* * * * *
Haggerty House was a sprawling and elegant Victorian, every roof and window bordered in white lights. A single white candle bulb shone from every window. Gigantic wreaths hung from every door.
The scents of pine and gingerbread greeted them as soon as they entered, and the soft strains of holiday music drew them further inside. A beautiful octogenarian greeted them at the door, “Welcome to Haggerty House,” she said. “Choose any unoccupied table you like and let me know if you need anything at all. I’m Betty Haggerty. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas,” Sophia replied, loving the place the moment they entered. A spinning mirrored globe spilled red and green lights from the ceiling, painting the entire room and everyone in it, in color. Soft holiday music was played by a string quartet, and couples were dancing on the wide and spacious floor. “Look at that woodwork! I wonder if it’s original?”
“Heck with the woodwork, look at that spread,” Darryl replied, his eyes were appreciating the food. There were three carving stations, and a massive and lush buffet with everything else imaginable.
“Oh, oh, oh, there’s the dessert!” Sophia pointed out several round tables with pyramids of desserts so huge she was surprised their pedestals didn’t buckle.
“Do you want to dance?” he asked. And then before she could answer, he went on. “Or can we eat first?”
“So much for a romantic holiday ball,” she said, but she was almost as eager for the food as he was. “Let’s grab a table before all the good ones are gone.”
“Good ones, meaning close to the buffet?”
“Good ones, meaning close to the dessert.” She grabbed his hand. “I’ve got it all picked out.” As she wove her way through the other patrons, all of them dressed in various degrees of country elegant, she noticed gowns and jewelry and shoes and boots and hairstyles with equal measures of admiration.
They got to the table she’d chosen, and she let go of his hand, picked up the folded cloth napkin, and draped it across one of the chairs, international signal for “Taken.” He did the same, then took hold of her hand again, and tugged her toward the food.
Halfway there, however, he stopped, turned, snapped an arm around her waist, and gave her a spin right onto the dance floor.
She was laughing, surprised, happy.
Come to think of it, she was kind of hitting a new level of happy tonight.
“You tricked me. I thought you wanted to eat first.”
“You called my romancing into question, woman. My stomach can wait.”
“Ego’s bigger, huh?”
“Not only that, but who can resist ‘Santa Baby’?”
She had barely noticed what song was playing, a jazzy rendition coming from unseen speakers. There was a corner section of the room set up for a band, and she presumed they’d start later. That was all she had time to notice, because her face was near his neck, and he smelled like heaven.
“I like that cologne you’re wearing.”
“It’s called Irresistible. I had to put a claim like that to the test.” He looked down at her and wiggled his eyebrows. “How’s it working so far?”
“Pretty darn well.” He was a good dancer. She liked that she could follow his lead with barely any effort, and the way he threw in a dip here, a spin there, to keep it interesting.
“So you’re a doctor,” he said.
She had known they’d get back to that. The music changed to a slow, romantic number, and she laid her head on his chest and shoulder, clasped her hands behind his neck, and whispered, “Not yet.”
“Anything you say.” He tightened his arms around her, and there were no more fancy moves. Just a slow, delicious shuffling of their feet, their bodies melded. His arms around her felt so good. She hadn’t felt like this way very long time. Held, maybe cared for, at least in the moment. Desired.
Yeah. It had been too long.
When the song ended, she lifted her head and looked into his eyes and wondered what he was seeing in hers. “Let’s get some food now, before you faint or something.”
“I’m close, I gotta tell you. It might already be too late.” He took her elbow, and they moved to the buffet, helped themselves to warm plates, and moved along, choosing from among dozens of offerings––three kinds of potatoes, six different vegetable dishes, meat and meatless stuffing, mounds of fruit, and big fluffy homemade rolls. They stopped by the carving station with barely room on their plates for the juice-oozing slices of prime rib, then went back to their table to sit down and dig in.
A waitress came by, pretty and blonde. “I’m taking drink orders, and highly recommending Grandma Betty’s spiced rum punch. Packs just the right amount of kick, and if you have it early in the evening, it’ll be all worn off by the end.”
“Sounds good to me,” Sophie said.
“What the heck, I’ll try it too.”
She hurried away, and a second later a tray toting fellow came by to leave their drinks. Sophie took a bite of the prime rib, and it melted in her mouth, eliciting a rapturous “mmmm” that was unpreventable.
Darryl smiled. “You keep changing the subject when I ask about your work. Should I stop asking?”
She finished chewing, sipped the drink, widened her eyes. Then said, “No. Actually, I should get it over with. My fiancé the addict was using my prescription pad to obtain opiates, both for his own use, and to sell. And he got caught.”
“Holy….”
“That first night we met, when I whooped for joy, was because I’d just got the news that the police had cleared me of any wrongdoing. And then, just last night, I learned that the medical board decided not to take my license.”
He stared at her, searching her eyes. “All of that kind of makes me want to track him down and kick his ass.”
“He’s going to prison. His sentencing is right after the holidays. And I’m fine, so—”
“Are you? Did you lose your job over it?”
She nodded. “It was an elite hospital. I don’t blame them.” Smiling across the table she said, “And I’m fine, and I’m here, and it’s not a fun thing to talk about at a Christmas ball. Finish your food so we can dance again. And um…the let’s attack one of those dessert tables.”
He nodded. “Your wish is my command.”
Oklahoma Christmas Blues Page 12
