“Don’t make fun of him,” Thalia snapped. Then, regretting her force of emotion, she softened her stance. “His official period of mourning the loss of his wife is over, and so what if he wears dashing clothes now? I do believe this is his first party since her death.”
“That’s right. I’m sorry. I remember now. She was your cousin Norma, right?”
Thalia nodded and tried not to stare at Maximilian too long. She could see him excusing himself from Aunt Dorcas. Since he looked in her direction, she guessed he planned to make his way toward her. But just as quickly, her aunt took him by the elbow and guided him toward Bryant Emmet. She felt grateful for the reprieve.
“Thalia?” Josiah asked. “Are you listening to a word I’m saying?”
“Something about baseball?” she guessed.
He grinned. “What else? You know, seeing Newbolt brings me a thought. I wonder if his church has a team. Maybe our church team could play a few games against them for fun.”
“I doubt if he’s given it any thought. Spring’s a long time away,” Thalia pointed out.
“You’re right about that. Much too long, if you ask me.”
In her head, Thalia didn’t want to talk to Maximilian, but her heart insisted that she seek him. “Excuse me, Josiah, but I must greet Maximilian since he just arrived.”
“Sure. I’ll come along with you and ask about the teams.”
If only Josiah would be lured to the table for refreshments—anything to keep him from following her. In the same instant, she realized his insistence on accompanying her would save her from speaking with Maximilian alone.
Aunt Dorcas gave Thalia a warning look when she and Josiah interrupted their conversation with Bryant. Ignoring her, Thalia smiled and hoped her face didn’t reveal her excitement upon seeing him once more. Just being near him, taking in a whiff of the spicy shaving lotion he wore, being near his confident essence, sent old feelings rushing anew. “Maximilian. How nice of you to join us in our celebration. It wouldn’t have been Christmas without you.”
The expression in his eyes told her that he was just as conflicted about seeing her as she was him. But he locked his gaze with hers, and for her, everyone else in the room melted into oblivion.
“Thalia.”
The way he caressed her name with his voice filled her with a craving to be closer to him. She felt wobbly. In spite of her desire not to look away from intense brown eyes flecked with gold, she searched for a nearby chair. Too bad Mrs. Hansen already occupied the only one in reach. Far be it from Thalia to take a seat from a frail dowager. At least now she could look back into Maximilian’s eyes. Judging from his stare, he would be content to gaze at her all night.
Why did she have to react this way? She couldn’t. Not after what had happened.
If Josiah noticed her reaction to Maximilian, he didn’t let on. “Remember me, Newbolt?” He extended his right hand.
Maximilian returned the gesture, and the men exchanged a hearty shake. “Of course. Josiah Billings. Still a big baseball fan?”
Josiah swung an imaginary bat, almost coming into contact with a burning candle in the process. “If I keep practicing, I’ll be a regular Ty Cobb.”
Dorcas laughed louder than she should have. “Thalia, let us leave the men to their sports talk.”
“Oh, but you have always encouraged me to take an interest in baseball.” Thalia couldn’t help but chide. “And look, there’s Mr. Carmichael. Have you had a chance to speak with him yet?” She waved toward the balding man.
He smiled and started toward them.
Dorcas threw Thalia daggers with her stare, but Thalia smiled when he approached. “Mr. Carmichael, have you had a chance to see Mr. Newbolt?”
“Evening, Newbolt.” The older man extended his hand, and Maximilian accepted.
Though they exchanged pleasantries, as Thalia expected, Mr. Carmichael didn’t dwell on Maximilian too long. Instead, he focused on Aunt Dorcas.
“The food you got here tonight is mighty good, Dorcas. If you don’t mind me for asking, where did you buy your beef?”
Obviously not expecting such a question, Aunt Dorcas dropped open her mouth and paused. “Uh, Swanson’s.”
