The Christmas Wedding Quilt: Let It Snow / You Better Watch Out / Nine Ladies Dancing. Sarah Mayberry
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taken his time getting a new Christmas tree, but the tree they had hauled into his house yesterday was a real beauty, cut from a hillside destined for vineyard expansion. As it turned out there were ornaments in the attic from his childhood, and he had promised to bring them down tonight. Jo was making a gourmet dinner, and afterward, they would decorate together.
Tomorrow morning she would join him at his house to open presents. Join him, that is, if she actually left tonight.
So far she and Brody had, as she had requested, just enjoyed each other’s company. While they never talked about the past, they did talk about everything else. They had similar views on politics, and while he was more inclined to be a churchgoer than she was, their views on religion were similar, too. Their reading tastes were different—his tended toward thrillers, she was a fan of biographies—but they loved some of the same television shows. He was surprised she avoided trendy nightclubs, and she was surprised he never watched football but couldn’t be pried away from the set when the World Series was in play.
Through all this, he had rarely touched her. He always kissed her good-night. That was a given, and she could tell he was reluctant to let her go afterward. She was reluctant to go, so she understood. But somehow they had taken the time to build trust, to push aside the powerful physical attraction between them and reforge the bond they had severed a decade before.
She was so glad they had waited. Weren’t they mature? But now she was ready to toss maturity out the window.
She dressed carefully for the night’s adventure. She hadn’t brought X-rated lingerie, but she was fairly certain that lingerie of any kind wasn’t going to be much of an issue. She washed her hair, shaved her legs, took a little extra care with her makeup and pulled out the new green sweater she had found at the Trading Post. By the time she left, she was satisfied. She had even pinned a twinkling Christmas wreath to the sweater, to make Brody smile. Luckily it had an off switch, because this was no night to give the man a headache.
She packed the ingredients for dinner and took them out to the car, then she packed a few toiletries and a change of underwear in a bag, too, and hid it under the front seat.
Just in case...
Snow was falling, a pillowy snow that was spreading softly over older drifts like icing on a cake. As she drove toward his house she thought about Olivia’s wedding quilt. As hoped, she had found several helpful books upstairs. After looking carefully at every pattern, she had settled on a Friendship Star block, a four-pointed star that would, in partner with its neighbors, dance across her border. It was, as star blocks went, simple enough for her to stitch by hand, although the first two had varied wildly, and neither of them had been the exact size she needed.
The third, though, had been perfect, her stitches even and small enough to suit her. She had decided to use the royal blue background of the center block as the background for each block. Then the stars themselves could be a variety of different fabrics, and that was where she planned to incorporate some of the bride and groom’s childhoods. She had also decided on smallish stars, so that none would stand out and take away from the perfect center block. That meant she had to sew even more of them to stretch around the quilt. In the past week she had made enough for two sides, and she was pleased at the way they had turned out.
Still, she hoped that quilt-making would be on hold tonight.
On the snow-sprinkled walk up to the house she smiled at the wreath on the front door. She had bought it on sale yesterday in the grocery store parking lot, a steal, since most people already had their decorations completed. Brody had hung it immediately. As she raised her hand to knock she noticed something new had been added. Little flags that looked like they had been made from Post-it notes and toothpicks were tucked in between the pinecones and plastic sprays of cranberries adorning the wreath.
She pulled one out and read the message out loud. “The weather outside is frightful.” She frowned, and pulled out another. “If you’ve no place to go.” Now she smiled as she looked at the rest. He had carefully penned, then pinned, all the words to the familiar Christmas song, “Let It Snow.” Even out of order, she recognized them.
“All the night long we’ll be warm.”
Oh, it was going to be a good night, she was sure of it.
Let it snow and snow some more!
By the time Brody answered the door, she was almost dancing with delight.
“It’s so Christmassy!” she said, throwing her arms around him. “I love the wreath.”
He kissed her soundly, until she was breathless. Then he stepped back. “I would have bought one and put it up weeks ago if I’d known the results.”
“I have lots to bring in. Want to help?”
They finally got all the food into the house, despite pelting each other with snowballs.
She set the last of the bags on the counter and took a deep breath of cinnamon-scented air. “Something smells fabulous.”
“I’m heating cider. I knew you’d be ready for a mug when you got here.”
She threw her arms around his neck again and kissed him. “You’re so thoughtful.”
Brody slipped his arms around her waist and held her there. “Seems to me you’re making me dinner. Little enough to do in return.”
“Cooking in this wonderful old kitchen is a treat. I love it. I can almost taste all the amazing meals that have been cooked here.”
“Doubtful. My mother loves her vegetable garden. Then she boils the heck out of every harvest. My father used to sneak behind her and turn off burners.”
“I know you miss him. I miss mine.”
He kissed the tip of her nose, then released her. “Having you here makes all the difference.”
“For the record, this is the best Christmas I remember in a long time.”
“Because?”
He was clearly fishing for a compliment. “I’m not working, of course. At least not very much.”
“And?”
“And I guess I love winter. The snow and the cold remind me of my childhood, before we pulled up stakes and headed for California.”
“And?”
She cocked her head. “Well, being with you is nice.”
“Nice?”
“Maybe that’s a bit of an understatement.”
“It had better be.” He pulled her close again, and this time the kiss went on and on—and the man did know how to kiss. When she finally stepped away, the room was cartwheeling around her.
She shook her head. “You expect me to cook after that?”
“You promised me dinner. And I just hauled in at least a ton of groceries.”
She sent him her most seductive smile, then she turned away before he could respond to the message in it. “No problem, I’ll just boil the heck out of everything in these bags and you’ll feel right at home.”
* * *
OF COURSE SHE didn’t. She had gone into debt for the rib roast, and she cooked it with potatoes, simmering them first so they would crisp up in the oven nestled against the roast. She served both with a spinach and artichoke casserole, fresh green beans, a cranberry, apple and walnut salad, and yeast rolls she had baked at Hollymeade that morning. For his part Brody opened a bottle of Merlot from a friend’s vineyard on Long Island.
When she set everything on the table, decorated with a red tablecloth from Hollymeade, evergreen boughs and white candles, Brody looked like a man who had died and reawakened to his first heavenly banquet.
“I’m going to be rude and ask if there’s dessert,” he said.
“Doesn’t this look like enough?”