“How much do I charge?” she repeated. “I don’t—”
“Twenty-five bucks,” Delilah interjected.
“Delilah, I don’t—”
“I’ll take one.” Virginia lifted the frame from the table and studied it closely. “Do you think you could make mine with different shades of blue?” She shot a look in her boss’s direction. “That would look real nice in my living room, don’t you think?”
“It would look perfect,” Delilah agreed.
Maggie started to protest, to offer to make one for her free of charge, but Delilah’s hand shot out, cutting her off.
“When can you have it ready?” Virginia asked. “I have some company coming into town just after New Year’s and I’d love to have it by then if possible.”
“I, uh…”
“That gives you nearly five weeks, dear. You can surely do that, right?” Delilah prodded.
“I, uh…” she repeated, before looking back at the tree. The answer left her mouth before she realized what she was saying. “Sure. I can have it for you by then.”
Virginia clapped her hands together. “Ohh, I’m so excited. Getting stood up this evening wasn’t so bad, after all.” Not waiting for an answer, she pulled a napkin-wrapped bundle of flatware from her apron pocket. “Enjoy your stew. I promise you won’t be sorry. It’s the best—oh…hey there, Rory, how are you this evening?”
At the sound of his name, Maggie turned in her seat, her attention riveted on the handsome man in the black henley and faded denim jeans standing not more than a foot away from her booth.
She swallowed.
“Better now,” he replied, his gaze meeting hers as he leaned over and planted a kiss on Delilah’s cheek. “I was hoping you might have some stew lying around for me, too.”
“For two of my favorite people? Of course. Virginia, can you set another place for Rory?”
“I don’t want to barge in on Maggie’s dinner. I’ll just sit over there by the—”
Buoyed by the events of the day, she waved her hand. “No, please. I’d enjoy the company.”
Surprise lit his eyes, only to be chased away by a smile that carved those unforgettable dimples in his cheeks. “You sure?” he asked softly.
She glanced at the frame now clutched in Delilah’s hand, a long-lost feeling beginning to resurface in some dusty recess of her heart. “I’m sure.”
Chapter Eleven
He couldn’t help but notice the difference in her face—the hint of a sparkle in her dark brown eyes, the upward tilt to her mouth, her relaxed shoulders. It was the Maggie he’d had glimpses of all week, yet this time it seemed less fleeting.
“You look great, Maggie. Really great.” Her sheer presence was creating nothing short of a magnetic pull where his body was concerned. Her hair, which normally hung down her back, had been arranged in a high ponytail, just as it had been the last time they’d been at the diner together, the playful style both adorable and sexy at the same time.
“Thank you.” She removed her flatware from the paper napkin Virginia had left behind, her long slender fingers laying everything just so beside her bowl. When she was done, she draped the napkin across her lap and simply sat there, waiting.
“Aren’t you going to eat that?” he asked.
“When yours arrives.”
“No. It’ll get cold. Please, start without me.”
Instead of complying, she pointed toward the tree. “Did you see this one? It’s even better than the one we had at our table last time.”
He leaned closer, reading the words on the star-shaped ornaments. “Wow…look at that. I’ve never seen anything like that before.”
Scooting to the right just a little, Maggie slipped her hand behind a sparkly silver star and turned it so he could see.
“‘Hope is the spark that ignites dreams,’” he read aloud. “That’s a good one. And it’s so true.”
“I didn’t realize how true until today.”
“Why’s that? Did something happen today?”
“I’ll say.” She propped her elbows on the edge of the table and rested her chin on her hands, the end of her ponytail cascading down the front of her shoulder.
“Tell me.”
“It has to do with that box you dropped off this morning. The one you found in one of the empty rooms.”
“Yes?”
“Well, it had everything you could possibly imagine for decorating picture frames. There were beads and sequins and seashells and sand and glue and wire.” She stopped, her eyes shining with an excitement he found more than a little alluring. “I mean, remember how I told you the other night about my personalized picture—”
She stared at him across the table, reality dawning in those big brown eyes he longed to see peering up at him from his bed.
“Wait.” Her eyes narrowed. “You didn’t just find that stuff, did you?”
Uh-oh.
“Did you?” she repeated.
Rubbing a hand across his face, he considered his various options. He could continue the farce, use her uncle as a scapegoat and hope she didn’t check his story, or come clean. “Well, I…” Rory stopped, drummed his fingers on the table. “Can I answer that question with another one before I give you your answer?”
A hint of amusement flashed in her eyes as she crossed her arms and waited. “Go ahead.”
“Would it affect that smile if I told you I bought it? And just said that I found it?”
“In other words, would it bother me if you lied? Is that what you’re asking?”
He squirmed in his seat. “‘Lie’ might be a little strong.”
“A little?”
He nodded, the voice in his head berating him for discarding options A and B too quickly.
For a moment she said nothing, her gaze locked with his, her face sporting a look he couldn’t quite decipher. But in the end she simply shook her head, causing relief to course through him.
“I don’t think anything could affect this smile. But before I explain, I have to ask you why.”
