Page 26 of The Mistletoe Mystery

“But you can’t wear it,” says Mr. Snow. “Because you turned your necklace into a watch chain for me.”

“No matter,” I say. “I shall cherish this pendant regardless. And I’m pleased my necklace will be put to good use to protect your pocket watch from further mishaps.”

“I’m afraid it won’t, Molly,” Mr. Snow explains. “That old watch of mine was always falling out of my pocket, so I upcycled the watch frame to have that pendant made for you.”

“I can’t believe my ears,” says Mr. Preston. “It’s like that old story by O. Henry—nothing goes right, but all is well in the end.”

“Speaking of ‘all’s well in the end,’ it’s time,” says Mr. Snow.

I’m about to announce to my maids that the party is over and we must get back to work, but before I can get a word out, my gran-dad puts a hand on my shoulder.

“There is one more gift, Molly.”

“You mean for Juan Manuel?” I ask. “I’m afraid I don’t know where he is.”

“I mean for you.”

Gran-dad turns and looks up, way up, at the shining star rising above the terrace on the very tippy top of the Christmas tree. But then something, or rather, someone, moves behind the tree. It’s Juan. He steps out from the boughs and looks down at me from the starlit terrace. He’s dressed in crisp chef whites but with a black bow tie around his neck. In his hands he holds a bouquet of red roses.

“Juan?” I exclaim as I look up at him. “What in heavens are you doing up there hiding behind the Christmas tree?”

Suddenly, all of my misgivings flood back—the comings and goings, the strange behaviors, the explanations that make no sense. I can’t make heads or tails of any of it. And now, it’s happening here, in public, before the entire hotel staff.

Waiters and receptionists titter and laugh. Bellhops andvalets chortle out loud. It’s déjà vu, like being haunted by the ghost of a Christmas past. Yet again, I’ve said something foolish, and I have no idea what it is.

“They’re laughing at me, all of them,” I whisper to Angela as I take in their jeering faces.

“They’re laughing with you, not at you,” she says. “I promise.”

Just then, Juan descends the stairs, step by step, slowly, stopping on the final tread underneath the evergreen archway.

The laughing stops, and silence descends. Everyone gathered becomes so still that not a corsage jingles or a spoon tinkles. Somehow this hush is more discomfiting than any noise I’ve ever heard.

“Molly,” Juan says, as he turns his dark-eyed gaze my way. “Will you join me?” He points to the archway above his head and the mistletoe dangling there.

I look at my gran-dad, searching his face for some clue as to what on earth is going on.

“It’s all right, Molly. Come.” He offers me an arm, and feeling quite unsteady, I take it, allowing him to lead me up the step to stand beside Juan under the archway.

“Molly,” Juan says. “This morning I told you I have a question for you, and now, I’m going to ask it.”

“You’re going to ask it here?”

The crowd laughs again, and I feel the room tilt underneath my feet. I grab a garland-wrapped balustrade to keep myself steady and upright.

“Molly Gray, Head Maid and love of my life,” Juan says, “will you marry me?”

Before I can even process the words, Juan reaches for a silver clamshell box tied on a gold ribbon around the bouquet of roses. He opens the box. Though I’ve seen it before, what’s inside is confusing—a Claddagh ring, the one my gran-dad showed me yesterday, the one that was going to be given to some lucky young lady.

My chest is tight. My breath stops short, and suddenly, I’m seeing stars. I don’t know if the lights twinkling in my peripheral vision are the tree’s or my own. An arm grips me to keep me upright.

“Molly, please don’t faint,” says Juan.

His eyes are liquid chocolates. The moment they meet mine, my breath returns, and the room rights itself. Juan stands there, awaiting my reply.

“This question,” I say. “You can’t be serious. Why would you want to marry me?”

“BecauseI do!” he exclaims. “Except those two words are the ones I’d hopedyou’dsay, not me.” He pauses, holding the bouquet and ring box in one hand while he wipes his brow with the other. “It wasn’t supposed to go like this.” He takes a deep breath and looks at me again. “Molly, I know you’ve had your doubts about me, especially lately, but they’re unfounded. Nothing is as it seems.”

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