Christmas with Holly

by Lisa Kleypas

  The girl smiled. “One or two?”

  “Just one.”

  “If you want to sit over there, I’ll bring the sandwiches to you in just a minute.”

  Maggie sat by a window and people-watched as she waited.

  In no time at all the girl approached with a white paper sack. “Here you go.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Oh, and…” The girl handed her a napkin. “Someone asked me to give this to you.”

  “Who?” Maggie asked blankly, but the girl had already hurried away to help a customer.

  Maggie’s gaze fell to the white paper napkin in her hand. Someone had written on it.

  Hi

  Looking up in bemusement, Maggie scanned the small seating area. Her breath caught as she saw Mark Nolan and Holly sitting at a bistro table in the corner. His gaze held hers, and a slow smile curved his lips.

  The message on the napkin crumpled into Maggie’s palm, her fingers tightening reflexively. A responsive ache of happiness awakened in her chest, just at the sight of him. Damn it. She had spent weeks trying to convince herself that the interlude she’d had with Mark had not been nearly as magical as it had seemed.

  But that didn’t explain the new habit of her heart to skip or stutter whenever she saw a dark-haired man in a crowd. It didn’t explain why, more than once, she had awakened with the sheets tangled around her legs and her mind filled with the pleasant haze of having dreamed about him.

  As Mark stood up from the table and walked to her with Holly in tow, Maggie was filled with a terrible, giddy rush of infatuation. Hectic color spread everywhere, right up to her hairline. Her heartbeat throbbed in every limb. She couldn’t look directly at him, couldn’t look fully away from him, just stood in unfocused confusion, bag in hand.

  “Hi, Holly,” she managed to say to the beaming child, whose hair was plaited in two perfect blond braids. “How are you?”

  The child surprised her by darting forward and hugging her. Maggie automatically closed her free arm around the small, slender body.

  Still hanging around Maggie’s waist, Holly tilted her head back and smiled up at her. “I lost a tooth yesterday,” she announced, and showed her the new gap in the bottom row.

  “That’s wonderful,” Maggie exclaimed. “Now you have two places to put your straws when you drink lemonade.”

  “The tooth fairy gave me a dollar. And my friend Katie only got fifty cents for hers.” This comparison was relayed with a hint of concern at the vagaries of such a pricing system.

  “The tooth fairy,” Maggie repeated, casting an amused glance at Mark. She knew how he felt about encouraging Holly to believe in fantasy creatures.

  “It was a perfect tooth,” Mark said. “Obviously a tooth like that deserved a dollar.” His gaze swept over Maggie. “We were heading to your shop after lunch.”

  “Anything in particular you’re looking for?”

  “I need fairy wings,” Holly told her. “For Halloween.”

  “You’re going to be a fairy? I have wands, tiaras, and at least a half-dozen different pairs of wings. Would you like to walk to the shop with me?”

  Holly nodded eagerly and reached for her hand.

  “Let me carry that stuff for you,” Mark said.

  “Thank you.” Maggie gave him the paper sack, and they left Market Chef together.

  During the walk, Holly was talkative and lively, telling Maggie about her friends’ Halloween costumes, and what kind of candy she hoped to get, and about the Harvest Festival she was going to after the trick-or-treating. Although Mark said little and walked behind them, Maggie was intensely aware of his presence.

  As soon as they entered the shop, Maggie guided Holly to a rack of fairy wings, all beribboned, glittered, and painted with swirls. “Here they are.”

  Elizabeth approached them. “Are we shopping for wings? How lovely.”

  Holly stared quizzically at the elderly woman, who wore a veiled cone hat and a long tulle skirt, and carried a magic wand. “Why are you dressed like that? It’s not Halloween yet.”

  “It’s my outfit for when we have birthday parties at the shop.”

  “Where?” Holly asked, casting an eager glance all around the shop.

  “There’s a party room in the back. Would you like to see it? It’s all decorated.”

  After looking to Mark for permission, Holly went happily to the back with Elizabeth, skipping and hopping.

  Mark looked after her with a wry, affectionate grin. “She bounces all the time,” he said. His gaze returned to Maggie. “We won’t stay long. I don’t want to keep you from your lunch.”

