She tried to stop—told herself that there was a message in his wearing jeans and a sweater under his coat and not his despicable suit—but it didn’t work. “I was scared!”
“So was I,” he said against her hair. “Scared in New York, scared back here. I love you, Bree.”
She locked her hands at the center of his back and cried harder. She didn’t want him to leave, didn’t want him to leave ever again!
He held her for another minute, running his hands over her back, telling her he loved her, begging her not to cry. When he urged her inside and shut the door behind him, he leaned against it and pulled her tight to his side. “I bought you something.”
She ran the back of her hand past her eyes. “I don’t want anything. Just you.”
“You heard me say that.”
“Huh?”
“The exact same words. I was saying them the whole time I was in New York. I didn’t like the traffic. I didn’t like the crowds. I didn’t like Nathan saying that he could get me good money for a three-book deal but great money for a four-book deal. I didn’t like my law partners trying to measure in dollars and cents the kind of clients I could bring in from the entertainment industry. The hotel was pretentious, the restaurants overpriced, and the air polluted. I kept asking myself what in the hell I was doing there, when the only thing I wanted was you.”
Bree raised her head. “It was?”
“Is.” hi the near dark, his eyes were fierce, his voice was compelling. “I was supposed to see Nathan again today, but I canceled. I walked up and down the streets and thought about the people I’d planned to stop in and see, and I didn’t stop in and see a one. The only thing I wanted to do was shop.” He reached into his pocket and drew out a box. It was small, square, and blue, and had a neat white bow tied around it.
Bree looked from the box to his face and back.
“Open it,” he coaxed.
She released her hold of him and took the box from his hand, untied the ribbon, and lifted the top. Inside was another box. She looked at Tom again.
“Go on,” he said, and took the outer box from her when she removed the inner one.
Afraid to hope, she held it in her hand. Then she lifted the lid. There, on a dark field, lay a pear-shaped diamond set in platinum, and slowly but surely the light returned to her life, radiating outward from the diamond, speaking of belonging and love, filling her with warmth. “This is . . .?”
“It is.”
She looked up. “Are you asking . . .?”
“I am.”
“Oh my God,” she breathed, and she threw her arms around his neck. Seconds later, she was back looking at the ring. She had never owned anything like it, had never dreamed of owning anything like it. “You bought this in New York?”
“It’s the only important thing I did the whole time I was there.”
Bree was short of breath. Holding the ring box in her hand, she hugged Tom again. “Thank you,” she whispered against his cheek, seconds before drawing back to look inside the box once more. The ring was still there.
“Put it on.”
She was about to. Then she had a thought that wiped the smile from her face. Without hesitancy, because she knew it had to be said, she blurted, “I can’t have kids, Tom. I can’t. There’s scar tissue.”
He went still. “From the accident?”
She nodded. “You want kids. I know you do. I’ve heard you talk about your nieces and nephews. I’ve seen you with Joey Little.”
He was shaking his head. “We’ll adopt.”
“It isn’t the same.”
“It is.” He removed the ring from its box and slipped it on her finger. Then he raised it to his mouth, kissed it, and looked her in the eye. “I wasn’t thinking about kids while I was walking around New York. I was thinking about you.”
“But you want family. That’s what you’ve missed.”
“Right, and the root of family is a man and a woman. If the root stinks, the whole thing fails.” He gave her a crooked grin. “There’s no other woman I want to root with.”
She could feel the sincerity in him. Tears welled again.
“Marry me, Bree?”
No matter that she had his diamond on her finger: hearing the words in the air stole her breath. She must have looked dumbfounded, because he laughed. The sound was full and rich, as she imagined life with him would be. “I thought for sure you’d decide it was New York that you loved,” she cried. “I was lying here thinking it was all over, like a dream that ends in one second of waking up.” The ring sparkled as she turned her hand. Its light brought a special kind of calm.
