Christmas Eve at Friday Harbor (Friday Harbor #1)(24)

“How did you know about that?”

The older woman appeared vastly pleased with herself. “We live on an island, Maggie. Gossip has nowhere to go except in circles. So…have you met him?”

Maggie busied herself with rearranging some fresh lavender stalks in a vase shaped like a milk jug. The idea of going out with Mark’s younger brother was intolerable. Every small resemblance—the shape of his eyes, or the pitch of his voice—would make the entire experience an exercise in misery.

And that would be unfair to Sam. Maggie would never be able to appreciate everything that he was, because she wouldn’t be able to forget about everything that he wasn’t.

Specifically, that he wasn’t Mark.

“I told Brad and Ellen that I’m not interested in meeting anyone right now,” she said.

“But Maggie,” Elizabeth said, perturbed, “Sam Nolan is the most charming, good-natured young man in the world. And he’s between girlfriends since he’s been so busy with the vineyard. He’s a winemaker. A romantic. You don’t want to miss out on an opportunity like this.”

Maggie gave her a skeptical smile. “Do you really think this young, charming single guy is going to want to go out with me?”

“Why wouldn’t he?”

“I’m a widow. I have baggage.”

“Who has no baggage?” Elizabeth clicked her tongue in chiding. “For heaven’s sake, being a widow is nothing to feel awkward about. It means you’re a woman with the spice of experience, a woman who has been loved. We know how to appreciate life, we appreciate humor, we enjoy our closet space. Believe me, Sam Nolan won’t mind in the least that you’re a widow.”

Maggie smiled and shook her head. Picking up her bag from behind the counter, she said, “I’m going to walk over to the Market Chef and get some sandwiches for lunch. What do you want?”

“Pastrami melt with extra cheese. And extra onion.” As Maggie reached the door, Elizabeth added cheerfully, “Extra everything!”

The Market Chef was an artisan deli that made the best sandwiches and salads on the island. There was always a crowd at lunchtime, but the wait was worth it. Looking into a glass case filled with fresh salads, pasta, perfect meat-loaf slices, and thick wedges of vegetable quiche, Maggie was tempted to order one of everything. She settled on Dungeness crab, artichokes, and melted cheese on toasted homemade bread, and ordered the pastrami melt for Elizabeth.

“For here or to go?” the girl behind the counter asked.

“To go, please.” Seeing a stack of slablike chocolate-chip cookies in a glass jar near the register, Maggie added, “And under no circumstances should you add any of those.”

The girl smiled. “One or two?”

“Just one.”

“If you want to sit over there, I’ll bring the sandwiches to you in just a minute.”

Maggie sat by a window and people-watched as she waited.

In no time at all the girl approached with a white paper sack. “Here you go.”

“Thank you.”

“Oh, and…” The girl handed her a napkin. “Someone asked me to give this to you.”

“Who?” Maggie asked blankly, but the girl had already hurried away to help a customer.

Maggie’s gaze fell to the white paper napkin in her hand. Someone had written on it.

Hi

Looking up in bemusement, Maggie scanned the small seating area. Her breath caught as she saw Mark Nolan and Holly sitting at a bistro table in the corner. His gaze held hers, and a slow smile curved his lips.

The message on the napkin crumpled into Maggie’s palm, her fingers tightening reflexively. A responsive ache of happiness awakened in her chest, just at the sight of him. Damn it. She had spent weeks trying to convince herself that the interlude she’d had with Mark had not been nearly as magical as it had seemed.

But that didn’t explain the new habit of her heart to skip or stutter whenever she saw a dark-haired man in a crowd. It didn’t explain why, more than once, she had awakened with the sheets tangled around her legs and her mind filled with the pleasant haze of having dreamed about him.

As Mark stood up from the table and walked to her with Holly in tow, Maggie was filled with a terrible, giddy rush of infatuation. Hectic color spread everywhere, right up to her hairline. Her heartbeat throbbed in every limb. She couldn’t look directly at him, couldn’t look fully away from him, just stood in unfocused confusion, bag in hand.

“Hi, Holly,” she managed to say to the beaming child, whose hair was plaited in two perfect blond braids. “How are you?”

The child surprised her by darting forward and hugging her. Maggie automatically closed her free arm around the small, slender body.

Still hanging around Maggie’s waist, Holly tilted her head back and smiled up at her. “I lost a tooth yesterday,” she announced, and showed her the new gap in the bottom row.

“That’s wonderful,” Maggie exclaimed. “Now you have two places to put your straws when you drink lemonade.”

“The tooth fairy gave me a dollar. And my friend Katie only got fifty cents for hers.” This comparison was relayed with a hint of concern at the vagaries of such a pricing system.

“The tooth fairy,” Maggie repeated, casting an amused glance at Mark. She knew how he felt about encouraging Holly to believe in fantasy creatures.