Page 108 of The Most Wonderful Crime of the Year
Maggie
Eleanor’s office was exactly the same and yet everything was totally different as Maggie stood in the fading light that filtered through the frosty windows.
Christmas was almost over.
There were no more helicopters on the lawn or barking dogs on the grounds. No more Interpol and MI5. Even Inspector Patel, a woman with impeccable credentials, warm brown eyes, and the good sense not to fall instantly in love with Ethan Wyatt, had gone back to Scotland Yard, so Maggie returned to the scene of the sole remaining mystery.
“I don’t think she’s in here,” a voice said from behind her and she turned to study the man who leaned against the doorframe because, well, when Ethan Wyatt leaned,everybodynoticed.
He was giving her his sternest look—trying not to grin and failing. Of course, Ethan made failing look good because he could do that. Tease without saying a word, charm without making a sound. He would always have friends and he would always have fans. And Maggie...
“So there’s got to be a secret passageway, right?” She scanned the walls and the shelves and the windows. “That’s how Eleanor got out? Because she was definitelyinthis room! You saw her in this room.”
“Maggie—”
“At first, I thought she must have thrown the bolt from the outside, but there’s no sign of her leaving on the video, so she got outthroughthis room.” It was the nervous rambling of a woman who’d just realized that a man might kissyou in the swirling snow on Christmas morning, but, eventually, you’ll wake up and it will be the twenty-sixth and someone will have to start shoveling.
“It’s either that or the window. The snow wasn’t disturbed on the sill, but if that top portion opens—”
“Maggie?” A big, warm hand kneaded the muscles at the back of her neck and she made a sound that was something between a moan and a sigh. Amigh. Asoan. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”
“If we can figure out how she got out, maybe—”
“Margaret Elizabeth.” He cut her off. “What’s wrong?” he asked again, and Maggie’s brain went into overdrive because Eleanor was missing and Christmas was almost over, and, soon, they’d be going home and Maggie didn’t even know where his home was. She didn’t know when she’d see him orifshe’d see him.
They weren’t in danger anymore. And they were no longer the only people they could trust, so maybe they wouldn’t be anything? The snow would melt and the calendar would turn and he’d go back to being beloved and she’d go back to being alone. When all she’d wanted to be was...
“I don’t want to be Eleanor anymore.” She’d gone through the looking glass and she’d seen the other side of the fence—walked in Eleanor’s shoes (or at least her pom-pom hat) and it wasn’t all that perfect, even before the shooting started. “I used to think everything would be okay if I had money and a house and a family. I thought I just needed to be Eleanor. But I don’t... I don’t want to be her.”
Those big hands were doing marvelous things to the back of her neck. She thought her head might pop off her body and float away. She thought she might just let it.
“Okay. Do you feel like telling me what youdowant?” Ethan was being kind. And patient. And she was very, very mad that he wasn’t giving her a reason to be angry.
“I want to be me.” It was silly, but he didn’t laugh. “I didn’t think I ever would, but I know who I am now. And I like who I am. And I love who I am with...” She couldn’t do it. Say it. Could she? “I love who I am withyou, okay? And I think that might be because I...”He said it first. It’s okay. This is a safe space.“...you know... love you.”
“Oh, you do, do you?” There was a smile in his voice, atoo-pleasedI’m going to tease you about this latertone that made her want to hit him. While also kissing him.
“I do,” she admitted begrudgingly. “I love you, and it’s so annoying!”
“Tell me about it.”
“Right?” she exclaimed.
“I’ve been trying to benotin love with you for ages, so if you figure out how to stop, please let me know.”
“Okay! I will!”
“Okay. Or...” He tucked her hair behind her ear for what felt like the millionth time. She hoped he never stopped. “Maybe we could try being in love together?”
“Okay,” she whispered, trying not to cry because then her face would get all blotchy and her eyes would get puffy, so she studied his shirt instead. Another plaid flannel number. Turned out, she had a thing for lumberjacks after all.
And then there was kissing and whispering and somehow, she ended up sitting on Eleanor Ashley’s desk with Ethan Wyatt standing between her knees. He tasted like good scotch and—
“Oh my!” They pulled apart at the sound of the voice. Ethan laughed into her neck while Maggie tried not to turn the color of cherries. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” Victoria said, “but there were presents under the tree. Aunt Eleanor must have left them before...” Her voice cracked and her eyes went misty. There was something pinned to her sweater and she reached for it like a talisman made out of silver and pearls.
The duchess must have read Maggie’s mind because she looked down at the tiny magnifying glass and said, “She never took it off. Ever. When I was a girl, I thought she must wear it to bed. I never thought I’d find it under the tree, wrapped up in a box with a stack of canceled IOUs and a revised will, but...”
Her eyes were red and she had to look at the light—like that might dry her eyes. Then she forced a smileand added, “I thought she was coming back, you know. I thought it was a game because that’s what she does. She plays games. And she wins. I thought she was coming back. But...” Her grip on the brooch tightened and her knuckles turned white and she stood there, looking like a woman who’d just realized that, to Eleanor Ashley, cluesarepresents. And they’re priceless.
