by B. E. Baker
Amy unzips her jacket, and she's wearing the same green shirt.
Chase tugs his sweater up, nearly shucking off his shirt and sweater both. Luke laughs and helps him, and of course he's also wearing a matching green shirt.
“This is too much,” I say.
Luke sets the box down. “Oh come on, it's tax deductible.”
“Luke,” I say. “That's not the point.”
“Oh come on. Just say thank you, and then open mine next.” Amy hands me a tiny box, much narrower than the first, but just as long.
“We're not done talking about this, Luke.” I point at him until he meets my eye and nods.
His face is more sober than I've ever seen it. “Of course not. I named you the President, and I'm the Vice President. I imagine we'll talk about this a lot. Or that was my plan.”
I had no idea electricians made enough money for this kind of donation. I open the next box. It's a set of keys, one large and one small, both on a silver keychain that has the word “Winning” engraved on the oval plate.
“Uh, I think this one might need an explanation.”
“You need to sleuth better.” Luke winks. “There's a paper underneath it.”
I pull the paper out and start reading. It's a warranty deed for a house, and the address seems familiar. I flip to the next page, and there's a photo—of my dream house for the past twenty years. The house that wasn't even for sale. The one with a pool, a beautiful yard, the perfect floors, and mica flecked counters. The old, white, colonial home I've wanted my entire life.
I read the deed more carefully.
Now, somehow, it's mine.
“What? How?” I can’t formulate a good question. “It's way too much, Luke. I can't accept it.”
Luke hugs Amy and Chase and then whispers, “You two go play for a minute so I can talk to Mary, okay?”
I grab my jacket and Luke and I walk to the front porch. “I should probably have told you before the presents,” he says. “But I hate having this conversation.”
“Oh my gosh, you're a drug dealer or something.” My stomach feels like it's full of rocks. “Or a smuggler? A thief!”
He laughs, deep and loud. “Nothing of the sort, but I'm glad to know you went straight there.”
“Then what?”
He throws his hands up in the air. “When we were both young and stupid, my brother Paul and I wanted to start a business. I'd identify things that the world needed by working at real jobs. Paul would do research in a lab to try and make them. We collaborated on this one project that evolved into the main component of LED lights. That was our first success. Since then, we've created and patented more than a hundred new inventions, most of them electrical in nature.”
I recall him telling Foster he invented the LED light. I thought he was joking, so I didn't even think about it a second time.
“But. . .” I splutter. “You live in a trailer.”
Luke puts an arm around me. “After Beth died, I didn't care about money, or possessions, or houses. All I wanted was to feel numb enough not to think. But then you pointed out that big, white, columned house, and explained what it meant to you. When you told me why you loved it, I don't know. I just had to see it for myself. I called my realtor and set up an appointment.”
“But—it wasn't even on the market. You can't set up an appointment for something that's not for sale.”
He tsks. “Oh Mary, everything's on the market for the right price. But as it turned out, the Bennetts had been thinking of downsizing for years. I didn't even have to pay much over the appraisal value.”
I don't even have words.
“Do you have any questions?” he asks. “Anything at all?”
“So you're like a billionaire?” I ask.
He laughs heartily again. “Not even that close.”
“What are you worth, then?”
He shrugs. “It fluctuates, you know, but somewhere around 600 million, last I checked.”
He could buy and sell Foster a hundred times.
My jaw drops.
I stand up and turn to walk back inside my modest little three bedroom home. Luke jumps up after me and slips on the step, falling backward on his butt into a bush. I shouldn't laugh, but I can't help myself. Mr. Richy Rich himself, bent double and stuck in a brown holly bush.
Once my giggling fit subsides, I offer him a hand and help him stand up. He doesn't let go of my hands once he's standing again. He pulls me close and kisses me until I can't think anymore. Numbers don't exist, money isn't real, and nothing matters except Luke, and me, and his darling children. When he finally lets me go, he drops to one knee and holds up a big black box.
