Some Enchanted Season (18 page)

“Pull up a seat, Ross, and help us for a while,” Miss Agatha invited.

The only seat available was a few spare inches on the bench where Maggie sat. He opted to remain standing. “What are you doing?”

“Working on the float decorations,” the old lady replied. “We each have our own little job. Maggie cuts the colored paper and passes it to us, and we make the … what do you suppose these are called?” She held one up for inspection. It consisted of a square of red paper wrapped around a wad of crumpled newspaper, with the excess red twisted tightly and the ends poufed out.

“I’m sure they must have a name,” one nurse said, “but I don’t know what it is.”

“The technical term is ‘thingie,’ ” the other nurse announced.

“Whatever.” Miss Agatha dropped the paper into
the box on the floor in front of her. It was about half filled with red thingies. “We’re each doing a color, but you could help Corinna with the white ones, since we’ll need many more of those than the colors.”

“Actually, Agatha, he came to claim one of our workers, not volunteer his own help,” Miss Corinna chided. “We mustn’t be pushy. Maggie has already agreed to come back tomorrow and help us, haven’t you, dear?”

Without meeting Ross’s gaze, she nodded. “Just let me know when you’re coming, and I’ll be ready.”

The girl with the shiner said, “You have a car. I seen it at your house. Why don’t you just drive yourself?”

“I don’t drive, Josie,” Maggie said.

Josie stared incredulously at Maggie. “You’re all growed up and you don’t drive?”

“I used to, but I haven’t in a long time.”

“So what do you do when you want to go somewheres?”

“Ross takes me.”

“But what about when he’s not around?”

Good question, Ross thought. What would she do once he’d gone back to Buffalo?

Maggie’s smile was strained. “Well, I haven’t had that problem yet, Josie. I’ll have to think about it.”

What she would have to do was start driving again. Even if she never ventured out in bad weather, even if the car never budged from the driveway between November and March, she needed the security of knowing that if she
must
go somewhere, she could.

“You look tired, dear,” Miss Corinna said, leaning forward to take the supply of colored paper. “Why
don’t you go on home? We’ll call you tomorrow afternoon.”

Ross thought Maggie might refuse, but she nodded. They said good-bye to everyone and left through a small side door. They were halfway to the car, when he broke the silence. “Nice people.” At the look she gave him, he scowled. “Yes, I recognize nice people.”

“I should think it’s fairly easy for you. They’re exactly the opposite of the people you’re normally exposed to.”

Irritated, he sarcastically asked, “Didn’t you like
any
of our neighbors and friends in Buffalo?”

“Neighbors and acquaintances. Associates.
Not
friends.” She pretended to think about it. “Umm … no. The women were all shallow, the men were all boring, and everyone was obsessed with money, power, and success.”

He fingers clenched tightly. “We were all just alike, so you must have found me boring too.”

“No,” she said. “Most of the time I couldn’t find you
at all
. I wasn’t allowed to disturb you in your office at home. I had to go through about ten levels of security guards, receptionists, secretaries, and assistants to reach you at the office—when you were even
in
the office and not in London, Munich, or Tokyo, in which case you accepted phone calls only from Tom or Lynda but not from me. I rarely saw you, Ross. How could I possibly be bored by you?”

She kept walking, but he stood still, taking a few moments to mutter every curse he could think of. Then he went after her. She didn’t acknowledge him at
all even when he caught up with her. Not until he caught her arm. “Why are we fighting?”

She stared past him at the darkening sky, then blew her breath out heavily. It fogged in the air between them, then vanished as her faint, weary smile appeared. “Because that’s what we do, Ross. Old habits. Sometimes I can’t resist being sarcastic and you can’t help being defensive. I’m sorry.”

“So am I.” He let her go, and slowly they began walking again. “But, you know, Maggie, you paint a bleaker picture of our life in Buffalo than it really was. We had friends. You enjoyed some of the things we did. You liked some of those people. Life wasn’t really so bad.”

