Page 25 of A Match Made at Christmas

How many people knew she never touched alcohol or that she blasted eighties music and danced around her living room to try and shake her sadness off?

“So, what would you sayisyour most meaningful relationship?” he asked, aware that his smirk would keep things light between them. That’s where the magic of their friendship seemed to exist—in this familiar flirtatious chitchat they both excelled at.

“Are you still on this?” she asked, weaving around partially decorated Christmas trees.

“I mean, I’m curious,” he said.

“Are you asking me present tense what my most meaningful relationship is?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Sure, I guess.”

She squinted, as if trying to decide between a great number of contenders. “I think my most meaningful relationship—the one I couldn’t do without—” Her eyes searched the ceiling. Then, like a light bulb going off, she brought her gaze to his. “Definitely Anton, my favorite barista at Nantucket Bean.” She grinned at him.

“It’s me,” he said. “You don’t have to tell me.”

She stopped short and ducked behind a partially decorated Christmas tree. “It’s Peggy.”

“Peggy is your most meaningful relationship?”

She gave his arm a tug and pointed across the room. “No, it’s Peggy.”

“Why are you hiding?”

Her eyes darted from one side to the other, and then she straightened her shoulders and smoothed her hands on her pants. “I’m not.”

“And you’re whispering,” he whispered. “This is matchmaking, not espionage.”

She gave him a shove and emerged from behind the tree. “I don’t like you.”

He grinned. “No, you love me.”

She straightened, then walked off, and he followed, eyes glued to the older woman decorating one of the trees in the corner.

“I didn’t know you were decorating a tree,” Pru said when they reached her.

“Oh, Miss Sutton.” Peggy’s cheeks flushed pink. “I didn’t expect to see you here. Your tree is so beautiful. I admit I wasn’t sure how surfboards and Christmas went together, but you really pulled it off.”

Pru smiled graciously. “Thank you, Miss Swinton.”

“Call me Peggy.”

“Only if you call me Prudence.”

Aunt Nellie might’ve selected Hayes to be her stand-in Noni Rose, but he’d been smart to enlist Pru’s help. She was every bit as good with people as he was. Peggy, who seemed shy and a little mousy, positively beamed in her presence.

“Peggy, you remember Hayes McGuire?” Pru put a hand on his arm, which sent a strange sensation straight down to his toes.

What in the world?

Peggy turned to him. “I do indeed. You’re all grown up, Mr. McGuire.”

“If we’re all on a first-name basis here, you’re going to have to call me Hayes.”

Peggy smiled. “I’m here putting the finishing touches on the library’s tree.”

He glanced at the Christmas tree beside her and saw the decorations had been made entirely out of book pages.

“It looks beautiful,” Pru said.

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