“Yes. Could it be that they’re attracted to the smell of my perfume?”
“If so, they have good taste. I’m attracted to the smell of your perfume.”
Genevieve smiled up at Sam, seeming to get distracted.
“What?” Sam asked.
“You look great,” she told him.
“Seriously?” Sam looked down at himself, then back at her.
“Let’s just say, if I was Mary, I’d be delighted if you were my betrothed.”
“Well. I am your betrothed.”
“And I’m delighted.” Sheep stood at attention on both sides of her, like trained Dobermans.
“You’re not going to become pregnant with God’s baby, are you?” Sam asked her.
“If I become pregnant after our wedding day, the father is going to be considerably more human,” she shot back.
“Genevieve,” Sebastian asked, “can you make some Manchego cheese out of sheep’s milk for me?”
“Baaa,” the sheep on her right said.
“I could use a wool sweater,” Connor said.
“I like to eat mutton,” Sam commented.
“Gentlemen,” Genevieve said. “I don’t believe Mary had time to give her attention to Manchego, wool sweaters, and mutton on the night of Jesus’s birth.”
They continued their joking conversation as Connor’s vision strayed back to Shay.
The live nativity had new donors this year, so their angel costumes had been upgraded. Instead of wearing choir-robe-type clothing, all the angels were dressed in what looked like floor-length coats with pretend fur around the high collars. The colors of the coats ranged from light beige to bright white. Shay’s coat was in the middle of that spectrum, a deep ivory color.
He’d been trying to meet Shay’s eye since he’d entered the barn. Unlike at the ugly sweater party, he wasn’t having success. She seemed subdued tonight. A little down, maybe?
His mom walked over to her, and Shay rose to hug her. She settled back into the chair so the stylist could finish. Then Mom and Shay talked easily.
Watching them, the nervousness he’d been battling slowly melted away. By degrees, certainty took its place.
He wasn’t sure of how Shay would respond to him tonight. But he was sure of the most important things.
He was sure of her.
He was sure that no one could love her like he could.
Chapter Eight
When Penny had initially asked Shay to portray an angel in the live nativity, she’d agreed purely to make Penny happy. She hadn’t expected to get anything out of it.
But once the nativity was underway, something sort of... miraculous had begun to happen. She’d become very still, and the stillness had given her other senses a chance to expand. She’d looked, really looked, deeply at the stars and the slips of cloud skating across them. She’d listened to one beautiful, historic carol after another. She’d smelled woodsmoke from a distant chimney and caught occasional snatches of the cinnamon perfume favored by the angel standing next to her.
As Penny had indicated, the angels were positioned back and to the side of the manger scene. Their group had been very cleverly lit, so that their skin shimmered thanks to the highlighter the makeup artist had applied.
A few of the shepherds were stationed before them, sometimes kneeling, sometimes sitting, depending on what was most comfortable for their knees and backs at any given time.
Someone had built a frame for the manger scene from planks of wood. The planks rose up on either side of Mary and Joseph and formed a point above them, where a lit star gleamed. Straw drifted over the sides of an authentic-looking manger. Instead of a real baby or a doll as a stand-in for Jesus, they’d placed a light at the base of the manger, which sent warm rays upward. The light created a halo, bathing the people that surrounded it.