“Yes, I did have some good times and I did rather like some of those people. But life
was
bad—at least for me.” She stopped beside the car. When he opened the door, she turned to get in, then turned back. “All you ever wanted was to be rich and powerful, and you had that, Ross. Of course life wasn’t so bad for you. But all
I
ever wanted was you and a family, and I didn’t have either one. I had plenty of money to spend, an impressive mansion to live in, servants at my beck and call, exquisite jewels to wear with fabulous clothes, but all that is pretty cold comfort when you’re as alone as I was.”

What could he say to that? he wondered as she got into the car and closed the door. How could he deny the emptiness he’d created in her?

He couldn’t. Whether his perception matched hers was meaningless. When talking about
her
feelings,
her
opinion was the only one that mattered. The only
thing of his that mattered in this instance was his apology.

Once in the car, he started the engine and turned the heat to high, then faced her. “Maggie, I’m really sor—”

“I know you’re sorry. You never meant for things to turn out like this. Neither did I. It just happened, and it’s unfortunate and sad, but life is like that sometimes. All we can do is accept it and move on.” She smiled sweetly. “And I can watch what I say. Just because we used to fight all the time doesn’t mean we have to now. I’ll behave, and you’ll behave, and we’ll make it through the next two months without a problem. Deal?”

He glanced from her face to the hand she offered, then back to her face. It wasn’t the biggest deal he’d ever made, or the most profitable, and certainly not the most complicated—though he knew from experience that the two of them behaving together wasn’t as simple as it sounded.

But it just might be the most important.

He shook her hand, then wrapped his fingers tightly around hers. “Deal.”

T
he big old building behind the hospital took on something of a party air Wednesday night when the volunteers met to put the finishing touches on the parade float. With the McBride Inn float all ready to go, Holly was donating her evening—and a big pan of her cook’s best lasagna—to the hospital’s cause.

“Did you make this lasagna?” J. D. Grayson asked as he came back for a second helping.

“Bite your tongue. These hands don’t cook.”

“Too bad. If you did, I might have to marry you.”

“And what makes you think I’d have you?”

He gave a great, exaggerated grimace of pain. “Ah, Holly, you wound a man’s ego.”

“So I’ve been told,” she said with a scowl that instantly changed his expression from teasing to leering, overblown interest.

“Why don’t you pull up a chair and tell Dr. J.D. all about it?”

“And why don’t you—” Seeing the hospital administrator’s elderly wife approach, she bit off the retort and gave the old woman a stilted smile instead.

Following his own advice, J.D. pulled up a chair and joined her at the serving tables. In addition to the lasagna, there was pot roast with savory vegetables provided by the Winchesters. Harry had donated a pot of beef stew from the café, and others had provided salads, desserts, and drinks.

“So … did you come tonight to work, serve food, or just to see me?” J.D. asked.

“Oh, just to see you, of course. I live for these occasional glimpses. They make the rest of my dreary, drudgery-filled life worthwhile.”

“You’re a hard-hearted woman, Holly.”

She’d been told that before too, but she knew it wasn’t true. If anything, she was too soft-hearted, though she tried her best to be otherwise.

“How do you like the float?”

She shifted her gaze to their reason for being there.
The truck, on loan from Lloyd’s Garage and Salvage, looked about as festive as a flatbed could. The white cab was decorated with red, green, and gold streamers. Poster-board placards identifying the float as Bethlehem Memorial’s and outlined in glittery gold garlands hung on each door, and virtually every hole in the yards of chicken wire was filled with a pouf of white or colored paper. “It looks great.” Then she looked at the human components testing their places in the tableau. “And sexist.”

“It’s a nativity scene. What could possibly be sexist about that?”

“All three of the wise doctors are male. We have a female doctor, you know. Oh, but why use her? The lowly shepherds are female. Of course.”

“The Bible did say wise
men
,” J.D. said mildly. “And of course the shepherds are women. It’s the women who do most of the nurturing and caring and watching over in this world. Other than that, what do you think?”

“It’s okay.”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t overwhelm me with praise.”

“Every other female in town worships you, J.D. Do you need me at your feet too?”

“As I recall, the few times I had you there were quite enjoyable. Are you coming to the parade tomorrow?”

