A Match Made at Christmas - Courtney Walsh Page 0,45

didn’t say anything when he got home last night, did he?”

“Anything like what, dear?”

Like he loves me? “Oh, I don’t know. We didn’t really get to say goodbye last night. I guess I just wondered . . .”

At her pause, Nan finished the sentence. “Where things stood?”

Pru nodded.

“Well, there is only one way to find out,” Nan said. “When you see him again, you can ask him.”

Pru glanced down at the supplies on the table in front of her. “What if this is all a big mistake?”

Nan picked up her pen and started writing her name. “Well, then, you learn from it.”

“But I don’t want to lose him, Nan,” Pru said.

She stopped writing and looked at Pru. “It’s a risk. Love is messy. But life is messy too, and the regret of not trying could far outweigh the regret of everything falling apart.”

The teacher, a young woman wearing a Santa hat and a valid contender for the ugly sweater contest, took her place at the front of the classroom and began teaching. Pru half-listened to the instruction, turning Nan’s words over in her mind. It was the last boost she needed to bolster her bravery.

Whenever she finally saw Hayes, she would tell him exactly how she felt, and she wouldn’t overthink it. She’d just be honest.

Though, as the minutes ticked by, it began to seem more and more like she wasn’t going to see him at all today.

The class ended (Pru was not a modern calligrapher) and the three of them headed in the direction of the Holiday Home Tour. She was getting tired, and frankly, a little impatient. Where was Hayes?

She finally texted him: Everything okay?

But there was no reply.

The three historic homes on the Holiday House Tour were, as expected, remarkable. They’d each been professionally decorated for Christmas, and there were guides from the Nantucket Historical society to explain what was known about the history of each house. Pru’s modest cottage felt like a dollhouse compared to these homes, and yet, she was certain she preferred it over these. It may not have an interesting history, or a lot of square footage, but it was hers.

Nan stopped on the sidewalk outside the last house on the tour and let out a small, contented sigh. “I’m so glad we came here for the holidays, Prudence. This day and being with you girls has reminded me what the season is really about.”

“I’m glad you made it,” Pru said. “It means a lot to me to have you here.” She glanced at Harper. “All of you. Thanks for spending the day with me, too.”

“Oh, we aren’t quite done,” Nan said.

Pru tried to shake her disappointment. She thought for sure she was going to be able to go home and call Hayes. As the day had worn on, she’d grown increasingly more worried that he had, in fact, left the island, that his mom and sister felt so badly about his rash decision to take off they were trying to distract her, to postpone her heartache.

Ridiculous? Maybe. But at the moment, it seemed likely.

“I thought we did everything on the itinerary,” Pru said. “No?”

They walked down the block and turned the corner, then started down another street, this one lined with much smaller, neatly decorated cottages than the homes they’d just visited. They stopped in front of a gray shingled cottage with white trim and a dusty blue door.

“Here we are,” Nan said. “A surprise stop.”

Harper appeared to be holding in a squeal.

Pru frowned. “A surprise?” She didn’t much care for surprises. “A surprise for who?”

But Nan was already walking toward the door, Harper close on her heels. Pru had no choice but to follow. Would they have thought her rude if she gently explained she didn’t really have much Christmas spirit at the moment, that she really only wanted to find Hayes, profess her love and live happily ever after? Or take her rejection in private?

They stood on the porch now. “Who lives here?”

Pru’s question went ignored. Seconds later, the door opened and Peggy Swinton stood on the other side.

This wasn’t Peggy’s house. She’d walked her home only days ago, and it was on the other end of town.

“Good afternoon,” Peggy said. “Come in.”

“Peggy, what are you doing here?” Pru asked, coming in out of the cold.

Peggy smiled. “I’m your official tour guide.” She launched into a history of the little home, which, apparently had been in her family for a number of years. “In recent years, we’ve secured long-term renters,