Janine from Human Resources stopped Donovan in the hall. “I didn’t get your RSVP to the annual Christmas party, and the caterer needs the final tally by tonight.”

“Can I let you know this afternoon?”

She nodded with reluctance. “As soon as possible, please.”

“You can put me down for sure, but I don’t know about the plus one.”

“All right.” Janine turned and marched toward her office. Her no-nonsense personality grated on the nerves of most the staff, but Donovan had come to understand her as a dedicated professional.

He dropped off a stack of papers with the office assistant who would shred them, and then he returned to his office. He’d avoided thoughts of the Christmas party, but he had to make a decision. In past years, the event had always been a simple party, but the Talbots, who owned the paper, wanted to have a Christmas gala this year to mark the one-hundredth year of the paper.

Didn’t a gala need more than the thirty people employed by The Daily Nativity? Even with guests and family, the total wouldn’t exceed seventy-five, if that. The official invites had mentioned special guests from throughout the years so that could add a substantial number in attendance. It wasn’t that he was opposed to the gala itself—he applauded the Talbots for going a new route—but how much fun would it be without a date? Everyone he’d talked to so far would attend with their spouse or significant other. Those not in a relationship had invited a friend. He’d be the third wheel in conversation that night.

But to ask a woman for a date? He’d dated very little since his divorce. At first, he’d grieved the loss of his marriage and wasn’t interested. Then fear took hold, and he kept himself at a distance, which didn’t lend itself to meaningful dates. He could count on his hands the total dates he’d gone on in the last several years, and only two of those had produced a second date. None a third.

He could ask Zoe. Would she say yes? They’d formed a solid friendship in the last three weeks. Asking her could substantially dent their comfort level. But no other woman came to mind. Not only that, he wanted to attend with Zoe. She made him laugh and brought joy back to those lonely evenings. They’d shared many conversations over the course of their trips around town, but found peace in the quiet moments as well.

Tapping his fingers on the old metal desk, he stared at his phone. Just call her and ask. Why did he revert fifteen years in age when it came to Zoe? Because you like her. It was true. If he ever had a serious relationship again, he’d want it to be with someone like her. Someone well grounded, compassionate, selfless.

Not to mention stunning. The beauty of her spirit only enhanced the beauty of her outward appearance. The shade of her brown hair matched the dark chocolate bottom of the peppermint bark she loved so much. Several times a few strands had brushed against him and were as silky as they appeared. Her gray eyes held little back, and she let her emotions show.

Occasionally sadness filled them, for which he couldn’t fault or judge. His heart went out to her, and he prayed he never experienced the loss of a child. Last Wednesday, she’d pulled out a photo album and showed him her favorite pictures. Putting a face to Aubrey had ripped his emotions to shreds. He’d gone home, held a picture of him and Brody, and thanked God for every second they’d had to spend together.

I’m going to do it. I’m going to invite her. As a friend though. I like her, but neither of us is ready for anything more than friendship. But maybe soon.

Mind made up, he reached for his phone and called Zoe before he found a reason to procrastinate again. The line rang and rang until her voicemail picked up. He let out a low growl—he hadn’t been prepared to leave a message. Quickly realigning his thoughts, he waited for the beep, then left a message. “Hi Zoe, it’s me. I had a favor to ask, but if you can’t, it’s fine. Anyway, my company is having their annual Christmas party on Friday, and I have to RSVP by tonight. Sorry for the short notice, but I wasn’t sure if you’d want to go and didn’t want to pressure you, which I guess backfired by asking you two days before. If you’d like to go, give me a call by four this afternoon, please. Thanks. Otherwise, I’ll see you tonight.”

He hung up and pounded his head against his desk, embarrassed by how moronic he’d sounded. He made his living with words, yet his invitation had come out bumbled and unprofessional. If he’d heard his own message from someone else asking him to an event, he’d consider declining. Calling back and offering a lame explanation—had she answered, he wouldn’t have been thrown off and could have issued a more polished invitation—would only make the situation worse, so all he could do was wait.

Turning his focus to work, he typed the first lines of his latest article. For once, he was glad to be working at the office instead of from home. He didn’t need any extra distractions while he stewed over a return call from Zoe. He flipped through his notes from this morning’s chamber of commerce meeting and underlined the highlights of the rezoning debate which would go before the city council next month.

