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pictures that were tacked to the walls. A small pine tree stood at the foot of the stage with ornaments and candles. Below it, a life sized crèche rested on a bed of hay. The tables were adorned with red and green tablecloths. Obviously, the women of the church had gone to a lot of trouble to make the church Christmas Party a success.
    Max leaned toward Clay. “We’ll want to keep the two seats across from us open for Miss Henderson and Miss Spencer. It would be nice if they joined us.”
    “That Helen is a looker.” Clay smacked his lips.
    Max shot him a look. How the devil could Clay think Miss Spencer a looker when she stood next to Miss Henderson? Why Miss Henderson was a beauty. Shining brown curls, beautiful large hazel eyes, and a slender, delicate frame. A quite nicely filled out frame. “Personally I think Miss Henderson is a fine-looking woman.”
    Clay glanced briefly at him. “She’s okay, too, but that Helen, wow.”
    Max shifted in his seat. This was not going the way he’d hoped. He’d expected Clay to be enamored with Miss Henderson. He would have to work harder.
    The doors from the kitchen opened and several women carried trays to the tables set up in the front and placed bowls and platters, napkins and silverware on the table.

    “Ladies and gentlemen, we will now form a line to the left of the serving table. The ladies behind the table will be happy to assist you.” A stout older woman, still wearing her purple and pink church hat, made the announcement in a booming voice. The other women moved to various places behind the table, directing the crowd, and piling food onto plates.
    Max and Clay moved down the line, plates in hand. They approached Miss Henderson, who smiled at the person in front of them as she placed a spoonful of something on her plate. “Which dish did you contribute, Miss Henderson?”
    Ellie jerked her head in his direction, and her smile faltered. “This one, Mr. Colbert. It’s a ham and potato casserole my aunt makes all the time.” She pointed her spoon at the dish in front of her.
    Max nudged Clay. “Doesn’t this look great, Clay? I’ll bet Miss Henderson is a wonderful cook.”
    “Where’s Helen’s dish?” Clay looked up and down the row, ignoring Max’s comment.
    Ellie rolled her eyes. “Miss Spencer and her tuna fish casserole are further down.” She motioned her head as she placed a serving of her casserole on the two men’s plates.
    “I don’t see her.” Clay stretched his neck. “Oh, there she is. She’s just coming out from the kitchen.”
    Max’s jaw tightened, and he elbowed Clay. “Move along, Clay. People are waiting.” He turned to Miss Henderson. “Mr. Forest and I would be pleased if you would join us for dinner at our table. We’ve saved a space for you.”
    Miss Henderson narrowed her eyes as if she suspected him of something evil. He shrugged. Women were difficult to understand, but especially this one.
    “And Helen, too,” Clay emphasized, as Max nudged him along.
    Everyone finally seated, the Pastor offered a blessing. Soon the clink of silverware, noisy conversation, and laughter filled the air. Max took a bite of Miss Henderson’s casserole and lost his breath. The woman must have put a barrel of salt in the dish.
    “Ugh. This is awful.” Clay spit a mouthful of the potato and ham casserole into his napkin.
    “Clay!” Max said, wide-eyed, and took a large gulp of water.
    “Well, it is awful. Did you have any yet? Whoever made this should be arrested for imitating a cook.” Several people turned at his comments.
    Max glanced at Miss Henderson, who sat with her fork halfway to her mouth, her face flushed.
    “Actually, Mr. Forest, I made it. Is something wrong?”
    “No, not at all, Miss Henderson.” Max took another bite and whimpered.
    Miss Henderson placed a small forkful of it on her tongue and grimaced. “I think I added too much salt.”
    “I’ll say.” Clay snorted. “You better stay far away from