by Amy Harmon
“I’ve never seen that one. Actually, I’ve never seen either of them.”
I pulled back to get a better look at his face. “Really? I’d have thought you would have.”
“Why?”
“You own a bookstore. Pride and Prejudice is a classic.”
“It’s a classic book. Not a classic movie.”
“Ah, but you’re wrong. It’s very classic,” I said.
“I’ve never really understood why it’s as popular as it is.”
“Have you read it?” I asked.
“Most of it. I didn’t understand the fuss. But I know you girls like it.” I wanted to defend my devotion to the book and the movie but I didn’t. I was afraid he might suggest we watch it together and at the moment, I didn’t want to share it with him.
Could Matt be my Mr. Darcy if he had never seen Pride and Prejudice? Don’t be silly. Of course he could. It isn’t like the real Mr. Darcy had a Mr. Darcy to guide his actions. I looked back at the reflection of us dancing. Me and the tall, proud man I’d loved for years.
* * *
A Katy Perry song drove us from the dance floor. We said goodbye to those sitting at our table and left.
“Would you like to go to Peacock Lane?” Matt asked.
“I’d love to,” I said.
Most of the year, Peacock Lane is an ordinary street of pretty older homes with tidy yards and tall, established trees. But during December, Peacock Lane becomes Christmas Street. Christmas lights and decorations transform every home. Families walk, holding children on their shoulders and reading the captions beside a life size Dr. Seuss or Santa Claus. Romantic carriage rides carry couples up and down the street, covered in plaid flannel blankets. Three homeowners work together to provide a beautiful nativity. The center house features the stable with the Christ-child. The yards on either side showcase the wise men and the shepherds. Christmas music plays in front of a few of the houses and once in a while, a group will break out in a reverent version of “Silent Night” or a rousing rendition of “We Wish You a Merry Christmas.”
Matt finally found a parking place two blocks from Peacock Lane. “Would you like me to get a carriage?” he asked.
“No. No. I’m very fond of walking,” I said.
“Then we’ll walk.” Matt took my hand and soon we were walking down the long, sparkling street. The air was warm for December and we walked with our coats unbuttoned. We joined a crowd in front of one of the houses that had its lights set to a synthesized version of “O Come, All Ye Faithful.” It was fun to watch, but the song about gathering to adore the infant Christ-child seemed boisterous and unworshipful.
Several doors further, the homeowner had put a large archway over the sidewalk. It was covered with green boughs and Christmas lights. In the center of the arch was a large sprig of mistletoe. I pretended not to see it. Matt hardly seemed like someone who’d be moved by contrived romantic gestures, especially in such a public setting. We were directly under the mistletoe when he surprised me. He stopped, took me by the shoulders and kissed me, not a short quick kiss, either, but a long, expressive kiss. I could barely breathe when he pulled away and if he hadn’t pulled me into his arms, I might have lost my balance.
The cluster of people behind us started to cheer and I could feel the color rising in my cheeks. Matt quickly snapped back to reality. He nodded at the throng and we began walking again.
“Wow,” I said. “That was unexpected.”
“Maybe unexpected, but hopefully not unwelcome,” Matt said.
“Not at all,” I said looking up at him. He smiled.
For the first time that week I felt at ease. Matt was everything I wanted and he’d just shown the first sign that someday he might openly and completely adore me.
As I fell asleep that night, dances and kisses and Christmas lights drifted through my mind and gradually became dreams. Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth danced to Bing Crosby, Matt and I kissed under the mistletoe on Peacock Lane. Matthew Macfadyen walked toward me in a long coat as the sun rose and Chad called me his pearl on a Sunday afternoon.
Chapter Thirteen
The pink salamander was bustling with activity when I arrived for lunch. A life-sized Nutcracker guarded the front door. A Christmas tree stood inside the front entry, its branches covered with books and reading spectacles. Two women stood on ladders at either side of the arched doorway that entered into the parlor. They attached silver and red Christmas ornaments to an enormous bough of greenery. A young man was arranging tall, tapered candles on the fireplace mantle. Nearly every corner was decked with ribbons, baubles and evergreen boughs.
