“He’s involved with another woman. Seriously involved.”
“It’s not over till the ‘I dos’ have been said. And Mark brought you coffee.” This was stated as if the gesture was of incalculable significance. “It’s probably the equivalent of Dom Pérignon.” Elizabeth cast a covetous glance at the thermos.
“Would you like to try some?” Maggie asked, amused.
“I’ll go get my mug.”
The brew was already creamed and sugared, a flow of light steaming caramel pouring into their cups. Silently they raised their coffees in a toast, and drank.
It wasn’t just coffee…it was an experience. Smooth, roasted, buttery notes gave way to a velvet finish. Strength and sweetness, no trace of bitterness. It warmed Maggie down to her toes.
“Oh my,” Elizabeth said. “This is delicious.”
Maggie took another swallow. “It’s such a problem,” she said dolefully.
The older woman’s face softened with understanding. “Being attracted to Mark Nolan?”
“He’s off-limits. But whenever I see him, even though we’re not flirting, it feels like we are.”
“That’s not a problem,” Elizabeth said.
“It’s not?”
“No, it’s when it stops feeling like flirting that it becomes a problem. So go ahead and flirt—it may be the only thing that’s keeping you from having sex with him.”
Eight
On Halloween, Mark insisted that Sam be the one to take Holly to the activities in Friday Harbor, including a film show at the library, trick-or-treating at local stores, and a children’s party at the fairgrounds. “Make sure to drop by the toy shop to see Maggie,” Mark added.
“You sure?” Sam asked doubtfully.
“Yes. Everyone wants the two of you to meet, including Maggie herself. So go for it. Ask her out if you like her.”
“I don’t know,” Sam said. “You have that look on your face.”
“What look?”
“The look you get just before you kick someone’s ass.”
“I’m not going to kick anyone’s ass,” Mark said calmly. “She’s not mine. I’m with Shelby.”
“Then why does it feel like asking Maggie out would be rack jacking you?”
“It wouldn’t be rack jacking. I’m with Shelby.”
Sam had laughed quietly and scratched his head. “Your new mantra. Okay, I’ll check her out.”
Later Sam returned home with Holly, who’d had a wonderful time during the Halloween activies, and had filled an entire plastic pumpkin bucket with candy. Ceremoniously, they spread the candy on the table, surveyed it with admiration, and Holly chose two or three pieces to eat right then.
“Okay, upstairs to the bathtub,” Mark had said, bending down to let Holly climb onto his back. “This is about the grimiest, stickiest little fairy I’ve ever seen.”
“You don’t believe in fairies,” Holly said, giggling, as he carried her up the stairs piggyback.
“I do, too. I’ve got one right here.”
After drawing her bath and putting a clean nightgown and towel on the closed lid of the toilet seat, Mark went downstairs. Sam had just finished putting the candy into a large Ziploc, and was straightening up the kitchen.
“So?” Mark asked gruffly. “Did you go into the shop?”
“About twenty of them. The town was crazy-busy.”
“The toy shop,” Mark said through gritted teeth.
“Oh, you’re asking about Maggie.” Sam reached into the fridge for a beer. “Yeah, she’s a hottie. And Holly’s crazy about her. She sat on the counter and helped Maggie hand out candy. I think she would’ve stayed there all night if I’d let her.” He paused, tilting back the beer. “But I’m not going to ask Maggie out.”
Mark watched him alertly. “Why not?”
“She gave me the Heisman.”
“The what?”
“You know—” Sam mimicked the outstretched blocking arm of the Heisman Trophy pose. “She was friendly, but not interested.”
“Well, she should be,” Mark said in annoyance. “You’re single, decent-looking…what’s her problem?”
Sam shrugged. “She’s a widow. Maybe she’s not finished grieving for her husband.”
“It’s time for her to be finished,” Mark said. “It’s been two years. She needs to start living again. She needs to take a chance on someone.”
“Like you?” Sam asked perceptively.
Mark shot him a dark glance. “I’m with Shelby.”
“Yeah, I got that,” Sam said with a quiet laugh. “Keep repeating it. Maybe at some point you’ll start believing it.”
Mark went upstairs, disgruntled. He told himself it wasn’t his business if or when Maggie started going out again. Why, then, did the situation bother him so much?
He found Holly in her room, dressed in her pink nightgown, waiting in bed for him to tuck her in. The bedside lamp was on, warm light glowing through the pink lampshade. Holly’s gaze was fixed on the pair of fairy wings, which were hanging on the back of a chair. Her fair ivory skin was dappled with red patches. Mark’s heart was wrenched with concern when he saw that her eyes were wet.
Sitting on the edge of the mattress, he pulled her up against him. “What is it?” he whispered. “What’s the matter?”
Holly’s voice was muffled. “I wish my mom could have seen me in my costume.”
Mark kissed her light hair and the delicate curve of her ear. And for a long time he just held her. “I miss her, too,” he finally said. “I think she’s watching over you, even though you can’t see or hear her.”
“Like an angel?”
“Yes.”
“Do you believe in angels?”
“Yes,” Mark said without hesitation, despite everything he had ever said or thought to the contrary. Because there was no reason for him not to allow for the possibility, especially if it comforted Holly.
Holly drew back to look at him. “I didn’t think you would.”
“I do,” Mark said. “Faith is a choice. I can believe in angels if I want to.”
“I believe in them, too.”
Mark smoothed her hair. “No one’s ever going to replace your mom. But I love you as much as she did, and I’ll always take care of you. And so will Sam.”
“And Uncle Alex.”
“And Uncle Alex. But I was thinking…what if I marry someone who would help me to take care of you, and love you in a mom-type way? Would you like that?”
“Uh-huh.”
“What about Shelby? You like her, right?”
Holly considered that. “Did you fall in love with her?”
“I care about her. A lot.”
“You’re not supposed to marry someone if you don’t fall in love with her.”
“Well, love is a choice, too.”
Holly shook her head. “I think it’s something that happens to you.”
Mark smiled into her small, earnest face. “Maybe it’s both,” he said, and tucked her in.
The following weekend, Mark went to Seattle to visit Shelby. Her cousin’s engagement party would be held on Friday night at the Seattle Yacht Club on Portage Bay. It was yet another step in the progression of their relationship: attending a family event, meeting Shelby’s parents for the first time. He expected to get along well with them. From her descriptions, they seemed like decent, normal people.
“You will love them, I promise,” Shelby had told him. “And they will love you.”
The word “love” made Mark tense. So far, he and Shelby had not gotten to the point when either of them had said “I love you,” but Mark sensed that she wanted to. And it made him feel as guilty as hell, because he wasn’t looking forward to it. Of course he would say it back. And he would mean it, but probably not in the way that she wanted him to mean it.
A few months ago, Mark would have assumed that love was an ability he lacked. But Holly had disproved that entirely. Because the feeling of wanting to protect Holly, to give her everything, this soul-deep urge to make her happy…it was unquestionably love. Nothing Mark had ever felt before came close.
On Friday afternoon Mark took a flight to Seattle, worried as hell because Holly had come home from school with a slight fever. Ninety-nine point nine. “I should cancel,” he had told Sam.
“You’re kidding, right? Shelby would kill you. I got it covered. Holly will be fine.”
“Don’t let her stay up late,” Mark had said sternly. “Don’t let her eat crap. Don’t miss her next dose of ibuprofen, or—”
“Yeah, I know. Everything’s fine.”
“If Holly’s still sick tomorrow, the pediatrician’s office is open until noon on Saturdays—”
“I know. I know all the stuff you know. If you don’t leave now, you’re gonna miss your flight.”