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gave no response, he said, “Personally, I thought it was overrated. Cold, wet, stuck in the house with a convention of Montgomerys. I was never so glad to see dead grass and gray concrete again in my life.”
    Her death grip on the bear had eased, and now she was gently, absently stroking it. Who would have ever guessed he’d be jealous of an ugly bear?
    “Did you have white Christmases where you grew up?”
    He didn’t expect her to answer, but after a hesitation, she did. “Often enough that it wasn’t special.” Another pause, then another surprise. “My mother loved snow for the holidays. She said it made everything so much more Christmassy.”
    Loved. Said. Past tense because it was, simply, the past? Or because Mom was no longer around to love anything?
    “What else made it Christmassy? Lights, wreaths, big red bows?”
    “Candles, holly, mistletoe, evergreen garlands and carols all the time.” Her next words slipped out quietly, as if she were talking to herself. “She did a truly horrid rendition of “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.” And she made us watch the Burl Ives cartoon every year even though it freaked out all of us kids.”
    Ah, a nugget of data: in addition to a mother, she’d also had at least two siblings. More personal information than he’d ever gotten from her before. “Are you the oldest?”
    “Yeah, I am—” Abruptly her gaze cut to him. “What does it matter?”
    He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “I’m just making conversation. You know all about my family.” They were a big part of his life and so a big part of his conversations. “We’ve got a lot of hours ahead of us in the car. We’ve got to talk about something.”
    No, we don’t. He heard the words in the turning away of her head as clearly as if she’d said them. Did she ever talk about her family to anyone, or was it just him she didn’t trust with knowledge of them? The possibility sent a shaft of regret through him.
    The silence was heavy as they drove on. At some point, she positioned the bear against the window and rested her head on it. After a while, Dean figured she’d fallen asleep, and he was about to do the same. It was getting hard to hear his yawns over the growling of his stomach. When a sign for the next exit showed a choice of motels and fast-food places, he slowed and took it.
    Miri roused in the seat beside him, looking around. “Do we need gas?”
    “We need food and sleep.” Of course she opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off. “I’m tired. I’m hungry. So are you. We’re not driving all night. I offered you a ride. I didn’t put the safety of my car on the line to get you there a few hours faster.” To say nothing of their own safety. Wherever she was going, she had to be alive to get there.
    “Trade places. You can sleep while I drive.”
    He stopped at the end of the exit ramp sign before giving her an incredulous look. “You’re kidding, right? No one drives my car but my mechanic and me.”
    “Oh, come on, it’s just a car.” She scrubbed her fingers through her hair. “I’ve been driving since I was twenty. Ignition, gas, brake, turn signals—it’s all the same, even on old junkers like this.”
    He turned into a parking lot that contained a waffle place at one end, a motel at the other and a gas station in between. The Vacancy sign, minus a few letters, alternated with messages for peace on earth, breakfast twenty-four hours a day and cheap gas. “Let’s make a deal. You quit criticizing my car, and I won’t mention again how ugly that bear is.
Okay?”
    Her gaze narrowed, her mouth thinned, she nodded.
    As he stopped in front of the motel, he shut off the engine, then pocketed the keys. Registering wouldn’t take more than a few minutes, but that was long enough for her to leave him standing in the cold wind alone.
    “Get two rooms,” she instructed when he opened the door.
    “Yeah.” More appropriately, he murmured after slamming the door,