring fire.

Lissa had been conceived in front of a fire on a snowy night. That one last ski run had chilled Crystal to the bone and he'd been more than happy to warm her up. And boy, had she gotten warm in a hurry. It made him hot just remembering.

But the memory quickly cooled, leaving him feeling empty.

He could have done a good job of warming up Jamie Moore if she'd have let him in.

If he wasn't a cop.

Josh couldn't help what he was. His life path had been set from grade school when he was on the Safety Patrol, holding out that flag at the crosswalk, helping students get safely from one side of the street to the other. Boy Scouts, Ski Patrol-if it involved helping other people and keeping them safe, he'd done it. It was probably in his DNA. How did a man change his DNA?

He didn't. He trudged on. Jamie had been right about one thing. It was a long way from her house to his.

TWENTY-THREE.

Heart Lake was still a winter wonderland on Sunday morning, but that didn't stop Josh from making sure the girls got to Sunday school. Crystal would haunt him if he didn't. He also made sure Lissa made it to her new friend Damaris's house. They had all kinds of special girl plans for the afternoon, and Liss hopped out of the truck with a plastic bag filled with mysterious essentials for a good time and a two-liter bottle of pop because Crystal had been big on never going to someone's house without bringing something and he suspected that she'd want her daughters to do the same.

On his way home he drove past Jamie's driveway. He couldn't help wondering what she was doing to pa.s.s the time. She had plenty of wood for her stove; he knew that. Maybe she'd thought of something she needed from the store. Remembering how cute she'd looked the night before in that black sweater and those b.u.t.t-hugging jeans, he could think of something he needed.

d.a.m.n it all, there had to be a way to convince this woman that he wasn't like that piece of s.h.i.t she'd been married to. He wanted to help her heal her broken heart, but going over to her place when she'd made it clear she didn't want him around would be dumb.

Almost as dumb as wanting her in the first place. He forced himself to drive on by.

He resisted the same temptation on Monday when he was on patrol and saw that her shop was closed. If she needed anything she had his number. She had his number. Period.

He frowned. Women sure complicated a man's life.

He finally finished dealing with the fallout of morning traffic accidents due to icy roads and decided to swing by and check on Mrs. Kravitz and see if she needed anything. There was one woman who would be happy to have his help.

"How nice of you!" she declared. "I was just wondering how I was going to get to Vern's to pick up my blood pressure medicine."

"I'll get it for you on my lunch hour," Josh promised. "Anything you need from the store?"

"Oh, I couldn't."

"Sure you could. What would you like me to get?"

Ten minutes later he left with the ten-dollar bill she'd insisted on giving him and a list of groceries that would probably total closer to twenty. But he wouldn't tell her that. Instead, he'd mysteriously lose the receipt. How many other folks were in Mrs. Kravitz's shoes right now? he wondered. He stopped by the station to see who else was around and found Martinez at his desk, writing a report. "Hey, when you're done with that, I've got an idea."

They had finished making calls and were dividing up their list of known needy subjects when Chief Romeo walked in. "This is a chance for some good PR," said the chief after Martinez told him what they were up to. "You two stay put a minute."

"Gawd," muttered Martinez. "How much you want to make a bet this ends up involving Quinn?"

Sure enough. The chief returned wearing a big grin. "Okay, guys. You both got a ride-along."

The two cops exchanged looks.

"Martinez, you're taking Mayor Quinn. Armstrong, you've got Lezlie Hurst from the paper."

Josh let out a heavy sigh. "You know, Chief, we weren't out for publicity."

"I know. But it's good for the force. People need to see us as the good guys. So here's the deal. You said one of you was picking up stuff for the food bank?"

"Yeah, me," said Martinez.

"Well, now I want both of you to go. We'll get a shot of you guys and the mayor getting stuff at Safeway, then you can do a photo op at the food bank. After that, you can just get on with it."

Josh frowned.

"Get all this done and get the ladies back by four. Temperatures will be dropping and we'll probably be up to our a.s.ses in bent fenders by five. And, Armstrong."

"Yes?"

"Make sure you smile for the camera," added the chief.

