by Jenny Hale
“This one looks good.” Joe scrolled down the rest of the wines before making a selection. “Where are their addresses?” he asked, typing away.
Holly unclipped her papers and located the invitation list, handing it to him.
Joe reached into his pocket and retrieved his wallet, sliding out a credit card for the purchase and placing it on the table. Then he finished typing in the information for delivery. After a bout of typing, he hit the final button. “Done.” He turned to her as if he were going to say something, but instead, he just stayed silent, in the moment, every muscle in his body content. His shoulders were low, an easy smile played around the edges of his mouth, his elbow rested on the arm of the sofa.
Her spine straightened in response, and she kicked into gear. “Does your wedding party already have their attire and accessories?”
“Yes. Brea did that. All the fittings are finished.” He was studying her, clearly aware of the change in her body.
Holly took a sip of wine, keeping herself in complete control. “What about hair/facials/nails for the bridesmaids before the wedding? Who’s doing that, or are they doing it themselves?”
“Uh, you’ll have to ask Katharine that one.”
“Okay.” Holly scribbled down a quick note next to the bullet to remind her to add it to the new to-do list she’d make for Katharine.
“What about accommodations? Have you blocked off rooms in area hotels for guests?”
He took in a quiet breath. “Yes. We have rooms at the Renaissance Nashville and The Hermitage.”
Holly paused, the luxury of those hotels making her wonder again what the wedding venue in Brentwood would be like. It was bound to be nothing short of extravagant. Putting the clip back on the pile of papers, the handwritten to-do list she’d made on top, she checked off the box for “wedding party” and moved on to the next one. “Have you or will you insure the rings?”
“Yes. Done.”
He took a swig of his wine, and he was starting to get that faraway look in his eyes, but she pressed on.
“Does your best man have Katharine’s ring for the ceremony?”
“No. I’ve been holding onto them for safekeeping. They’re in my suitcase in the bedroom,” he said, tossing his thumb behind him toward the hallway. “We’re tying them to the ring bearer’s pillow.”
Holly swallowed. The idea that the bands were in the house made the wedding feel more real than it ever had. “Where’s the ring bearer’s pillow?”
“Katharine has it.” Another drink.
“Okay.” She made a note.
“Would you like me to touch base with the photographer, caterer, florist, minister, and musicians to make sure they’re all on top of things, or has Brea already done that?”
“I’m not sure what she’s finalized, so yes. Thank you.”
She noticed that his wine was nearly gone already, and he was filling his glass again. Holly had barely had any of hers. She made herself take a sip to be polite since he poured her some, but she really just wanted to keep going because rattling off questions was easier than allowing herself to speak casually to Joe. He was sitting next to her, his knee almost touching her leg and just the sight of it made her feel like she was doing something wrong, so she focused on the list again.
“Gift registries all done?”
He nodded.
“Arrangements confirmed for your honeymoon?”
He took another drink of wine. “Yeah.”
“Got your passports, tickets…?”
“Yep.” He drew in a large breath and let it out quietly.
“Marriage license?”
“Yes.”
“Are you writing your own vows?”
“No. We’re doing traditional vows.” He set his wine down slowly, that distant look in his eyes that she’d seen before, now in full force.
“Great.” She ignored it and checked off another box. “Did Brea complete the reception menu?”
His relaxed demeanor had completely gone, his face pale.
“Not sure. We’ll need to contact the estate office to see. If she didn’t, just pick whatever food you think would be great. I trust you.” He rubbed his neck and stood up abruptly, his face looking as though he were suffocating. “I’m sorry. I have a terrible headache. Perhaps it’s the wine…” He dragged his hands down his face as if he could actually pull the headache off of himself, letting out a little groan. “Do we have any ibuprofen?”
“Don’t take it while you’re drinking. Maybe just lie down.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose, his breathing quite fast.
“You look like you’re having a panic attack,” she said, standing up and facing him, worry consuming her. He was clearly overwhelmed. “Your wedding is a big thing, I know,” she said softly.
She couldn’t even imagine the permanence that would wash over someone about to make a leap like this.
“In the end,” she said, using all her strength to give him the support he needed, “all this will be over and it’ll be just you and Katharine spending your lives together.”
He opened his eyes wide, penetrating her with his stare, something trying to come through, but it just wouldn’t. Did he want to tell her something? He opened his mouth slightly to speak, but he only allowed his breath to come out before he gently pressed his lips together, his gaze dropping to the floor as if in defeat.
“Yes, you’re right,” he said, his inner thoughts clearly not matching up with the conclusion he’d made out loud.
While Holly couldn’t believe she ever would, she’d heard about people getting cold feet before their wedding. Joe was a quiet person who didn’t seem to thrive on attention, and perhaps this was quite challenging for him. She’d been launching questions at him like a rapid-fire New Year’s fireworks display, and she might have overwhelmed him. Gently, using restraint to keep her actions separate from her emotions, she put her hand on his arm.
Joe’s gaze flew to her hand and then searched her face, and she knew she needed to get him to relax.