  “Oh, that’s no problem. How…” It felt like she had just taken a spoonful of honey, having to swallow repeatedly against the sweet thickness. “How are you?”

  “Fine. You?”

  “I’m doing great,” Maggie said. “Are you and Shelby…” She had intended to say “engaged,” but the word stuck in her throat.

  Mark understood what she was trying to ask. “Not yet.” He hesitated. “I brought this for you.” He set a tall, narrow-bodied thermos onto the counter, the kind that was capped by a drinking cup. Maggie hadn’t noticed him carrying it before.

  “Is that coffee?” she asked.

  “Yes, one of my roasts.”

  The offering pleased her more than it should have. “You’re a bad influence,” she told him.

  His voice was husky. “Hope so.”

  It was a delicious moment, standing there with him, imagining for one forbidden second what it would be like to take one step forward and erase the distance between them. To press up to him, against hardness and heat, and feel him gather her in.

  Before Maggie could thank him, Elizabeth returned with Holly. The little girl, excited by the decorated party room and a big castle cake with candles on all the turrets, went immediately to Mark and demanded that he come see it, too. He smiled and let himself be towed away.

  Eventually Mark and Holly piled up their purchases on the counter: a set of fairy wings, a tiara, and a green and purple tutu. Elizabeth rang them up, chatting amiably, while Maggie was busy helping a customer.

  Maggie climbed a folding step stool to reach some figurines that had been stored in a cabinet above a display case. After retrieving Dorothy, the Tin Woodman, the Lion, and Scarecrow, she told the customer that the Wicked Witch was out of stock. “I can reorder and have her here in about a week,” Maggie said.

  The customer hesitated. “Are you sure? I don’t want to buy the others if I can’t get the whole set.”

  “If you’d like, we’ll call the distributor and make certain they can send the witch.” Maggie glanced toward the cash register. “Elizabeth—”

  “I have the number right here,” Elizabeth said, brandishing a laminated list. She smiled as she recognized the customer. “Hello, Annette. Is this going to be a present for Kelly? I knew she would love that movie.”

  “She’s watched it at least five times,” the woman replied with a laugh, and went to the counter as Elizabeth dialed the phone.

  Gathering up an armload of extra figurines, Maggie climbed the step stool and began to replace them in the cabinet. She began to struggle with her balance when some of the boxes shifted in her arms.

  A pair of hands came to her waist, steadying her. Maggie froze briefly as she comprehended that Mark was standing behind her. The pressure of his touch was firm, capable, respectful. But the warmth of his hands sank through the thin cotton layer of her T-shirt, and it sent her pulse rocketing. She tensed against the compulsion to turn in the compass of his arms. How good it would feel to sink her fingers into that dark, heavy hair, and pull him closer, harder—

  “Can I put those away for you?” he asked.

  “No, I…I’ve got it.”

  His hands lowered, but he stayed nearby.

  Maggie fumbled with the remaining boxes, pushing them blindly into the cabinet. Descending from the step stool, she turned to face Mark. They were standing too close.
He smelled like sun, sea air, salt—the fragrance teased her senses. “Thank you,” she managed to say. “And thanks for the coffee. How will I get the thermos back to you?”

  “I’ll come back for it later.”

  Having rung up the other customers, Elizabeth approached them. “Mark, I’ve been trying to convince Maggie to meet Sam. Don’t you think they would have a good time together?”

  Holly’s face lit up at the suggestion. “You would like my uncle Sam a lot,” she told Maggie. “He’s funny. And he has a Blu-ray player.”

  “Well, those are my two requirements,” Maggie replied with a grin. She glanced up at Mark, whose face had gone expressionless. “Would I like him?” she dared to ask.

  “You don’t have much in common.”

  “They’re both young and single,” Elizabeth protested. “What else do they have to have in common?”

  Now Mark was wearing a distinct scowl. “You want to be introduced to Sam?” he asked Maggie.

  She shrugged. “I’m pretty busy.”

  “Let me know when you decide. I’ll take care of it.” He gestured to Holly. “Time to go.”