“Swanson’s?” He let out a whistle. “They’re the most expensive place in town.” He lifted his right index finger. “Now let me recommend a place that’ll save you lots of money, especially if you tell them I sent you …”
Taking his victim by the arm, he led her toward the refreshment table. Thalia imagined they would go over each plate and discuss the price of every foodstuff available. She tried not to giggle—or think about the tongue-lashing she would receive later.
With her aunt at bay, Thalia had a suggestion for Josiah. “Wouldn’t it be fun if we played a few records on the Victrola?”
His eyes brightened. “Sure it would.”
“Maybe you could go through our collection and pick a few songs.”
“Sure. That would be swell.” He headed for the Victor Talking Machine, a small wooden box with a large horn. Such machines had become popular for anyone wishing to listen to recorded music.
Maximilian shook his head. “Josiah hasn’t changed since the day he turned ten.”
Realizing his observation wasn’t far from the truth, Thalia decided not to comment.
Maximilian glanced toward the window. “If it weren’t snowing outside, I’d ask you to take a walk with me in the moonlight.”
“But alas, it snows. I hope this weather won’t be too much of an inconvenience for my guests.” She sighed at the falling flakes. “It is quite pretty, though.”
“Not nearly as pretty as you,” he proclaimed. “You look even lovelier than I remember.” He captured her gaze with his once more.
Taken aback and yet delighted by his compliment, she forced an answer. “It—it appears the snow is falling harder.”
“How do you know? You’re not looking out the window.”
“Oh, you are incorrigible.” She broke the lock on his stare.
“I know where a window is—a window where no one else is looking. And if I were a betting man, I’d say it’s right near a fire so we can stay warm as we watch the snow.”
“If you mean the window in the study, you would have lost the bet. Aunt Dorcas told Eliza to keep the fire lit to accommodate the overflow. Judging from how sparse the main room has become, I would venture it’s already been discovered. If it’s privacy you want, I doubt you’ll get it there.”
“Too bad. Wonder how we can get away from Josiah?”
A giggle escaped Thalia’s lips in spite of her best efforts to contain it.
“Certainly your aunt doesn’t think you should yoke yourself to such a juvenile.”
She felt mirth leave her expression. “She said that, did she?”
“She spoke quite approvingly of a possible match. You–you’re not engaged to him, are you?”
The thought sent a shudder down her back.
His eyebrows rose just a tad. “Does that mean you can’t stand the thought?”
She felt her cheeks flush. “Was I that obvious?”
He chuckled.
“I’ve told Aunt Dorcas time and time again that I have no desire to marry, but she won’t listen. She seems to think Josiah is the perfect match for me. Probably because he has more than enough money to offer me a lifetime of security.”
“So do many other men.”
Discerning that he referred to himself, Thalia tried to hide her surprise and made sure not to encourage him. “There are things far more important than money.”
“Watch it. People may think you’re a woman who has always had more than enough.”
“Do they?” Her voice snapped no less than if it had been a blow to his cheek.
He flinched. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound harsh. I have no right to chastise anyone about poverty, since I’ve never gone to bed hungry. Forgive me. And you are right; there are other important things.”
“And
you are right. I shouldn’t be so defensive.” Ashamed, she glimpsed at the Oriental rug on the floor and back up again. “God has blessed me with enough, and because I don’t have to worry about where my next meal is coming from, I can focus on ethereal things. Not everyone has that luxury.”
She saw Maximilian grimace and thought he wasn’t sure about what she said—until she heard Josiah.
Excited, he held a waxy red disc for their inspection. “Look, you’ve got ‘Take Me Out to the Ball Game.’ I didn’t even know they’d recorded that.”
“Then your night is made.” Thalia’s voice betrayed more sarcasm than she meant.
Josiah didn’t seem to notice. “Come on in and listen. Everybody’s asking for you. They want you to play the piano for a sing-along.”
“That does sound fun,” Thalia said with feigned enthusiasm. Sitting by the fire with Maximilian—even among other guests—seemed much more appealing. She tried not to look too vexed as she set her gaze on Maximilian. “Looks as though we’ll have to delay your plan to watch falling snow.”
