Angels in the Snow Read Online Free

daughter’s shoulders, but Jenny shrugged out of his embrace as her mother approached.
    â€œBe sure to get Diet Coke, Mom. Not regular.”
    â€œYou drink too many soft drinks,” Charles said. “Juice would be better for you.” When she just pulled the door open and entered to the accompaniment of several jingling bells, he turned toward Judith.
    â€œShe drinks too many soft drinks,” he repeated. “They both do.”
    Judith shrugged. “You drink too much coffee.”
    â€œI’m not a growing child, Jude. There’s a difference.”
    She walked into the small store, past the door he held open for her. “As long as they do things in moderation, there’s no harm done.”
    â€œI’d like us to eat good, old-fashioned meals this week. Real breakfasts with pancakes and juice. Soups. Stews.”
    Once more, resentment flared in Judith’s chest. “And I suppose you’re cooking?” She yanked a small shopping cart from the line of them and headed down one aisle, oblivious to the foods she passed.
    Charles hurried to match her brisk pace. “I can make pancakes.”
    â€œAnd soups? And stews?” She stopped abruptly before a display of canned soups. Without bothering to examine the labels she began grabbing the cans, then moved a little distance down the aisle to snatch up several canned stews.
    At that moment Jennifer rounded the corner ahead of them. “Hardly any good magazines. But they do have Diet Coke.” She heaved two six-packs into the cart. “We need some cookies, too.”
    â€œHow about fruit?” Charles interjected. “You don’t eat enough fruit.”
    Jennifer shot him an aggrieved stare. “Fine, Dad. Get fruit.” Then she turned away toward a display of individually wrapped snacks.
    Judith moved on to the dairy case and added a gallon of milk to the cart. Charles added two more.
    â€œDo you think we could have a turkey on Christmas? Maybe with chestnut stuffing?”
    Judith felt a sudden sorrow. Charles wanted a picture-perfect Christmas, complete with happy children, contented wife, and all the traditional trappings. If they played the role, he was convinced they could become that smiling Norman Rockwell family. She knew better.
    But as she stood there in the wood-ceilinged store—as the ring of an old-fashioned cash register reached her ears and someone called out a friendly greeting to someone else—she didn’t have the heart to burst his bubble. It wouldn’t hurt her to go along, and at least the next few days would be peaceful.
    She sighed, then steered the cart toward the meat refrigerators. There were five turkeys left in the case. She started to take out the smallest one, but Charles came up behind her and picked up the largest one instead.
    â€œDo you remember how to do a turkey?”
    It was a natural enough question, for she usually had Christmas dinner catered. Yet Judith felt that he meant much more. Do you remember how to be my wife? Do you remember how to be happy? Do you remember how to love me?
    She averted her eyes from his probing scrutiny. “I remember.”
    They shopped in relative harmony after that. Although their conversation was trivial—primarily concerned with which brand and how much to get—Judith recognized once again how important her attitude was to relieving the overt strain between them. She only had to maintain that pleasant facade for the rest of the week. She’d done it for years. She could manage for a few more days.
    She was just congratulating herself on her plan when she rounded a corner and spied Jennifer speaking with a stranger. He had long hair pulled back into a ponytail at his neck, and wore a fringed leather jacket. And he had no business talking to her little girl.
    â€œNot only do they rot the teeth, but they rot the brain as well—”
    â€œJennifer.” Judith threw her arm protectively around