Page 68 of Twelve Days and Twelfth Night

She’d deliberately made herself frumpy so she wouldn’t be lured into the limelight. “I didn’t do this for me. It’s a gift. An apology.”

“They know that.” His voice sounded softer and warmer than the wool in her hands. “They’d like to say goodbye.”

“Not tonight.”

Silence. No retreating footsteps. “Maggie? They’re getting married.”

Her mouth crumpled, and her eyes misted. “I—I’m so glad.”

In the distance, the doorbell rang.

“The cab,” Prescott said.

“Thank you for everything. And good night.” But footsteps clomped down the hall. Had he heard her farewell?

After the front door opened and closed, Maggie left her bedroom.

The plates and silverware had already been cleared from the table. Yet another undeserved kindness from Prescott.

She blew out the candles, caught the whiff of Christmas-red roses.

In spite of Maggie, Frank and Vi would have their happy ending.

A strange sob billowed out, joy for her former friends mingled with grief for losing Prescott.

She picked up the salt and pepper shakers, but everything blurred around her.

Not yet. She needed to clean up, put away the food, wash the dishes.

The tears ignored her direction and made an unscripted entrance.

Prescott opened the cab door.

Vi hugged him. “Oh, Press, I’m so happy. Please tell Maggie.”

“Tell her yourself tomorrow at the theater.”

Frank shook his hand, grinning hard. “Thanks for everything. Best day of my life.”

The young couple slid into the backseat, kissed, and waved at Prescott. The cab pulled away.

Now to help clean up.

The drapes were drawn in the bungalow, and Prescott pulled in a fortifying breath. He’d come resolved not to be moved by Maggie’s beauty or cheer. He hadn’t been prepared for the muting of both beauty and cheer. And the reason for the muting tore him up inside.

It was true remorse. Not only had she admitted she was wrong and worked to make things right, but she was actively fighting the impulses that had caused the problem in the first place. Fighting them too hard even.

Every detail tonight gleamed for Frank and Vi alone, even Maggie’s removal of herself from the evening. She would accept no reward, not even the satisfaction of a job well done.

Prescott’s resolve cracked in two.

What now? He pushed his feet up the walkway. Just because he loved her didn’t mean they belonged together.

“Lord, help me listen.” Maggie wasn’t the only one who needed that lesson.

He opened the front door, and gulping sounds rose from the dining room.

At the table, Maggie sat with her face in her hands. She gasped and looked up, her face red and glistening. “You—I thought you left.”