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for her by springing from the passenger seat onto her lap and yowling in her face. “You promised me there’d be food when we got here,” he seemed to be saying.
    Well, she had, of course. The poor thing was half starved, but he wore a pretty black tuxedo with white spats and had been doing his best to clean himself up during the last lap of her trip. Debbie swallowed down her sobs and stroked his head.
    Then Harvey reached through the window and petted him, too. “Um…nice cat. What’s his name?”
    “Your guess is as good as mine. He picked me up at a rest stop back on the highway. Just jumped in the car when I opened the door, and I didn’t have the heart to put him out. I was kinda thinking of calling him Siren. ’Cause he sounds like one.”
    A soft chuckle came from behind Harvey.
    “Looks more like a Bubba to me,” Wanda Baker said. For all her bulk, the old gal stepped lightly; you never knew she was there until she was. Her eyesight was worse than her son’s, but she had ears like a fox and had probably heard everything. “Harvey, bring Debbie Dawn’s bags into the house. She’s stayin’ with us.”
    She was?
    Debbie hesitated. “That’s real nice of you, Miz Wanda, but I figured I’d be staying with Aunt Ina…provided she’ll let me in the door.”
    Wanda chuckled again. “Oh, honey, she’ll welcome you back with open arms, and you know it. But she ain’t home. Her grandson drove in a couple days ago and carried her off to spend Christmas with him in Houston.”
    Great. Thank you, Cousin Winslow.
    “Well, there’s no need to pout about it,” Wanda chided. “You’ll see her soon enough. In the meantime we got plenty of room for you, what with Cissy married and livin’ in Abilene.”
    Really?
    Debbie glanced at Harvey. “Your little sister is married?”
    “Yeah, quite a while now.”
    “And you’re…” She left the question hanging.
    “Not.”
    Debbie barely stifled a cheer. She wasn’t sure why that news made her so happy, but it did.
    “What about you?” Harvey asked.
    “Nope, me neither. Came close a few times, but it never worked out.”
    “Oh. I’m sorry.”
    No, he wasn’t. He was grinning like a fool. For some reason, that made her happy, too.
    “Quit gawkin’, boy, and get the girl’s gear.” Wanda pointed to the duffle bag and Gibson guitar on the backseat, then pulled open the driver’s door and confiscated the cat. “C’mon, Bubba”—she cradled him against her broad bosom—“I got a big can of tuna all for you.” Clucking like a mother hen, she led the way to the neat white house across the street.
    Harvey followed with Debbie’s duffle and old Gibson, while Debbie tagged behind humming a holiday tune to herself. Suddenly it felt a lot like Christmas.
    Inside the house, it looked and smelled like it, too. Garlands decked the living room, and a fat, fragrant evergreen stood in the corner, all lit up like…well, like a Christmas tree. From the kitchen wafted the scent of home-baked goodness. Wanda had probably been cooking up a storm for days—all her specialties, cakes and candies and cookies galore. Debbie’s mouth watered, remembering those cookies. The star-shaped ones had been her favorite. Even as a child she’d always been reaching for a star…
    ---
    Bug Baker welcomed the prodigal with a big bear hug, but could’ve done without Bubba.
    “Wanda, what’d you think you’re doin’? You wanna feed that thing, do it outside.” He glowered at his wife as she set bowls of water and milk and a dish of tuna on the spotless kitchen floor. “I mean it, woman, either he goes or I do! You know I can’t stand cats in the house.”
    “Suit yourself, old man.” She planted hands on her ample hips. “You know where the door is. Don’t let it hit you in the tail feathers on the way out.”
    “Hmph!” he grunted, snatched an oatmeal cookie from a plate on the table, and stalked off into the living room.
    A little later, his tummy full, Bubba