“Sit for a second?” she asked, lowering herself back down onto the sofa. He sat beside her immediately, staring deeply into her eyes as if she could save him from something. But he didn’t need saving—he was marrying the love of his life, right? Joe didn’t strike her as a person who would propose to someone unless he was truly committed. When they started talking details again, Holly would pull back on her questions, give him more time to think between each one. She decided to take his mind off the wedding for a little while.
“Let’s shift focus for a minute, get our minds off the wedding.” She folded the papers and slid them underneath her laptop.
“Yes,” he exhaled and cleared his throat, collecting himself.
“I have something that’s been nagging me,” she admitted, hoping the complete change in topic would ease his headache.
Those dark eyes nearly swallowed her, while he waited for her to finish.
“Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. And you don’t have anything under the tree.”
He blinked a few times, and she wondered if she’d surprised him with her admission. Then he regarded her warmly, whatever had been eating at him sliding away. “It’s fine,” he said, his voice still a little gruff.
“I know it’s fine,” she said with a lighthearted grin. “You’re a big boy and you can handle it, I’m sure. But it isn’t much fun. It’s Christmas! I want to include you when Nana and I unwrap our gifts.”
“Well, unless you start wrapping things in the cabin, there’s not much you can do, and it really is okay.” She could see his stress diminishing in just that small amount of time. “But if you are wrapping things, that candle over there would smell really good in my apartment,” he teased, and it was a relief to see.
“Now you won’t get it because it won’t be a surprise!” she said.
“How about I make a list of things then.” He looked around the room. “I like that picture you have on the wall…” Finally, he allowed
a small smile, flooding Holly with happiness. It was amazing how changing the conversation had eased his nerves so quickly.
“You know what we could do?” The thought just hit Holly, the Christmas spirit filling her. She sat on the edge of the sofa and faced him, making him smile at her excitement to this idea.
“What?” he asked, that curiosity washing over him.
“We could both go down to Puckett’s tomorrow! What if we have to choose three things to wrap for the other person, but you can only pick from what’s on the shelf?” She sat back, proud of herself for such a revelation.
Joe allowed a little chuckle. “You want me to wrap up a bottle of mustard?”
“You can never have too much mustard.”
That made him laugh, and she had to remind herself to put that mental distance between them. It could dissipate in an instant whenever they were together. “You might surprise yourself with what you can find there.”
“You’re on,” he said, and Holly could tell that she’d done her job. Joe was back to his wonderful self again.
Twenty-Three
“Don’t look!” Holly said when Joe peeked around the corner of the grocery aisle in Puckett’s. They went right after breakfast.
“I’m just checking to see how many items you have,” he said. “I’ve found two.”
“I have two! One more for each of us. Now go back to your aisle before you spoil the surprise,” she said good-naturedly.
He peeked around the aisle again and Holly hunched over her basket before he could see. He laughed from the other side.
Five elderly gentlemen at their table looked over at Holly and Joe nosily, their chatter withering for a second. It was this table that everyone always saved for the same local men who drank coffee there every morning. Holly waved to them and they went back to their conversations.
“What in Heaven’s name are y’all doin’ over there?” Tammy called from the register.
“Shopping,” Joe said pointedly as if he came to Puckett’s every day. His back to Holly, he carried his items over to the checkout counter. “Would you, please, double bag mine quickly, Tammy? I’d like to keep my selections from Holly.”
Tammy examined the things in his basket and raised an eyebrow. “Okaaay,” she said, hitting buttons on the register as she placed each item into the bag. “That’ll be eleven eighty-three, Joey.” He handed her a twenty-dollar bill.
“I’ll just wait outside,” Joe called to Holly before tying his bag and carrying it to the door.
“Okay,” she called back.
When Holly came out of Puckett’s, Joe was nowhere to be found. She warmed her hands at the nearby fire pit, her own bag dangling from the crook of her arm, when she caught him leaving the art gallery. And then she remembered during two truths and a lie at Otis’s that he’d said he collected art.
“Sorry.” He seemed startled to see her. “I didn’t mean to leave you. I just saw this art gallery and thought I’d take a look inside.”
With only his Puckett’s bag in his hand, she assumed he hadn’t found any major works of art to buy, but she asked anyway, “See anything good?”
“A lot, actually.” He beamed. “But I’m not really prepared to buy art right at the moment. Maybe one day I’ll be back.”
“Yes, you’re more than welcome to visit any time,” she said, and the hope that rose in her chest wasn’t healthy at all. Then something occurred to her. “Have you gotten any presents for Katharine? Do you have some back in New York?”
He shook his head. “With the case research she has going on, the trial she’s finishing up, and me here, we decided not to have Christmas this year.”
How awful. “Well, anyone within a two-mile radius of me gets Christmas every year. I wouldn’t be able to cope without it. Christmas is when everyone forgets all the troubles around them and just celebrates being with one another. And I know you might not think so, but, in my opinion, it’s that one time of year when magic really is possible.”
He smiled and she noticed, happily, that this time, he didn’t try to refute her mention of magic.