No need, thought Josh, the mayor will smile enough for all of us.

He was right about that. The mayor not only smiled. She talked, starting the minute Lezlie showed up. Josh tuned most of it out.

"This is such a great idea," said Lezlie when the mayor finally came up for air.

"We think it's a wonderful way to serve our community," the mayor said, beaming. "This is why we're all here."

This is why some of us are here, thought Josh. He looked at his watch. Almost two. Their allotted good-deed time was shrinking. "If you're ready, Mayor, I think we'll get rolling," he said. He walked out of the station, Martinez falling in step with him, and leaving the mayor no choice but to put her money where her big mouth was and follow.

"I'm still a little unclear," said Lezlie as they pulled out of the police headquarters parking lot. "Was this the mayor's idea?"

It was now. "I think she said that, didn't she?" Probably.

"Not exactly. She just led me in that direction, hoping I'd think it."

Lezlie Hurst was a smart cookie. "Well," said Josh, "you know how it is with things like this. One person gets a glimmer and then others jump in and it becomes a great idea. Sort of like in a think tank."

"Who got the glimmer?"

"Does it matter? The important thing is what we're doing, not who thought of it."

Lezlie nodded and wrote in the tablet she had balanced on her lap.

Of course, that was the right thing to say, but part of him wished he'd gone ahead and taken credit for the idea. Surely a certain woman would be impressed if she knew he was a good Samaritan.

Then again, he'd been a good Samaritan and driven her home and walked all the way back to his house in the snow and all he'd gotten was cold feet. But not nearly as cold as Jamie Moore's. Hers were frozen as solid as her heart.

"I knew it," Emma said, when she saw the Wednesday edition of the Heart Lake Herald. She stuffed the article about Josh into her purse to take with her to the Chocolate Bar. This was bound to convince Jamie that Josh was the perfect man. Then it would only be a matter of time. At least someone would get a happy ending for the holidays.

Her ending wasn't going to be so happy, not after her meeting with Mr. Pressman at the bank. Of course, she'd known it for months, but now she knew. There was no way she could keep her doors open. Come January there would be new retail s.p.a.ce for rent on downtown Lake Way, and Emma would be looking for a job. Obviously, she was no business wonder babe like her avatar, Tess L'amour. She could probably get a job somewhere as a sales clerk, though. She knew how to ring up sales. Just not how to make them happen.

The snow was mostly melted now and the streets were clear. No longer s...o...b..und, half of Heart Lake seemed to be out, either walking or driving down Lake Way, finishing errands or heading home. If only a few more of those people had found their way into her shop she wouldn't be facing such a bleak new year.

No tears, she told herself sternly. This is not the end of the world. It only felt that way.

If she didn't have the article about Josh to give Jamie she'd have bagged their weekly chocolate binge. A million mochas couldn't make her feel better today.

Sarah had beaten her to the chocolateria and was settled in at one of the bistro tables. She smiled a greeting at Emma, and pulled her purse off the chair next to her to make room. Jamie was at the counter, finishing up with one last customer.

Shirley Schultz.

Emma's despondency began to morph into something with a little more fire. What was Shirley doing in here, buying truffles, when she still owed Emma money for that last bit of fabric robbery she committed at Emma's big sale? She ignored the open chair and moved up to hover in back of Shirley.

Jamie had just rung up the sale. "That will be six thirty-two."

Shirley opened her purse and began the money hunt that was so familiar to Emma. But instead of coming up empty she pulled out a ten-dollar bill.

"Hi, Mrs. Schultz," Emma said. "Needing a chocolate fix?"

Shirley gave a start, then turned around and smiled at Emma. "Emma. How are you, dear?"

"I'm just fine, except for the fact that I'm about to lose my business. How are you? Oh, I see you found some money. Got any extra in there?"

"Oh, dear, I'm afraid that's all I have."

"Well, you can give me that change and I'll subtract it from the bill you owe me. It's only the size of the national debt, but don't let that worry you." Before Shirley could pick up the bag with her purchase and escape, Emma grabbed it. "Wow, thanks. I could use some chocolate. That's really sweet of you." She pulled out a truffle and popped it in her mouth. "Mmm, good." She felt like Jim Carey in drag, doing something wildly psychotic. It felt good. Everyone should get in touch with her inner Jim Carey.