If the box was small, I'd think he was proposing. As it is, he's handing me a big present in a really strange way. Maybe the fall damaged his brain.
“You've done way too much already,” I say. “What else could you possibly give me?”
He arches one eyebrow. “I'd hardly find the woman of my dreams, and the house of my dreams, and then buy her that house and drive away to a job in the Midwest.”
I take the box and unwrap it. “This bag says Prada.”
He nods. “There's a note.”
I pull a yellow post-it off the gorgeous black Prada bag. “Perfect Mom Bag.”
My heart races. “You bought me a mom purse?”
He grins. “The bag is just to show that I have faith in you and your abilities. Look inside.”
I reach inside and pull out a little blue box that says Tiffany's on the top.
Luke pulls me into his arms. “If you hate this, you can go pick out something else, but I wanted to surprise you. You've never had the life you deserved, not even close.”
“I love my life.”
He kisses my forehead. “And that's what I like most about you. Life gave you a pile of crap, and you rolled up your sleeves and got to work. You've made the life you deserved for yourself, and as far as I can tell, you never even complained that you had to do it all alone.”
“Oh, I complained alright.”
I open the blue box and gasp at the enormous emerald inside, flanked by two large, sparkly, diamonds.
“Is this because of our joke?” I ask.
He frowns. “What joke?”
“Green eggs and ham?”
He laughs, and shakes his head. “I told the jeweler I wanted something that exactly matched your eyes. This is a little too green, but I figured you'd let that go.”
My knees feel weak, so I'm glad Luke's arms are still around me. He slides the ring on my finger, and I don't stop him.
“You've always taken care of everyone else, and never worried about yourself. I know it hasn't been very long for us, but I've watched you sacrifice and sacrifice and sacrifice for others. I've watched you care for your sister, your nephew, and hundreds of kids you don't know. I've watched you interact with my children, and I love you for all of that and more. Please, please, don't freak out about the money thing. Give me a chance, give us a chance, and I won't let you down.”
The door opens behind me, and Amy's head pokes out. A second later, Trudy's head pops out just above it. “Did he do it yet?” Amy asks.
Trudy shakes her head and whispers, “He's doing it right now.”
“Well, what did she say?” Amy asks.
“I haven't said anything yet.” I huff.
Amy squeals. “The ring's on her finger, though!” She ducks back inside, and after beaming at me, Trudy follows.
“They're excited, that's all.” Luke drops his hands. “So I know I slid that on there without you saying anything. Any chance I'll get some kind of answer out of you?”
I grab Luke by his shoulders and pull him up against me. I press my lips to his, and disappear into the feelings again. He's a good man, a hard worker, and a wonderful father. So what if he's sinfully rich and uses that money to buy presents that are way overblown?
Everyone's entitled to one flaw.
“Yes,” I say. “I'll marry you and
move into a big, old, white mansion with your beautiful children. On one condition.”
Luke's smile nearly cleaves his face in two. “What's that?”
“You have to call and quit your job in Louisville.”
He exhales dramatically. “Oh, please. It's like you don't know me at all.” He winks. “I did that yesterday.”
My eyebrows rise. “Before you knew my answer?”
“You said you loved me. Even if you said no the first time, I figured I could work with that.”
I slug his shoulder, and he picks me up and twirls me around. The ring spins around my finger, weighed down by the enormously large emerald.
“Oh, hey,” I say. “Maybe we ought to take this off until we get it sized.”
“Sorry,” he says. “My brother's a hopeless bachelor, but he offered me one piece of advice.”
“What was that?”
“He said, 'make sure that ring's not too small. No woman wants to find out you think her fingers are fat.’”
I throw my head back and laugh. “I can't wait to meet your brother.”
Amy comes bouncing out of the house like a pinball. “I picked it, I picked it. Dad said if I did a good job, you might be my mom. Santa didn't bring me one, but I think it's because he knew I’d already picked you.”
