A Ring For Christmas. Joan Elliott Pickart
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Maggie said, her mouth full of pizza.
“I bet you didn’t know that if you say goodbye to a friend on a bridge you’ll never see each other again. Well, when I was fifteen I had this buddy. We did everything together, were really close. One summer we were riding our bikes and said goodbye at the end of the day on a bridge. I never saw him again. How do you like that?”
“Why didn’t you ever see him again?” Maggie said.
“Because of the bridge thing, Maggie.” Luke paused. “Well, not entirely, I guess. His dad was a creep, physically abused his mom and…She took off in the middle of the night with my buddy and disappeared.
“I figured it was because of the parting on the bridge, but now that I really think about it…Well, hell, so much for the bridge belief.” He shook his head. “Amazing. All these years I was convinced…mmm.”
Maggie smiled sweetly. “This pizza is delicious. Thank you for bringing me here.”
“Sure, no problem,” Luke said, frowning. “This is rather unsettling. The acorn. The bridge. I don’t really have any concrete data to…Just goes to show ya, doesn’t it? Things aren’t always what they seem to be. Ready for some more soda?”
“No, I’m fine,” Maggie said. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Luke. You got caught up in the theories about the acorn and the bridge, have believed them for so long you haven’t questioned their validity in years. I think you’re being very noble—there’s a good word—to accept that the superstitions about them aren’t real, aren’t true.”
“You’re right,” he said, “and I have you to thank for showing me how ridiculous I was for buying into those tales.” He deserved an Academy Award for this performance, he really did. “Let’s just concentrate on the pizza now. This has been a pretty heavy topic for my weary brain. Enough for one night.”
“Okay. Do you want to discuss Precious and Clyde’s wedding?”
Luke smiled. “Maggie, I’d love to discuss the wedding. You have no idea how much it means to me.”
“Well, the church is reserved for December twenty-third,” Maggie said, her voice ringing with excitement. “And I got the ballroom at the Majestic Palms Hotel sewn up for the reception.”
“The Majestic Palms,” Luke said, nodding in approval. “Classy. Very nice.”
“I have an appointment next week to meet with the chef to plan the buffet dinner at the reception. I still have oodles to do—you know, decide on the color of the tablecloths, the centerpieces, start shopping around for the exact shade of material I want for the bridesmaids’ dresses and, of course, there’s the wedding dress itself.”
“Yep.”
“What about the invitations, Luke? Do you think Precious and Clyde would prefer traditional ones that say the name of the parents or a more modern version where the couple themselves are inviting everyone to share their special event?”
Uh-oh, Luke thought, then took a big bite of pizza to give himself time to consider his answer. The invitations couldn’t be ordered with Precious and Clyde’s names on them. They didn’t even exist. Think, St. John.
“Um…why don’t you hold off on the invitations for now,” he said finally. “I should run that by Precious and Clyde just in case they have an idea as to what will make the mothers happy.”
“Okay. Would you ask them how they feel about tiny holly berries edging the invitations? I thought that would be so festive for a Christmas wedding.”
“I’m sure that part will be fine. There certainly are a lot of things to tend to for a picture-perfect wedding, aren’t there?”
“It takes months,” Maggie said, laughing, “and then—blink—the ceremony is over in about fifteen minutes.” She frowned in the next instant. “And in our family the marriage lasts about that long, too.”
Change the subject, Luke thought frantically. He didn’t want Maggie centering on the Jenkins Jinx, not tonight. Her beautiful eyes sparkled when she talked about the plans for the wedding, and the expression on her face was pure joy.
Not only that, he needed more superstitions for her to dismiss, to attempt to talk him out of believing, if he was to build a solid foundation for his case.
No, the Jenkins Jinx was definitely off-limits this evening.
“You know,” he said, “you’ve never seen my apartment. I was just thinking that I have some mint-chocolate-chip ice cream in my freezer. Would you like to go there for dessert?”
Maggie leaned toward him. “Mint-chocolate-chip?”
“That’s the one.”
“Two scoops?”
“Three scoops,” he said, holding up that many fingers.
“I have no willpower when it comes to mint-chocolate-chip ice cream,” Maggie said. “Oh, my, three scoops.”
“I thought you might like that flavor,” Luke said, appearing extremely pleased with himself. “See how well I’m getting to know you, Maggie? It boggles the mind.”
It terrifies the mind, Maggie thought. They were becoming so connected, bonded, on the same wavelength and…Never mind. She wasn’t going to get all in a dither about it.
She was about to have three scoops of mint-chocolate-chip ice cream. Ah, yes, life was good.
Chapter Nine
“My goodness,” Maggie said, taking in Luke’s enormous living room. “This is incredible, just beautiful. I’ve never been in a penthouse apartment before. The view is fabulous. I’d probably lose track of time and just sit for hours gazing out those windows at the city lights. You must look forward to coming home each day after work, Luke.”
Not anymore, Luke thought as he stared at the awed expression on Maggie’s face. Now it was just a whole lot of empty space waiting for Maggie to fill it to overflowing with her sunshine, laughter and…well, by just being Maggie.
“Ready for that ice cream?” he said.
“Sure. Can I see the kitchen?”
Luke laughed. “Follow me. It’s fun to experience this place through fresh eyes.”
Maggie gushed on and on about the fantastic kitchen as Luke scooped out the ice cream. As he picked up the bowls to carry them to the table, he dropped one of the spoons.
“Darn,” he said.
“I’ll get it,” Maggie said, retrieving the spoon from the floor and rinsing it under the faucet.
They settled onto chairs opposite each other at the round oak table and Maggie took several mouthfuls of the dessert before she realized that Luke was staring into space.
“What’s wrong?” she said.
“I was just wondering what child was going to come visit me and I’m coming up blank.”
“I beg your pardon?” Maggie said, obviously confused.
“When you drop a spoon it means a child will visit. A fork brings a woman to your door, and a knife indicates the visitor will be a man.”
“Is that a fact,” Maggie said drily.
“Yep.”
“Mmm,” Maggie said, frowning at him.
“It’s true,” Luke said, leaning toward her. “I dropped a knife last month and—bingo—Robert popped in for no reason other than he was in the neighborhood.”
“Robert is your brother. It makes perfect sense that he’d like to see you. It has nothing to do with the knife you dropped, Luke.”
“Oh,