"My chocolate!" protested Shirley.

"Oh, I thought maybe you bought it for me since you felt so bad that you owe me money. Gosh. I'd buy a truffle for you, but I seem to have forgotten my checkbook!"

For a moment, silence reigned. Jamie, who was never at a loss for words, gawked at Emma. Then she felt an arm around her shoulder. "Emma," Sarah said gently.

"Well, I never," huffed Shirley.

"You're right you never," Emma said, her voice hysterical. "You and everyone else in this town. n.o.body thinks about how someone like me is supposed to stay in business or pay her rent or eat." Her Jim Carey moment ended as quickly as it began. Emma dropped the bag on the counter and burst into tears.

"It'll be okay," Sarah said, and tried to hug her.

But, of course it wouldn't. She knew it, they knew it-everybody knew it. And now she'd just eaten Shirley Schultz's chocolate. And she couldn't stop crying. She pulled away, saying, "Give her another. I'll pay for it. I'm sorry, Mrs. Schultz. I'm . . ." A failure, a loser, all alone, unemployed. Take your pick. She couldn't stay here a minute longer. She turned and fled from the Chocolate Bar.

Shirley Schultz finally spoke into the stunned silence. "That young woman has a serious problem."

It was all Sarah could do not to grab her skinny neck and wring it.

Jamie spoke up before she could say anything. "Yes, she does. She's too nice. It's no wonder she can't stay in business when people take advantage of her," Jamie added, looking pointedly at Shirley.

"Well, I'm sure I don't," Shirley said stiffly. She s.n.a.t.c.hed the bag with the one remaining candy and marched out of the shop.

"That old leech," Jamie muttered.

"She is," Sarah agreed. "But she's the symptom, not the problem." Jamie was right. Emma was too soft. "Come on," she said. "Let's go find her."

They tracked Emma down at home. Her eyes were red and her makeup was streaked.

"Fix your makeup," Jamie commanded. "We're going out."

"I don't want to go out," Emma snapped in a very un-Emma-like voice.

"It's free food. Don't turn it down."

They took her to Brewsters Brews where Samantha Brewster took one look at her and sent over a margarita on the house. Sarah watched in horror as Emma tipped the gla.s.s and chugalugged.

Finally Jamie pulled her arm, forcing her to set down the drink. "Take it easy, will you? Now, talk. What's going on?"

Emma stared at the scarred wood table. "I talked with Mr. Pressman at the bank today. We crunched the numbers and we agreed that it would be best if I . . ." She paused to take a shaky breath. "Turned the key on my business."

It was every business owner's worst nightmare, of course. Sarah laid a comforting hand on her arm. "I'm so sorry."

"Me, too," said Jamie, taking the other arm. "That so totally sucks."

"I'm a failure," Emma sobbed.

"No you're not," Sarah said fiercely. "Failures don't even try. You try harder than anyone I know."

"I had such high hopes. You know, I actually had some people sign up for my next quilting cla.s.s. If I could have just stayed open a little longer." Emma unwrapped the table setting in front of her and used the napkin for a handkerchief.

She would have simply postponed the inevitable, Sarah thought sadly.

"I'll get a job," Emma said. "I'll go work at Fabricland or Macy's. Maybe I'll get a job at Savemart in the fabric department. I'll probably see half of Heart Lake there," she added bitterly.

"Maybe you could teach quilting cla.s.ses on the side," Sarah suggested gently. "You know, through the park department. That's what you love the most, isn't it? That would be the best of both worlds. You'd have a paying job and still get to do what you love."

Emma nodded, forcing a wan smile. "I'll have my business loan paid off by the time I'm . . . fifty," she finished on a sob.

Sarah resisted the temptation to tell her that fifty wasn't old. "This will work out somehow. You'll see."

"I'll have to move home with my parents. Lucky them."

"You can move in with me," Jamie offered.

"You don't want me. n.o.body wants me, not even my cat." Emma picked up her gla.s.s and finished her drink. "Can we get another?"