Her eyes, desperate with hope, lock on mine. I don't tell her that Santa brought her a mom after all, my Santa, because I don't think she'll understand. No one else will. But before I can think of what else to say, Luke takes the ring back and slides it into the box.
Amy's lower lip trembles. “You didn't like it?”
I pull her into my arms and hug her tightly. “You did a wonderful job sweetheart, but the ring is a little bit big.”
She closes her eyes and sighs. “That's Dad's fault.”
I swing her around. “Yes, it is.”
“Dad says the white rocks are what girls all want, but I liked the green one cuz it matches your eyes and it’s different, like you. I didn't think you'd want what every other girl wants. We comzimized.”
“Compromised?” I ask.
“Yes!” She nods her head. “Exactly. What do you think?” She meets my eyes. “Also, not to push you or anything, but Dad says if you say yes, we don't have to move. We can live here in a house without wheels instead.”
I think about the absurdly large ring. “I think I love the ring.” And I can't wait to show it off to everyone I meet.
Chase comes running out next. “What does she say?”
Luke swoops me up in his arms and carries me inside. I whap his arm again. “You can't carry me over the threshold. We aren't even married yet.”
“I'm practicing. So sue me.”
Luke and his kids stay the rest of the day, and it's absolutely the happiest Christmas I've ever had. I tell Luke so.
“Oh Mary,” he says, “I'm just getting started.”
Epilogue
I’m elbow deep in month-end reports when someone clears their throat in the doorway to my office. I glance up.
Luke’s holding a brown sack toward me like a white flag. “I come bearing food.”
The smell of Philly cheesesteak makes my mouth water. I glance at my clock. It’s almost two p.m. How well does he know me? “I never stopped for lunch.”
“What a huge shock,” he says.
I wave him in and clear a section of papers from the edge of my desk. “You’re going to eat with me?”
He nods.
“This is basically a date, then?”
He lifts one eyebrow. “Oh no you don’t. I’m a food delivery person who’s hungry himself. This does not count as one of the three dates per week you promised to make time for during tax season.”
“It’s food you paid for, and we’re chatting while we eat.”
He snatches the bag toward his chest. “I will take this bag and eat all the food myself, so help me.”
“Oh fine,” I say. “It’s not one of the dates.” I may act put out, but I actually love that he fiercely guards our time together. He knows me well enough, even with a whirlwind courtship, that he’ll advocate for what’s best for me. “Now give me a sandwich.”
He hands me one, and it’s still warm. My stomach growls embarrassingly.
“It’s January.” He frowns. “How are we supposed to plan a wedding if you’re already drowning in paperwork before people’s K-1s have even gone out?”
I laugh. “Do you mean 1099s? K-1s aren’t due until—” I realize he was kidding. He just threw out the name of a form. “Fine. Let’s talk wedding while we eat.”
“Have you picked colors yet?” Luke asks. “And we need to pick a venue. Plus an official date.”
I narrow my eyes. “Did you bring a list or something?”
“You’re the list maker, not me. I just know that if you do want to get married this spring, we’ll need to step on the gas with the planning.”
“It’s just such a bad time,” I say. “New job, tax season, and it turns out, with my old boss headed for the door, she let a few things slide. . .”
“Am I interrupting?” Paisley’s head is barely visible around the doorframe. The perky look on her face is familiar.
“You smelled the sandwiches, didn’t you?”
She smiles and steps into the doorway. “The thing is, without food for my belly, I can file a complaint about unsafe working conditions—”
Luke reaches into the bag and offers her a white-paper rolled cylinder. “I knew you’d have skipped lunch too.”
“He’s perfect,” Paisley says. “Painfully perfect. Did I say that already today? I’d like to order a man for myself who’s just like this.”
“Actually,” Luke says. “Speaking of ordering someone like me. . .”