“I almost didn’t recognize the place,” I said when I walked into Matt’s office.
“Do you like it?” he asked.
“It looks beautiful. Who are these people?”
“It’s Doxey Interiors. I heard they do a lot of decorating for Christmas events. Meg hired them when she was furnishing her condo and she swears they’re the best.”
I tried not to be hurt that Matt had hired an interior designer to do his Christmas decorating, but it was hard. Matt knew I’d graduated with a degree in Interior Design and I wished he’d given me a chance to impress him, or at least talked to me about his plans.
“I could have helped you decorate,” I said, “and I don’t know what they’re charging you, but I’d have given you a friends and family discount.” I laughed, trying to keep the conversation light and the hurt out of my voice.
“I should have thought of that. I guess seeing you working the teller window makes me forget you’re more than just a bank teller. Maybe next year.” The reference to something far in the future pleased me and helped me overlook the jab he’d just made about me being just a bank teller. “Did you see that tree? I love the books and reading glasses idea. Genius idea for a bookstore.”
Right. Genius. Who would ever think of putting books on the Christmas tree at a bookstore?
“Elizabeth, come see what they’ve done in the other rooms. I told them I wanted something different in each one.” Matt took my hand and led me up the stairway. In the Women’s Fiction room was a smaller tree covered with lipsticks, open compacts and necklaces. The tree in the Children’s Room had a garland of small alphabet blocks and Christmas candy. “Wait until you see the non-fiction room. Alexis decided to focus on the cookbooks in that room.”
Let me guess. A tree with kitchen tools? Sure enough the tree was covered with rolling pins, cookie cutters, spoons and whisks. So original.
“This is really nice,” I said and it was. It just wasn’t quite as imaginative as Matt thought it was.
“I hope we have a good turnout tomorrow night. I’ve had it advertised all over town. We’ll have Alicia Espinosa in here. She’s written a raw cookbook.”
“Isn’t that a little contradictory?” I joked.
“What do you mean?”
“A raw cookbook.”
“Ah, yes. I get it. That’s funny,” Matt said but he barely registered a smile. “I’m going to have Elliott Daniels in the parlor and Robert Sabuda will sign his Christmas pop-up books in the Children’s Room.”
“It sounds wonderful,” I said.
When the tour was over we sat down to eat lunch in the only undecorated space in the bookstore—Matt’s office. I was pleased to find that Matt had ordered me a sandwich with turkey and avocado spread. It was actually quite good.
“I have something for you,” Matt said. “This isn’t your actual Christmas present. I’ll give you that after the book event tomorrow night.” Matt would be in Arizona for Christmas.
“Ooh, a surprise?” I said.
“Don’t get too excited. It’s not a big deal,” Matt said. He handed me a silver gift bag.
“It looks nice,” I said. I opened the bag and pulled out a package of sheer, black pantyhose. I looked at Matt, confused.
“They should be the right size. I asked Meg to pick them up for me.”
It took me a moment to find my voice. �
��You had Meg buy me pantyhose?” I asked. The thought of Matt sending Meg out to buy me pantyhose felt wrong.
“I figured she’d know more about this than I do,” Matt said. “Are they the right size?”
I turned the package over and nodded. The size was right but the whole situation felt strange. Was this a normal thing to do? “I don’t understand. Why would you get me pantyhose?” I asked.
“I thought you could wear them tomorrow night.”
A light went on in my mind. I wanted to turn the light back off because if what it was illuminating was true, I’d soon be angry.
“Matt, I have clothes to wear.”
“I was just hoping you would wear these instead of your colored ones.”
Was he serious? What was wrong with my colored tights? I loved them. They were fun and playful and different. I liked the way they looked.
“So you don’t like my colored tights?” I asked.
Matt hesitated. “They just look juvenile,” Matt finally said. At least he had the decency to look a little chagrined.
