A Ring For Christmas: A Bride by Christmas / Christmas Lullaby / Mistletoe Manoeuvres

“Then promise you’ll dance with me. Just one dance, Maggie. That’s not too much to ask, is it? You wouldn’t want to make the best man grumpy, would you? Heaven forbid.”

Maggie narrowed her eyes. “Do you always get what you want, Luke?”

“When it’s very important to me, I do,” he said, still looking directly into her eyes. “Is it a deal? One dance?”

“Jeez Louise, all right,” Maggie said. “But if some detail goes wrong while I’m dancing that dance, it will be your fault, Luke St. John.”

“Fair enough,” he said, smiling. “I’ll see you later then.”

“Fine,” she said, then scooted around him and hurried away.

Luke stood statue-still for a long moment, staring at the candles that symbolized two becoming one. He nodded, then turned and walked slowly toward the room where the men in the wedding party were to change into their pale gray tuxedos.

Maggie had prepared herself to deal with a totally jangled and nervous-to-the max prewedding Ginger. To Maggie’s amazement and heartfelt delight, Ginger had a quiet serenity about her when she arrived in the dressing room at the church.

“Are you really okay?” Maggie said, peering at the bride.

“I’m about to marry the man I love with my whole heart, Maggie,” Ginger said softly. “That’s all I can think about, focus on. It’s strange, isn’t it? I made such a fuss about having the right colored almonds in the nut cups, and suddenly none of that is important.”

“I think that’s wonderful,” Maggie said, smiling. “And you’re absolutely beautiful in your dress, Ginger. I hope you and Robert will be very, very happy together.”

“Oh, we will be,” Ginger said, nodding. “We will be.”

Forever? Maggie thought. Until death parted them and even beyond? What were the chances of that?

“Mother,” Ginger said, bringing Maggie back to the moment at hand, “you’ve got to stop crying or you’ll be all blotchy in the photographs.”

“I know, I know,” Mrs. Barrington said, dabbing at her nose with yet another tissue. “But you’re my baby girl and…Ohhh, I’m a wreck.”

“It’s time,” Maggie said, looking at her watch. “Mothers, please go and have the ushers seat you now. Bridesmaids, head for the vestibule. You’re all simply gorgeous.”

“I look like one of those yogurt-covered almonds,” Tiffy said, frowning at her reflection in the mirror. “I don’t want to do this.”

Maggie stepped in front of Tiffy to block her view of herself in the mirror.

“If you want to live to see another day,” Maggie said so only Tiffy could hear, “you’ll go get in line, Tiffy.”

“You can’t talk to me like that.”

“I just did,” Maggie said.

“Oh. Right. Okay. I’m going,” Tiffy said, giving Maggie a wary look, then hurrying from the room.

Maggie threw up her hands. “Well, if Tiffy ever gets married, Roses and Wishes sure isn’t going to get the chance to coordinate her wedding.”

Over three hundred guests witnessed the wedding of Ginger Barrington and Robert St. John. From her usual place in the last pew in the church, Maggie Jenkins indulged herself by watching Luke St. John during the entire picture-perfect ceremony.

What Luke did for a pale gray tuxedo, she thought dreamily, was sinful. The color accentuated his dark hair and tanned skin. The custom-tailored tux made his shoulders look a block wide. And those strong but gentle hands produced the ring right on cue.

The smile that broke across Luke’s face when Robert kissed his wife sent shivers coursing down Maggie’s spine.

Reverend Mason introduced Mr. and Mrs. Robert St. John to the congregation, then the organ music swelled and the recessional took place, the smiling bride and groom leading the way back down the aisle. When Luke and the maid of honor went by where Maggie stood, he met her gaze for a brief moment and a frisson of heat swirled throughout her.

How on earth, Maggie thought, very aware of her racing heart, was she going to survive her dance with Luke? A promise was a promise, but…If she was just so busy tending to those details, details, details and managed to keep some distance between her and Luke, the dance might never take place. It would take some fancy footwork on her part and she’d have to stay on red alert as to where Luke was at all times, but she could pull this off.