I set my sandwich down and smooth the paper out flat, curious where this is going. “Someone like you? I thought we were going to try and set your brother up with Trudy—”
“Your sister’s not ready to date yet,” Luke says. “But yes, I think she’ll be perfect for Paul. There’s no rush there. That guy is clueless.”
Then who is he talking about? “If you don’t mean Paul—”
“Stop interrupting your amazing fiancé.” Paisley perches on a chair in the corner. “Let him tell me about my future husband.”
Luke chuckles. “I don’t know about that, but when Paul told me he doesn’t have time to be my best man, I called my best friend to see whether he can come out and visit so I can ask him in person. But when we spoke, Trig seemed so miserable. I realized that he hasn’t had a serious girlfriend in. . .well, ever, that I recall.”
“That’s not hugely promising.” Paisley frowns. “You want to set me up with your broken, unable-to-commit-to-anyone friend?”
“When was your last significant relationship?” I ask.
She grunts. “Not the point.”
“Trig is brilliant,” Luke says. “He’s hard working. The ladies seem to think he’s good looking, and he has his own company.”
“Then what’s wrong with him?” Paisley frowns. “Why hasn’t he already been snatched up?”
Luke shifts in his chair. “Yeah. The thing is, his parents are pretty intense. And well, messed up. His mom is like. . .the Steve Jobs of, uh, finance. His dad is a trust baby like no other who never quits spending. They don’t get along, and he’s understandably afraid of marriage and commitment because of their horrifying example.”
Paisley stands up. “After that glowing recommendation, let me be the first to say thanks, but no thanks. I appreciate the sandwich.” She darts for the door.
“So Paisley’s out,” Luke says, “but if you have any other friends, maybe one who’s super gorgeous and will attract his interest, but who’s guaranteed to shut him down, that would be great.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “Did you mistake me for someone with a bunch of giggling girlfriends? I have exactly three friends. Paisley, Trudy, and Addy, but she’s married.”
Luke sighs.
Paisley stops in the doorway and turns around slowly. “Did you say amazing looking. . . and guaranteed to shut him down?” She’s got the sly look on her face that always precedes something ingenious.
Luke blinks. “Uh, yeah. I figured you’d fit that bill, but—”
“Aww,” Paisley says. “Thanks for thinking I’m great looking.” She crosses the room slowly and drops back into the corner chair. This time she leans against the wooden seatback slowly. Then she sighs dramatically. “I don’t have a gaggle of friends either, but. . .” She glances at me.
Ah! I’ve heard so much about her. I should have thought the same thing. “Your friend Geo.”
She points at me. “Exactly.” She pivots in her chair until she’s facing Luke. “My best friend since college is movie star, runway model, turn-around-and-slap-your-momma gorgeous. She makes me feel like I’ve been hit with the ugly stick. No lie.”
Luke’s brow furrows. “Okay.”
“And she’s sworn off dating. Permanently. The woman gets asked out a dozen times a week. Delivery guys. Parking attendants, men off the street, and she shuts them all down. Always. Without fail.”
Luke leans forward and rubs his hands together. “Now we’re talking.”
“She’s smart. She’s hard working, and the best part: she’s an event planner.”
I completely forgot about that. “I can’t believe you didn’t mention her before. I’m not going to have time to plan this wedding myself—and you’ll be too busy with work stuff to do much either.”
Luke catches my eye and beams. “And since Trig’s going to be my best man, they’ll have lots of reasons to spend time together.”
Paisley raises her hand.
I swear, she cracks me up. “Pais, you can just say what you want to say, you know. I’m not your third grade teacher.”
“There’s one tiny problem,” Paisley says. “Geo is the best. I’m sure she’d plan you a gorgeous wedding. Except. . .”
“Except what?” Luke asks. Bless him for being patient with Paisley’s melodrama.
“She never ever plans weddings. It’s a hard and fast rule of hers.”
“Which means there’s no way for them to meet,” I grumble. “That’s a stupid rule for her to have. Don’t weddings pay more than any other event?”
