Journey of the Magi by Barbara Edwards

Chapter One
    “Christmas? Same as last year. Shut the place and go to bed,” Dan Longstreet answered his portly customer.
    Ernie’s out-of-shape belly hung over the last stool at the café counter. The mingled odors of frying grease, wet wool, and disinfectant sat heavy in the heated air of Dan’s place. Sleet rattled on the frosted windows.
    “That’s a shame, Dan. You need a wife and a couple rug-rats. You should have more holiday spirit, what with Thanksgiving in three days.”
    “It’s not the right time, Ernie. So how about finishing up so I can close?”
    “I ain’t in no hurry to drive home in this storm. Seems every year these Minnesota snows get earlier in the season.” Ernie smoothed his full white beard before he gestured at the frosted window.
    Dan grinned at his friend’s twinkling blue eyes and wheedling expression. “In a few hours these roads will be impassable, and I don’t want you bunking here again. You snore like an asthmatic bull.”
    An Arctic blast from the opening door fluttered napkins on the deserted tables in the darkened café, extinguished the two remaining candles, and ruffled the sawdust spread on the floor to absorb the melting snow. Dan casually checked the baseball bat hooked under the counter. Only trouble arrived this late.
    His gaze latched onto the petite female and he swore he smelled spring flowers. And sunshine. He couldn’t take his gaze off her as she undid the knitted green muffler wrapped three times around her coat’s up-turned collar to reveal a thin pinched face.
    His chest ached with the urge to cradle her in his arms; she looked so cold. Even with her knit hat pulled down over her ears, her high cheekbones and the up-tilted tip of her nose flamed as bright red as a cheap statue of a Christmas elf. She blinked in the bright light.
    Dan’s pulse leaped like a startled deer. He knew everyone who frequented the Deer Run Lounge and Café. She was no local wife searching for an overdue husband or one of the three women who made a living, if you could call it that, picking up the lumberjacks and mill workers for an hour or two.
    His blood heated, but he managed to control his urges by slowly polishing a clean glass and setting it in the rack for the next day’s trade. He nodded hello.
    Her oversized man’s winter coat trailed to her ankles, but she visibly shook. He wanted to tell her to take off her coat and get warm. She removed her gloves, pulling the fingers off one by one until her white hands shone in the dim light. A pale circle around her ring finger marked the recent removal of a band.
    “Is that sign in the window still good? Do you need an experienced waitress?” She returned Dan’s stare. Her flat, emotionless voice didn’t match the way her fingers twisted round and round her gloves. His palms itched to cover hers until she calmed.
    “Yeah.” He nodded slowly, his mouth dry. Something in him yearned for her to be more than a passing stranger. His breath hitched. “Pine Rapids, Minnesota, isn’t jumping with help. The last girl quit without notice.”
    He knew better than to expect a gift to blow in the café door, especially one that made his blood pound. “Your husband outside?”
    “What?” She followed his gaze to her bare finger. “No, I’m a widow. I traded my ring for a tank of gas and a tire yesterday.”
    His heart pinched. Life was hard everywhere.
    “This place gets really busy, especially with the holidays coming.” He nodded again. She glanced at Ernie and a self-engrossed couple huddled in the last booth before giving Dan a disbelieving look.
    “Doesn’t look busy. Do you serve meals, too?” Her brows rose questioningly.
    “Not this late.” He gestured at the Budweiser clock with its prancing horses. A laughing Santa drove the barrel-loaded wagon. The hands read 10:43.
    She held his glance. He longed to step closer, know what color those direct eyes would be before he warmed her lips. He shook his head to clear his