“I don’t mind. Besides, Phoebe, it’s Christmas.”
“I know, but I… well, I’m not sure I’ll be able to get you anything.”
“You don’t have to get me anything, darlin’.”
“But… but what if I want to?” she hedged.
“Oh well… then who am I to stand in your way?” Braxton grinned and waggled his eyebrows at her. It had the desired effect. She laughed.
The saleswomen returned with at least half a dozen coats and set them on a chair. “Now let’s try this one on first,” the older woman said. “Please remove yours.”
Phoebe did as she asked and put on the coat offered. It was a lovely plum color and looked beautiful with her blonde hair.
“What do you think?” the older saleswoman asked, clasping her hands before her.
“I don’t know, it’s awfully fancy…”
“Phoebe, you look lovely in it,” Braxton said. “But try the others on. See which one you like best.”
She gave him a curt nod and proceeded to try on a green one, followed by a brown one, then a red one. They all looked good on her.
She finally settled on a blue coat, one she thought would go with most of her dresses. He smiled to himself and thought of the hat he’d have to pick up later from the shop they’d visited earlier. If not today, then tomorrow.
“You’re as pretty as a picture in that,” he told her. “Is that the one you want?”
“I like it best,” she said.
Braxton gave her a warm smile. He could tell she was nervous, and he’d have to figure out how to buy what he wanted for her without making her feel obligated in any way.
“We’ll take it,” he told the saleswomen.
“Very well,” the older one said. “Sally, put the coat on the counter.”
The younger saleswoman hurried to comply. The older woman smiled at Phoebe. “Would you like a matching hat and gloves?”
Phoebe’s eyes widened. “Oh no, I couldn’t…”
“She’d love them,” Braxton said, cutting her off again.
Phoebe frowned at him. “Braxton…”
He wagged a finger at her. “Remember, don’t ruin my blessings.”
She closed her eyes and looked as if she were counting to ten. Maybe she was.
By the time they were finished, Phoebe had a new coat, a lovely matching hat, and a pair of gloves to go with them. She wore them out of the store, her old coat, hat, and worn gloves tucked into a box. Braxton suggested the saleswomen dispose of them, but Phoebe insisted she could still use them.
They started down the street, and he steered her into a bookshop. “You do like to read, don’t you?”
“I do,” she said, following him to the front counter as she looked around. “What a lovely shop. I had no idea this was here.”
“I would imagine not. If you don’t get out and explore, how would you know?”
She nodded, her cheeks growing pink. He knew she probably hadn’t ventured this way before. Most city folks didn’t stray far from their own neighborhoods.
They perused the shelves, commenting on different books. He found a book of poetry he liked and brought it to the counter. Phoebe glanced at the title and smiled. “You like poetry?”
“I do. Does that surprise ya? I even like to write it.”