“Why what?” he asked, only to be interrupted by Virginia and his bowl of stew. “Mmm, looks and smells heavenly. Thanks, Virginia.”
The woman pointed at Maggie. “Did you know about these frames of hers?”
He felt his face warm. “Well, I—”
“I was just yapping to you the other day about needing knickknacks for my place and you didn’t say a thing.” Virginia jabbed a finger into his shoulder. “Do you think maybe you could have said something?”
Confused, he glanced at Maggie. “What’s she talking about?”
“What am I talking about? I’m talking about that frame she made for Delilah. It’s exactly the kind of thing I’m wanting for my place.” Pulling her focus off him, the waitress planted it squarely on Maggie. “Only for mine, I want blues galore. Can we do that?”
Maggie fished around inside her purse, coming up with a small red notebook and a pen. “Absolutely.”
“Royal, ocean, that sorta thing. Maybe a navy, too, if it looks right with the others.”
Maggie jotted a few notes, while Rory’s confusion over what was happening remained as strong as ever.
“I’m looking forward to it. Thanks, Virginia.”
“No, thank you.” Virginia wagged a finger in the vicinity of Rory’s nose. “Next time, don’t be so secretive. Got it?”
As the woman walked away, he looked back at Maggie, noting how the happy sparkle in her eyes took on an air of mischievousness he wouldn’t have expected. “I’m being secretive?”
She laughed.
“C’mon. Tell me, would you?”
“Give me a minute. I have to try this first.” She pointed at the stew before dipping her spoon into the thick gravy. “I have to see whether Virginia is right about this being the best ever.”
“Oh, she’s right. Trust me.” He sat back in his seat and simply watched as the curious expression on her face morphed into something close to ecstasy…right dow
n to the I’m-in-heaven eye roll he’d been trying to get Delilah to trademark for more than a few years.
“Well?” he prodded, playfully drumming his fingers on the table.
Maggie said nothing, opting instead for a second, third and fourth spoonful.
“Regretting ordering the small size, aren’t you?”
Pausing midbite, she looked across the table at his much larger serving. “Maybe.”
He laughed, a deep hearty sound that rumbled in his chest. “Do you wish you had more?”
“Maybe,” she said, grinning.
He poked his head above the back of the booth. “Virginia? Can we get another small?”
“Comin’ right up.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” Maggie whispered as her cheeks reddened.
“Sure I did. You wished for it, didn’t you?”
“And what are you…my personal genie?”
“Maybe,” he said in a nearly perfect imitation of her voice.
For a moment she said nothing. She simply placed her spoon on the table and scooted back in her seat, silence hovering between them.
A warning bell sounded in his head. He’d done it again. He’d pushed just a little too hard. “Look, Maggie, I’m sorry. It’s just that I like to—”
She cut his apology off midsentence. “I’m not upset. I’m just…touched.”
He braced himself for a moment, waiting for the inevitable shoe to drop, but it didn’t happen. Instead, she simply continued, her words giving him the first burst of real hope he’d felt where she was concerned.
“I suppose, deep inside, I knew you had to have put that box together on your own. But I wasn’t really thinking about how it got there or why it got there. Then, when I opened it, something inside me clicked. Something that I haven’t felt in months.” Lifting a piece of bread to her lips, she took a tiny bite. She seemed to be eating much more easily than she had the other day, and for that he was pleased. “The next thing I knew, four hours had passed and I’d decorated every frame in the box.”
“Every frame?” he repeated.
“Every frame.” She looked across at him rather sheepishly. “I know I should have paced myself better but—”
“The creativity took over, huh?”
“Yes! In a way it hasn’t in entirely too long.”
So he’d been right….
“I’m glad, Maggie. I was kind of hoping that would happen.”
She stared at him. “But how did you know? How did you know I’d react that way?”
“I didn’t for sure. But I had hope…because that’s what my work does for me,” he explained. “When I’m working in one of the rooms at the inn, I feel productive. I can lose myself in the process of making something whole again—making it even better than it was in the beginning.”
Bending forward, she ate a bit more of her stew before responding. “I don’t want you to think I didn’t enjoy the knitting lesson, because I did. But that was about learning something new. This? This was about taking a step forward.”
“How so?”
“I was able to immerse myself in something from my past that didn’t make me feel as if I’d lost something. It was like a reminder.”
“A reminder of what?”
“That I’m still here. The same Maggie I’ve always been, with the same interests and the same passions I’ve always had.” She set her spoon down and reached across the table, her hand meeting his halfway. “And I’ll be honest, there’s a part of me that wants to take those words back…to fight the idea of having anything that resembles a life. But there’s also a part that wants to embrace it.”
“Listen to that second part,” he said, savoring the gentle squeeze she gave before pulling her hand back across the table.
“Most of the time all I can see is what I’ve lost. And when I stack that against anything I might still have, the latter just doesn’t matter.”
“Then don’t stack it, Maggie. Because it’s different. There’s a good and a bad everywhere. I mean, look at Delilah. She’s devoted her life to this diner. So much so that she doesn’t really have much else.” He considered trying to reach for Maggie’s hand again, but discarded the notion in favor of keeping her focused on what he was saying. Because she needed to hear it. “But the flip side is the fact that she’s truly loved here. By everyone—the staff, the customers and just about everyone else in this town.”