“I wished for heat,” she told him, at three in the morning. They had made love, made pizza, and made more love. Now they lay in the sweet redolence of passion and sweat, Bree with her cheek over the strong beat of Tom’s heart. Her hand lay nearby on his chest, fingers splayed. She flexed the third one to see the diamond sparkle. The excitement of it nullified fatigue.
Tom must have felt the same way, because there was nothing sleepy about his voice. “Wished for it?”
“Closed my eyes, pictured the being of light, and wished. Nothing happened. I waited and waited, then finally went to the diner. By noontime, the house was on fire.”
He chuckled. “So here you are in a house with plenty of heat, and here you’ll stay. You got your wish.”
She raised her head. “Did I? I wished for heat, and there was a fire. Was it my wish or something more logical, like an erratic old furnace? I’ve thought about this, Tom. In the figurative sense, I did get my wish. But what about the literal sense? Did I actually cause that fire by wishing for heat?”
“If you’re feeling guilty, don’t.”
“I can’t help it. That was a home.”
“It was a thing. It can be replaced.” He stroked her cheek, suddenly serious. “I’m sorry about the business about kids, Bree. I’m sorry you had to hear that from the doctor and keep it all to yourself. If you’d told me, I could have shared the pain.”
“You did. You came to my house that night and held me when I cried.”
“You should have told me why you were crying.”
“You’d only have felt more guilty about the accident. I don’t want you feeling that. I don’t want to think you gave me this ring because of guilt.”
“Selfishness is more like it. You’re the best thing that’s happened to my life. Giving you a ring is the first step in tying you down. So. What do you think? We could get married next week, or next month. A Valentine’s Day wedding might be nice.”
Bree put her head down, smiled against his chest, and savored the moment. “We’ll decide.”
“When?”
“Soon. I’ve never been engaged before. I want to enjoy it for a while.”
That night, she dreamed she had a baby. It was a little boy, a miniature version of Tom as he’d been in the family pictures she had seen. He was perfectly formed and alert, focusing startlingly clear eyes on them as though, right from that moment of birth, he knew exactly who they were. Paternal pride swelled Tom so that he grew a whole twelve inches, there and then. As for Bree, she was filled with so much love that she just . . . burst.
She awoke with a start, feeling that love still. And the sadness of knowing that the dream was only a dream? It was forgotten, first in Tom’s arms, then in the excitement that filled the diner when her friends saw the ring.
Chapter
10
“Who’d have thought it,” Jane said, after oohing and ahhing over the ring. Her excitement was genuine. Since she would have given anything to be married herself, that was doubly meaningful. “I am so-o-o”—she hugged Bree —“happy for you. It’s a dream come true.”
Bree glanced at the put-up shelf, saw that no orders were ready yet, and took Jane’s arm. “I have to talk with you.” She led her through the diner’s kitchen to the small office at the rear and shut the door. “I need your opinion.”
Jane held up her hands. “I know nothing abou
t weddings.”
“Not about that.” Bree hadn’t begun to think about that. A wedding would be a while in the coming. Other things were more immediate. “You know me as well as anyone. You know that I’m sensible. You know that I’m levelheaded. Aren’t I?”
Jane nodded vigorously.
“Do you believe me when I say I had an out-of-body experience?”
Jane opened her mouth, then closed it. After a minute, she said, “You wouldn’t have said you had one if you didn’t believe you had.”
“But do you believe they’re possible?”
“I might not if anyone else was saying it, but you don’t dream things up.”
Bree pressed her lips together. She debated for a final minute. Then, taking a deep breath, she told Jane about the three wishes. Jane’s eyes grew larger and larger.
“You mean you can make things happen just by wishing them?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know if I did. That’s the problem.”
“How’s it a problem? You got heat. You got an even better place to stay. You always hated your house.”
“But the house is my inheritance. I didn’t mean to burn it down when I made that wish.”
“Did you go over there this morning?”
