The Most Wonderful Time

by Fern Michaels, Stacy Finz, Sarah Title, Shirlee McCoy

Genres: Holiday books; Women's Fiction; Contemporary Romance

Synopsis

What goes better with mistletoe and merriment than the sweet beginnings of romance?

"Christmas Passed" by Fern Michaels
Three years after her husband's death, Brandy Heyers still finds that celebrating the holidays without him is anything but jolly. Then handsome widower Ryan Rogers shows her that moving on is possible, and her frozen heart begins to melt.…

"A Glory Junction Christmas" by Stacy Finz
When Hannah Baldwin hears her ex is getting remarried, she's ready to give up on Christmas, not to mention love. But the best gifts come in unexpected packages, and old friend Josh Garner is just the man to convince her that the coming New Year is going to be the happiest yet.…

"Moonshine and Mistletoe" by Sarah Title
A holiday fling is all Emma Fallader expects when she meets gorgeous fiddler Abe Tate at her friend's wedding-but after just days together, it isn't all she wants. Can the spirit of the season work its special magic for two people separated by more than miles?

"An Apple Valley Christmas" by Shirlee McCoy
Now that her beloved dad is gone, Emma Baily is facing the holidays alone-until her ex, Jack McAllister, shows up to help her close her father's estate. After four years apart, only the magic of Christmas will show Emma that joy is a gift meant to be shared.…

Release date: October 31, 2016

Publisher: Zebra Books

Print pages: 384

Sample

Brandy Heyers viewed the stacked boxes in her garage, dreading the thought of opening them. This would mark the third Christmas without Jeff, her husband of twenty years. The third Christmas that she had refused to allow her son, Matthew, and her daughter, Keira, to haul out the artificial Christmas tree and the boxes of decorations she and Jeff had collected during their marriage. It just hurt too much, and she didn’t really see the point.

Christmas was just another day now. She’d been telling herself this since the beginning of November, when all the Christmas hoopla began. Same as last year and the year before that. Matthew was twelve when Jeff died, and Keira fifteen. Now at fifteen and eighteen, they weren’t so easily convinced to back off where the holidays were concerned.

Yesterday, Keira reminded her that Christmas had been Dad’s favorite time of year. She’d reminded her how much he enjoyed taking each ornament out of the boxes and how each one had a special story. She also reminded her just how much her dad enjoyed putting up the lights, dragging the old, faded, plastic Santa and his reindeer out of the attic. Every year, he’d tell them it was time to retire the old guy and his crew, but every year he would find the perfect place for the plastic decorations to hang out until after the New Year.

Three years. It seemed like a lifetime to Brandy. Taking the ornaments out would hurt. All of them. Maybe they would take a trip to Disney World, another thing she’d avoided as it was plagued with memories of Jeff. Maybe they could take a ski trip instead. Or possibly go to New York City, see the Rockettes. Something that had no memories of her life with Jeff. For the past two years, they’d stayed home, and Christmas was just another day to her, and she’d tried to convince the kids it was, too, but they weren’t buying it this year.

A little voice whispered in her ear, “Maybe it’s time to move on.”

Her mother had been telling her this starting three months after Jeff died. Brandy hadn’t had much of a relationship with her since. While it saddened her, they’d never been close. Her father had died when she was ten, and she was an only child.

How could she possibly move on? Her life ended the day Jeff died. He’d been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, and within three months, he succumbed to the horrid disease. There was no time to prepare, as if one could ever prepare for such a devastating loss. Shock, extreme sadness, a loss like no other; Brandy lived in a fog those first few months. She’d been a stay-at-home mom, so there was no career outside the house to focus on. Jeff had been a music teacher at Lee County High School. There were a few benefits remaining, and his life insurance paid the bills, but that wasn’t going to last forever. In fact, she had enough money to get them through the next few months. After it ran out, she was in trouble. She and Jeff never discussed what would happen to her and the kids if he didn’t survive. They never discussed how she would support them when he passed. Brandy had no formal training in any profession other than raising her family. She would have to find a job, a way to support herself and the kids. Like most young, married couples, they hadn’t given much thought to their financial future, telling themselves there would be time for that later. When the kids were in high school, they would start a college fund, maybe try their hand at online investing, anything to secure their financial future. And like most young couples, Brandy and Jeff thought they were invincible and had never gotten around to investing for their future.

