Christmas Pie Page 31

  Realizing he was preparing to leave, Polly popped up from her chair. “I’ll see you to the door, James.”

  “Thank you.”

  She felt awkward as she walked him to the door and reached to open it.

  “So I will see you at work tomorrow, Polly?”

  His question made her hesitate, her hand resting on the knob. “Well, yes. Yes, I haven’t decided to give notice yet. And I’ll give you notice, James, if I decide to leave the firm. I know you need the four of us type-writers. I won’t leave you in the lurch.”

  “Nobody could ever replace you, Polly.”

  She could only whisper, “Oh.”

  Then she was in his arms again. She felt bolder this time, and it took her no time at all to wrap her arms around him and return his embrace. When she felt his tongue against her lips, she opened her mouth and almost fainted when his tongue invaded her mouth to spar with hers. It felt like heaven. Pure heaven.

  Unfortunately, James Drayton was a consummate gentleman. The kiss was entirely too brief in Polly’s estimation. Her heart thundered like an electrical storm when he drew his head back. Her hand instinctively sought her charms and clutched them tightly as she peered into James’s eyes. He had the most beautiful eyes. They were dark and mysterious and the most wonderful, rich shade of hazel.

  His hand covered hers. “I still want to see your medal one of these days, Polly.”

  “Yes.”

  “I wish I could—”

  His eyes went round when she quickly pressed her hand over his mouth. “Be careful what you wish for. I think it’s magic.”

  “Magic?” He looked at her quizzically.

  “Oh, I know it sounds crazy. Maybe it is. But—but—” She looked down at their twined hands. “But, I swear, James, when I touch my medal and wish for things, they happen.”

  He was silent for a moment. At last he said, “You’re serious, aren’t you, Polly?”

  He sounded as though he wasn’t sure he approved, and Polly sighed. She’d been afraid of this. “Oh, James, I know it sounds impossible. It probably is. It’s just that so many strange things have happened when I wish for them, I can’t help but—well, I’ve begun to believe that maybe there’s something about the coin that—well—makes things happen. Only strangely.”

  “Like what?”

  Taking a deep breath, figuring herself for a blazing fool, Polly plunged into her explanation. “It started the very day that strange lady gave me the coin, James. I wished I was home already, and you showed up right then, at that exact moment.”

  “I see.”

  “And then I wished I had a gown to wear with the coin, and I got one. And when I wished the sidewalk would open up and swallow Lawrence Bullock, he tripped over that crack. And when I wished for a goose-down comforter for Mother, your silly dog upset that goose cart.”

  “You didn’t get a comforter,” James reminded her with a grin. “You got a goose.”

  “I know. I told you things don’t happen exactly as I wish for them. And—and then I wished Mother’s life could be easier, and she began to walk, and your father sent that bank draft. And yesterday, as an experiment, I wished I’d see Dewey, and he showed up and nearly chewed Mr. Bullock’s leg off.”

  She looked up at him, hoping he wouldn’t think she was a raving lunatic, and said, “And today, I wished I’d see you.”

  “You did?”

  “Yes.”

  He stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers, sending a shower of sparks rioting through her. “And what else have you wished for, my fair Polly?”

  “Oh—oh, lots of things, James. I can’t even remember them all.” She dropped her gaze and a spasm of sorrow made her heart ache momentarily. “I wished Stephen would come home for the holidays, and we heard about his ship the very next day.”

  James gave her a quick, sympathetic hug. “I see. You were right when you said your wishes don’t come true exactly as you wish them.”

  “No, they don’t. That’s the strange part. I think—” She stopped speaking suddenly, embarrassed. Then she took a quick breath and plunged on. “I’ve thought about it a lot because it seems so crazy. But I think the coin is so old that some of the magic has rubbed off. I know it sounds silly, even idiotic, but there it is.” She smiled up at him bravely. “I guess I’m just an idiot.”

  “You’re not an idiot, Polly. You’re almost making me believe in your magic coin.”

  “I wish you did.”

  James sighed and said, “I do, too.”

  They both seemed to realize what they’d said at the same time. Polly felt her eyes open wide and watched James’s eyes do the same.

  Then he laughed, “Well, I reckon we’ll find out now if that thing is magic, won’t we?”

  “I guess we will.”

  “May I see this amazing magical coin, Polly? I’m too curious to wait any longer.”

  “Of course.”

