Page 22 of Christmas with Holly

The silences between them were usually comfortable. But this silence was tense, questioning. Mark was aware that Shelby had given him an opening. She wanted to set new parameters for their relationship, discuss where they might be headed.

Ironically, that was exactly what he’d wanted to bring up this weekend. There was every reason in the world for him to commit to Shelby, and tell her that he had serious intentions. Because he did.

If marriage with Shelby would be anything like dating her, it was what he wanted. No craziness, no screaming, no arguing. His expectations of the whole thing were reasonable. He didn’t believe in fate or a great destined love. He wanted a nice, normal woman like Shelby, with whom there would be few surprises. They would have a partnership.

They would be a family. For Holly.

“Shelby,” he said, and had to clear his throat, which had started to close up, before he could go on. “What do you think about…being exclusive?”

She turned in the crook of his arm to look at him. “You mean, you and me officially being a couple? Not seeing other people?”

“Yeah.”

Shelby smiled in satisfaction. “You just did the fourth thing,” she said, and snuggled back against him.

Six

As anyone familiar with the Washington State Ferries system knew, ferry delays could happen at any time for a variety of reasons, including rough seas, low tides, onboard traffic accidents, medical emergencies, or maintenance issues. Unfortunately a “necessary repair to a vessel safety feature” was being given as the reason for a delay on the Sunday afternoon departure.

Having arrived an hour early to get a decent place in the long parking lanes leading to the ferry landing, Mark was left with time to kill and nothing to do. People were getting out of their cars, letting their dogs out, wandering to the terminal building to get refreshments or magazines. It was overcast and misty, an occasional cold raindrop breaking through.

Feeling restless and moody, Mark walked toward the terminal. He was starving. Shelby hadn’t felt like going out for breakfast that morning, and all she’d had in the apartment was cereal.

It had been a good weekend with Shelby. They had stayed in and talked and watched movies, and on Saturday evening they had eaten Chinese takeout.

A breeze whipped directly from the Rosario Strait, bringing a clean salty scent, slipping into the collar of his light jacket like cold fingers. A shiver chased down his neck. He breathed deeply of the sea air, wanting to be home, wanting…something.

Entering the terminal, Mark headed toward the café, and saw a woman lugging a weekend bag to a nearby vending machine. A smile tugged at his lips as he saw her long streamers of red hair.

Maggie Conroy.

Thoughts of her had lurked in his mind all weekend. In idle moments, scenarios of how or when he might see her again had played in jaunty loops. His curiosity about her was relentless. What did she like for breakfast? Did she have a pet? Did she like to swim? When he had tried to ignore these questions, the fact of having something to ignore had made it all the more persistent.

He approached Maggie from the side, noticing the frown notched between mahogany brows as she studied the contents of the vending machine. Becoming aware of his presence, she looked up at him. The cheerful, quirky energy he remembered had been replaced by a vulnerability that went straight to his heart. He was caught off guard by the force of his response to her.

What had happened during the weekend? She’d been with her family. Had there been an argument? A problem?

“You don’t want any of that stuff,” he said, with a nod toward the array of glassed-in junk food.

“Why not?”

“Not one item in that vending machine has an expiration date.”

Maggie scrutinized the display as if to verify his claim. “It’s a myth that Twinkies last forever,” she said. “They have a shelf life of twenty-five days.”

“At my house they have a shelf life of about three minutes.” He looked into her dark eyes. “Can I take you to lunch? We’ve got at least two hours, according to the ferry agent.”

A long hesitation followed. “You want to eat here?” she asked.

Mark shook his head. “There’s a restaurant down the road. A two-minute walk. We’ll stow your bag in my car.”

“There’s nothing wrong with having lunch,” Maggie said, as if she needed to reassure herself of something.

“I do it nearly every day.” Mark reached for her overnight bag. “Let me carry that for you.”

She followed him from the terminal building. “I meant, the two of us having lunch. Together. At the same table.”

“If you want, we could sit at separate tables.”

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