Though she had dreaded the thought of seeing him again, her feelings for him took her by surprise. She needed to sort them out. She would definitely try to see him again in relative privacy before the party ended if it was the last thing she did.
Chapter 3
Maximilian wanted to accompany Thalia and Josiah to the music room, but he held back. Thalia proclaimed she never wanted to marry, but then again, he’d seen many women say the same and go on to wed and bear a brood of children. But with Thalia, things were even more complicated. Obviously he had stepped into Josiah’s territory—at least as far as Josiah and Dorcas were concerned—and he wasn’t about to interfere and offend Dorcas. Not when he still hadn’t seen a clear sign about when—and if—to tell Thalia his thoughts about going to California.
Too busy catching up with friends to eat earlier, he decided to swing by the banquet table one last time before entering the music room. Besides, there was no doubt Josiah would be hanging all over Thalia. He wasn’t sure he wanted to witness that.
“A penny for your thoughts, Maximilian.”
Snatched from his dream world, he looked in the direction of the voice and discovered a friend of Thalia’s, Edith. “You came in out of the blue. How long were you standing there?”
“Long enough to see you pondering the mysteries of the universe. I thought perhaps my penny would be well spent to learn your thoughts.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, I’m afraid. My thoughts are hardly worth a penny.”
Edith laughed. “I doubt you would find many in agreement with you.” She took a small bit of an especially appealing tart. “Mmmmm. Delightful. You must try one.”
“You and I are the only ones hovering around the banquet table. What does that say about us?”
“Oh, it might say that we are among the hardy souls who aren’t afraid of a little snow. A lot of people left already, you know.”
“Yes, I thought it seemed as though the crowd had dwindled.”
“Poor Thalia.” Edith brushed crumbs off her blue dress. “She worked so hard on this party. It’s a shame it had to be cut short due to the weather.”
“I would dispute that it’s been cut short. Seems to me lots of people are still having a good time.”
“I know I am with so much food. After this I won’t need to eat for three days.” She gestured toward him, holding the last bit of tart. “I recommend trying one before they’re all gone.”
“I don’t know if I should indulge. I already had a piece of mince pie.” The remaining two slices of pie, with rich fruit filling and flaky crust, tempted him.
Edith regarded the pie with less enthusiasm, judging from the way she wrinkled her nose. “I don’t care much for mince pie myself.”
“Oh, but you might put aside your distaste for it and try it around this time of year.”
“Why?”
“You’ve never heard the old saying?” Since she obviously hadn’t, he continued. “For each piece of mince pie you eat at every Christmas party you go to, you’ll have a month of happiness the following year.”
Edith laughed. “What a silly superstition. Are you saying I need to go to twelve parties this month and eat mince pie?”
“If you want a year of happiness, I suppose so.” He smiled. “A year before I married, I managed to eat four pieces over the season, and I had the best spring of my life.”
“Goodness, Maximilian, I can’t believe here in the twentieth century that an educated man such as yourself—a graduate of William and Mary College in Virginia, no less—would believe in such nonsense. I would credit your happy spring to coincidence.”
“Promise me you won’t tell my old professors,” he joked before turning serious. “I know I might sound silly, but I do have my reasons for thinking the way I do.”
“Does Thalia know your reasons?”
He thought for a moment. “No, I suppose not.”
“Then no wonder you and Thalia never wed. She’d never put up with such foolishness. At least not without a very good reason.”
Maximilian winced. Thalia was full of vigor and fun but much too serious about religion. Sure, he went to church and had no doubt about the existence of God. He even prayed to Him when he needed something. But trusting the rabbit’s foot in his pocket seemed the better bet. The rabbit’s foot he could see, but not God.
“Did I say something wrong?” Edith asked. “I’m so sorry. I suppose that was insensitive of me, especially since Norma—”
“I think I’ll take you up on your suggestion about that tart.” Looking away from Edith, he reached for a delectable-looking puff pastry too quickly and knocked over a pepper shaker meant for a nearby platter of roast beef. Black particles of the spice scattered on the tablecloth. “Oh, no.”
