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“With each other’s help?”
“Of course, I’m the Spirit of Christmas.”
He snorted, but he followed her off the streetcar and into the chaos.
* * *
MARYPAIGEPLASTEREDASMILEon her face as she stepped from the car with Izzy. The idea of climbing up onto that huge platform with the mayor, a few city council members, the archbishop, and a crazy billionaire turned the butterflies in her stomach into fat, strong crows slamming their wings against her rib cage.
I will not throw up.
I will not pass out.
I will not embarrass myself by freaking out.
The affirmations didn’t do much to help her as she walked toward the smiling politicians. She was too preoccupied, feeling both ashamed at wearing her white Reeboks and relieved that she didn’t have to navigate the steps in those cheerful red heels.
Didn’t really matter that she wore tennis shoes, did it?
Of course, it did.
She looked like a bumpkin.
That Creighton chick who’d probably done the horizontal mambo with Brennan wouldn’t have been caught dead in Reeboks.
“Oh, that’s the cutest dog!” Someone crowed as Izzy trotted like a queen at Mary Paige’s side. At least the dog distracted people from her fashion crimes—elf hat, swing coat and tennis shoes.
Izzy and Brennan made her look good.
That was if Brennan followed.
Oh, and the flambeau!
She turned to see Brennan balancing the traditional torch carried to light the uptown Mardi Gras parades in both hands. He nodded and smiled at the crowds, who good-naturedly tossed coins in his path the way they did during Mardi Gras. A few elves followed behind collecting the coins, which would be donated to charities like Malcolm’s Kids.
She waited for Brennan and could nearly feel people’s curiosity. They had to be wondering who the chick with the weenie dog was. Why was she part of the festivity? And why was she wearing gym shoes with her flared gray skirt?
“I forgot about the torch,” she whispered when Brennan got close enough. “And I forgot about my shoes.”
He grinned at her footwear. “I think they make you interesting. And practical.”
“You’re lying.”
“But it makes you feel better, doesn’t it?”
“Kinda,” she muttered.
They reached the steps and climbed onto the platform.
Whew.
Mr. Henry stood and gestured that she take the seat next to him as Brennan placed the torch in the holder sitting next to the giant tree rumored to have been purchased from the same farm where the presidential tree was harvested. Brennan sat next to her, giving her a comforting pat for good measure. Izzy hopped into Mr. Henry’s lap.
Then the mayor rose.
As far as ceremonies went, it was typical. Blah, blah, blah from mayor, beautiful holiday songs from choir, blah, blah, blah and a prayer from archbishop. Then finally Malcolm Henry, Jr. approached the lectern. He welcomed the throngs with genuine kindness and then turned to her. “Mary Paige, will you please stand, my dear?”
With trembling knees, she rose, pressing her lips together before offering a tremulous smile.
