Page 30 of One Golden Ring
“I think there was a menswear store somewhere along Celestial,” I tell her.
We start off walking west, and I watch Darcy taking in the little town.
I love seeing her like this—happy, cheeks pink from the cold, the lazy snowflakes drifting down to kiss her hair and coat. She’s looking all around, clearly charmed by the decorations that are everywhere in this little town.
Lights shaped to look like the silhouettes of angels perch on the lampposts of Celestial Lane. And every store seems to have boughs of pine or holly in the front window and twinkling lights illuminating holiday offerings. Even the hardware store has an impressive lightdisplay and little elf figures lifting a snow shovel in the window.
Flyers advertising the upcoming Angel Mountain Christmas Mingle are up in half the windows. That takes me back. I loved that event when I was a kid.
I guess J.B. will get to participate this year. The idea makes me feel warm inside.
The people we pass as we walk down the sidewalk greet us with waves and genuine smiles. More than a few eyes slide down to our joined hands.
I’m a little older than Darcy. I might have felt a little self-conscious about it in the city where people recognize me. But here they have no idea who I am, and I’m not getting any sour glances that sayshe’s in it for the money.
Which is actually kind of funny because sheisin it for the money.
I think about those big diamonds and wonder what she’s planning to do with her windfall.
“There,” Darcy says, pointing to a shop just ahead of us where the mannequins in the window model sporty suits with red and green dress shirts underneath.
I open the door for her and let her take charge of talking to the saleslady about what we want. She’s the one with the eye for detail.
We leave with a whole wardrobe for Grandpa Michael. Darcy is pleased with the cardigans she chose for him to wear over soft t-shirts and turtlenecks. And when she found warm sweatpants in a trouser cut that made them look like they weren’t sweatpants at all, she grabbed every pair they had in his size.
We also chose two pairs of silk pajamas and agorgeous blue smoking jacket that Darcy thinks will bring out Grandpa Michael’s eyes. I can’t argue with her taste. I think he’s going to wear all this stuff happily.
Will it be partly because she’s so excited to give it to him? Probably. But he’s going to look sharp too, and hopefully he’ll know it.
We also head into a shop that sells linens and grab some extra blankets for the cabin. I’m sure we could ask for more from the lodge but I don’t want Judi-Bloom getting cold. Darcy grabs a couple of matching sheets and I don’t argue. Maybe something was wrong with the sheets at the cabin. I didn’t notice.
I was too busy obsessing over my assistant.
We pass a store that sells candy by the pound and Darcy’s eyes light up at the sight of the colorful treats in the clear plastic bins.
“Come on,” I tell her, opening the door. “Let’s get you two some sweets.”
“Amazing,” she practically sighs, grabbing a clear plastic bag and starting by scooping up some peanut M&Ms. “If we can find some popcorn to pop J.B. will be so happy.”
I blink at her for a moment, amazed. She’s completely right. I just didn’t think Darcy knew my daughter well enough to know about her favorite movie snack.
“Remember to grab some stuff for yourself too,” I tell her gruffly. “What’s your favorite?”
She grins at me and scoops out some of those melt-in-your mouth puffy starlight mints like Grandma used to keep in a dish on the coffee table during the holidays.
“Really?” I ask.
“I know, I know,” she laughs. “They’re old-fashioned, but I love them this time of year. They make it feel like Christmas.”
She insists on paying for this stuff, which infuriates my inner caveman, but I figure it’s her way of telling me that she’s having a good time, which makes me feel an intense sense of gratitude to the universe that’s hard to describe.
She even puts her change in the donation can by the register for the town’s fundraiser.
“Are you hungry?” she asks me as we exit the store, waving goodbye to the salesgirl, who of course is the newest member of the Darcy fan club, even though they only spent about two minutes chatting at the counter.
“I could eat,” I tell her, even though we just had lunch an hour or two ago and I haven’t had a chance to work out yet today.
There are a couple of really nice-looking boutique eateries here that I’m guessing are new arrivals, here to serve the city crowd. One of them must have caught her eye.
