Angels at the Table: A Shirley, Goodness, and Mercy Christmas Story

by Debbie Macomber

  “Thanks,” Aren said. “That would be great.”

  He returned to his cubicle and was absorbed in his writing when Norm returned. “This is your lucky day.”

  “You got tickets?”

  “Two for next Thursday night.”

  Aren didn’t care what night it was. “Thanks. You’re the best.” Aren was so pleased to get the tickets that he hadn’t even bothered to check his own schedule. Once he did, he discovered he had another restaurant review arranged for the same night. Dinner and a show. He could hardly believe his luck. Heaven was looking favorably down on him this fine December day. It would be even better if Lucie contacted him. If not, then he’d take his sister.

  Norm returned to his cubicle and Aren went back to writing the review for Heavenly Delights. The words flowed effortlessly and he was humming right along when he paused mid-word. A thought struck him. The call he’d sent to voice mail earlier might have been Lucie.

  Grabbing his cell, he played back the message. Sure enough, just as he’d suspected.

  “Hello, Aren, this is Lucie. Mom said she explained why I didn’t meet you last January. I’m sorry you were left waiting. I’m hoping that you’d be willing to give me another chance. If you are, then give me a call, and if not … well, I understand.” Her voice dipped with dread or disappointment, Aren didn’t know which.

  He couldn’t push the button fast enough to call her back.

  She answered with, “This is Lucie.”

  “Aren,” he supplied, but before he could get another word out, Lucie started jabbering away.

  “Oh, Aren, you got my call. Obviously you did, otherwise you wouldn’t be phoning me. I sound completely redundant, don’t I? It’s just that I’m so very pleased to hear from you.” She paused as if embarrassed at how fast she’d spoken. “I’ll shut up and let you talk now.”

  Aren smiled and a warm happiness settled over him. “You can keep talking as long as you like. I like the sound of your voice.”

  “You do?”

  “It’s providential that we should meet after all these months, don’t you think?” he asked.

  “Yes … and providential is the perfect word, but then you work with words, don’t you?”

  “I do.”

  “Mom said you were writing for the paper. I’d looked for your name—”

  “I’m not exactly their ace reporter.”

  “No, but you’re a wonderful writer … at least I think you must be, even if I haven’t read anything you’ve written.”

  Actually, she had read one of his most significant pieces—his review of her restaurant. But Aren couldn’t tell her that, his contract at the paper stated as much and the managing editor had taken pains to remind him. Even if he was able, he wouldn’t. He didn’t want to end a promising relationship when it was just getting started.

  Using this opportunity to change the subject he said, “I called because I was wondering if you’d be available for dinner and a show next week. I have two tickets to Angels at Christmas next Thursday.”

  “Angels at Christmas! I heard it was impossible to get tickets for that musical.”

  “I have two.”

  “But, oh dear, I … don’t think I can. I’m cooking at the restaurant in the evenings.”

  Of course she was. Aren couldn’t believe he’d forgotten that one key element. “Naturally you’d be working; I was so excited about the tickets I completely forgot.”

  “Thursday night you say?” The question was followed by a short hesitation. “Listen, it doesn’t matter what night it is because I’m taking it off. We have a really wonderful sous-chef who can cover for me. I attended culinary school with Catherine—she’s really good. My mother’s been after me to take a break and this is important. Not to the world in general important, but important to me. Oh heaven, I’m doing it again. I probably don’t make any sense whatsoever, do I?”

  “Amazingly, you do.” Aren’s grin was so wide it hurt his face. “I’ll see you next week then.”

  “Okay. Will you call me with the time or should I phone you?”

  “I’ll be in touch.”

  “Wonderful. Thank you for calling me back, Aren.”

  He should be the one thanking her. They said their farewells and Aren felt like he could climb a mountain. Returning to the task at hand, he waited a few minutes and then reached for his phone to contact his sister.

  Josie answered almost immediately. She worked on Wall Street for a large brokerage firm.

