A Ring For Christmas. Joan Elliott Pickart

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to that tormenting question. Nor did he know the answer to how he was going to see Maggie again after Robert and Ginger’s wedding. And he didn’t know the answer to how he would face a cold and empty future without her.

      Well, the first order of business, he thought, heading back toward his bedroom, was to get some sleep. He was about to begin the greatest battle of his life and he intended to win. Somehow. He would be the victor. Somehow. He would crumble Maggie’s walls into dust and share her sunshine world with her for all time. Somehow.

      Late the next morning Maggie entered the small house where her mother lived and presented her with a lumpy plastic bag.

      “What’s this, sweetheart?” Martha Jenkins said, holding the bag at eye level.

      “Almonds,” Maggie said, sitting down at the kitchen table. “Yogurt-covered almonds in every shade of the rainbow except yellow and mint-green.”

      Martha laughed as she sat opposite Maggie and opened the bag. Martha was a rather attractive woman, although not one that would turn heads when she walked into a room. Her brown hair was streaked with gray, which she felt no need to hide, and she had given up long ago trying to lose the twenty pounds that had crept up on her over the years.

      “Just what my pudgy person doesn’t need,” she said. “But, what the heck, I’ll eat every one of them. Are these left over from something you did for the big wedding tonight?” She popped two of the nuts into her mouth.

      Maggie nodded. “Nut cups. Nut cups, you understand, that only boast yellow and mint-green yogurt-covered almonds, to please my picky bride.” She paused. “No, that’s not fair. Ginger is very sweet. She just had trouble making up her mind about things for a stretch of time there. But when you think about it, she has every right to have things perfect for her special event.”

      “That’s true,” Martha said, then sighed. “But that doesn’t guarantee a happy marriage, does it? The bubble bursts and that’s that, as evidenced by the fact that I divorced your father when you were ten. Off he went, never to be seen or heard from again.” She ate four more almonds. “These are yummy.”

      “I think Ginger and Robert are going to be a forever couple, Mom,” Maggie said. “If you could see them together…Oh, never mind.”

      “Maggie, honey, I worry so about you,” Martha said. “Why on earth did you become a wedding coordinator when there are so many other things you could have done? Why torture yourself creating those beautiful events for other people when—”

      “When I know I can never get married myself?” Maggie finished for her.

      “Yes,” Martha said, patting her daughter’s hand. “Exactly.”

      A sudden and vivid image of Luke flashed through Maggie’s mind and a shiver coursed through her.

      “Maybe you’re right,” she said quietly. “Maybe launching Roses and Wishes was a terrible mistake. I’ve been fine for the past year with all the preparations being for other people, but…” She stopped and shook her head.

      “Is there something different about this wedding that’s upsetting you?” Martha said, frowning.

      “No, not really,” Maggie said quickly, forcing a smile to appear on her lips. “It’s just the largest wedding I’ve done, and after so many months I think I’m just registering a sense of loss, sort of hating to say goodbye to all those people.

      “I’m hoping, of course, that my reputation will soar because of Ginger and Robert’s event and I’ll get to do some ritzier weddings. I guess that’s what I want. Oh, ignore me. I’m in a strange mood. Eat another almond, Mom. Yogurt is good for a person.”

      “Nuts are fattening,” Martha said, laughing.

      “How are things at the store?”

      “Same old, same old,” Martha said with a shrug. “I manage the children’s clothing department by rote now, I’ve been doing it for so long. I don’t love it, I don’t hate it, I just do it. Keeps this roof over my head. I really can’t complain, sweetheart. I made my way up the ladder from a salesclerk to the manager and I’m proud of that.”

      “You should be,” Maggie said, nodding. “I’m proud of you, too.”

      “I’ll just keep plugging along until I retire. Since I just turned fifty, I have a ways to go, though.” Martha paused. “Do you feel that type of settled in with Roses and Wishes? Do you see yourself running your business for many years to come?”

      “I’m not sure,” Maggie said, then popped an almond in her mouth. “As I said, I’m having sort of a letdown after working on this big wedding so long. I’ll have a better idea how I really feel after tonight and I get some more sleep, sleep, sleep. I’m exhausted and now isn’t the time to analyze how I feel about Roses and Wishes.”

      “True.” Martha nodded, then sighed. “Oh, Maggie, I wish things were different. I’d like to think you’d be planning one of those beautiful weddings for yourself someday, but…Hardly seems fair, does it? I know, I know, no one said that life is fair.”

      “No,” Maggie said quietly, “no one said that.”

      Mother and daughter chatted for a while longer, Martha bringing Maggie up to date on the gossip in the neighborhood, including the news that another of Maggie’s childhood friends was getting married, which did nothing to improve Maggie’s rather gloomy mood.

      Another bride, she thought as she hugged her mother, then left the house. Another bride that wasn’t her. Her mom had said she’d reminded the bride-to-be about Roses and Wishes but, due to a very limited budget, the newly engaged couple planned to exchange vows at the courthouse.

      No, she thought as she drove away, she wasn’t getting more depressed by the minute because her friend hadn’t chosen Roses and Wishes to plan her wedding. It was because her friend was having a wedding, had found her special someone and would live happily ever after.

      Happily ever after, Maggie mused, then sighed. Every bride and groom believed that was their destiny, that they would be together until death parted them, and for some that was gloriously true. But for others?

      “Don’t go there, Maggie,” she ordered herself aloud. “Go home and eat a ton of yogurt-covered almonds and quit thinking.” She drew a wobbly breath. “And whatever you do, do not dwell on Luke St. John.”

      Months ago Maggie had splurged on what she referred to in her mind as The Dress. It was sea-green chiffon with a camisole top and a skirt that swirled in changing hues of color just below her knees. Her shoes were strappy evening sandals with three-inch heels. If the event was during the Phoenix winter, she added a lacy off-white shawl that had belonged to her grandmother.

      The fact that she wore the same dress to each wedding was immaterial, she knew, because she went unnoticed, was just a busy figure in the background who bustled around making certain everything went as planned.

      Wearing The Dress, Maggie arrived at the church an hour before the ceremony was to begin and checked to see that the flowers were delivered and in place. Two of the candles in front of the altar were yellow, and the single one that represented Ginger and Robert united was mint-green.

      Maggie stood in the silent church in front of the candles, remembering how Reverend

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