The bartender interrupted by putting Vivian’s wine down and she thanked him and took a sip before returning her attention to the gift bag, putting her hand inside and withdrawing the box that was a couple of inches across the base and about four inches high.
It was the original box which, given it was almost eighty years old, had seen better days but he was pleased he hadn’t wrapped it in the Santa paper he’d almost bought for the occasion. She was freaked out enough as it was without getting Santa involved.
Placing the box down on the bar, she opened the top flap, glancing at him as she reached inside to pull the object out before looking back at the music box. Reuben glanced at it again because it was impossible not to. It was quite unlike anything he’d ever seen and here, in the understated elegance of the Graff, the music box with its old-fashioned craftsmanship and well…whimsy, looked perfectly at home.
Returning his attention to Vivian, he watched as she examined it, her frown of irritation softening and then dissolving as her expression morphed to one of utter delight. “Ohhh, Reuben,” she murmured breathily. “It’s…enchanting.”
It was. Just like her.
The inch-high, round base was made from milky mother-of-pearl and embellished with swirly clusters of fine silver filigree. Nestling it in her palm, she brought it closer to study it, turning her hand this way and that as her gaze roved over the myriad decorative details.
Atop the base protruding from its outer circular edge were four exquisite mother-of-pearl panels abutted to form a semi-circular screen. On the outside they had the same swirly silver filigree embellishments. On the inside a glossy hand-painted scene of a snowy wood graced the panels. Dark green pine trees, their branches and tops laden with snow, formed the perfect backdrop as they towered over the two, inch-high figures, placed in the center of the piece on a mirrored floor that was tarnished in a spot or two.
It was a man and a woman dressed in old-fashioned clothes similar to what the carolers had worn at the Stroll. They were standing in a waltzing position but they weren’t dancing. Ice skates were on their feet and their scarves and her hair and dress blew out behind them to indicate movement.
They were skating. On a lake. Surrounded by woods.
“There’s a winder on the bottom.” Reuben reached for it. “May I?”
She nodded and Reuben took it, surprised all over again at how heavy it was for such a small object. Flipping it over, he turned the winder, and set it down on the bar. Irving Berlin’s classic tune “White Christmas” wafted into the air clear and high with a crinkly, timeless quality that harked back to the days of pianolas and smoky saloons.
The couple in the middle turned around and around, skating in circles, and Reuben watched Vivian, watched the myriad expressions flit across her face as she smiled. “It reminded me of ice-skating on Miracle Lake with you,” he said. “I thought it’d be a nice memento of your time here in Marietta.”
“Oh yes.” She dragged her eyes off the music box as the winder wound down and the couple slowed. “It’s the most perfect thing.” She slid her hand on top of his, her brown eyes dancing with pleasure. “Thank you, Reuben.” She leaned in and kissed him, her hand sliding onto his face, her fingers pushing into his hair. “It’s so…thoughtful. I will treasure it.”
Which was exactly what he’d hoped for when he’d bought it.
“Then my work here is done,” he said, keeping his voice light and teasing because his heart was filling with something heavier and more serious and they didn’t need that.
“Sir? Madam?” The bartender interrupted. “Your table is ready?”
*
Viv was eating the most divine huckleberry pie compliments of Edwin who’d found out she and Reuben were dining with them and had insisted they try his latest recipe. It hadn’t taken a lot to twist her arm and it was heavenly. Nothing but huckleberries and the most exquisite pastry.
Between the food, the company and the music box, it was shaping up to be a Christmas Eve to remember.
It was fair to say Reuben’s gift had taken her by surprise. Not what it was, although that had been an utter delight, but the fact that he’d bought her something at all. They’d talked about no Christmas presents because that kind of thing was for relationships—permanent relationships—and Viv, who knew how easy it would be to let this thing with Reuben get out of hand, needed to keep it in the neat little box they’d already established.
She’d thought they’d been on the same page.
And then the gift bag had been sitting there—the small gift bag—and she’d had this horrible feeling it was going to be jewelry, which was not okay. Anxiety had tightened her throat. A man giving a woman jewelry was loaded no matter what the status of the relationship. It had connotations—expectations—invisible strings and, for a brief moment, Viv had wanted to flee as thoughts of that other guy at her first store crowded her brain.
Not to mention how foolish she’d felt being empty-handed in the face of his gift.
But his assurances that she’d like it, his confidence that she would, had called her off the ledge. Reuben wasn’t a clueless guy so his promise that it wasn’t a Christmas gift, that he’d picked it up purely on impulse, had appeased her enough to relent.
She was glad she had because the music box was delightful. There’d been no need to fake her reaction, the craftsmanship was exquisite and she’d fallen in love with it instantly. She hadn’t lied when she’d said she’d treasure it. Watching the figures turn around and around had transported her to Miracle Lake and she knew every time she saw it in the future she’d be back to that morning on that lake with Reuben.
The fact that he’d bought it because it reminded him of the same thing gave her a funny little ache in her chest.
“You’re quiet.”
“Oh.” Viv blinked at the intrusion of Reuben’s faintly amused voice. “Sorry.” She shook her head and scraped the last morsel of the pie from the bowl into her mouth. “I was just wondering…how huckleberry hot chocolate stirrers would work for Delish?”
He chuckled. “I love how you eat, sleep, breathe chocolate.”
“Sorry,” she said with a sheepish grin, “it’s hard to turn off sometimes.”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “I get that.”
There was no inflection in his voice but his statement seemed loaded to Viv and, given what he did, she understood. She slid her hand across the table and placed it on his forearm. He was wearing a long-sleeved navy button-down with red stitching on the cuffs and pockets and around the buttonholes for detail.
“There are worse things to have in your head I imagine,” she murmured.
He smiled at her as he placed his hand over top of hers and for long moments they just stared at each other, the peppy tune of “We Wish You A Merry Christmas” playing low in the background.
“So, it was good, yes?”
Viv glanced up to find Edwin standing near the table, reaching down to collect their plates, a satisfied smile on his face at their very clean plates. “Oh, yes.” She slipped her hand out from under Reuben’s to allow Edwin to grab their side plates. “It was perfect.”
“I thought huckleberries might be an interesting choice for your stirrers.”