Page 8 of Christmas Magic

Cora set her menu down. No point looking, since she already knew what she wanted. Her taste buds practically screamed for the first bite of the moist, chocolaty cake.

Roberta pushed her glasses a little higher up the bridge of her nose. “So. The holiday get-together. I’ll bring my crystal punch bowl set, like I always do—”

“Lucian.”

Roberta’s expression turned puzzled. “We just saw him at the antique store.”

“He should be invited to the party.”

“Oh.” Roberta smiled, as though loving the idea, but then frowned. “William belongs to the Historical Society, but Lucian’s not officially a member.”

“Not officially, no.”

“Well, according to the society’s bylaws, I think he will need to join and pay the membership dues.”

Cora sighed, infusing the sound with great impatience. “We’re both board members. Surely we can bend the rules if we need to?”

“Cora!”

Judging by Roberta’s expression, one would think Cora had suggested booking a stripper. “Oh, for goodness sake. We can list Lucian as a guest, attending on William’s behalf, or something like that.”

“I suppose. Why would we need to?”

Cora tapped her red-painted fingernail on the tabletop. “He still owes us. Remember, back in the summer, how we helped clean up broken glass and the rest of the mess in the antique store?”

“I remember. Didn’t I leave him a note, taped to the burned table? I think I gave him the contact information for the restorer who did some work on the Shipwreck Museum.”

“You did.”

“To thank us for our help, Lucian agreed—albeit reluctantly—to dress up at one of our events,” Roberta continued.

“Exactly.”

A teenager with green and red streaks in her hair approached their booth. “Hi, Mrs. Johnson. Mrs. Millingham. Can I get you ladies some drinks?”

“Coffee, please,” Cora said. “I’d like a slice of the chocolate cake to go with it.”

“Coffee for me as well,” Roberta said, “but I’ll have the Lemon Meringue pie. Two big scoops of vanilla ice cream with it, please.”

The girl grinned. “You got it.” She collected their menus and then spoke to the customers at the next booth.

Roberta set her forearms on the table and leaned forward, as though preparing for an intense discussion. “Now. Lucian.”

“He can be our Santa Claus.”

“I’m not sure—”

“Why not? We can find him a costume.”

“He’s hardly the right shape.” Roberta’s pudgy face reddened. “Well, from all I have seen of him.”

Cora mentally brushed aside a twinge of jealousy. Of course, Roberta would appreciate the sight of a man as gorgeous as Lucian. “We can make him the right shape. I have decorative pillows on my sofa—”

“Pillows?”

“We’ll use them to round out his stomach. You and I can help tie them around his middle or…tuck them in.”

Roberta’s mouth gaped. “Tuck them—? You can’t just go stuffing pillows into a man’s trousers. That’s not proper.”