  “I have good news, good news, and bad news.”

  “Do tell.”

  “I heard from Lucie.” He could have tried to play it cool, but his sister knew him far too well. She’d read through his blasé attitude in one second flat. Fooling Josie would be near impossible; consequently he didn’t even try.

  “She called already?”

  “A few minutes ago.”

  “You’re going to see her, aren’t you?”

  “Yup. That’s the good news and the bad news.”

  “Explain yourself, little brother.”

  “I’m taking her to dinner and a show.”

  “Wow, you sure know how to sweep a girl off her feet. Which show?”

  “That’s the bad news.”

  A short hesitation followed. “Don’t tell me … you have tickets to Angels at Christmas?”

  “I do.”

  “Aww, man.”

  “Don’t hate me,” Aren teased. “I have other good news, too, but I didn’t want to overwhelm you.”

  “You might as well kick me harder. I suppose they’re orchestra seats.” She laughed and Aren knew she was happy that Lucie had agreed to go with him.

  “As far as I’m concerned they could be in the nosebleed section and I wouldn’t care. My third bit of good news is that I talked to my boss and Sandy said it would be fine for me to write the review for Heavenly Delights, and retract my previous one.”

  “Well, duh, of course you should.”

  “I feared it might be considered a conflict of interest, but Sandy basically said not to worry about it as long as I don’t reveal my identity.”

  “Good … but does Lucie or her mother know you’re the one who wrote the initial review, panning the restaurant?”

  “No.”

  “No? Aren, this could come back to bite you.”

  “I’ll tell her when the time is right. I don’t want to hide it from her but my contract states that I can’t let anyone know my identity outside of family. Besides, Lucie and I just reconnected.”

  “And you don’t want to upset the proverbial apple cart.”

  “Something like that,” he admitted. In his mind he had the perfect excuse.

  “Oh, Aren, promise me you won’t keep it a secret for long.”

  “Josie, I’m under contract. I could lose my job if I tell her I’m writing as Eaton Well.”

  “There are ways you can do it without saying it directly, you know.”

  “Maybe,” he countered. “But it’s too soon.”

  “Okay, I agree with you there, but I’m afraid this is going to hang over your head like a giant water balloon, threatening to burst at any moment.”

  “I’ll find the right time,” he promised. “But not until I can figure out a way to do it without actually telling her and until we’ve had a chance to get to know each other better. Agreed?”

  “Okay, but don’t wait until it’s too late.”

  “I won’t.” This would be tricky, but he’d look for a way, and for a time when it was right.

  “Get a load of those angels on stage,” Mercy muttered, shaking her head in exasperation. “Apparently this is humanity’s idea of what we look like. Oh dear, these poor people don’t have a clue.”

  Shirley, Goodness, and Mercy, along with Will, sat in the box seat section of the Broadway theater and found themselves highly amused by the musical. After strict instructions from Gabriel they knew better than to interfere with the budding romance between Lucie and Aren. This
was a hands-off assignment.

  Still, Mercy kept a close eye on the two. They had great seats about ten rows back in the orchestra section and seemed to be enjoying the musical immensely. Every now and again their heads would come together and they’d exchange whispers. Mercy had a bit of a romantic streak and it seemed the couple was perfect together. Her heart swelled with appreciation when shortly after the musical started Aren reached for Lucie’s hand and she smiled ever so sweetly up at him. It was the most romantic moment Mercy had seen in a very long while.

  When Mercy’s gaze wandered back to her friends, she froze as an odd sensation went through her.

  Goodness had disappeared.

  “Where’s Goodness?” she whispered, fighting down dread.

  Shirley shrugged, apparently caught up in what was happening on stage.

  “Will, have you seen Goodness?” she asked, hoping to hide the panic in her voice.

  Their young charge seemed to find the antics on stage highly amusing, and he answered with a shake of his head.