When Jeff was diagnosed, they’d both gone into a state of semi-shock for a few weeks. They’d decided to wait and tell the kids when the doctor gave them a chemo schedule, and what they should expect over the next few months. Sadly, Jeff hadn’t made it through his first round of chemotherapy. Both Keira and Matthew were stunned when she’d explained the reality of their father’s health just weeks before he died. Keira, a daddy’s girl from day one, rebelled when he died. Her normally shiny blond hair was now a deep reddish burgundy with one side shaved. She’d pierced her nose, and one eyebrow, and wore thick, black kohl eyeliner on her eyes. She looked scary, but Brandy knew this was her way of coping with her loss. Not long after Jeff ’s death, she’d started hanging with a new group of kids, who dressed in black clothes and had so many piercings on their bodies that they resembled pincushions. Matthew, on the other hand, had become withdrawn and no longer bothered attending his music classes. He was as musically gifted as his father had been. He played guitar, piano, and the trumpet. His dream was to attend Juilliard. Since Jeff’s death, he hadn’t touched an instrument. Brandy constantly worried about him, feared what would become of him and his talent if she couldn’t pull him out of his grief.

An extremely close family, Jeff had always taken the lead, always knew how to resolve whatever crisis the kids were going through. He was the perfect parent. It was thoughts like this that made her wonder if the kids would be suffering this much had she been the one to die. Hating herself for such thoughts, she turned her back on the neatly stacked boxes labeled CHRISTMAS ORNAMENTS.

Maybe next year.

“We’re not skipping Christmas again, Mom. If you want to, that’s your choice, but Matthew and I want to celebrate Christmas. It’s been almost three years,” Keira said, putting extra emphasis on the last two words. “Dad would be so pissed!” she added before racing away.

Brandy took a deep breath and looked at the stack of boxes. Jeff would be pissed, but he wasn’t here. He’d left her with this . . . life, and she almost hated him for doing so. How could he? Hadn’t he felt sick? Had he taken all the vitamins she so carefully measured out for him day after day? What did it matter now, she thought as she closed the door leading to the garage. He was gone. She wasn’t. He had no life, and though she was here in the physical sense, she hadn’t had much of a life since he’d died. Tears filled her eyes just thinking the words he died. Still, after all this time, she wasn’t over the loss. She didn’t want to be. In an odd way, her grief was comforting. Like a child with a pacifier. It was horrible when it’s first taken away, but when they got used to another form of security, they forgot all about the pacifier. She was in limbo. She couldn’t forget and didn’t want to forget. Twenty of the best years of her life. It was wrong even to think about moving on. The kids were young. Their grief had diminished over time. That’s what the grief counselor explained to her a few months after Jeff’s death. The young were resilient. Their lives were focused on the here and now. Not the past. Their futures were ahead of them. They would grow old, and their father would be nothing more than a faded memory. The family she’d spent so much time caring for was gone, or at least the core no longer remained. Now they all simply existed, and Brandy knew this wasn’t good. She had to do something, but Christmas?

She wasn’t sure what to do.

She stepped inside the kitchen, where Keira was chatting on her cell phone with one of her friends. Matthew was in his bedroom, doing who knew what. Brooding, and most likely listening to rap music on his iPod. It was Saturday, and Brandy hated weekends. The atmosphere in the house was morose, miserable. She supposed she should ask the kids if they wanted to see a movie, then go out to dinner afterward, but again, that was lame. That’s really all they ever did together as a family, and she could count the times they’d done this on only one hand. Jeff would be spinning in his grave. But he wasn’t, and she was tired of worrying about the state of her life.

The house phone rang, and she took a deep breath. She still received sympathy calls after all this time. She hated them then, and even more now.

“Mom, are you going to answer that?” Keira asked in a smart-alecky tone.

“Yes,” she said curtly, and picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“Brandy, it’s me,” said Linda, her best friend since middle school. “Are you busy?”

That was the joke of the century!

“No, just moping around the house. What’s up?” She knew she sounded about as enthused as dirty laundry, of which she had three giant heaps waiting in the laundry room.

“I just left the library. They’re looking for someone to work part-time, three days a week. Knowing how much you love books, I thought of you.”