  “Bye!” the little girl said brightly, coming forward to hug Maggie again.

  “Bye, Holly.”

  After the pair had left, Maggie glanced around the shop, which had cleared out for the time being. “Let’s have lunch,” she told Elizabeth. They went to the room at the back of the shop and sat at the table, keeping their ears tuned for the telltale jingle of the bell on the door. While Elizabeth unwrapped the sandwiches, Maggie unscrewed the top of the thermos. An enticing scent wafted upward—toasty, rich, and cedary.

  Maggie inhaled deeply, closing her eyes to concentrate on the heady fragrance.

  “Now I understand,” she heard Elizabeth say.

  Maggie opened her eyes. “Understand what?”

  “Why you weren’t interested in meeting Sam.”

  A breath stuck in her throat. “Oh…I…it has nothing to do with Mark, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “I saw the way he looked at you.”

  “He’s involved with another woman. Seriously involved.”

  “It’s not over till the ‘I dos’ have been said. And Mark brought you coffee.” This was stated as if the gesture was of incalculable significance. “It’s probably the equivalent of Dom Pérignon.” Elizabeth cast a covetous glance at the thermos.

  “Would you like to try some?” Maggie asked, amused.

  “I’ll go get my mug.”

  The brew was already creamed and sugared, a flow of light steaming caramel pouring into their cups. Silently they raised their coffees in a toast, and drank.

  It wasn’t just coffee…it was an experience. Smooth, roasted, buttery notes gave way to a velvet finish. Strength and sweetness, no trace of bitterness. It warmed Maggie down to her toes.

  “Oh my,” Elizabeth said. “This is delicious.”

  Maggie took another swallow. “It’s such a problem,” she said dolefully.

  The older woman’s face softened with understanding. “Being attracted to Mark Nolan?”

  “He’s off-limits. But whenever I see him, even though we’re not flirting, it feels like we are.”

  “That’s not a problem,” Elizabeth said.

  “It’s not?”

  “No, it’s when it stops feeling like flirting that it becomes a problem. So go ahead and flirt—it may be the only thing that’s keeping you from having sex with him.”

  Eight

  On Halloween, Mark insisted that Sam be the one to take Holly to the activities in Friday Harbor, including a film show at the library, trick-or-treating at local stores, and a children’s party at the fairgrounds. “Make sure to drop by the toy shop to see Maggie,” Mark added.

  “You sure?” Sam asked doubtfully.

  “Yes. Everyone wants the two of you to meet, including Maggie herself. So go for it. Ask her out if you like her.”

  “I don’t know,” Sam said. “You have that look on your face.”

  “What look?”

  “The look you get just before you kick someone’s ass.”

  “I’m not going to kick anyone’s ass,” Mark said calmly. “She’s not mine. I’m with Shelby.”

  “Then why does it feel like asking Maggie out would be rack jacking you?”

  “It wouldn’t be rack jacking. I’m with Shelby.”

  Sam had laughed quietly and scratched his head. “Your new mantra. Okay, I’ll check her out.”

  Later Sam returned home with Holly, who’d had a wonderful time during the Halloween activies, and had filled an entire plastic pumpkin bucket with candy. Ceremoniously, they spread the candy on the table, surveyed it with admiration, and Holly chose two or three pieces to eat right then.

  “Okay, upstairs to the bathtub,” Mark had said, bending down to let Holly climb onto his back. “This is about the grimiest, stickiest little fairy I’ve ever seen.”

  “You don’t believe in fairies,” Holly said, giggling, as he carried her up the stairs piggyback.

  “I do, too. I’ve got one right here.”

  After drawing her bath and putting a clean nightgown and towel on the closed lid of the toilet seat, Mark went downstairs. Sam had just finished putting the candy into a large Ziploc, and was straightening up the kitchen.

  “So?” Mark asked gruffly. “Did you go into the shop?”

  “About twenty of them. The town was crazy-busy.”

  “The toy shop,” Mark said through gritted teeth.