“Good plan,” she said under her breath. “Maggie, you’re brilliant.”

The reception was being held at one of the exclusive country clubs in Phoenix. A dinner buffet greeted the guests and the huge ballroom was filled with a multitude of round tables each topped with a mint-green or yellow tablecloth and contrasting color candle burning in a glass cylinder in the center. A ten-piece band would play quietly during the meal, then change to Ginger’s choice of dance music after the champagne toasts had been made and the four-tier cake had been cut and served by the army of waiters.

As everything continued to go like clockwork, Maggie began to relax and a wave of utter fatigue swept over her. She sat on a folding chair in a dim corner of the room, nibbling on a small plate of food, and nodded in approval at the final outcome of her months of labor.

She’d done it, she thought. Roses and Wishes had hopefully now wiggled its way into the high-society scene of Phoenix. She’d seen the business cards she’d propped next to the candleholder on each table being slipped into purses and given to men to place in their pockets. Fantastic.

Maggie frowned as she recalled the conversation with her mother regarding whether Maggie truly wanted to continue to plan weddings for bride after bride while knowing she herself would never have that title. Well, she wasn’t going to dwell on that now, for heaven’s sake. She intended to bask in her glory tonight of a job well done for Ginger and Robert St. John.

Maggie placed her plate on the tray of a passing waiter, then smiled as Ginger and Robert took the floor for the first dance.

How lovely, she thought. They looked so happy, had eyes only for each other as they moved around the gleaming expanse. They danced so well together and—

Maggie suddenly sat bolt upright in her chair.

Dancing, she thought frantically. Other couples were now joining the bride and groom to enjoy the terrific music and so many people were dancing, for heaven’s sake. Where was Luke? She had to keep careful track of Luke.

There he was dancing with Ginger. Now he’d shifted to his mother. Fine. My, my, he was poetry in motion, so graceful for a man of his size. Oops. He’d bowed slightly and given his mother’s hand to his father and—no, no, no—he was headed toward her secret little corner, was working his way through the crowd on the dance floor. She was out of there.

Maggie jumped to her feet and hurried to the head table, where she gave instructions for the top layer of the cake to be boxed up so it could be frozen and brought out again on Ginger and Robert’s first anniversary celebration.

“Give it to the mother of the bride,” Maggie told a waiter. “She agreed to take care of it tonight.”

“You told us that at the meeting we had last week,” the waiter said, frowning. “I’ve got it covered, Maggie.”

“Of course you do,” Maggie said, patting him on the arm. “I’m sorry for nagging.” She looked quickly into the distance and saw Luke advancing. “How’s the supply of champagne holding up?”

“Fine,” the waiter said, rolling his eyes. “Trust me. Everything is going great. Isn’t there something else you should be doing?”

“Right.” Maggie pointed one finger in the air. “I do believe I’ll visit the powder room.”

“Good idea,” the man said drily. “Don’t feel you have to check back here.”

“Keep up the great work,” Maggie said, then rushed away.

When Maggie entered the powder room, she absently registered the fact that it was bigger than her entire living space at home. There was a huge sitting area with love seats, easy chairs and coffee tables holding attractive baskets of artificial flowers.

Beyond all of that were the stalls, a long mirror surrounded by makeup bulbs and a vanity with eight or ten sinks. The noise level was high as women stood two deep in front of the mirror, touching up their postdinner lipstick, one row peering over the shoulders of the other as they chatted and laughed, a good time obviously being had by all.

There was no point in staying in here with this crowd, Maggie thought, shaking her head. The noise was enough to give her a headache and, besides, her purse was locked in a cabinet in the kitchen, so she had nothing to repair her lipstick with.

Well, there was no problem really about leaving the powder room, because even if Luke had figured out where she had been headed, he wouldn’t do anything as crass as to plant himself outside the door of the women’s restroom. People with money were very big on proper social decorum, and that maneuver definitely wouldn’t go down well here.