He lifted a wooden arm and fumbled for the phone in his pocket.
She was leaving again.
But she was here now, and he wanted to hear her voice. So he dialed her number and listened to it ring on the other end.
“Hello?” Merry answered on a whisper.
What time was it? “Did I wake you?” the frogs in his throat croaked.
“No, I was just wri—working. Catching up on some work.”
Max opened his mouth and waited for a brilliant response to come out. “Huh.”
“Max?”
“Mmm?”
“You okay?”
“Yeah.” He was great. Obviously a charming flirt and masterful conversationalist.
Merry was smart. She deserved a masterful conversationalist. Was that her day job? Her real job? Being smart and witty? She’d be rich if it were.
“Do you need help?” Merry asked.
“No,” he said quickly.
Masterful conversationalist? Master of the one-word answer, maybe. Some chicks dug that. Smile and nod and let them talk.
But Merry had never been that girl.
“Are you sure?” she asked.
“Don’t want you to get sick.” There. Fourteen words. Or…more than three.
Her laughter sparkled and shimmered, and he saw colors flash through his dark living room.
“I have my mother’s iron immune system,” she said. “Plus, I’m already exposed.”
“Mmm.”
“Who usually sits with you when you’re sick?”
“Don’t get sick.”
There was that rainbow laugh again. “All right, tough guy. You don’t get sick. So who sits with you when you need soup and crackers?”
His mom.
Not that he’d admit that to anyone. “You.”
She didn’t laugh this time. He shivered in the dark.
Something was wrong.
“I shouldn’t be at your house right now,” she said softly.
Because she was leaving. Because she only wanted him for his body. Because her father was a jewel thief. “Right.”
“Are we…okay?”
For a few glorious hours this afternoon, they’d been perfect. “Yeah.”
“You should get your rest. I hear you’re still expected at the auction Saturday night.”
They’d auction him off even if he wasn’t there. “Bid on me?”
He felt her weary sigh as if it had come from the depths of his own bones. “It’ll never be that simple.”
No, it probably wouldn’t. “Read to me?” he said.
She laughed again, and flowers bloomed in his chest.
You got it bad, dude, Zack Diggory’s voice said.
“Which book?” Merry asked.
He opened his mouth, ready to say Phoebe Moon and the Sneeze Snatcher, but first, it was the most ridiculously unmanly suggestion he could’ve made, and second, Merry probably didn’t have a copy with her. “Anything,” he mumbled.
“You want more Phoebe Moon?”
His lips tipped up at the way her words tumbled out. As though she were embarrassed to ask.
“You steal my copy?” he murmured.
“I have an e-reader.”
“Yes, please,” he said.
“Hold on a sec. Where were we? Oh, right. Phoebe Moon and Spike had just discovered all the grown-ups were going to the hospital for swollen noses since their sneezes were stuck.”
Max put her on speaker, dropped his phone to the floor, and rubbed Scout’s head once more. He closed his eyes and let her voice carry him off to sleep.
But just before he drifted unconscious, Max had one last lingering thought.
Merry and Phoebe Moon were a lot alike.
No wonder he liked the kids’ books so much.
Chapter 24
Phoebe Moon had crossed mountains and deserts, and now one last obstacle stood in her way:
herself.
—Phoebe Moon and the Secret Sister
* * *
A banging ruckus startled Merry out of a dream that dissipated and hung like a mist just out of reach in the fog of her brain. She blinked at the door of her bedroom in the B&B and then at her computer with the cursor still blinking on the original Phoebe Moon and the Sneeze Snatcher document. “What?” she called to the door while she rolled out of bed and slammed the laptop shut.
“The wedding’s in an hour, Merry!”
Oh, crapadoodle. “An hour?”
“No, silly, our hair appointment is in an hour.” Mom cackled. “But you’ve still overslept. I saved you a breakfast burrito. Get up, chickadee. Today’s my big day!”
Merry shoved her laptop into her luggage, then opened the door.