  Reaching under her demure high collar, Polly caught the gold chain with her fingers and withdrew it from her bodice. Slipping the chain over her head, she held the St. Christopher medal and her ancient coin in her palm. St. Christopher’s golden outline looked, as always, stoic and calm, ready to help the weary traveler along the road of life. A dull glow radiated from the coin. It shone like no other metal object Polly had ever seen.

  She said softly, “It always looks as though it bears its own atmosphere. It’s as though it’s from another world and this one can’t quite touch it.”

  “It is a queer little thing, isn’t it?” James reached out and touched the coin with his finger. “It’s quite pretty. May I pick it up?”

  “Of course.”

  “It’s warm, too.” All at once he closed his fingers around it, shut his eyes, and stood stock still.

  “What are you doing, James?”

  He opened his eyes and smiled down at her. “Wishing.” Then he put the coin back in her hand. “Take care of that thing. If it’s magic, you don’t want to lose it.” Putting his hat on his tousled head, he added with a grin, “Or wear it out.”

  She laughed softly. “No. I don’t want to do that.”

  Slipping the chain around her neck again, Polly watched him stride away from her. She pressed her hand to her charms and wished he’d never leave her again.

  # # #

  The next three weeks passed in a blur for Polly. She continued to work although she no longer needed to. For some reason, during those weeks she felt strange, as though she were a different person; or the person she used to be had undergone some magical transformation.

  Often she found herself pondering the phenomenon and wondering if the bizarre feeling came from knowing she and her mother were no longer poor. Or maybe, she thought with rush of warmth suffusing her body, James Drayton’s kisses had done something to her brain and beguiled her. Or then again, maybe it was her coin. Her magic coin? She’d sit on her bed some nights for an hour or more pondering the ancient charm; turning it over and over in her hand and wondering, wondering, wondering.

  Whatever the reason for the change in her mood, this was the first time since she’d gone to work for James Drayton and Associates that she’d felt expansive. She found herself actually laughing and chatting with her co-workers, as though she were one of them instead of a breed apart. It surprised her to realize they all seemed to like her once she let down her reserve and opened up.

  Could it have been she who’d set herself apart from them and not they who’d created the chasm yawning between them? She’d always just assumed they didn’t like her.

  Good heavens. Maybe they thought she didn’t like them. It was a daunting notion.

  “Why, Polly MacNamara, a body would think you’d fallen in love, the way you’re acting,” Constance teased.

  When Polly blushed, Rose giggled and said, “I declare, you must have hit the nail right on the head, Constance.”

  Juliana, looking for once almost kind, said, “Well, whatever it is, it’s improved your attitude,
Polly.”

  Polly decided they were hitting too close to the truth for her to take exception. She laughed, thereby further thawing the invisible wall of ice she’d built between herself and the three women who’d only known her as aloof and stiff.

  When Constance ventured a tentative question about her charitable activities, Polly waxed eloquent about her orphans and another foot or two of wall melted. She’d never had anybody to talk to before except her mother. She hadn’t realized how satisfying it could be to chat with girlfriends and swap tales about individual interests and activities.

  She was able to give her three co-workers daily updates on her choir’s progress. Now that she acknowledged her mother was capable of fending for herself, she didn’t feel she had to rush home after work. Every day she visited the Sisters of Benevolence. Taking her job a choir director seriously, she taught the children a small symphony of Christmas carols. She couldn’t recall ever having a more satisfying job than dealing with the delightful orphans.

  “I suspect it’s a sure bet you’ll have to have some children of your own someday then,” said Constance.

  “Oh, how I’d love to.” Polly sighed.

  Rose grinned. “I guess you’ll just have to get that fellow of yours to marry you, then.”

  For the first time in days Polly’s bright mood dimmed.

  Her fellow. Did she have a fellow? James hadn’t so much as spoken to her since the night they’d shared those glorious kisses. Prior to that evening, she’d honestly come to believe he wasn’t the insensitive ladies’ man people thought him to be. She wasn’t sure any longer.

  “Oh, Polly, Rose didn’t mean anything.”

  Polly looked up in surprise to discover that it was Juliana who’d caught her mood and accurately guessed its cause. For heaven’s sake.

  She made a concerted effort to cast her doubts aside. After all, even if James Drayton proved to be a cad; even if she never married and had children, she could still life a happy, fulfilling life.

  “I know it, Juliana. I—I was just—thinking about something.”

  Juliana gave her a smile of sympathetic understanding. Her smile effectively told Polly that Juliana didn’t believe her for a minute.

