her hands, commanding silence, and after several boisterous seconds their voices finally stilled. “Everyone, carry your own plate and cutlery to the kitchen to help Cookie Ramona. Then walk—no running, or someone might be trampled—to the parlor and we’ll—”
Whoops erupted, covering her final directions. Wild scuffling filled the air as the youngsters scrambled from the benches, snatched up their plates, and dashed for the kitchen. Spoons and forks bounced onto the floor. Giggles and squeals rang. Feet thudded as children ignored Isabelle’s instruction to walk. Libby placed her hands over her ears to block the raucous noise, but even then the joyous clamor threatened to deafen her.
Isabelle looked across the table to Aaron and laughed, holding her hands out in surrender. He added his laughter, then plucked their little son, Reggie, from his high chair. “I’ll direct in the kitchen. You head to the parlor and monitor from that end,” he said as he strode after the children.
Maelle and Lorna rose and began helping Mrs. Leidig clear the table, but Matt curled his hand around Lorna’s elbow. “No work for you, soon-to-be mama. You go on to the parlor and supervise the decoratin’. I’ll help with the clearin’ off.” Lorna offered a mild protest, but Matt hushed her with a kiss.
Although Libby knew she shouldn’t watch their display of affection, she couldn’t seem to look away. Love spilled from every corner—between Maelle and Jackson, Matt and Lorna, Aaron and Isabelle, and even Petey and his family. Her heart expanded, happiness filling her so completely she thought her chest might burst. What joy to be in the midst of this wonderful throng!
Eager to join the others in decorating the tree, she reached for her plate. But she felt a warm hand rest on her shoulder, stopping her. She glanced up to find Petey standing behind her, grinning. Her pulse immediately quickened just having him near. She started to ask what he wanted, but he lifted his finger to his lips, and she held the question inside.
Without a word, he slid his hand down her arm until he found her fingers. Linking hands with her, he led her around the corner and down the hallway, drawing her into the small cubby beneath the stairs, out of everyone’s sight.
He leaned into the corner, ducking slightly to avoid the sloping ceiling above. “Ah, quiet . . .”
Libby could have argued with him. Varying sounds carried from other parts of the school—children’s voices from the parlor, dishes clanking together in the kitchen, Isabelle’s confident voice offering directions on placing ornaments on the tree. But then she looked into Petey’s dear blue eyes, and those sounds faded into the background. The shadowy niche, even though far from idyllic, became a refuge of intimacy.
He still held her hand, and she curled her fingers more snugly around his. He offered a slight squeeze in return before releasing her to reach into his pocket. “I have something for you.”
His voice, low and husky, sent a tremor of delight down Libby’s spine. An eager giggle escaped her throat. Although he’d been a perfect gentleman for the past weeks, not stealing so much as a kiss on her cheek, she hoped he might take advantage of their solitude and gift her with a kiss on her lips. Tipping her head, she offered a teasing smile. “But Christmas isn’t until tomorrow.”
“But tomorrow others will be around. And this gift is . . .” He crinkled his brow for a moment, seeming to search for an appropriate word. With a sigh, he ended with, “Personal.”
Perhaps he did intend to kiss her. Unconsciously, she swayed toward him. His hand lifted from his pocket, and he held a small box on his open palm. Libby jolted back slightly to peer at the box. Formed of wood with a hinged top, it appeared scarred, as if the finish had been rubbed away over years of use.
“Merry Christmas, Libby.”
Something sweet and yearning wound around Libby’s heart at his tender tone. Her gaze lifted to meet his. “What is it?”
He gave his palm a slight bounce, enticing her to reach for it. “Look and see.”
With slow, deliberate movements, allowing anticipation to build within her breast, she reached for the box. Her fingers trembled as she popped the lid, and she released a gasp of surprise. Who would have expected such a worn-looking box to contain such a bright treasure?
Pressing her hands to her wildly beating heart, she gaped at Petey. “Oh! It . . . it’s beautiful!”
He lifted