  “Oh, you’re asking about Maggie.” Sam reached into the fridge for a beer. “Yeah, she’s a hottie. And Holly’s crazy about her. She sat on the counter and helped Maggie hand out candy. I think she would’ve stayed there all night if I’d let her.” He paused, tilting back the beer. “But I’m not going to ask Maggie out.”

  Mark watched him alertly. “Why not?”

  “She gave me the Heisman.”

  “The what?”

  “You know—” Sam mimicked the outstretched blocking arm of the Heisman Trophy pose. “She was friendly, but not interested.”

  “Well, she should be,” Mark said in annoyance. “You’re single, decent-looking…what’s her problem?”

  Sam shrugged. “She’s a widow. Maybe she’s not finished grieving for her husband.”

  “It’s time for her to be finished,” Mark said. “It’s been two years. She needs to start living again. She needs to take a chance on someone.”

  “Like you?” Sam asked perceptively.

  Mark shot him a dark glance. “I’m with Shelby.”

  “Yeah, I got that,” Sam said with a quiet laugh. “Keep repeating it. Maybe at some point you’ll start believing it.”

  Mark went upstairs, disgruntled. He told himself it wasn’t his business if or when Maggie started going out again. Why, then, did the situation bother him so much?

  He found Holly in her room, dressed in her pink nightgown, waiting in bed for him to tuck her in. The bedside lamp was on, warm light glowing through the pink lampshade. Holly’s gaze was fixed on the pair of fairy wings, which were hanging on the back of a chair. Her fair ivory skin was dappled with red patches. Mark’s heart was wrenched with concern when he saw that her eyes were wet.

  Sitting on the edge of the mattress, he pulled her up against him. “What is it?” he whispered. “What’s the matter?”

  Holly’s voice was muffled. “I wish my mom could have seen me in my costume.”

  Mark kissed her light hair and the delicate curve of her ear. And for a long time he just held her. “I miss her, too,” he finally said. “I think she’s watching over you, even though you can’t see or hear her.”

  “Like an angel?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you believe in angels?”

  “Yes,” Mark said without hesitation, despite everything he had ever said or thought to the contrary. Because there was no reason for him not to allow for the possibility, especially if it comforted Holly.
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  Holly drew back to look at him. “I didn’t think you would.”

  “I do,” Mark said. “Faith is a choice. I can believe in angels if I want to.”

  “I believe in them, too.”

  Mark smoothed her hair. “No one’s ever going to replace your mom. But I love you as much as she did, and I’ll always take care of you. And so will Sam.”

  “And Uncle Alex.”

  “And Uncle Alex. But I was thinking…what if I marry someone who would help me to take care of you, and love you in a mom-type way? Would you like that?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “What about Shelby? You like her, right?”

  Holly considered that. “Did you fall in love with her?”

  “I care about her. A lot.”

  “You’re not supposed to marry someone if you don’t fall in love with her.”

  “Well, love is a choice, too.”

  Holly shook her head. “I think it’s something that happens to you.”

  Mark smiled into her small, earnest face. “Maybe it’s both,” he said, and tucked her in.

  The following weekend, Mark went to Seattle to visit Shelby. Her cousin’s engagement party would be held on Friday night at the Seattle Yacht Club on Portage Bay. It was yet another step in the progression of their relationship: attending a family event, meeting Shelby’s parents for the first time. He expected to get along well with them. From her descriptions, they seemed like decent, normal people.

  “You will love them, I promise,” Shelby had told him. “And they will love you.”

  The word “love” made Mark tense. So far, he and Shelby had not gotten to the point when either of them had said “I love you,” but Mark sensed that she wanted to. And it made him feel as guilty as hell, because he wasn’t looking forward to it. Of course he would say it back. And he would mean it, but probably not in the way that she wanted him to mean it.

  A few months ago, Mark would have assumed that love was an ability he lacked. But Holly had disproved that entirely. Because the feeling of wanting to protect Holly, to give her everything, this soul-deep urge to make her happy…it was unquestionably love. Nothing Mark had ever felt before came close.

  On Friday afternoon Mark took a flight to Seattle, worried as hell because Holly had come home from school with a slight fever. Ninety-nine point nine. “I should cancel,” he had told Sam.