Page 37 of Mistletoe Masquerade
“I appreciate your patience in the meantime.”
“Not a problem. You know I’m fond of charity.”
“You know what? I’m letting you off the hook for that one, but only because it reminded me that I haven’t told you everything yet.”
“There’smore?”
“Oh, yeah. You know how I said Dean was at a charity dinner?”
“Yeah?”
“He’s one of the founders of the charity.”
“I’m not following.”
“He’s rich, Dani. Like, I think he might be super rich,” I whisper into the phone. I’m not even sure why. I guess Idon’t want the universe to hear me and think I’m in it for the money. I’m not, but holy crap, it’s a huge perk.
“He’s a detective,” Dani points out, still confused.
“Yes, but his parents left him a big estate. They were killed when he was young. He went into law enforcement because of them, but he doesn’t need the money. The man is a real-life Bruce Wayne when he’s not fighting crime.”
“Ohhh…”
“Yeahhh…” I agree.
Dani’s quiet for a breath before she continues in a choked voice. “I’m so happy for you, Sach.”
“Well, it’s early still, but I’m pretty freaking excited, myself.” I grin. “You should see the gown I’m wearing. It’s designer—all of them were. He made certain I felt like a princess tonight.”
“As he should,” she says in a voice strained with emotion. “You deserve to be cherished.”
Her tears are infectious, causing my eyes to burn. “Thanks, honey. Okay, I’m going to let you go before I end up sobbing.”
“I’m so glad you called. I have a really good feeling about this, Sach. It’s going to be good.”
“I won’t argue with that.”
“Hey, want to hang out tomorrow?” she interjects excitedly.
“I’m working at the gallery all afternoon, but I can stop by on my way in.”
“Perfect! See you then.”
“Bye!” I hang up and hold my phone to my chest, not sure how I’m ever going to calm down enough to sleep.
Regardless, I get ready for bed and curl up under the covers withTheGrinch Who Stole Christmasplaying on the TV. Not either of the newer ones. The old version. It’s my favorite.
By the time the Whos gather around their town square and are joyfully singing hand in hand, I drift into my own Whoville dreamland.
The next day,I open my front door in a rush for work and nearly collide with someone in the hallway.
“Sorry!” I cry, pulling up short.
“No problem. I have a delivery and was just about to knock. You Sachi?” The deliveryman holds a large bouquet so picturesque that it almost looks fake. Red roses and holly berries pop with color amid a thick assortment of seasonal greenery—sprigs of pine, boxwood, and eucalyptus. It’s a Christmas arrangement fit for a queen.
“Yeah, that’s me,” I say in awe.
The guy grins and hands over the glass vase. “Enjoy and have a happy holiday.”