Mom’s pearly whites could’ve been used to send a distress signal to the International Space Station, and her giddiness could’ve powered half the town of Bliss.
“I just love wedding days,” Mom said.
Wedding days were Mom’s Christmases. Unfortunately, she tended to never get exactly what she wanted and always ended up in the return line before the warranty was up.
Merry took the fragile china plate with the breakfast burrito. She needed to call Max, see how he was doing this morning. See if he’d taken care of the Mrs. Claus diamond. “Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked Mom.
Mom kissed her cheek. “Have you ever met a more lovely man?”
Never was the usual answer in their pre-wedding Merry-plays-the-mom routine. “I’d love to someday marry a man who adores me as much as Patrick adores you,” she said instead.
Mom’s eyes went misty. “My baby’s turning soft. Listen to you. It’s Matt, isn’t it?”
“Max.”
“Oh, honey. It breaks my heart to know you can’t have the man you love.”
“I don’t love him. I just happen to know his name.”
But you could love him if you let yourself, Phoebe Moon interjected.
Merry waved her burrito at Mom. “I’ll be down in twenty, okay?”
“Don’t wash your hair. Angelina specifically said no hair-washing.”
“Shall I wash my face and brush my teeth?”
“Meredith.”
“Just checking. Where’s Patrick?”
“At the hotel, coming down with temporary hearing loss after listening to his brother all night.” Mom’s smile dimmed for a brief moment. “It’s too bad all families can’t be as lovely as you and I are. No matter, I suppose, since we’ll still be on our honeymoon over Christmas. Are you sure you don’t want to join us?”
No, she didn’t want to join them. She wanted them all to join her in France instead.
Except Daddy.
Unless he honestly, truly, really could give up his misguided ways. “Keep inviting me on your honeymoon and I’ll wash my hair.”
Mom gasped. “Don’t you dare.” She flicked her hands toward the bedroom. “Get ready, young lady.”
“Yes, Princess Bride Mom.”
Mom pranced across the hall into her bedroom, and Merry shut herself into her room once more. She dug into the burrito and sent Max a text.
Everything okay today?
She was pulling clean underwear out of her luggage when her phone rang.
An honest smile crept over her lips, even if the leap in her pulse at Max’s name on the readout wasn’t entirely welcome. “I have two minutes,” she said.
“You make an excellent nursemaid, Merry Silver.” His voice was gravelly with sleep, but still stronger than it had been yesterday. “Ever thought of changing careers?”
“So you’re feeling better.”
“Much.”
“The auction committee must be relieved.”
“I told them you’d be putting in a four-figure bid.”
“You did not.”
“Highest Dan ever went for was a hundred and eighty-seven dollars.”
“Rachel has at least seven hundred in her fund for Pepper to bid on you.” The words tasted like a rancid lem
on.
“I heard your mother donated.”
Merry saw green, and it wasn’t the money, and it wasn’t the Christmas decorations. “She likes you enough to hope this lifts your curse.”
“Not cursed. Just waiting for the right girl to decide to stick around.”
Did he mean her? Or was he speaking hypothetically? She slammed her luggage shut and moved toward her bathroom. “It’ll happen one day. You’re a good guy.”
“Merry—”
“I’m glad you’re feeling better today. I need to run. Hair appointments, then makeup, then flowers and pictures and—well. You know. Wedding stuff.”
“Right.”
He likes you. Like him back, Phoebe Moon said.
“It’s at four,” Merry blurted. “Not that I can invite you, though you already invited yourself yesterday. Mom has everything planned out for just the five of us. Plus, how would that look? It’s bad enough everyone’s going to talk about you again after I leave town. You shouldn’t have to—”
Shut up, Merry, Phoebe Moon said.
“Anyway.” She blew out a sigh. “Thank you for a lovely time in Bliss. I hope you have a wonderful Christmas.”
Silence rang in her ear.
Probably just as well. She was leaving Bliss this time tomorrow, and the country this time on Sunday.