Edith shrugged. With a well-tended hand, she righted the shaker and swished the offending pepper onto the floor. “See? No harm done.”
He shuddered at her cavalier attitude. “Don’t you know a spilled pepper shaker is bad luck?”
“Not those old tales again. Honestly!” She grinned. “I have to say, coming from you, I find them quite amusing.”
He wasn’t sure—or perhaps he was too sure—about Edith’s flirtation. Though charming, she wasn’t interesting enough for him to consider complicating matters with thoughts of her other than as a food critic. He decided to taste the tart Edith recommended. He nodded his approval as sweet fruit and buttery pastry pleased his taste buds.
“Is it good?” Approaching from another direction, the female’s voice was teasing.
Maximilian nodded to Mabel, an acquaintance of Thalia’s since girlhood. “Edith suggested I try one. Clearly, Edith, you know your way around a buffet table.”
“Thanks. I think.”
A horn squawked four times. “Oh, bother,” said Edith, “It’s Papa. He must have come early because of the snow.”
“At least you won’t be stranded,” Maximilian pointed out.
Edith sent him a look. “I could think of worse fates.” She waved and headed for the door. “Toodles.”
As soon as Edith was out of sight, Mabel shook her head. “That Edith. She’s so bold. Nothing like Norma. You never could guess what she was thinking.”
The observation brought back a few too many memories. “True.”
“You can always tell what Edith is thinking. She wears her heart on her sleeve,” Mabel noted. “I, on the other hand, believe that a woman should shroud herself in mystery.”
Maximilian fought back a grin. Clearly Mabel was unaware of her own transparency.
She bit into a sandwich. “We’d better eat hearty since we’ll be fighting a lot of snow and wind on the way home. In fact, I’m thinking of abandoning ship as soon as I finish my punch. Who knows? This could turn out to be a blizzard.”
“Blizzard? I think this is hardly what one would call a blizzard.” He took another bite of pastry and looked outside. His mouth dropped.
“Oh, you’re right. The snow has accumulated quite a bit. Much more than any of us imagined.”
She nodded toward the entrance. “I see most of the other guests are giving us the old twenty-three skiddoo.”
Though several could still be heard singing in the music room, along with the piano and a banjo, their numbers did in fact seem to be dwindling by the minute. Even then, he looked toward the front door and noticed a couple of the guests leaving. “So it seems.”
“How about you? Do you plan to stay?”
He thought about the long journey back to Aurora. While not arduous in fair weather, the falling snow would increase its difficulty by automobile. With the amount on the ground, he wondered if even a horse would improve his journey’s success. “I suppose I should be leaving, much to my regret. I was rather late in arriving as it was. I had a flat tire on the way.”
“You don’t look the worse for wear.” Then, seeming to be embarrassed by her bold observation, she continued. “At least you won’t be the first to leave.”
“True.” The word sounded strange, as though someone else had uttered it.
“Is something the matter, Maximilian?”
“I—I had some news for Thalia, but I don’t know if I can tell her now.” Indeed, talking proved difficult. Was this the sign he wanted?
“News?” Mabel licked her lips. “Is there something I can tell Thalia for you?”
“No.” Maximilian swooshed his tongue around his mouth. Why did the inside of his mouth feel as though he’d been attacked with itching powder? His arms felt the same. He didn’t want to scratch, especially not in front of Mabel, or anyone else. But he had to do something. “I’m so sorry. I have some pressing business I must tend to.”
She looked doubtful, but he had no recourse except to ignore her. With as much dignity as he could muster, he walked as quickly as he could without running, down the hall to the library, certain no one else would be there. He opened the door and felt a draft in spite of the lit fire on the opposite end of the room. Undeterred, he ignored the cold and shut the door behind him, noticing the musty, leathery odor of aging books. The room was dark except for the fire and the glow from the blanket of white snow streaming through the window.
Mountain Christmas Brides Page 35