The Wish(52)

“Hi,” he said, his face brightening. “You made it. For a few minutes there, I wasn’t sure you would.”

“Time slipped away from me.” It was more like not having enough steam to make the kettle whistle, but why start with the doom and gloom? “How was it today?”

“Moderately busy. There were a lot of groupies, but only a couple of photographs sold. We received a bunch of online orders, though.”

“Anything for Trinity?”

“Just some online inquiries. I’ve already sent the information, so we’ll see how that goes. There was also an email from a gallery in Newport Beach wondering if Trinity would be open to doing a show out there.”

“He won’t,” Maggie said. “But I assume you passed the information along to his publicist?”

“I did. I also got all your online orders shipped.”

“You’ve been busy. When did the tree arrive?”

“Around four or so? The decorations actually arrived earlier. I’m guessing they were really expensive.”

“The tree is pretty, too. I’m sort of amazed they had a good one left. I would have thought they’d all be sold by now.”

“Small miracles,” he agreed. “I already added water in the base and I popped over to Duane Reade to get an extension cord in case we need it.”

“Thanks.” She sighed. Even standing, she realized, was taking more effort than she’d imagined it would. “Would you mind bringing my office chair out here? So I can sit?”

“Of course,” he said. He turned and vanished into the back; a moment later, he was rolling the chair across the floor, finally adjusting it to face the tree. When Maggie sat, she winced and Mark frowned with concern.

“Are you feeling all right?”

“No, but I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to be. What with the cancer eating my insides and all.”

His gaze fell, making her regret that she hadn’t come up with a gentler response, but cancer was anything but gentle.

“Can I get you anything else?”

“I’m all right for now,” she said. “Thank you.”

She studied the tree, thinking that it needed to be rotated slightly. Mark followed her eyes.

“You’re not happy about the gap toward the bottom, right?”

“I didn’t notice it when I saw the tree from outside.”

He walked toward the tree. “Hmmm…” He gripped and lifted, rotating it half a turn. “Better?”

“Perfect,” she said.

“I have a surprise,” he added. “I hope you won’t mind.”

“I love surprises.”

“Give me a minute, okay?”

He vanished into the back again, returning with a small portable speaker and candles tucked beneath his arm, along with two glasses filled with a creamy liquid. She assumed it was a smoothie, but as he drew near, she realized she was mistaken.

“Eggnog?”

“I thought it seemed appropriate.”

He handed her a glass and she took a sip, hoping her stomach wouldn’t sour. Thankfully, it didn’t, nor was there much of an aftertaste. She took another drink, realizing how hungry she was.

“There’s plenty in the back for refills,” he said. He took a sip as well, then set his glass on a low wooden pedestal. He put the speaker next to the glass and pulled his phone from his pocket. A few seconds later, she was listening to Mariah Carey singing “All I Want for Christmas Is You,” the volume low. He lit the candles, then went over and turned off most of the lights, leaving only the ones near the rear of the gallery illuminated.

He took a seat on the pedestal.

“My story really got to you, huh?” she asked.

“I told Abigail all about it when we FaceTimed last night. She suggested that if we were going to decorate the tree, I might as well try to re-create parts of your Ocracoke Christmas as well. She helped me with the playlist, and I picked up the eggnog and candles when I grabbed the extension cord.”

Maggie smiled as she removed her gloves, but still chilled, she decided to keep her jacket and scarf on. “I’m not sure I’m going to have enough energy to help you with the tree,” she confessed.

“That’s fine. You can direct, like Bryce’s mom did. Unless you’d like to try again tomorrow…”

“Not tomorrow. Let’s do it now.” She swallowed another mouthful of eggnog. “I wonder when people started putting up Christmas trees in the first place.”

“I’m pretty sure it was the mid-to late sixteenth century in what’s now Germany. For a long time, it was regarded as a Protestant custom. The first tree wasn’t displayed at the Vatican until 1982.”

“And you just happened to know that off the top of your head?”

“I did a report on it when I was in high school.”

“I can’t remember anything from the reports I did in high school.”

“Even Thurgood Marshall?”

“Even him. And just so you know, even though my family was Catholic, we had Christmas trees growing up.”

“Don’t blame the messenger,” he teased. “You ready to do some directing while I get to work?”

“Only if you’re sure you don’t mind.”