When he had a strong opinion on an issue, his job became more difficult. Though he believed extending city limits would benefit Nativity, he had to write a neutral article that didn’t reflect his bias. He typed five more lines, then stopped to reread what he’d written. The first paragraph was easy. Now came the more difficult task of elaborating in facts without adding an opinion.

He scribbled a note and moved his hand back to the keyboard, about to write again when his phone rang. His pulse quickened. Zoe.

“I just got your message,” she answered. “I spent the morning at the shelter sorting through a large donation of clothes and linens that came in.”

That’s right. She’d mentioned that last night, but in his nervousness, he’d forgotten they’d arrived. “That’s great. Was it what you needed to cover the needs?”

“Yes. We’d put out a call for donations in specific sizes and received entire wardrobes for our newest ladies.” Gratitude lifted her voice to a melodic tone. “Good quality clothes at that. Too often we’re treated like a dumpster and get clothes with stains and holes that aren’t fit to wear. We want to give back dignity to our guests, and that won’t do it.”

He cringed. He’d been guilty a time or two of throwing items in a bag without paying attention to their condition. “And the bedding?”

“Thirty full sets. Enough for the new bunks, and extras to use as needed.”

“I’m happy to hear.” He flipped to a new page of his notebook and wrote a reminder to run an idea by his boss. They hadn’t run an article about the shelter in a while, and he believed the community would appreciate an update on their growth.

“So…” Zoe drew out the word in a long breath. “What’s this Christmas party?”

Her tone gave no indication of her answer, which only heightened his awareness that he wanted her to say yes. “This one will be fancier than other years. The Talbots are calling it a gala and are using the occasion to celebrate one hundred years of The Daily Nativity.”

“I haven’t been to an event like that in ages.” Her voice took on a bittersweet tone.

“They’re having ballroom dancing with live entertainment.” When he heard her gasp of delight, he clarified. “Nativity High Orchestra is playing, but to be fair, they’ve won several state competitions and one national one.”

“I’ve heard them. Many of them will go on to have successful careers in music if they choose.”

That meant a lot coming from someone who’d often attended the New York Philharmonic.

“Dinner will also be served, catered by Hepburn’s.”

“Say no more.”

His cheeks hurt from the width of his smile. “Does that mean you’ll come?”

“Yes. I haven’t had a night out in ages, and it sounds fun. What is the dress code?”

“Festive.” Whatever that meant exactly. He rolled his eyes at the lack of clarity.

“Somewhere between black-tie and garden attire?”

“Yes.” Sounded good to him, and she’d know more about these things.

“Wait, don’t you have Brody Friday night?”

The spark of joy at her acceptance dimmed. “His mom’s church is having a Christmas party for the kids, so I’ll pick him up Saturday morning.”

“I’m sorry. I know you’ll miss that time with him.”

“It’s okay. As a compromise, I’ll get him Sunday night and take him to school Monday morning. I’ll be late to work, but I have an understanding boss.”

“Oh good. I’m glad it worked out.”

“Me, too.” The joy returned with the reminder he wouldn’t lose time with his son, it was simply shifted. “I need to turn in our meal preferences. The options are parmesan crusted pork tenderloin or chicken Provencal.”

She clucked her tongue. “Tough decision.”

“I can put in one of each. That way you can choose what you’re in the mood for that night, and I’ll take the other.”

“What if we both want the same thing?”

He chuckled. “I can’t go wrong with either choice. I’ve had them both, and my stomach will be happy, regardless.”

“We’ll go with your plan. I’ve always been terrible at decision making.” She laughed nervously. “I either can’t make one or do so impulsively. There’s no happy medium. Sometimes it works out though, like moving to Nativity.”

“I’d say you’re doing all right, no matter how you make your decision.” The small clock on his computer caught his eye. “I have to get back to work, but we’ll finalize plans tonight.”

“Sounds good. Don’t stop for a drink. I picked up a tin of Smore’s Hot Cocoa for us to try.”

“Can’t wait. I’ll see you soon.”

He ended the call and sucked in a breath until his lungs couldn’t hold any more air. He had a date. Not an official one, but a date nonetheless. His mind spun with the possibilities, and he quickly compiled a list of what he’d have to do beforehand. Did men still give flowers on a first date? He didn’t care—he would. Maybe he’d be different and bring her a poinsettia. Weren’t they dangerous for cats? Scratch that idea. He’d come up with something before then.