She paused a few seconds before answering. “Is this your way of saying it’s time to get off my rear end and look for a job?” She knew she needed to find something, but her heart just wasn’t in it. However, her dwindling bank account told her it was time.

“You know me better than that. I just know how much you love books. I thought it would be perfect for you. If you’re interested, I can put in a good word for you.”

Linda’s father-in-law was superintendent of the county libraries. If Linda put in a good word, she knew the job was hers.

“I don’t know, Linda. The holidays are coming, I need to stay home with Matthew and Keira.”

“Why? So the three of you can mope around the house together? You need to move on, Brandy. It’s time. It’s been almost three years. You’re young, and you have the rest of your life ahead of you. Why don’t you at least give it some thought? I’ll tell George you’re interested and to hold off hiring anyone.”

Linda tried so hard, but she still had her husband, Dylan. Her nice little family, three girls and two dogs, plus one parakeet, which equaled the perfect family. She didn’t have to go to sleep at night worrying about the future, at least her children’s future. She really should look into this. “I’ll do it,” she said before she changed her mind.

“That’s excellent! I’ll call George, and tell him.”

“You don’t think I can get the job on my own merits?” Brandy asked. She hadn’t worked in public since she was in her teens, and she would like to believe she was employable. She knew the library system front to back.

“Of course I do. A little help isn’t going to hurt, Brandy. You need to take what’s being offered.” Linda’s tone was serious.

“Okay, tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.” The kids needed her, and especially this time of year, as Jeff had passed away December twentieth. Holidays were tough, but Linda was right. It was time she started acting like a big girl.

“Fantastic! I’ll call George as soon as I hang up. So, did you do it?” she asked.

Brandy knew what she referred to. She’d discussed this Christmas tree–decorating issue with her last week. Again. She said she wasn’t ready, but the kids were past ready. Maybe it was time to at least think about pulling out a few decorations. She wasn’t sure how far she could go with this whole Christmas thing, but she would try. And she knew this would make her children happy.

“I looked at the boxes stacked in the garage,” she said.

“Brandy! You need to open them up and see what’s inside. That’s a start. And it would be even better if you took a few ornaments out, maybe let Matthew and Keira help.”

“I know. Keira is ticked at me now. She told me she and Matthew were not going to skip Christmas this year, so I’m sure they’ll be thrilled if I act like I’m excited about celebrating. That was always Jeff’s thing. I’m just not sure if I can. I’m afraid of”—she stopped and took a deep breath—“the memories, and how much it’s going to hurt.”

“Are you still going to grief counseling?”

“No, I stopped that after the second appointment. I really didn’t see any point in continuing though the kids went for a few months. I think it helped them to begin the healing process. They’ve got their whole lives ahead of them. It’s hard for them to understand that I had spent the past twenty years of my life with their father, and I just can’t wipe those memories out with a few grief-counseling sessions.”

“Of course you can’t, but Brandy, it’s time. Jeff would want you to move on with your life. He would have, had it been the other way around.”

True, she thought. Jeff liked being married, and he wouldn’t have grieved this long. He would certainly have remarried by now. Maybe even had another child.

“I know, but it doesn’t make it any easier. What am I supposed to do, Linda? Do I just wake up tomorrow and forget that I was married to Jeff for twenty years? Forget the three months of pure hell we, he went through? If you have a solution, or some . . . magic words, please tell me. I really don’t like feeling this way, and if I’m honest, I don’t really like the person I’ve become. I’m so . . . miserable, Linnie. I swear the kids hate me, and I don’t blame them.”

In a soothing tone, Linda said, “Calm down; don’t be too hard on yourself. I haven’t walked in your shoes, so who’s to say how I would react? I just want you to be happy again.”

Brandy raked a hand through her hair. It was so long, too long for a woman in her midforties. She’d neglected all personal grooming, other than the basic necessities, and had even been somewhat neglectful of those the past week. She hated December and all that it entailed. She wished she could hibernate and wake up after New Year’s.

But she had to be a realist. Before she changed her mind, she said, “Can you call your hairdresser and make me an appointment? And as soon as possible.”