“If they were only for children, they wouldn’t make them in my size.” Suddenly I realized why he never complimented what I wore. He didn’t like my style. That stung but even worse was the thought of him discussing what I wore with Meg, and sending her out for pantyhose for me!
Matt sighed. “I’ve offended you. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” I didn’t speak. I’m not sure if I was more angry or hurt, but whatever it was, I would not cry in front of him. About tights. I stared at the package of pantyhose in my hand. “It’s just that tomorrow night is really a big deal and I wanted you to look elegant. And sophisticated.” Matt’s voice trailed off.
“I think I’d better go,” I said. The faster I left the less chance there was I’d cry about tights. Why do I have to be one of those girls who cry when she’s angry?
Matt sat in his seat and watched me put the pantyhose back in the bag, pick up my purse and walk to the door. “Elizabeth?”
I paused at the door but didn’t turn back.
“Don’t be mad at me just because I want things to be perfect tomorrow,” he said.
I didn’t look at him. “See you tomorrow,” I said.
* * *
I didn’t tell Courtney about the pantyhose even though she asked what was in my shiny, silver bag. When I got home, I threw the pantyhose on my bed and shoved the gift bag into the bottom of the garbage can. I knew Janessa would find this gift inappropriate and insulting and I was desperate to have the people I loved like Matt.
When I dressed for my date the next evening, I pulled out what I’d planned to wear—a black A-line skirt and a black cardigan I’d embellished in college. I’d removed all the boring buttons and replaced them with mismatched, vintage rhinestone buttons. Now I was questioning everything. Would he find the mismatched buttons unsophisticated? Maybe I should borrow Janessa’s plain, black sweater.
I removed the pantyhose from their package. Stupid, boring, black pantyhose. I had planned to wear my gray tights with a silvery shimmer. They were pretty and perfect for the holiday. I put them on and finished dressing. They looked good. I wanted to wear them.
What would happen if I didn’t wear the black, sheer pantyhose? Matt would probably be annoyed. But I was annoyed, too. Maybe he wouldn’t want to date me anymore. That would be just plain sad. Cause of relationship death: Irreconcilable hosiery preferences.
In the end, I wore my own embellished sweater but I changed into the black pantyhose. Tonight was important to Matt and I didn’t want to spoil it for him over something so trivial. Besides we were exchanging gifts after the signing and I was excited to give him his present. I didn’t want to spoil the night before he left for Arizona with a silly argument about tights.
* * *
The book event was a splendid success. Hundreds of people came throughout the night. Matt moved among the people, charming and attentive. He introduced me to his guest authors and some of his best customers. The hors d’oeuvres were delicious and I was glad Matt had listened to me when I’d suggested a Christmas gathering of customers might be a good time to branch out beyond Eighth Natural Wonder. The savory platters were delicious and included bacon. The sweet platters were a rich assortment of cheesecake bites and Christmas desserts.
When the last customer finally left, Matt collapsed into his office chair and grinned. “Mission accomplished,” he said.
“It was very nice.” I popped a small éclair into my mouth.
“By the way, you look very pretty tonight,” Matt said.
“Thanks.” I looked down at my boring black pantyhose with a twinge of resentment.
“I’m glad you were here.” Matt moved around the desk to sit beside me. It wasn’t until he sat down that I noticed he had an envelope in his hand. “Merry Christmas.” He handed me the envelope and kissed me lightly on the lips.
Inside the envelope were two tickets to Wicked. “It won’t be here until March, but I heard you talking to Courtney about it at dinner,” Matt said.
“This is perfect. I’ve wanted to see this for years,” I said. “Thank you.” I leaned across the chairs and hugged him. “Now let me get yours,” I said and retrieved it from inside the small closet where I’d stashed it with my purse when I’d arrived. “I hope you like it.”
Matt cut the string that wrapped the box and removed the lid. Inside the box was a framed photograph of The Pink Salamander. I had taken it in the evening, when the pink looked almost lavender in the darkening light and the windows glowed invitingly.