“No. I’m a coward. Tom went.” It was gruesome, he said, and he urged her to wait until the shock wore off. One part of her wanted to know what remained and what didn’t. The rest of her—the part that didn’t want anything touching her happiness—was content to stay away. “He said that the fire inspector came in from St. Johnsbury. What if he says it was arson? Will they accuse me of it?”
“Arson means using matches and gasoline. You didn’t do anything like that.”
“No. I just wished.”
Jane considered that for a minute, scrunched up her nose, shook her head. “That probably had nothing to do with it.”
“Then the wishes aren’t real?”
Jane looked doubtful, but Bree couldn’t give it up. Simon Meade had a mole on the back of his neck. She could only have seen it from outside herself, which meant that her out-of-body experience had been real. If that was so, she didn’t see why the being of light and his three wishes couldn’t be real, too. “Maybe I should ask Verity.”
“Don’t ask Verity. Verity is crazy.”
“Not crazy. Just eccentric.”
“She thinks thunder is the sound of God bowling.”
“So did I, when I was younger.”
“Then you grew up.”
And Verity hadn’t grown up? Not so long ago, Bree might have agreed with Jane. That was before things had happened to her that she would have sworn were impossible. “Maybe I’m crazy, too. I swear I was told I had three wishes to make. I swear I was sent back to earth just to make them.”
“Then try another,” Jane suggested. “Something specific, so you’ll know if it worked. Heat is too vague. It can be taken lots of ways. This time, wish for a thing.”
“I don’t want a thing.”
“It may be the only way you’ll know if the wishes are real.”
“But if they are, that will be my second wish. And then what?”
“You’ll make a third.”
“And then what?” Three strikes and you’re out, was what she was thinking.
Jane simply grinned. “Happiness forever after?” Her grin faded in the next breath when the office door flew open.
“Jane.” Dotty gave a long-suffering sigh and a withering look. “I have been waiting outside for twenty minutes. You’re supposed to drop me home if you want the car, and you need the car if you’re going to Ashmont. They’re expecting you at the community center in thirty minutes.”
“It doesn’t take long to get there,” Jane said, though she quickly gave Bree a hug and moved toward the door.
Bree knew Dotty hadn’t been waiting any twenty minutes. Jane had been checking the front lot until Bree dragged her back to the office, and that had been no more than five minutes before. But arguing with the woman would only make things worse for Jane.
“Don’t I get to see the ring?” Dotty asked Bree.
Bree would have liked to hide it. But that would have made things worse for Jane, too. And besides, mere mention of the ring made Bree grin. She held out her hand.
Dotty turned her ring finger one way, then the other. “It looks like a decent diamond.”
“Mother.”
Dotty frowned at Jane. “What?”
“It’s a perfect diamond.”
“You’re a jeweler now? For all you know, this diamond is cracked or chipped or inferior or fake. It’s a perfect diamond.’ That shows how much you know. It would be another thing if you’d ever had a diamond of your own.”
Bree took back her finger. “Jane’s no fool. If the choice was between a lousy guy and no diamond, I’d pick no diamond, too.”
“Ward Hawkins is a disgusting man,” Jane said under her breath.
Bree agreed. He lived two towns over and had been married four times. He proposed to Jane on a regular basis.
Dotty snorted. “At least he offered.” With an arch look at her watch, she left the office.
“Go,” Bree urged Jane. “We’ll talk later.”
“I’m really happy about your ring.”
“I know. Now go.” She gave a gentle push. Jane was barely gone when Flash appeared. He was looking back at the pair.
“Why does Jane take it?” he asked. “Why doesn’t she just leave?”
Bree had asked Jane that many a time. She answered Flash the same way Jane always answered her. “Where would she go?”
“Anywhere would be better than living with Dotty.”
“On what? What’s she got for money?”
“Same thing you have. The difference is that you work.”
“So does Jane, only she doesn’t get paid for it.”
“She should charge for her artwork.”
“She can’t. The town won’t pay.”