“You too, Merry Silver,” Max said softly. “Call me anytime. From anywhere.”
He doesn’t want her either, Phoebe Moon, Zack Diggory said solemnly.
They’re both idiots, Phoebe Moon snapped back.
“I—” I love you.
A horrified squeak slipped out of her mouth.
How had that happened?
“Gotta go.” She pounded on the screen of her phone to disconnect the call, then dropped her head against the plaster wall.
Phoebe Moon was right.
She was an idiot.
* * *
Despite the massive Dan’s Pissed Off signals bouncing up and down The Aisle, and despite Max’s strength still being in hiding, he pushed into With This Ring shortly after noon on Friday.
They’d been short staffed at the store all week, so Max figured it was his familial duty to get in there and take care of anything he could.
Like appeasing his older brother.
He stopped in the doorway to Dan’s workroom and let the doorframe support him. “Busy day?”
Santa wouldn’t have scowled at his elves like that, but then, Dan only played Santa a few times a year.
And, unfortunately, that was a Gramps-approved scowl.
“Been sitting here all morning wondering why I’m being just as big a dumbass as you,” Dan said.
Max pulled the door shut and propped himself beside the microscope. Not what he expected his big brother to say.
Dan glowered from his perch at the center table. “We need to fix this.”
That was more like it. “Fix what?”
Dan set his tools aside and wiped his forehead with his apron. “You need to tell the staff.”
“She’s leaving in two days. Let her mom get married in peace.”
“If her father’s in town—”
“She would’ve told me.” Wouldn’t she? Something tickled Max’s brain. Had she told him that yesterday?
Dan looked more constipated than convinced.
“I wouldn’t put the store at risk,” Max said quietly. “Our staff is well-trained. Security is top-notch. You want me to call McGraw and tell him, see if he wants us to pull the ring off display, I’ll do it. But Merry puts us no more at risk than we were already for having the Mrs. Claus diamond here in the first place.”
“He’s thinking about selling it,” Dan said.
Max gripped the table. “You told him.”
“Talked to him after the alarms went off the other night.” Dan sliced another you should’ve told me glare Max’s way. “I haven’t told anyone about your Merry problem.”
“She’s not—did you say anyone? You didn’t even tell Rachel?”
“Olivia has an earache, Ty has his Christmas program tonight, and Rach volunteered to organize a toy drive in Gavin’s class. Not to mention the time she’s put into raising funds for Pepper’s pity bid for you tomorrow night.”
Because Merry wouldn’t be here to bid on him. And he was a fool for wishing she’d stay. “McGraw say why he wants to sell it?”
“New woman? Midlife crisis? Who knows. He sounded more unhinged than you are.”
“Thanks.”
“He wants it to stay on display for now.” Dan snorted. “Probably hoping it does get stolen.”
“More notoriety, higher sale price,” Max muttered.
“Or insurance money. Either way, we look like the idiots.”
“We can take it off display for a few days. Tell folks it’s being cleaned or inspected.”
“You want to pull the Mrs. Claus diamond three weeks before Christmas?”
Considering the traffic the ring brought in during the holiday season, it was a dumb move. “No, but if you’re going to be hung up on who Merry’s father is, then maybe you need to.”
Dan turned back to the emerald necklace on the table before him. “Go home, Max. Still look like shit. I’ll handle the ring.”
Max didn’t want to go home. He wanted—
He wanted Merry to have a different father.
So she could stay.
So she would stay.
Max pushed off his perch and opened the door. “Fucking curse,” he muttered.
“Curses aren’t real,” Dan intoned behind him, copying Zack Diggory in his head word-for-word.
Curses might not be real, but it sure as hell felt like bastardly Uncle Sandy was out to steal Max’s love life.
* * *
By quarter to four, Merry’s hair was shellacked in place, her makeup flawless enough to emulate Mom’s Botox, and her red halter-top maid-of-honor dress was expertly displaying her boobs, which thankfully drew attention from the tightness in the waist.