“I hear what you’re saying. I do. But I don’t know where to go from here. From the time I was a little girl my only goal was to have my own family again. When I finally found it, I threw myself into it a hundred and fifty percent. Now I’m back to square one.”
“But you have another goal now.”
“No, I don’t.”
“You have a dream, don’t you? Turn that into a goal.”
“What dream?”
“The gift shop.”
She couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of his suggestion. “I couldn’t do that.”
“Of course you could. You’d just need to find a place to lease, make some inventory, lure in customers, that sort of thing.”
A small smile appeared on her face. “I do already have a customer.”
Cocking his head, he studied her closely. “Why do I get this feeling that I’m missing something? First Virginia…and now you?”
Maggie pushed her empty bowl to the side and leaned forward, excitement lighting her eyes. “I brought one of the frames I made to Delilah. That’s why I’m here. I wanted to thank her for the knitting lesson.”
“Okay….”
“Anyway, Virginia saw the frame I made and went gaga. She loved it so much she’s asked me to make her one, too. She asked me how much I charged and when I could get it done by and…” Maggie’s words trailed off and a hint of red rose up in her cheeks. “Am I sounding as silly as I think I am?”
“Silly? Are you kidding me? You have a customer. A paying customer. That’s awesome!”
She laughed. “Now don’t get carried away. It’s hardly enough to justify a store.”
This time he did reach across the table for her hand, entwining his fingers with hers. “Have you shown your work to anyone else?”
“No.”
“Then why assume you can’t carry a store? C’mon, think about it. You give Delilah a frame and Virginia sees it and wants one. What happens when she shows it to someone and they want one, too?”
“I don’t know.”
“I do. You take another one of those steps you’ve been wanting to take.”
“That’s a big step.”
“Little steps—like eating—morph into slightly bigger steps…like knitting. And then slightly bigger steps move into big giant strides.”
“I thought the knitting was a wish.”
He smiled. “It was a step disguised as a wish. Or maybe a wish disguised as a step. Either way, it was both.”
Virginia reappeared beside the table again, causing Maggie’s face to redden as she tugged her hand free.
Confused, Rory looked from her to Virginia and back again. “You okay?” he asked quietly.
She shrugged, then looked up at the waitress.
“Since you liked my stew recommendation so much, I figured you should try one more of Delilah’s specialties. On the house, of course.” Virginia plunked a plate of caramel pie on the table, followed by a pair of forks.
“What’s that?” Maggie asked.
“Delilah’s caramel pie,” she and Rory answered in unison. “Best in the country.”
Once Virginia had moved on to another table, he leaned forward. “Is something wrong? You seemed flustered when Virginia showed up. You don’t have to eat the second serving of stew if you’re full. Wishes can change when bellies get filled.”
She looked down, her expression hard to read. “It’s not that. It’s just…well, when she showed up, we were holding hands. I don’t want her to get the wrong impression.”
“The wrong impression?”
> Inhaling deeply, she swung her eyes toward the ceiling as if looking for divine intervention. “I think I can actually imagine finding something to pass the time in life—whether that’s running a gift shop or not. But giving my heart to someone else? I can’t risk that a third time.”
He knew the words should come as no surprise. Everything she’d said, everything she’d done from the moment they’d met, had left no room to think otherwise. But still, he hoped for more.
How could he not after the kiss the other night? How could he not when the pictures and the stories she shared showed the kind of woman he’d always wanted?
Resisting the urge to express his thoughts aloud, he did the only thing he could think of to keep her in his life. “You have room for a friend, though, don’t you?”
Something flashed across her face—something fleeting, yet undeniable. If he were a betting man, he’d say it was disappointment. But the heart had a funny way of seeing what it wanted to see.
“Because that’s what I’d like to be, if you’ll let me, Maggie.”
SHE COULDN’T REMEMBER a time shopping had ever been so much fun. Or when she’d spent so much money on something that was completely about her.
Hoisting the last of the bags into her trunk, she looked up at Rory, an amused—and slightly dazed—expression on his face. “That was above and beyond the call of friendship, huh?”
“What? Spending an hour walking up and down aisles in an arts-and-crafts store?” He ducked to avoid her playful swat. “A guy can give up his sense of masculinity once in a while. Just so long as it doesn’t happen all the time.”
“I’m sorry. But I tried to warn you when we left Delilah’s.” Maggie reached up to shut the trunk, only to have him beat her to the punch. “I told you there wouldn’t be a flat-screen television anywhere in the place.”
“I figured you had to be mistaken.” He laughed. “Seriously, I’m not much of a television guy. And besides, looking at that stuff isn’t much different than what I do when I’m getting supplies for my rehab projects.”
She stared up at him, noting how the glow from the parking-lot lights made a halo around his face. “How did you get to be so nice?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I guess I just wasn’t shown how to be any other way.”
Miracle Baby (Harlequin American Romance) Page 9