“You’ll see. Let’s look around. Maybe we’ll find something for Nic again.”
They scanned the shelves and racks, holding hands like they had when they were young parents, eyeing wooden puzzle boxes, handmade puppets, and a cuckoo clock so elaborate it took her breath away.
Marta reappeared, her arms cradling a box wrapped in pearl-white paper with a red-and-white baker’s twine tied in a bow. A tiny wooden snowflake dangled from the knot. She set the box on the counter with a satisfied pat.
“This one is exquisite,” she whispered. “Fritz put love into it.”
Jack just gave her a smile. “You have my card on file.”
“Then you’re all set, Jack.” She dropped the wrapped box into a small shopping bag with the logo printed on the outside, holding it out to Jack by the handles. “Enjoy and accept my true congratulations, love birds!”
Cindy thanked her, deeply curious about all this, but trusting Jack to let things unfold in his time.
Which he did, but it took a while. They walked hand in hand to Kaneo, a gorgeous Mediterranean restaurant and bar they had grown to love.
Inside, it was busy but without a wait for a lunch table. The hostess recognized them and snagged them a two-top near the window. As they sat, Cindy looked around the lovely restaurant, inhaling the scents of basil and rosemary that permeated the place.
A young server with an earnest smile and a mop of curls brought hot bread and a cheery greeting.
“Happy almost-Christmas,” he practically sang. “We’ve got a spiced carrot soup today that will make you believe in miracles.”
“Two?” Jack said, glancing at Cindy for agreement.
“Yes, please. Soup sounds amazing.”
As they waited for their order, the box sat on the table between them, silent and bright.
Cindy chewed her lip. “If I shake it, will it jingle?”
“Probably not the best idea,” Jack said, amused. “You like that store.”
“Ilovethat store. It’s the same and not the same. Like us.”
“Well, the floorboards creak like my bones,” he said with a laugh, then slid the box closer. “Open it. Happy almost wedding day.”
Sucking in a soft breath, she lifted the box from the bag. Her fingers went a little clumsy around the twine, oddly excited.
“I don’t have a gift for you,” she said.
“You are the gift, Cinnie.”
She chuckled at the name only he dared to use—and she loved it.
Pulling at the wooden snowflake, she slid it free and set it beside her water glass. “I’ll hang that on the lodge tree.”
The paper gave with a whisper. Inside was a sturdy keepsake box, matte and white, the lid printed with a faint pattern of snow. She lifted the lid.
Nestled in more tissue lay a snow globe cupped in a ring of pearl-tinted glass, the base brushed silver like winter light.
The scene inside was an entire world. A tiny bride stood beneath an arch—thetrellis—her dress a suggestion of satin and lace, her hair—exactly Cindy’s pale blond—lifted by a hint of breeze. The groom faced her, head tipped a fraction as though saying…I do.
Behind them, the artist layered pine boughs and a faint outline of the lodge wall, strung with wee lights. The ground was a crisp sweep of snow, unmarred except for two overlapping heart-shaped prints where they stood.
“Oh, Jack. This is…” Cindy’s throat thickened and tears blurred her vision as she turned the globe to read the small plaque on the base, bearing their names and the upcoming wedding date. “This is exquisite.”
She couldn’t speak for a second. The world condensed to the heavy glass in her hands as she admired the miniature arched trellis that matched the one she would fight to keep in the Starling Room.
“I’m speechless,” she admitted.
