Page 86 of Binding Their Hearts

A glance down the hall showed him Alice watching from the kitchen like she’d push off the counter and sprint to his side if he needed her. Up the stairs, the sound of footsteps gave away Henry’s return with the furniture guys. Christmas morning wouldn’t have a dozen clamoring kids and a houseful of remember when conversations. But it would have everything he needed.

“We’re starting new family traditions this year.”

Chapter forty-two

Alice

Indulgent.

She’d found it, the perfect word for married life. Glorious, decadent, and cozy in ways that made Alice’s back prickle sometimes. She’d been the one to ask for this dinner party, so her stomach shouldn’t have been swooping as Jay hustled out of the kitchen to answer the front door.

No less than seven dishes in progress lined the counter in a pattern known only to Henry, who calculated timing and oven temperatures as easily as she weighed tensile strengths and ductility. Two desserts, already finished, waited in the fridge. Their beautiful new plates, with their perfectly round-edged triangle forms, held their positions atop a pale gold tablecloth in the dining room, deep green cloth napkins bound with rings sitting dead center because Jay excelled at any task Henry granted him.

She, so far, had uncorked the Chardonnay and set out wineglasses. “I feel like I should be doing something.”

“You’re keeping me company.” Henry reached across the kitchen island and pulled her into a kiss, his hand warm and weighty against the back of her neck. “I consider it a vital function.”

The three of them had lazed in bed this morning, because Henry wasn’t cooking an enormous, destined-to-be-dry turkey. The whole menu put unfamiliar twists on familiar dishes. Plus, they had seafood instead of turkey. And the TV wasn’t blaring at all. No parade, no football. No Mom asking her to dump more ice in the cooler or fetch another stack of plastic cups or shout to the guys in the yard that dinner was served.

“It’s been ten years since I did anything for Thanksgiving. Sixteen since it was a good one.” She prowled around the edge of the island, her ears attuned to the rise and fall of voices at the door. Male and female, so Will and Emma must have arrived at the same time. “Doesn’t matter. Just my head making comparisons. It’ll quiet down once I have something to do. A distraction.”

Lips drawn together, Henry studied her. “Would you prefer—”

“Henry”—Jay called from the hallway, his voice growing louder—“hide the food, quick. We have guests, and they say they brought their appetites.”

Will, walking in Emma’s wake, strode into the kitchen tapping his beard. “To be fair, we didn’t specify what appetites we’d brought.”

Accepting a hug and a bottle of wine from Emma, Alice quirked her eyebrow at him. “I can’t imagine you go anywhere without all of yours.”

“She’s got you there, Will.” Emma cupped her hand below Alice’s ear as Will chortled. “Oh, these are lovely! Are they new?”

“A birthday gift from Henry.” Twenty-nine yesterday, and although they’d done dessert and presents, the real celebration wouldn’t happen until tomorrow. She tipped her head back, letting her hair swing out of the way. The pear-shaped emeralds, dangling from platinum hoops, bounced light against the walls like a watch face in the sun. “He says the stones came from the same set as our wedding rings.”

“Briolette cut. Very traditional.” Nodding, Emma glanced past her toward Henry. “Well chosen.”

“Thank you.” Henry settled two dishes in the oven and set a timer for twenty minutes. “Alice, of course, makes every accompaniment sparkle. Perhaps she would pour us each a glass of wine? I see you’ve brought a Riesling, excellent. We have a Chardonnay to start.”

She silently thanked Henry for the task as she poured. Helper she could do; hostessing not so much. Though it was probably time to learn a new skill if they’d be doing things like this often. Emma could give her the rundown, no doubt.

“Ah, wine, wonderful.” Will bowed over her hand as he took his glass. “A majestic gift from the lady of the house. Such exquisite taste, such exacting standards. Marriage is lovely on you, Alice.” He saluted them all with the wineglass. “I’m delighted to be dining with such radiant beings.”

“Different from the last time we hosted you.” Alice tiptoed through possibilities. Henry said matchmaking was all about creating openings, not pushing people through them. “No feeding you finger foods tonight.”

“I don’t have a personal food taster? Have we no live entertainment?” Will gasped with mock surprise, planting a hand over his heart. “Henry, my dear friend, what sort of operation are you running here?”

Jay teasingly tugged at the neckline of his body-hugging light sweater. “A fully dressed one, so you know it’s a special occasion.”

Her laugh tumbled out beneath Will’s boisterous one. He tapered into silence, his glance crossing each of them in turn. “Simply stepping inside your home brings peace and joy. I thank you for the invitation; it is precisely the balm I needed.” He added a wry slant to his smile. “And if I must serve myself, so be it.”

“Master William.” Emma, her face solemn, sank into a curtsey worthy of a ballet dancer, all long lines and elegant angles. “How may I serve you?”

Santa blinked wide blue eyes, his face otherwise still. The jovial showman disappeared behind a sudden intensity. He fixated on Emma’s bowed head, the bare nape of her neck visible beneath the mahogany curls piled in a loose twist.

Emma held the pose in a silence that could have been two seconds or an eternity, then laughed and asked for a hand up. “My knees don’t like the deep bends at forty-five as much as they did at fifteen.”

Will bent and offered his arm before she’d finished the sentence.

Alice cut a glance at Henry. He acknowledged her with a subtle twitch of his lips. Yes, he’d told her so this morning. Will and Emma, if they wanted a relationship, could handle the heavy lifting themselves. They simply needed more opportunities to work closely together. She passed Emma a glass of wine. “Were you a dancer?”

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