  Mercy frantically glanced around and soon saw that her worst fears were about to take place. Goodness was on stage with the actors. Not knowing what else to do, and intent on avoiding another disaster, Mercy quickly joined her friend, grabbing Goodness by the arm. “What are you doing here?” she whispered.

  “These actors don’t know anything about angels or how we behave. Their costumes are a joke.”

  Oh dear, it was worse than she thought. “Goodness, don’t even think about it.”

  “I just want to ruffle their feathers a little, make them a bit more presentable. Gabriel would want that.”

  “No, he wouldn’t,” Shirley chimed in. The three of them bounced around the stage, flittering from one part to another, avoiding the actors.

  “What’s that?” Will asked, joining them.

  “What’s what?”

  “That man. He’s playing some sort of musical instrument.”

  “It’s a tuba, now go back where we were,” Mercy instructed.

  All at once one of the stage angels let out a screech as she was suspended two feet off the ground. “Goodness, mercy,” the actor cried, frantically flapping her arms.

  “She knows our names,” Shirley said, aghast.

  “Put her down,” Mercy pleaded, and quickly amended. “Gently, please.”

  The actor’s feet gradually returned to the stage and almost immediately three other stage angels were elevated. Not knowing what was happening, the other actors, obviously skilled professionals, continued with their lines as if nothing were amiss, craning their necks in order to look up at the actors whose feet were scrambling and arms flapping. Apparently the audience took it all in their stride, laughing uproariously. Those viewing the show seemed to believe this was part and parcel of the program, which was a play within a play.

  The main characters had attended a Christmas program in which the children reenacted the Nativity scene. The angels, all actors, played major roles, directing the children. Now Shirley, Goodness, and Mercy caused near pandemonium with the stage crew shrugging their shoulders, running onto the stage, and looking up for some nonexistent hidden wire.

  While Mercy argued with Goodness, sensible Shirley had apparently lost her head and decided this was her moment to shine. Mercy couldn’t believe her eyes when her fellow Prayer Ambassador broke into song along with the small children’s choir.

  Seeing that it was a lost cause, Mercy gave up and joined her friend, singing one of their favorite Christmas carols. Everyone on stage froze and stared at the children and for one short moment, Mercy feared they were about to be discovered.

  “I think it’s time we go now,” Will said, tugging at Shirley’s sleeve.

  “Oh dear, you might be right,” Shirley said, seemingly coming to her senses.

  “I’d like to try playing that tuba before we go,” Will said, heading for the orchestra pit.

  Goodness grabbed Will and hauled him back.

  “Not now,” Mercy pleaded, ushering the other three off the stage. “We need to get while the getting is good.”

  Oh dear, this was going badly.

  “What about Lucie and Aren?” Will protested as they made their way back to heaven. “Can we just leave them behind?”

  “We don’t have any choice now.” Mercy wasn’t sure how everything had gotten out of hand like this, but it was beyond redemption now. Oh, she should have known, should have guessed, that seeing angels on stage would be too much temptation for them. They left the theater and Mercy had started to relax when she heard Shirley screech. “Goodness! Put the camel back before anyone notices it’s missing.”

  Mercy looked back and gasped. Sure enough her dear friend had stolen the camel that was tethered backstage and was leading him down the street.

  Yup, they were beyond redemption. All Mercy could hope was that heaven didn’t hear about this until much, much later.

  “What did you think of the musical?” Aren asked Lucie as they slowly made their way out of the theater.

  It was difficult for her to hear him above the excited chatter of the crowd. Everyone was talking about the performance. Lucie overheard someone say that they’d seen the same play earlier and that she really liked the additional comedic changes.

  “I thought it was amazing … simply amazing.”

  “I did, too,” Aren agreed.

  Once outside, he helped Lucie on with her coat and then buttoned his own. He reached for her hand and tucked it in the crook of his elbow. It was a cold night, which gave Lucie a good excuse to stay close to Aren. The lights in the city over the holidays seemed to glow a little brighter. Everything felt so perfect, so wonderful. Although she’d known Aren only a short while, it seemed that he’d always been in her life. Never having experienced that kind of connection with a man before, Lucie couldn’t help but wonder if she’d found the man she could love with the same intensity as the love her parents had shared.

