A Match Made at Christmas - Courtney Walsh Page 0,43
“I’ve been carrying that around since I moved off the island.”
“What is it?” Hayes looked down at the image and a young woman with bright eyes stared back at him. He unfolded it and saw a younger, shirtless Howie with the same shoulder-length hair he had now standing at the woman’s side. “Is that you and Peggy?”
Howie looked away. “Found it when I moved. It was in a box of old things Tammy had shoved in the attic.”
“You know what I think?” Hayes asked.
Howie’s eyes seem to welcome any suggestions.
“I think you need to show her you’re serious. Don’t leave Saturday. Change your plans. Isn’t she worth it?”
The bartender returned with another cocktail for the older man. Howie picked it up, looked at Hayes, and shook his head. “I messed it all up, kid. A long time ago. And that woman”—he pointed to the photo—“if she was ever in love with that guy—she’s not anymore.”
Hayes watched as Howie strolled off. He glanced down and saw that Howie had left the old photo on the counter. He picked it up and looked at it. Peggy was looking straight at the camera, but Howie was looking straight at Peggy, and the admiration on his face was undeniable.
He reached into his back pocket and tugged out his own wallet, opened it, and pulled out his own folded, but not quite as faded, photograph. He and Pru on the beach the second summer after they’d met. Hayes had his arm draped around Pru’s shoulder, and she was grinning at the camera. But Hayes was smiling at her.
Maybe it was time he took his own advice.
Hayes left the party, Howie’s photo in his pocket, drove toward the edge of town and stopped in front of a small gray-shingled cottage. A lone light shone in the living room, and while he knew it was risky to show up this late, he had to try.
And he also knew that time mattered. After all, anyone, including Howie, could leave the island at any moment.
He knocked on the front door and waited until Peggy opened it. She still wore her party outfit, but there were fluffy slippers on her feet.
“Hayes.”
He smiled what he was certain was a sad smile, a mirror image of her own. “Sorry to show up unannounced.”
“Oh, I don’t mind.” Peggy’s smile looked forced. “Do you want to come in?”
“That’s okay. I just wanted to see if you were okay.”
A quizzical expression washed over her face. “Oh. Yes, I’m okay.”
“And I wanted to give you this.” Hayes pulled the photo out of his pocket and handed it to her.
Peggy took the old picture, and her eyes turned glassy. One hand covered her slight gasp. “Where did you get this?”
“Peggy, I don’t know what happened between you and Howie all those years ago or tonight on the roof, but I do know one thing for sure.”
She looked up at him, eyes expectant, as if Hayes had the magic words that could take her pain away. And maybe he did.
“He loves you.”
Peggy’s face softened. “You can’t possibly know that.”
“I can,” he said. “And I do. He’s not doing a very good job of hiding how he really feels about you.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know, Mr. McGuire.”
Hayes pulled his coat tighter around his body. “I know. And maybe it won’t be simple.” He paused. “I just know if you gave him another chance, you’d make him the happiest man alive.”
Peggy pushed the photo toward Hayes.
His hands went up, as if to reject her offering. “You keep it. Maybe it’ll remind you that once upon a time, you two had something special. Magical even. And that doesn’t come along every day.”
She pulled her hand back and studied the image again. “Thank you, Hayes.”
“Now, the other reason I came. . .” He put on his best version of a charming smile and hoped for the best. Because if anyone could help him make this idea a reality, it was Peggy, one of the most well-connected people in Nantucket.
Chapter 17
A Surprise Stop
Pru had watched Hayes talk to Howie, and then walk out the front door of the Nantucket Whaling Museum, and for a brief moment, she considered running after him and spilling the truth about how she felt.
But no, it could wait for a time when they weren’t rushed or surrounded by people.
She’d finished out the evening with a throat sore from all the talking she’d done. Once she was back home in her most comfortable pair of pajamas, she replayed