“Did you take this yourself?” Matt asked and I nodded. “You caught it at the perfect time of day. Thank you, Elizabeth.” He looked at the photograph for a long time. “What a thoughtful gift.” I loved the picture and thought it was beautiful, but it wasn’t until I knew he liked it that I realized how nervous I’d been about giving it to him.
Matt walked me to my car a few minutes later. He held me close for a long time. “Merry Christmas, sweet Elizabeth. I’ll miss you.”
Chapter Fourteen
The cold drizzle frizzed my hair and made my fingers numb as I loaded the car with my suitcase and Christmas presents for the family. Even though Dad and Mom only lived a half hour away, I planned to stay for a couple of nights.
I was getting a later start than I wanted and I had no one to blame but myself. I’d had my Christmas shopping finished weeks ago, but I’d forgotten wrapping paper. After leaving the bank at 3:00, I’d had to fight the Christmas Eve rush and stand in line for twenty-five minutes, all for a roll of pretty paper. So much for shopping early.
My phone vibrated on the counter. Someone had left a text while I’d been loading the car.
CHAD: HEY, I WONDERED IF I COULD DROP BY FOR A MINUTE. IT WON’T TAKE LONG.
My pulse did a little sprint. It was from Chad. I told myself my reaction was simply because I hadn’t heard from him for two weeks. My cold fingers trembled a little as I typed in a message.
LIZZIE: GLAD YOU CAUGHT ME. LEAVING FOR PARENTS SOON, BUT GO AHEAD AND STOP BY.
It only took a few seconds before he responded.
CHAD: BE THERE IN LESS THAN TEN.
I checked my reflection in the mirror and tried to tame my rebellious hair. It was no use so I pulled it back into a ponytail. Then I changed my mind and left it loose.
I hadn’t seen Chad since he’d driven away and I found it unsettling that I was so eager to see him. And that I cared what my hair looked like. Would Matt be disappointed in me if he knew Chad was stopping by? I’d have to be quick and businesslike. It was the only way to be fair to both Matt and Chad. I didn’t want to upset Matt or mislead Chad. Quick and businesslike. I could do that.
I sprang from my seat when the doorbell rang. I took a deep breath and walked calmly to the door.
Chad smiled. He looked awkward and sheepish. He held a large, flat box wrapped in shiny red paper. Chad had such a cute smile. I smiled back. “Thanks for letting me stop by.”
“I’m okay. Been busy with school and the team,” Chad said.
“I know. You’ve had some good meets.” Chad looked surprised. “I read about them online.”
“Right. Carter signed a letter of intent with the Ducks this week.”
“That’s so great.”
An awkward moment elapsed. “Well, listen, I have something for you.”
A gust of wind shocked my senses. “Come in. It’s freezing out there.”
“Here. Just take this and I’ll get out of your way. I don’t want to keep you.”
“Don’t be silly. Come on in.”
Chad followed me into the living room and sat on the edge of a chair.
“I’m sorry,” I said, looking at the package. “I didn’t…”
Chad put up his hand. “Stop right there. I didn’t expect you to get me anything. I didn’t even know if I should give you this, considering the circumstances, but…” Chad looked down at the package. “No matter what happened, I wanted you to have this.”
“You’re much too nice, Chad.”
“Not really,” he said. His voice was so quiet I could hardly hear him. He handed me the package.
“Do you want me to open it now?” I asked.
“You probably should. I want to explain something to you.”
I tore away the paper and lifted the lid. Inside the box was a coffee table book called Design in the Details—Interiors that Speak. It was a beautiful book.
“Thank you, Chad. This is gorgeous. And so thoughtful.”
“There’s an envelope in there,” he said pointing at the book.
I flipped through the pages and found a small blue envelope. Inside was a hand-written gift certificate.
Good for an interior design consultation with Lola Keller.
I looked at Chad for an explanation.
“That’s my mom. She wants to redecorate her living room and dining room and when I told her about you, she said she’d like to have you come by for a consultation. If she likes your ideas, she wants to hire you.”