“Sure, I can. I’ll send her a text message now. Hang on a sec,” Linda said. Brandy heard the lilt in her friend’s voice. She smiled. Linda had been her best friend since eighth grade. They’d shared all the normal experiences two young girls could share. Grief, however, had never entered into any of their late-night phone calls. They’d both wanted to get married and have children and would spend hours discussing how they would live next door to each other, how they’d take turns babysitting so they could have date nights. And most of the things they talked about in those late-night conversations had come true. Except Jeff’s death. They’d never gotten that far, and looking back, they were too young to even think about dying.

“Emily can see you in an hour,” said Linda. “She had a cancellation. The girls are at soccer practice with Dylan. Pretty up, and I’ll drive you. Maybe we can even go into one of those nail salons for a manicure and a pedicure. We haven’t done this since . . .” She paused. She didn’t want to continue talking about Jeff. Brandy would never move on if she did, so instead she said, “Forever. My nails look horrid. So, are you game?”

If Brandy were going to apply for the job at the library, it only made sense that she “pretty up.” However, she felt guilty treating herself to such silly things when Jeff couldn’t. Plus, there was no one to appreciate her attempts at “prettying up.”

“Brandy, yes or no?” Linda persisted.

“Give me twenty minutes. Just toot the horn when you get here. I’ll run out, no need for you to get out of your car.”

“This is a good sign. I’m proud of you. Now let me get off the phone. I’ll see you soon.”

In the early years, they had lived next door to each other, but Linda and Dylan had moved into a newer, fancier neighborhood when he made partner at the law firm where he worked. They’d both cried for days, but Brandy had insisted it was part of the lifestyle when one was married to an up-and-coming defense attorney. Though when she’d said this, Jeff was still alive. And she lived only a few minutes away from Linda. While their late-night ice-cream binges weren’t as frequent, they’d still managed to sneak away from their families at least a couple times a month. Brandy couldn’t remember the last time they’d done this.

She raced to her bedroom, the room she and Jeff had shared for so many years. She grabbed a pair of dirty jeans off the bed and a navy blouse she’d worn at least a half dozen times. Not only was she turning into a person she didn’t like, she was turning into a total slob. That was one of the reasons she hadn’t invited Linda to come inside; it was easier to run out the door and meet her in the drive. She’d never liked keeping a perfect house, but she’d never, ever been ashamed to invite her best friend inside. As soon as she changed, she ran a brush through her hair, then twisted it into a topknot, securing it with a claw clip.

“Keira, Matthew, I need you both in the living room. Pronto!” she shouted, and none too kindly.

Keira was still in the kitchen on the phone, and Matthew walked out of his room with earbuds crammed in his ears. He wore a pair of his father’s boxers, his favorite pair, with the musical-note pattern. A silly Valentine’s Day gift she’d given Jeff years ago.

Brandy’s throat tightened, and she felt a flash of unfamiliar rage. “Take those off right this minute! How dare you take something that doesn’t belong to you! You have no business being in my room!” She could feel her heart rate increase, a loud pounding in her ears. This wasn’t good. Her and Jeff’s bedroom remained unchanged since his death. She hadn’t touched any of his personal items. His toothbrush was still in the holder next to hers.

Matthew yanked the earbuds out of his ears and threw them on the floor. “Here, take these. They belonged to Dad, too.” With that, he turned around and went to his room, slamming the door behind him. Two minutes later, the boxers in question came flying out of his room, landing at the edge of the hall where she waited.

She reached for the boxers, clutching them to her chest. She felt violated in an odd way. Brandy always kept her bedroom door closed. She’d made it clear to both kids that this was her personal space and asked that they respect this. Apparently, Matthew had decided to take matters into his own hands and rummage through his father’s chest of drawers. Gritting her teeth, she stomped down the hall to his room. She pounded on the door but didn’t wait for him to invite her inside.

It had been awhile since she had been in his room and what she saw when she entered shocked her. Matthew had always been a very neat kid, almost to the point of obsessiveness. His bed was always made neatly, his clothes put away, books and DVDs had a place on the floor-to-ceiling shelf opposite his bed. Now, however, his bed appeared as though a tornado had swooped in and twisted the sheets and comforter into a tight knot. Clothes covered the floor. His once-cherished music books and his first-edition Harry Potter and Hunger Games novels were opened and tossed across the room as though he’d been using them for a Frisbee, or a boomerang. The odor of stale sweat permeated the darkened room. He sat in the swivel desk chair in front of the desk that she and Jeff purchased just a few months before his diagnosis. He now wore gray sweats, no shirt, and a scowl.