“Neither will I, if you don’t get back up front.”
Bree left the office. “Food’s up?”
“Not yet. But everyone wants to see your ring. Now that you’re engaged to marry a celebrity, you’re a celebrity yourself. It’s kind of a fairy tale, y’know?”
Tom’s celebrity status was reinforced, now that he was engaged to marry the town’s own celebrity. Bree’s popularity in Panama had people acknowledging him with a warmth that had previously been withheld. He was congratulated at the post office when he went for his mail, at the bank when he went to deposit royalty checks he had picked up in New York, and at the hardware store when he went to buy paint for the spare bedroom’s wall. He was given thumbs-up by walkers as he drove around the green, and once he reached Bree’s house, he was even congratulated by local men who were helping the fire inspector sift through the ruins.
“Just how fast does the grapevine work?” he asked Eliot Bonner after he returned to the diner to wait out the last of Bree’s shift. They sat on adjacent stools, nursing beers.
Eliot chuckled. “When there’s a diamond involved? Lightning fast. It’s a nice ring.”
Tom caught it glinting on Bree’s finger as she worked around the diner. It wasn’t the biggest diamond he had seen in Tiffany’s that day, but bigger wasn’t better. He had learned that the hard way and wasn’t making the same mistake twice. He had spent hours picking just the right ring for Bree. This one had her brilliance, her simplicity, her grace. It was as beautiful on her hand as he had imagined it would be, and she looked beautiful with it there. Glowing from within. Radiant. They were clichés, but they fit.
“So now that you’re marrying into the town,” Eliot broke in, “I guess you’re staying?”
Tom smiled. “I guess I am.” It hadn’t been a conscious decision. But the only pleasure he had found in New York had been in shopping for Bree, and once that was done, he couldn’t leave fast enough. Heading back to Panama, he was heading home. He loved Bree and he liked her friends. He liked the fresh
air and the slower life. He even liked the physical exertion of shoveling snow twice a week. Okay, so gossip was a staple and he’d had enough of gossip to last a lifetime. But that was a small minus against lots of pluses. The town was like a large extended family, which wasn’t a bad thing to have if one was estranged from one’s own. Tom thought he couldn’t find a better place to raise kids.
“What’ll you do here?” Eliot asked.
“Finish unpacking. Paint a few rooms. Maybe build a garage.” It wasn’t productive in the way his father meant, but it satisfied him for now.
“Make it nice for Bree,” Eliot ordered. “She deserves nice things.” He shook his head. “Too bad about the house. It was old, but it wasn’t bad. What’ll you do? Rebuild and sell?”
Tom tipped the Sleepy Creek Pale to his mouth. He even liked the beer here. “That’s up to Bree. It’s hers.”
“She’ll get insurance money. She could keep that and just bulldoze what’s left of the house and sell the land.” He swiveled toward Tom, looking puzzled. “It’s the damnedest thing. The fire inspector couldn’t figure out what caused the fire. Couldn’t find a thing. We all know she had a bad furnace, but she said the pilot light wasn’t doing a thing when she left for work. So what happened? There could have been a spark. Only there wasn’t much around the furnace but concrete. So what was it that caught so bad? The inspector couldn’t find one thing burned more than another. It was all pretty even. He figures there was some kind of flukey explosion, you know”—he used his hands—“pffff, with flames hitting the ceiling rafters. That would have done it.”
“I suppose,” Tom said. He could picture an explosion, a sudden wild burst of light not unlike the luminous being Bree swore she had seen. He wasn’t saying that he believed her wish had caused the fire, but he wasn’t ruling it out. Bizarre things happened sometimes. Take his life. Five years ago, ten years ago—hell, twenty years ago—he would never have imagined finding happiness in a small town with a local girl. Even when he had been at the height of his fame he had never felt as good, as full, as he did now—even with the knowledge of what the accident had done to Bree. He would spend his life making that up to her, and what a nice, rich life it would be.
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