* * *
Nana had been invited to Buddy’s for the day, and, with the streets now salted, he came to pick her up in his old Ford truck. She returned late in the evening, looking more relaxed than she had before, and Holly was glad that her friends were around her to give her something other than her loss to think about.
While Nana had been at Buddy’s, Joe worked on the sofa and Holly divided her time between baking blueberry muffins and contacting all the event staff to be sure everything was on track for the wedding. The only things she had to run by Katharine regarding the venue were the final say on the photography package and the archway of roses that was being built over the entrance of the venue. Apparently, for the number of roses Katharine had selected, they’d need to pull in two more florists, which was going to change the cost. She felt accomplished and her fears about finishing this wedding were subsiding a little.
Now, with both Holly and Joe at a good stopping point for the night, they decided, because it had been a good amount of time since Nana had gone to bed, they should set up the gifts from Papa and they could also put their presents from Puckett’s under the tree.
“Watcha got there?” Holly said, once Joe retrieved her presents from his room. She reached out to touch one of the packages he was holding. They were giftwrapped haphazardly, with lots of tape on the ends.
Joe pulled back. “Careful,” he warned as he kept them steady. “This one needs to go into the fridge.” He nodded toward a flat gift that was the size of one of Nana’s old forty-five records.
A grin spread across Holly’s face. “One of my presents requires refrigeration?”
“Yes.” He stepped aside to avoid her, and walked to the kitchen, sliding the present into the refrigerator and closing the door. “No peeking.” He winked at her. He’d let go of whatever it was that had caused him so much stress, clearly giving in to the festive spirit of Christmas.
The other two presents were smaller. She followed him into the living room where he set them carefully under the tree next to the ones she’d placed there for him. She squatted down to inspect them.
“Nope,” he said, taking her hands and pulling her up. His touch was like electricity so she let go quickly and stood next to him. “You need a distraction. I can’t have you guessing my presents before you unwrap them.”
Holly laughed. “Let’s have some hot cocoa so that I’m not tempted to shake them to see what’s inside,” she teased, walking over to the kitchen and filling the kettle with water and two mugs with Nana’s secret homemade hot cocoa mix.
While the kettle finished boiling, Holly lit the candles in the kitchen and living room. The smell of hot cocoa filled the air the minute she poured her and Joe a mug full—her Christmas Eve tradition. Nana had passed on it this year, and Holly knew that it was probably because she was having a difficult time being at the cabin without Papa. Not to mention being with Buddy had probably tired her right out.
For a little Christmas flare, Holly lumped a dollop of whipped cream on the top and then ran a chocolate bar over the cheese grater, little flakes falling like snow on top of the steaming liquid. After she cleaned up the counter, she plunged a candy cane into each one.
“I can’t believe we found that box in the barn just before Christmas,” Joe said quietly, nodding toward Nana’s room. “What are the odds? Had we not run low on wood…”
“I know.” She handed him a mug. “And if you hadn’t been here, I may not have noticed it. I’m nearly certain Papa put it in the barn because he knew that Nana never went out there. If he’d hidden it in here, he chanced her discovering it, since she wouldn’t let anything leave the closets without first approving. Sometimes things just work out like that. When I was a little girl, Papa used to say that luck is magic going incognito. That’s where we got the Christmas magic idea—Papa was always filling our heads with it.”
Joe smiled. �
�I love that you have those family stories.”
“You’ll make some,” she said encouragingly. It was too bad that Joe hadn’t had the family experience that Holly had. She wondered again about his father. “I wish someone had come forward with information about your dad,” she said. “Have you had any comments on the post or anything?”
He shook his head. “Holly, we aren’t skilled enough detectives to locate him. It was wishful thinking. You almost convinced me that it was possible with all your magic talk,” he said with a grin, filling her with happiness. “But if an investigator couldn’t do it, we certainly wouldn’t have a lot of luck—picture or no picture. We need a whole lot more of that magic you keep talking about.”
“Well, if we get any magic, it’ll be at Christmas. That’s when it’s all around.”
He shook his head, amused, that curiosity back with a vengeance. Holly could feel the affection for him welling up regardless of her need to keep it pushed away.
Her phone pinged across the room, dragging her attention away from Joe. She walked over to it and checked the text that was waiting. It was Rhett: Watcha doing tomorrow afternoon after you open presents?
She peered down at it, her decision to travel with Rhett to California whirring around in her head. She prayed that she hadn’t given Rhett false hope by agreeing to go with him. She knew him well: he was optimistic and confident, always believing he could change the world. Did he think he could change her mind about their relationship?
“Everything okay?” Joe asked from his barstool as he swirled his hot cocoa with the candy cane.
Holly swam out of her thoughts. “Oh! Yes. It’s just Rhett.” She waved her phone. “He’s asking what I’m doing tomorrow afternoon.”
“Oh.” Joe sipped from his mug, not saying anything else, and the loss of his attention stung. She craved the moment they’d just had, knowing that it was wrong to want it.
Holly looked down at the screen and typed, Why?
Rhett came back: I want to take you somewhere.
On Christmas? she typed back.