Brandy inhaled and slowly exhaled. She needed to calm down. The last thing she needed was to suffer a heart attack or stroke. Not wanting to sit on the filthy, unmade bed, she leaned against the door frame. “We need to talk.” She cleared her throat. “No, I am going to talk and you are going to listen. You getting this?” she asked, raising her voice a few notches above normal. When she didn’t get a response, she shouted, “Listen to me, dammit!”

That must’ve gotten his attention. Instead of staring down at the mess strung across the floor, he looked at her. His bright aqua eyes were shiny with unshed tears.

“When I told you my room was off-limits, I wasn’t joking. That’s my private space, and you can’t just come and go as you please.” She was shaking but didn’t care. She needed this fifteen-year-old giant of a kid to understand the rules. And the main rule since their father died: Her room was her private space and off-limits. He looked past her, not daring to meet her gaze.

“Do you hear me?” she persisted when he failed to answer.

Before he had a chance to respond, Keira practically shoved her way inside the room. “Matthew, could you give us some privacy?”

He immediately stood, and, in three giant leaps, was out of the room.

“Sit down, Mom,” Keira said in a tone that wasn’t so much snotty as it was authoritative.

“Look, Linda is picking me up, I don’t have time for your crap either, so make it fast.” She wasn’t going to give her eighteen-year-old daughter the satisfaction of sitting down. Besides, there wasn’t a clean place to sit even if she wanted to.

Keira took Matthew’s vacated seat. “You really don’t have a clue, do you? You’re so full of yourself and your grief, that you’ve forgotten how to be a mom! I can’t wait until school starts so I can get out of this diseased house.”

Here we go again, Brandy thought.

“Me either!” she yelled back in her best Mom-is-ticked voice. “I am sick of you and your brother. Me, me, me, that’s all I hear from the two of you! What more do you want from me? I cook your meals, I see to it that you have a roof over your head. I even bought you a car, which I couldn’t really afford! Tell me, Keira, what’s wrong with that? Would you rather I not? If so, have at it. It’s about time you and your brother learned how to cook your own meals and do your own laundry. I’m rather sick of this”—she made air quotes with her index fingers—“‘diseased’ place myself. Now, if you have something important, tell me now. I’m getting my hair done in thirty minutes. Linda will be here any second.”

Keira just stared at her and shook her head. “No, Mom, you’re right. Just forget whatever I said.”

A horn tooted in the driveway. Brandy hurried from the room and grabbed her purse, leaving the two selfish little brats to themselves for a while. She really did need a break.

Grateful for the unexpected escape, Brandy sank into the luxury car’s plush leather seats.

As always, Linda looked like a fashion model. Her shoulder-length chestnut hair was styled in the latest bob, her makeup was perfect. She wore Seven jeans and a bright yellow silk blouse. If she weren’t her best friend, Brandy would be jealous. However, Linda was as beautiful on the inside as she was on the outside, and Brandy loved this about her the most.

“If you don’t mind my saying, you look like poo warmed over.” Brandy smiled. “And you don’t smell so swift either,” she added, but her tone was anything but playful.

“I know. I meant to take a shower last night, or the night before, but I was busy. Sorry to stink up your fancy car.” This hurt her feelings a little, but Linda was right. She did smell a bit ripe, and her clothes were dirty.

Linda drove through the neighborhood and made a few comments about those who’d moved away. “Do you still feel safe here?” she asked Brandy.

“Yes, I do. As a matter of fact, I rarely give it a thought. Why? Does Dylan know something I don’t?” Brandy knew that Dylan, being a criminal-defense attorney, dealt with a lot of petty criminals. If there’d been any vandalism or other problems in the neighborhood, he would know.

“Not that I’m aware of. He’d tell me if there were. I miss this place sometimes,” she said, a trace of sadness in her voice.

“I bet you do,” Brandy added with a bit of sarcasm.

They approached a traffic light, and Linda turned to look at her.

“What’s wrong, Brandy? If you don’t mind my saying, you’re acting kind of mean. What gives? And don’t tell me it’s nothing. I know better. Now spit it out, or I’ll have Emily shave your head.”

“I’ve been into it with Keira and Matthew this morning. They think they know everything. Little know-it-alls, nothing new there. Sorry to be such a downer.”

