Page 28 of A Match Made at Christmas

Howie had been married to a woman named Tammy who had frizzy hair and a permanent scowl. Pru used to be offended that Tammy didn’t like her until Nantucket locals told her Tammy didn’t like anybody. Not even Howie, it seemed.

She’d married Howie before he quit business school in favor of a life on the beach, and she’d never accepted his surf shop as a legitimate business. Never mind that Howie was smart enough to invest his profits. Now, the man had plenty of money to spend his retirement exactly how he wanted—on the beach.

Howie had sold Pru the surf shop for a dollar, making it clear the only thing he wanted in return was for her to have a happy life.

Was she living up to her end of the deal?

“Don’t you think maybe there’s someone else out there for you?” Pru asked him now.

Howie’s face was weather-worn and leathery. His blue eyes still shone bright, and while she knew he was in his early sixties, she also knew he had a big heart and a lot of love yet to give.

He popped a French fry in his mouth and chewed. “Maybe it’s crossed my mind.”

“Yeah?” She grinned. “You know what they say about Christmas in Nantucket.”

He frowned. “It’s cold?”

“It’s magical,” she said. “Maybe you’ll meet someone at the Stroll.”

He shook his head. “How’d we get to talking about me, Pru? We should be devising a plan to get that boy to realize what we already know.”

“Oh, and what’s that?”

“That you are the best thing that’s ever happened to him.” Howie waggled his eyebrows.

“Promise me you will not say a word, Howie,” she said. “This is the one time you don’t know better than me.”

He took a bite of his sandwich, then swiped his napkin across his smug mouth.

“Howie.”

“Fine,” he said. “I won’t say anything. But take it from me, Pru, you should. Or time will march on, and you’ll look back with nothing but a pile of regret.”

And as the conversation turned to happier topics, she had to wonder what exactly he regretted, because the warning certainly sounded like one that came from experience.

* * *

Hayes foundPeggy underneath the hanging whale bones on the main floor of the museum. She seemed to be putting the finishing touches on another tree.

“Miss Swinton?” he said as he approached.

She turned. Had she been crying? Her red eyes were puffy, but she affixed a smile in place and pretended otherwise. “Oh, you didn’t leave with your girlfriend?”

He put a hand up. “Pru’s just a friend.”

“Ahh,” she said. “I’m sorry, I just assumed.”

“It happens.” He smiled at her. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, I’m fine, but it’s sweet of you to ask.” She waved him off and turned back to the tree. Peggy was the epitome of a third-grade teacher. She was kind and sweet—overly so, really. And while he didn’t know much about the woman, he did know that she loved Nantucket, and she was good with kids. So good, in fact, that Hayes thought it was a shame she’d never had any of her own.

Maybe that’s why she’d been crying.

No. He had a gut feeling it was something (or someone) else entirely. Aunt Nellie was right—there was a tingle, the magic.

“You don’t seem fine,” Hayes said. “You seem kind of upset.”

She hesitated for a beat, then hung a gold ornament on the tree. “Truth be told, I used to be somebody’s Prudence.”

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