Mom was in a gorgeous green gown, her short silver hair tucked into a wreath, her makeup more flawless than Merry’s, her heels sparkly red. Her poinsettia bouquet matched the velvet ribbon tied around her waist, and she was wearing a perfume that smelled like Christmas cookies. She peered at herself in an oval mirror in the corner while Degas ballerinas watched her from their spot on the ivory-papered walls.
The only thing missing today was the serenity Mom had worn to all her other weddings.
“Mom? You nervous?”
“I’ve had six perfect weddings, Merry. Am I really lucky enough to have the seventh go off without a hitch?”
Who was this woman, and what had she done with Merry’s mother?
Or had Mom seen Daddy?
Come to think of it, where was Daddy today?
“Aw, look at you.” Merry squeezed Mom’s hand, since hugging would risk compromising their flowers or dresses or makeup or hair. “I think being nervous is actually normal.”
Mom huffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not nervous.”
“In any case, you’re beautiful, and your wedding will be perfect. And if not, at least it’ll be memorable.”
The pine wreath on the door to the elegant bride’s room jiggled when the door opened. Zoe stepped inside. “You ladies ready for the photographer? She wants to get some mother-daughter shots before the ceremony.”
Some shots turned out to be closer to a hundred, but the Lilac Mills Chapel was gorgeous with Mom’s poinsettias accenting its exposed beams and soft light, the photographer was a fun woman barely out of college, and she had an infectious enthusiasm that reminded Merry of Phoebe Moon.
That’s Phoebe Moon, The New York Times bestselling character, to you, missy, Phoebe Moon said.
Maybe Merry would tell Mom once she was settled in France.
Or once Mom got over the shock of Merry moving to France.
When the photographer was done, Zoe ushered them back to the bride’s quarters. “The ju
stice of the peace is on his way. I’m so sorry for the delay. He had a…personal issue.”
Mom stood stiffly beside the carved wood love seat and fanned herself with a wedding program. “A personal issue?”
Hope it’s not your daddy, Merry, Phoebe Moon said.
Zoe’s cheeks went scarlet. “He had to stop by the ER for stitches after lunch.”
“This is a bad omen,” Mom whispered.
“Oh, no. It’s a good omen.” Zoe tried to smile. “He, ah, had an accident with his zipper after his, ah, noon appointment. With his wife. And what’s Bliss about if it’s not about rolling with the punches in the name of marital bliss?”
Huh. Even Daddy couldn’t have planned that.
“I need to sit down,” Mom said.
“He’s coming,” Zoe said. “Right now.”
“So soon again?” Mom murmured.
Zoe’s cheeks went from scarlet to maroon. “I mean, I spoke with him a minute ago, and he’s almost here. It won’t be long now. And your groom is dying to see you. You’re a lucky woman, Vicky. Sit tight. Can I get you a glass of water?”
Mom nodded, and Zoe slipped out of the room.
“Deep breath, Mom,” Merry said. “Remember Kimmie? The cupcake girl? That crazy owl interrupted her wedding, but she’s happily married now.”
“Yes, well, she still has a few decades to try getting a perfect wedding again.”
“Mom.”
“Do not take that tone with me, missy. You are not my mother.”
“If you don’t want to marry Patrick…”
“Of course I want to get married.”
“Because it’s what you always do? Or because you want to marry Patrick?”
The door swung open, and Zoe hustled in with a bottle of water. The label had been replaced by Mom and Patrick’s engagement photo. “Two minutes, Vicky. Everyone’s in place. Wait until you see Patrick. He’s so dashing in his tux.”
Mom took a hit off the water bottle, then stood. “I’m ready.”
And two minutes later, Merry stood at the entrance to the chapel with her small bouquet of poinsettias while “Carol of the Bells” played over the room’s speakers. Two wooden church pews sat on either side of the aisle, and Patrick, handsome if a little flushed in his tux, beamed at her from his place beside the justice of the peace.
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