“What’s going on with them? They’re good kids, Brandy. That’s not like them.”

“Yeah, well, you should spend a day with them. I promise you’d change your mind. Matthew hasn’t touched an instrument since Jeff died. Keira looks like something out of a horror movie. She’s shaved the side of her hair off since you last saw her. Oh, and did I mention this week’s hair color? Burgundy. Matthew’s becoming a pig. His room smells like dirty socks, and his sheets are gray and they’re supposed to be white. And to top that off, he’s been prowling around in my room. I told both kids my room was off-limits. Apparently, he didn’t get my message, so we had words right before you arrived. No, I talked, and he pouted. Then Keira marches in and tells me I need to sit down and listen to her. Starts to spout off, and you arrived. Thank you. I couldn’t stand another minute in that ‘diseased’ house. That’s how Keira referred to our home—can you believe that?”

“I wouldn’t know. Actually, I haven’t been inside since the day of Jeff’s funeral. I suppose you have your reasons for not inviting your best friend inside your house.” Linda paused. “I think you need to tell me what’s really going on. Really.”

Brandy slumped farther down in her seat. “Just the same stuff.”

Linda turned into the shopping mall where Emily’s salon was located. After shutting the engine off, she positioned herself where she could see Brandy’s face. “Explain. And we’re not getting out of the car until you do. So, start talking.”

“Look, there isn’t anything to explain. Both kids have turned into people I don’t know anymore. I’ve told you this more than once. They go to school and come home. Keira hangs out with that group of Goth kids, and Matthew’s friends don’t want to hang around him anymore. I heard one of them call him a douche bag the other morning when I dropped him off at school. I’m sure his friends think he’s turned into a weirdo. He’s a musical prodigy. And he wants to throw it all away.”

Brandy shook her head. Tears pooled in her eyes, but she didn’t let them flow. She looked out the window so Linda wouldn’t see them. “And that, my friend, about sums it up in the Heyers household.”

“Brandy, has it ever occurred to you that they’re seeking your attention?”

She looked at Linda as if she wore blinders. “Good grief, they have my undivided attention twenty-four seven. You of all people should know I never leave the house other than to go to the grocery store or take Matthew to school. I think I’m going to have him take the bus from now on. I’m sick of getting up at five o’clock in the morning. He’s big enough to set his alarm clock and walk two blocks to the bus stop. Everything I do is centered around those two. It’s not easy being a single parent. But you wouldn’t know that because you have Dylan. Dylan’s there when you need a break, Dylan is there to run the girls around. It’s just me, Linda. I have to do it all. And now, I have to get a job. I’ve got enough of Jeff’s life insurance to get me through another three or four months, and after that, well, again, it’s all on me.”

Linda looked at her watch. “Let’s go inside. We’re talking more later. And I’m not going to listen to your bull.” She opened her car door, not giving Brandy the opportunity to continue with her excuses.

Brandy followed Linda inside the salon. The second she saw the giant Fraser fir lit up with dozens of sparkling white lights, she wished she’d stayed home.

Ryan Rogers, principal of Pelican Elementary School, heaved a heavy sigh of relief, glad that it was Friday. Only two more weeks to go before the Thanksgiving holiday break. And did he ever need a break.

His calendar for the upcoming week was packed. Monday was Lily’s eighth birthday. Since her special day fell on a workday, they’d decided to postpone her party until the following Saturday, which just so happened to be the sixth anniversary of his wife, Anna’s, death. It would be a tough day, but he would manage. He always seemed to get through this day without too much difficulty; though it was tough the first few years, time had softened the hard edges of his grief.

Fortunately, Lily had been barely two years old when Anna, at thirty-two, collapsed from a brain aneurysm. Ryan had stayed by her side until the doctors declared her brain-dead, which was only three days after she’d been rushed to the hospital.

He’d been so stunned by the sudden loss, he had lived in a fog for months after losing her. Anna’s parents, Phillip and Nan, had helped care for Lily. At first, she’d asked for her mommy constantly, then after a few months, she suddenly stopped asking. It was as though her memory had completely wiped out all traces of Anna. At the time, Ryan wished he could do the same, but as time passed, his grief became more bearable.

He’d established somewhat of a routine with Lily with the help of Anna’s family and Anna’s best friend, Marlie, who conveniently . . .