  “I’m still trying to figure out how they managed to elevate the angels,” Aren remarked, frowning as he spoke. “Usually I can see the wires, and we were close enough to get a good look, but I didn’t see any.”

  “The children’s singing was … unbelievable.”

  “I’m going to download the music as soon as I get home. It was …” Aren seemed to be searching for the right word.

  “Angelic,” Lucie supplied. Their shoulders touched as they walked, arm in arm. “I had the most wonderful evening. I don’t know how to thank you.”

  Aren grinned and wrapped his hand around hers in the crook of his elbow. “We’re not finished yet.”

  “We’re not?”

  “I hope you’re hungry.”

  “Starved.” Lucie had gotten up extra early that morning to bake and get everything ready at the restaurant so she could leave for the night in good conscience. It’d been tempting to phone in and make sure everything was going okay. But her mother had discouraged that. Wendy wanted Lucie to forget about the restaurant for one night and enjoy herself. Lucie didn’t think it was possible, but she was wrong. When she was with Aren it felt as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

  “I know it’s late but I made dinner reservations.”

  They walked past Rockefeller Center and paused to admire the lights on the Christmas tree and gaze at the skaters circling the ice. Unable to resist, Lucie pressed her head against Aren’s shoulder.

  “Tired?”

  She should be, but she wasn’t. “No, just happy, so happy.”

  “I am, too. I didn’t think it was possible to find you again.”

  “I didn’t either. I’d given up hope.”

  They continued walking, their pace slow and easy until they arrived at the restaurant, which carried the name of a well-known television chef. Lucie couldn’t help being impressed.

  “How did you manage this along with the theater tickets to the hottest show in town?”

  He grinned sheepishly. “I pulled a few strings.”


  “I’ve heard so much about the food here. I’ve always wanted to try it.”

  “Good, this is my first experience, too.”

  Now she understood why he’d chosen to eat so late. This was probably the only time he could get a reservation. From everything Lucie had heard, the restaurant was booked months in advance. It was next to impossible to get in during the holidays. Lucie could only speculate as to how many favors Aren would owe for this night. Certainly she would long remember this evening.

  After they were seated they waited several minutes before the menus were delivered. Lucie caught Aren’s eye. “Mom would never let that happen,” she whispered.

  “Oh?”

  “Waiting for the menus. She’d be on that right away.”

  Aren grinned and opened the elaborately framed menu. A gold tassel dangled at the bottom.

  After giving them more than ample time to study the meal selections the waiter returned and recited the evening’s specials in elaborate detail, mentioning the country of origin for the herbs and spices and every nuance of each particular dish. Because it was late in the evening they’d sold out of the appetizer and had only one of the special entrées left.

  Again Lucie had trouble hiding a frown. “Why mention the specials at all if they aren’t available? All those details didn’t make the dish sound more appealing. He made me feel it should be placed in a museum to be admired.”

  “I agree,” Aren said, chuckling softly.

  Lucie ordered the Chilean sea bass and Aren asked for cheese stuffed chilies. Once served, the food was as much a disappointment as the service had been.

  “Well, what do you think?” Aren asked after she’d taken her first bite. “Does this restaurant live up to its reputation?”

  Lucie set her fork aside and weighed whether she should speak her mind or not. Being in the restaurant business herself, she suspected she was being overly critical. Aren had gone to a lot of trouble to get this reservation, but she could see he wasn’t enjoying his dinner either. “Do you want the truth?” she asked.

  “Of course.”

  “The fact is I’m disappointed, but take that with a grain of salt. I know a lot about running a restaurant. My fish was overcooked, the sauce has no flavor, and the vegetables have had the very life boiled out of them. This is what drives me crazy.”