Frank’s tree glittered, and a Christmas Eve fire flickered merrily in the hearth. Three stockings hung from the mantel piece—Lissie’s, Henry’s, and Floyd’s. Nat King Cole crooned about merry little Christmases.
“They’re asleep,” Frank said from the stairway. “I guess that second gig at the hospital and the nursing home did them in. Who’d have thought Almira Pidgett would turn out to be a fan of the angel-and-shepherd road show?”
Addie smiled, cup of eggnog in hand, and turned to watch him approach. Miss Pidgett had warmed to Lissie and Henry’s impromptu performance when they shyly entered her hospital room the night after the pageant, and tonight, she’d welcomed them with a twinkly smile. “Christmas is a time for miracles,” she said.
Frank took the cup out of her hand, set it aside, and pulled her close. “You think it’s too soon?” he asked.
“Too soon for what?” she countered, but she knew. A smile quirked at the corner of her mouth.
“You and me to take up where we left off, back in the day,” Frank prompted, kissing her lightly. “I love you, Addie.”
She traced the outline of his lips. “And I love you, Frank Raynor.”
“But you still haven’t answered my question.”
She smiled. “I don’t think it’s too soon,” she said. “I think it’s about time.”
“Do I get to be in your romance novel?”
“You already are.”
He gave a wicked chuckle. “Maybe we’d better do a little research,” he teased, and tasted her mouth again. Then, suddenly, he straightened, squinted at the Christmas tree behind her. “But wait. What’s that?”
Addie turned to look, confused.
Eliza’s Advent calendar was draped, garland-style, across the front of the tree.
“Why, it’s Aunt Eliza’s Advent calendar!” Frank said, and twiddled at a nonexistent mustache.
“You might make it in a romance novel,” Addie said, “but if you’re thinking of going into acting, don’t give up your day job.”
“We forgot to check the twenty-fourth box,” Frank said, recovering quickly from the loss of a career behind the footlights.
“We did not forget,” Addie said. “It was a little crèche. The kids looked this morning, before breakfast.”
“I think we should look again,” Frank insisted. “Specifically, I think you should look again.”
She moved slowly toward the tree, confused. They’d agreed not to give each other gifts this year, though she’d bought a present for Lissie, and he’d gotten one for Henry.
The twenty-fourth box, unlike the other twenty-three, was closed. Addie slid it open slowly, and gasped.
“My engagement ring,” she said. The modest diamond was wedged in between the crèche and the side of the matchbox. “You kept it?”
Frank stood beside her, slipped an arm around her waist. “Eliza kept it,” he said. “Will you marry me, Addie?”
She turned to look up into his eyes. “Oh, Frank.”
“I’ll get you a better ring, if you want one.”
She shook her head. “No,” she said. “I want this one.”
“Then, you will? Marry me, I mean?”
“Yes.”
He pulled her into his arms, kissed her. “When?” he breathed when it was over.
Addie was breathless. “Next summer?”
“Good enough.” He laughed, then kissed her again. “In the meantime, we can work on that research.”