Wife for Hire (13 page)

Hank kissed her on the nose and set her on her feet.

“We need to get going. We don't want to miss Santa Claus. You go put your earrings on and finish getting dressed, and I'll warm up the truck.”

Ten minutes later Maggie was sitting in the
truck, studying her earrings as they sparkled in the rearview mirror. She really shouldn't be wearing them, she thought. She hadn't intended to, and then somehow they'd managed to become attached to her ears. She wouldn't keep them, of course. She'd wear them to the dance, so as not to be rude, and then as soon as she got home, she'd swish them in alcohol and put them back in the box.

It would be different if she were legally married to Hank. It might even be different if she knew for sure about the shopping street in Burlington. Actually, now that she knew the shopping street was there, it didn't seem nearly so important to her.

She watched the last of the apple trees disappear from sight as Hank drove down the road, and she thought how pretty the trees were draped in snow and moonlight. She thought the town was pretty, too, when they passed through. Big Irma had strung outdoor lights around the general store, the bank was spotlighted with a green wreath on the door, the cafeteria and the beauty salon were trimmed in blinking lights, and the real estate office had decorated the fir tree in its front yard.

“Drive slower!” Maggie said, pressing her
nose to the window. “I can't see the decorations when you drive so fast!”

“I'm only doing twenty-five miles an hour. If I drive any slower, we'll be going backward.”

She'd come back tomorrow to take a closer look at the Christmas tree, she decided. She wanted to see it in the daylight. And maybe she'd stop in at Big Irma's and buy some maple syrup candy to send to New Jersey.

In a matter of minutes they were at the grange hall, and it might as well have been the PNA. Halls are the same the world over, Maggie concluded. There was the same wonderful dusty wood floor, the same happy pandemonium of excited children and convivial adults. And because this was a Christmas party, there was a feeling of expectation. Santa would soon be here. And after Santa had handed out the candy canes and coloring books there would be dancing, and after the dancing there would be the special coffee cake made by the Smullen twins.

Maggie handed Hank her coat and looked into the crowd. “Oh, look,” she said, “it's Vern! In a tuxedo!”

“Yeah, Vern always wears a tuxedo to the Christmas dance. He inherited it from his Uncle Mo.”

“What happened to his Uncle Mo?”

“Heart attack,” Hank said. “He was a waiter at a fancy restaurant in Burlington. That's where the tuxedo came from.”

Vern winked at Maggie and she waved back.

Ed Kritch came over. “You be sure and save a dance for me,” he said to Maggie.

Maggie looked at him suspiciously. “You won't kidnap me again, will you?”

Ed chuckled. “Naw, I wouldn't do that. That was something, wasn't it? I tell you, I just about fainted myself when Elsie Hawkins pulled that bazooka out of her purse. Yes sir, I guess that story's gonna get told around. I guess that's almost as good as the time Bucky Weaver burned his barn down trying to shoot Hank here.”

Hank looked pleased. “Before you came into my life, I was the sole source of entertainment for this town,” he said to Maggie. “It's a real plea sure to share the limelight.”

A Christmas tree had been placed in the middle of the dance floor and a ring of people began forming around the tree. The band played “Here Comes Santa Claus” and the people sashayed around the tree in time to the song. Hank and Maggie joined hands and sashayed around, too, looking over their
shoulder, watching the front door for the arrival of Santa Claus.

The door opened and Santa appeared, and every child in the hall sent up a squeal of delight.

“Ho, ho, ho,” Santa said, joining the party. “Has everyone been good this year?”

“Yes,” they all answered.

Dancing continued around the tree, and Santa made his way along the chain, talking to children, passing out his coloring books. When Santa got to Maggie, he stopped and took her hand.

“Has Maggie been good his year?” he asked.

Maggie felt her face flame. Santa hadn't talked to any of the other adults.

Santa took a coloring book and a candy cane from his sack and gave it to Maggie. “Only the best girls in Skogen get these,” he said to Maggie with a wink.

A roar of approval went up from the crowd.

The world blurred for a moment, and Maggie's feet forgot to move to the music. She looked first to Hank and then to the other faces in the chain. They liked her! Maggie realized. Even Hank's father was smiling at her from across the room.

Maggie clutched the coloring book and the candy cane to her chest and dutifully thanked Santa. She took a good look at the man behind the beard and narrowed her eyes.

“I know it's you, Bubba,” she whispered. “I'm gonna get you for this!”

Bubba smiled, gave Maggie's hand a squeeze, and moved on.

Maggie smiled after him. She smiled because all of a sudden she liked Bubba very much. And she smiled because Santa had found her, way out in the rolling, snow-covered hills of Vermont—and he'd given her a coloring book. She was blinking furiously, but the tears were spilling down her cheeks. She buried her face in Hank's chest and snuffled into his tie.

“It's just that I l-l-love coloring books,” she said, sobbing.

Orville Mullen was on the other side of Maggie. “Probably pregnant,” he said to Hank. “That's the way they get. They cry over coloring books and baby bibs and little booties. When my Elaine was pregnant, we couldn't walk past the baby food jars in the Acme without Elaine bursting into tears.”

Mrs. Farnsworth came over and put her arm around Maggie. “You need to do some quilting,”
she said. “It evens a person out. And you get to gossip too.”

“I don't know…” Maggie said, blowing her nose in Hank's red silk handkerchief.

“Doesn't take much time at all,” Mrs. Farnsworth told her. “A Saturday afternoon once a month, and you can tell us about your Aunt Kitty's diary. We're all dying to read the book when it comes out. It's not every day we get a real author moving into our town. Maybe we can even hold a book-signing party.”

A book-signing party? Maggie clapped a hand to her mouth to stop the giggles. She was going to be famous. Not enormously famous, of course. After all, she wasn't Nora Roberts. Still, she'd be a little famous. And the quilting club would give her a book-signing party. Maggie chewed on her bottom lip. She had a problem. A name problem.

“You're going to have to marry me as soon as possible,” Maggie said to Hank. “I have a name problem. When the quilting club gives me a book-signing party, what am I going to write? They think I'm Maggie Mallone when actually I'm still Maggie Toone. You see, it will be much too confusing unless we get married right away.”

She chewed on her bottom lip. “I realize it's been several months since you asked me to marry you. Maybe you've changed your mind. I couldn't blame you if you have.”

Hank grinned down at her. “Let me get this straight. You want to marry me so you can autograph copies of your book for the quilting club?”

“Yes.”

He couldn't resist teasing a little. “I don't know. That's not very romantic. I'm not sure that's a good reason for marriage. What about Skogen? You sure you can live here?”

“Of course I can live here! Skogen's a terrific place to live!” Her voice turned lower, more serious. “And I love you.”

He took her in his arms. “I love you too. And I'll be happy to marry you.” Then he kissed her long and hard. Right there in front of the whole town for everyone to see.

“Nice to know he's not doing it in people's barns anymore,” Gordie Pickens said. “He sure was something as a youngster, wasn't he?”

Bucky Weaver, old Dan Butcher, and Myron Stone house agreed.

And the band played “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” for the fourth time.