  # # #

  James deliberately kept away from Polly during the weeks before Christmas. When he’d closed his hand around her silly charm that night, he’d wished for guidance. Then he couldn’t believe it of himself. Was he going completely daft?

  As if a hard-headed businessman needed guidance in personal matters from an ancient Chinese coin! He frowned in exasperation as he prepared to interview a secretarial candidate.

  He didn’t need guidance. What he needed was to keep away from Polly MacNamara. Any more kisses like the ones they’d shared in her parlor, and he’d end up having to marry the girl. And James Drayton definitely did not need a wife. In spite of what he’d thought the other day.

  For the Lord’s sake, a wife—especially one who believed in magic coins—would expect him to be forever declaring his love for her. And, while James was willing, tentatively, to acknowledge he cared strongly for Polly, he knew better than to believe, honestly and truly, that romantic love existed on this mortal coil. Not the kind the poets wrote about; the kind that lasted forever and ever, through space and time and thick and thin, it didn’t. Certainly he’d forget about her if he just stayed away from her. He was sure of it. Or, at least, he was relatively sure. A little bit sure, at any rate. He thought he might, anyway.

  He did have Raymond Sing visit the jail and ensure that appropriate charges had been filed against Lawrence Bullock and Walter Gregory. They had. Mr. Fleischer had scurried down to press charges the very evening the bumbling pair had broken into his house. Under ordinary circumstances, James would have seen to the matter himself. Right now, however, he didn’t want to be anywhere near the MacNamara home and the temptation of Polly.

  The whole time Raymond was away from the office, James was unable to concentrate. Then he nearly bit Raymond’s head off when he returned.

  “Good heavens, James, everything’s all right,” said Raymond, surprised and more than a little annoyed by his friend’s touchiness.

  James raked a hand through his hair, a gesture he’d adopted lately, much as Polly pressed her coin. “I’m sorry, Raymond. I—I don’t feel well.”

  That was the truth. He was cranky as a boiled owl, and he felt like hell.

  He was also more frustrated than he could recall being in years. Neither he nor Raymond had been able to dig up the tiniest shred of information about the U.S.S. China Seas. It was as if a hole in the world had opened up and swallowed not merely the ship and Polly’s brother, but every single particle of information about either one of them. Or anybody else who’d been on the damned ship. The whole mysterious situation set James’s teeth on edge.

  And those ridiculous Christmas decorations he’d had his housekeeper put up were driving him crazy. Every morning he got up and had to wade through a sea of greenery to find his way to the dining room. Even his stairway was hung with garlands. He couldn’t put his hand on the banister, for God’s sake, without stabbing himself with a damned pine needle. And the woman had put red candles and a green bough in the middle of the dining room table. The dining room table, of all places!

  The fact that she’d done so at his request galled him almost beyond endurance. He couldn’t recall another single time in his life when he’d so completely lost his head. Christmas decorations? Bah!

  He thought about his father, too. According to Polly, J. P. was trying to mend fences between them. As if she knew anything about the matter! Still, the fact remained that J. P. had approached him about representing his shipping firm. And he’d more than made up for any financial losses incurred by the MacNamara ladies as a result of Franklin MacNamara’s death, even if he couldn’t bring him back to life. In fact, when James had learned the amount of money J. P. had sent the two MacNamaras, he’d been struck speechless. Such largesse was unlike the J. P. Drayton James knew.

  Yet, if J. P. were changing his ways, would it be churlish of James to reject his peace overtures? Did he dare believe the signs?

  The truly depressing part of the whole confusing scenario was that James discovered a gaping hole in his life when he mentally experimented with removing the cloak of villainy from his father’s shoulders. Without J. P. Drayton’s bad example to rebel against, James found himself at a loss; floundering for a foothold on the slippery slope of life.

  His reaction made him take a critical look at himself. He didn’t like what he saw, and was intolerably irritated.

  And, as if all that wasn’t enough, he couldn’t get Polly MacNamara out of his mind. She was with him day and night. He couldn’t even get away from her in sleep, because she haunted his dreams. And every time she popped into his head, his body stiffened with desire. Good God.

  His mood was really rotten as Christmas approached.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Polly stared at herself in the mirror and wondered if the vision she beheld could really be her, Polly MacNamara, until recently a mere type-writer in the firm of James Drayton and Associates, Attorneys at Law.

  With a somewhat dazed smile, she decided it must be.