Page 19 of Christmas Magic

“We’re dining at Medici tonight?”

“If that’s okay with you?”

“It definitely is. I shall be craving their Tiramisu for the rest of the afternoon. Now, that tour of the winery you mentioned before.”

“You didn’t have time to go.”

“I will make time.” Seeing relief and joy in her expression, he added: “Would you ask about a tour on a Tuesday or Wednesday, since we’re quieter on those days?”

“I will. Also—”

The store phone rang.

Molly eased out of his embrace. “I’ll get that. I’m expecting a return call.”

“I’ll be here for a while, reviewing the reports.”

“Why? Did you find a problem?”

He’d rather not worry her. She had a lot on her mind, and he could handle The Dealer himself. “Nope,” Lucian said. “No problem at all.”

At five minutes to six, Molly set down the phone then squealed. “I just sold the set of Christmas china.”

In the midst of putting several boxes on the floor near the counter, Lucian cheered. “Well done.”

“The woman visited while you were out this afternoon. She fell in love with the pattern and almost purchased the set then but wanted to go home and think about it.” Molly smiled. “I had a hunch she’d buy it. It seemed perfect for her.”

“For clinching that sale, you definitely deserve dinner at Medici, milady.”

Molly laughed, even as a thrill chased through her. “Are you going medieval on me now, Lucian?”

“Only a tiny bit.” He winked. “The rest will have to wait until later. By the way”—he gestured to the boxes—“I found these in the back. I have no idea what’s in them, but my grandfather marked them to sell at Christmas.”

“I’ll take a quick look.”

“Once the items are unpacked, we can use the boxes for the china. Is the client coming by tonight?”

“No. She’ll pay tomorrow and pick up the set then.”

“Perfect. Let me go take care of a few emails, and then we can head out for our meal.”

While Molly waited for Lucian, she pulled the sealing tape off the top cardboard box and opened the flaps. Taking out the first three items wrapped in newspaper, she found a ceramic jug decorated with sprigs of holly; a glass bowl etched with snowflakes; and a china saltshaker shaped like a fluffy, white female cat with dark eyeliner and golden eyes. She wore a Santa hat and a red and green scarf.

“Aww.” Molly turned the saltshaker in her fingers. “How adorable.”

There must be a matching pepper shaker somewhere in the box.

Galahad, walking past, hissed. “Cats don’t wear Santa hats or scarves.”

She remembered a conversation they’d had the other evening after she’d shown him a photo on social media of a kitty wearing a felt hat with antlers. “You know that’s not true. Hats—”

“Noooooooo. Don’t get any ideas about buying me a hat, sweater, or even”—he shuddered—“a onesie.”

She shouldn’t tease him, but just couldn’t help it. “Are you sure about the onesie? You see, I already got you one.”

He bristled. “Noooooooo.”

“They’re very fashionable—”

“Nooooooo!”

Lucian approached. “Galahad, why are you all riled up?”

Molly grinned down at the squire. “He doesn’t like my teasing—or the saltshaker I just unwrapped.”

Her fiancé took it from her and examined it. “It’s vintage.”

“I thought so, too. How old?”

“Late 1950s or early ’60s, maybe.” He set it on the counter.

“Tomorrow, I hope to find the matching pepper.” Molly traced the little scarf with her fingertip. “If the pepper’s similar to the saltshaker, they’ll make a very cute couple.”