Page 7 of Christmas Charms
Jeremy’s eyebrows lift. “Are you surprised?”
“Yes.” I let out a laugh. “Stunned, actually.”
“Good. I wasn’t sure what to get you for Christmas, and this seemed as good as anything I could have bought and wrapped up in paper.” Jeremy waves toward Sam with a flourish and the guard begins removing the necklace from its black velvet cushion with gloved hands.
My smile stiffens into place.
But what about the ring in your pocket?
I don’t say it. Of course I don’t, because what Jeremy has just arranged means the world to me. Truly, it does.
But his comment about not knowing what to get me for Christmas confuses me, considering Maya’s insistence that he’s just purchased a diamond solitaire. If the ring isn’t for me, then who could it possibly be for?
Never mind. I force myself to concentrate on the iconic necklace glittering like crazy in Sam’s gentle grasp. The engagement ring will probably make its appearance during our holiday in Paris. Jeremy is simply trying to keep it a secret. In the meantime, getting to wear Audrey’s pink diamond, even for a moment, is a precious, precious gift.
I turn to smile at him, but he’s drifted back to the entrance where we entered the building and is busy chatting with the doorman. I’m pretty sure they’re discussing Jeremy’s fantasy hockey league, one of my boyfriend’s favorite topics.
Sam clears his throat, and my attention darts back to the necklace, draped carefully over his fingertips.
I take a deep breath, and for the first time since Jeremy arrived at my doorstep that evening, my holiday cheer takes a serious hit. It would be nice if Jeremy could don a pair of white jeweler’s gloves and put the necklace on me himself, but I realize that’s probably impossible. Looking after the expensive piece is Sam’s job.
Still. Doesn’t Jeremy at least want to watch me try it on?
Sam casts a disapproving glance in my boyfriend’s direction, so fleeting that I almost think I imagined it. Then he refocuses his attention on me and gives me a grandfatherly smile. The kindness in his gaze makes me inexplicably wistful. “Go on, then. Turn around and I’ll help you get it on. I’m sure it will look beautiful on you, Ashley.”
“Thanks.” I give him a wobbly smile, spin around and gather my hair in one hand so he can fasten the valuable string of diamonds around my neck.
The large center stone rests heavily against my skin, and before I examine my reflection in one of the nearby mirrors, I take a moment to close my eyes and remember the first time I saw it on film.
It was at the historic movie theater, back in Owl Lake. Aidan, my high school sweetheart, had taken me to my very first classic movie marathon, and I’d fallen instantly in love with the sweeping scores, the musical numbers and all the old-school Hollywood glamour. Classic movies became our thing after that. Aidan and I never missed the Palace Theatre’s monthly marathon. If he could see me now, wearing this necklace, he wouldn’t believe his eyes.
My eyelashes flutter open. At the first glimpse of my reflection, I hardly believe it myself. Nor can I fathom why memories of Aidan keep invading my thoughts today. Bumping into him shouldn’t be affecting me like this. It’s most unsettling…
Especially on a night when I thought I might be getting engaged to someone else.
I turn hopeful eyes in Jeremy’s direction, but his back is still turned toward me.
“Lovely,” Sam says, meeting my gaze in the mirror. “Just lovely.”
“It is, isn’t it?” My face goes warm. The diamonds around my neck sparkle brighter than the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree, and tomorrow I’m leaving for Paris with the man I love. I tell myself that Maya is right—this is going to be the Christmas of my dreams.
But somewhere deep down, I’m not sure I believe.
After we leave Windsor, Jeremy and I go to a little hole-in-the-wall pizza place off Central Park with red-checkered tablecloths and clusters of plastic grapes dripping from the ceiling. It’s not Jeremy’s favorite, but I’ve always liked it because it reminds me of the quaint, cozy restaurants back home upstate.
Nestled at a table by the corner where we can watch the horse-drawn carriage wind their way through the park, we sip red wine and eat huge slices of pepperoni pizza, folded into a v-shape at the crust, New York-style. It’s the perfect dinner before our trip to Paris, a festive farewell to the city we both love so much.
Throughout the meal, my phone vibrates like crazy in my handbag. A tiny peek earlier showed me that Maya is on a major texting spree, begging for a play-by-play of the proposal that hasn’t quite happened yet, and my mom is still sending me photos of Owl Lake, all decked out in its holiday finest. She does this every year during December—her way of making sure I feel included in Christmas back home when I’m stuck working overtime at Windsor.
When Jeremy steps outside to take a work call, I sneak another glance at my text messages. The most recent photo from my mom is a shot of the Owl Lake firehouse. A huge wreath hangs over the station’s massive red doors, and swags of evergreen garland decorate the building on all sides. My throat goes thick as an unexpected wave of homesickness washes over me. I can’t remember the last time I set foot inside the firehouse. My dad retired as chief shortly after I moved to Manhattan, but our family celebrated many a holiday with his fellow firefighters during my childhood—Thanksgivings around the station’s long, rough-hewn farmhouse table and Christmas mornings filled with stockings, gingerbread and a fir tree in the corner, topped with a firefighter’s helmet instead of a star.
“Sorry about that,” Jeremy says, sliding back into his chair. “One of the managers had a question about the party guest list.”
Another text from Maya pops up on my screen.
Please let me be your Maid of Honor.A string of prayer hands emojis follows, and I shove my phone back into my bag as fast as I can.
“Duty calls, no problem,” I say with a smile. The pizza I just consumed suddenly feels like a boulder in the pit of my stomach.