“I haven’t missed one yet.” Even when she’d gone away to college, she’d always cut classes the first week of December to come home for the parade and the
following week for the Tour of Lights. They were two of the highlights of Christmas in Bethlehem.

“Want to have dinner with me before it starts?”

Batting her eyes at him, she answered in the breathy, my-aren’t-you-wonderful tone that too many women took with him. “Why, Dr. J.D., it almost sounds as if you’re asking me for a date.”

He laughed. “No way. Been there, done that. I’m asking a friend to share a meal with me.”

“Sure. I’d be happy to,” she replied, and with a satisfied grin he left the table, taking his throwaway dishes with him. She watched him go.

They’d done the dating routine soon after he came to town last year. They’d shared a number of pleasant evenings—and an equal number of steamy nights—and had been fortunate enough to realize that they weren’t exactly meant for each other. The friendship was fine, the sex was great, but the deeper connection was missing, and so they’d become strictly friends.

Luckily, she was able to remain friends with
all
the men she’d dated. Otherwise, Bethlehem would be a mighty uncomfortable place for her.

“Mind if I join you?”

She shifted her gaze from J.D. and focused on Maggie instead. With her hair mussed, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes bright and free of shadows, she looked as if she was having a ball. “Sit down,” Holly invited. “Are you about floated out?”

Maggie grinned. “This is great. I’ve never done this sort of thing before.”

“You mean you didn’t build chicken-wire floats in the big city and stuff them with paper?”

“I can’t say that I did. I never took part in this kind of gathering either. It’s wonderful. I’m glad we found this place.”

Other people shared her sentiment, and though Holly had been born and raised in Bethlehem, she thoroughly understood it. There was something special about her town. It was a community in the best sense of the word—the ideal place to grow up and grow old, the best place to come back to after you’d been away, the best place to stay.

“Except for four years in college, I’ve lived all my life here. Kids I went to school with dreamed of escaping, but not me. I want to stay here forever.”

“Me too.”

“It’s just a shame there aren’t a few more single men around,” Holly said with a regretful shake of her head. “I do believe I’ve dated all of the current crop. I’m going to have to start importing them.” And the first one she would bring in was Ross McKinney’s tall, dark, and handsome lawyer. Who cared that he was as ruthless in his personal life as he was in business, that he wasn’t looking for a commitment? She wasn’t interested in marrying the guy. She’d just like to have a little fun with him.

“If you don’t mind being accused of robbing the cradle, I’ve seen how these boys here look at you,” Maggie teased.

“Robbing the cradle, robbing the grave.” Holly shrugged. “I’ll take ’em where I can find ’em.”

“And then do you put them back where you got them when you’re done?”

“Most of the time.” She glanced around the
crowded room. “Lord, I’ve dated every man in here over the age of twenty-five and under the age of fifty except your husband.”

“Ah, so you’re a popular girl.”

For the right reasons—she was smart, nice, and often entertaining—as well as the wrong ones, Holly acknowledged. Too many of her dates scored the first time out, which left them no goals to strive for. Complacency set in, followed by boredom, and soon they were just friends again, leaving her one more notch in her bedpost and one step further from believing that Mr. Right existed.

“That’s me,” she agreed in an airy voice. “Little Miss Popularity. Of course, you’re no wallflower yourself.”

Maggie smiled. “I never had the chance to be popular with the boys. I didn’t date until college, and even then Ross was the only one I went out with. Once I met him …”

“Love at first sight?” It was a rhetorical question. Holly didn’t believe in love at first sight. People confused hormones with heartstrings and usually suffered for it in the long run. Now,
lust
at first sight … That was a concept she could embrace—and had. It was safer than the other.

“Actually,” Maggie said softly, “yes. I knew at the end of our first date that I was going to marry him.”

The memory saddened her, and Holly couldn’t help but wonder why. To say that their relationship pre-accident had been adversarial was a major understatement, but this time around they seemed about as good together as it got. Holly had assumed that Maggie’s
near death had softened them both—had reminded them that life was fragile and love should be nurtured.

Maybe instead it had convinced them that life was too precious to waste on someone who brought out the worst in you. Maybe they seemed good together now because they both knew that it was only for a limited time.