A Match Made at Christmas - Courtney Walsh Page 0,7
fact, important to impress you because I’m about to ask you for a huge favor.”
He glanced down at his plate. A large turkey club on toasted homemade bread and a pile of homemade potato chips stole his attention for a split second. A fresh dill pickle topped off the meal and only then did Hayes realize how hungry he was.
“Can I dig in?” he asked. “While you pitch whatever crazy idea you have now.”
“Yes, eat.” Then she rolled her eyes. “Why would you think I have a crazy idea?”
“Aunt Nellie, it’s what you’re known for.” He took a bite of his sandwich, got a zesty hint of ranch, and decided to eat slowly to savor it. “Tell Marta this is amazing.”
“Tell her yourself.” Nellie smirked as she positioned a white cloth napkin on her lap, then took a sip of her iced tea. “But first, tell me why you’re really in Nantucket.”
He chewed, then swallowed, enjoying the bite as any man in his right mind would. “I told you why. I came for Pru.”
“Well.” Nellie set her drink down. “I didn’t think you’d be so forthcoming with that little tidbit.”
He rolled his eyes. “Don’t start. Pru is my friend. She’s practically one of the guys.”
“Not with that figure she’s not.” Nellie laughed.
Hayes nearly choked on a potato chip. “Aunt Nellie.”
She held up a hand in surrender. “Sorry. I meant it as a compliment. That girl is very well-built. Puts the rest of them to shame.”
“The rest of who?”
“The frivolous ones,” she said, as if he shouldn’t have had to ask. “The girls you usually spend time with.”
“I don’t date as much as you seem to think I do,” he said.
“Oh, I know,” Nellie said. “I just don’t understand why you’re wasting time with relationships that don’t really matter to you when you have someone like Prudence in your life.”
Hayes took a drink. “We’re friends, Aunt Nellie.”
“I know, I know,” she said. “But an aunt can dream. I like Prudence. Reminds me of myself a whole lot of years ago. I’m glad you have a friend like her.”
He eyed her for a moment, trying to find the catch, then cautiously said, “Thank you.”
“And I do think it’s wonderful they selected her to be the artist to design the talking tree this year.”
“It is, right?” Hayes took another bite. “She’s downplaying it, but it’s a huge deal. And if anyone deserves to be recognized, it’s Pru. She works her fingers to the bone most days, even in the off season.”
Nellie nodded. Then she got quiet, and he suspected she was about to tell him whatever it was she’d asked him to come for.
He wiped his hands on his napkin and looked at her. “You’re not dying, are you?”
Nellie laughed. “Heavens, no. Why would you think so?”
“You’re being strange.” He eyed her. “I mean, stranger than normal.”
A flash of amusement flittered across her face. “The truth is, I’m still making up my mind about whether or not I should ask you this favor.”
“Aunt Nellie, what is it?”
She pushed her plate away and folded her hands on the table. “Your Uncle Arthur has given me such a good life.”
“Is he dying?”
“Hayes,” she said, “nobody is dying.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” he said. “Next time you decide to be weird, maybe lead with that.”
“Can I finish?” She flashed him a wry smile.
He motioned with his hand for her to continue—as if he could stop her.
“Arthur doesn’t ever ask me for anything,” she said. “He does whatever I want, gives me everything I want, lives the life in the house that I wanted on the island that I love.”
“Well, he’s crazy about you,” Hayes said, though he wasn’t sure why. After all, Arthur showed about as much emotion as a dryer sheet. But even so, it was obvious how much he loved Nellie. Hayes was surprised to realize it, but he was kind of jealous of their relationship.
“Anyway,” she continued, “after all this time, he finally asked me to do something, and I simply can’t say no.”
“Okay,” Hayes said, still confused at what she was getting at.
“Christmas in Paris,” she said.
Slowly, he dropped his hands to the table and nodded. “So, you do need my travel advice.”
“No,” she said. “I’ve got the trip planned right down to the hour. We are going to have the most marvelous time, my dear, don’t you doubt that for a second.”
“I don’t,” he said. “Paris at Christmas is magical.”
“Magical.” She smiled. “Hayes, I need to show you something.”
He frowned. “Okay.”
“But I