A Nightingale in Parkleigh Square

Chapter Twenty

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"C ould you make something like this?" asked Nina. "Out of glass, all clear and opaque, no color, just like all the other ornaments we made. Like — the half a jar for the body, the bottle necks for the tail feathers and maybe the neck."

She showed the picture of the bird to Reina. The folk tale book illustrated it atop a forest tree, as a group of men in courtly robes stood below looking up. The artist gazed at it, her eyes quickly scanning the details.

"Yeah, something similar," said Reina, nodding. "But it'll be more expensive than what you asked for. I mean, this is a proper design." She gestured to the page.

"I know," said Nina. "I'll pay the estimate. I just want something that looks like this. I need it in time for the party at the store."

"Okay, yeah, I'll start today," said Reina. She poured the bucket of leftover glass pieces on the table, moving aside some intricate little colored glass squares that were being added to a necklace pattern drawn on a sheet of paper.

She went upstairs to the studio, letting herself in to find three people at the table — one of whom she recognized as Tandy, helping Molly wire together the garland.

"I found reinforcements," said Molly, pointing. "It was their day off, and the pub lost its television signal, so they said they'd help me bundle this stuff into the van."

"We're missing the qualifying skirmish," complained the guy who was helping wind the garland's finished half into a big hoop. Must be part of the American football fan club, Nina decided.

"Thanks for the help," said Nina.

"It's fun," said Tandy. "I used to love making paper snowflakes with my grandmum. We always decorated our tree with handmade ornaments — no store-bought baubles for us."

"That's a lot of work," snorted her friend, who was peering closer as he tried to snip a piece of wire sticking out from the garland's seam.

"Fun work, and it's totally worth it," she answered him. "You should try it."

"No thanks."

They waved goodbye to Nina and Molly as the van pulled away. Nina drifted into the wrong lane for a split second before remembering the right one was the left one. She glanced at Molly, who unsqueezed her eyes.

"I hate the driving rules here," said Molly.

Bradley was covering the last of the power boxes with the fake snowdrift fabric, making certain it was artistically draped. Some woodland deer statues rented from Lea's art warehouse would be positioned around it.

"Home stretch," said Molly, as they carried in the garland, careful to avoid the store's staff, who were finishing their own last-minute project, a white faux fur-trimmed coat and hat near the display of women's boots.

"I know," said Nina. "We'll have to cross our fingers."

"Cross nothing. I'm thinking four leaf clovers and magic eight balls," said Molly.

Between them, with Bradley in the middle, they suspended the garland in place, fastening it to the rails with some silk ribbons. Carefully, Molly arranged its greenery, creating a natural look. Nina tucked the battery box supporting its lights behind a discreet pocket of greenery.

"Oy, tell us how to point the lights on this side," called one of the workers on tall ladders, who was positioning the hired lighting equipment.

"Coming," said Molly. "Hey, can you move that one farther away from the mirrors? Thanks." She descended the stairs.

"I hope this works," said Bradley, watching the little lights projectors being secured in discreet spots to the main floor's lowest ceiling points under the balcony floors.

"Since it'll look horrible if not, me, too," said Nina.

"Good thing we had some help on these garlands, we're running behind on everything today," said Bradley. "I think we won't be done before eight at the earliest."

"Make it nine," said Nina, with a quick smile. "Still earlier than the night we spent dressing the bridal boutique that time. Only the shawarma place was still open."

"I remember," he said. "I think I'll go with a light snack at the pub tonight. My stomach's going to be too nervous for the next couple of days."

"Mine, too," said Nina. Hers was tying itself into knots with each finished task, as if the next one might be too much to handle. It was going to be like this for the rest of the day, probably until the party began and the moment of truth came. Then, if Natalia hated it, or Simone was unimpressed — that's where her brain paused its picture of the future.

When the day was over, they climbed into the van with their empty boxes stowed in the back. Nina was stuffing the receipts for the lights into her purse, scooting over to make room as Bradley squeezed in and shut the door.

Molly exhaled slowly. "That's it," she said. "Tomorrow morning and we're through."

"You mean physically and not metaphorically, right?" said Bradley.

"Don't be stupid. It's going to be great. I'm sure." Molly injected confidence into her voice. "In fact, I'm so sure of it, I think we should celebrate tonight?"

"What? Where?" said Bradley. "We don't know the town and we don't have any reservations."

"We'll go to the pub," said Molly.

"Like every other day," said Nina, laughing.

"No, this time we'll do it big," said Molly. "Let's say 'thanks' to the crowd there for being nice and letting us squat on their turf for the past month, since I know they must think we're a lot of noisy American morons."

"That's harsh," said Bradley.

"I'm not totally kidding. Let's go celebrate," said Molly. "Let's toast our big picture of the future in a noisy crowd and crank up another round of Wham! for Christmas."

"If you say so," said Bradley.

Nina's phone buzzed as a text came in. R U busy? It was Vincent's number.

Having a drink with friends , she texted back. Molly wants to celebrate at the pub .

Wondering if you wanted to meet , he texted back.

Want to join us? she texted as a joke, because she couldn't picture him in his suit, sitting with both football clubs. She knew he wanted to see her again, because time was passing and she was about to leave. There wasn't any time for long evenings at London restaurants.

R U serious? he texted back.

Sure . She wasn't in the slightest. Keep things playful, she thought, until you can figure things out. Maybe it was better not to say goodbye in a long scene, but pretend that they stood a chance until the last moment. That might be easier for both of them to deal with, like a fantasy they didn't have to drag down to reality.

"Is this a done deal?" said Bradley to Molly.

"Unless you're getting out of the van now and walking wherever you want to go," she answered, shifting gears. "Let's go celebrate."

As soon as they entered the pub, where the jukebox was playing yet another version of 'All I Want for Christmas Is You,' Molly marched up to the counter. "Give me a bottle of brandy, a bottle of spiced wine, and a gallon of apple juice, heated up on the stove," she said to Ted.

"What? Are you bleeding mad?" he said.

"I'm making a punch," she said, taking off her jacket. "Now get me the ingredients and one of those big bowls for serving crisps." She laid some cash on the bar. "And I need some kind of fruit cordial and some cinnamon."

"You're so crazy," said Bradley, sitting down at the bar. Some of the other customers were staring at them, among the regulars who were crowded at the tables or making fun of the song they were dancing to by the jukebox.

"Yeah, but I'm loveable," she said, taking the bowl Ted offered her. "You got apple juice on the stove, right?" she demanded.

"On the stove," he said. He handed her the corkscrew. "This has to be the daftest thing ever done here, I swear."

Molly opened two bottles and poured them into the bowl together. "Merry Christmas, everybody!" she called loudly. "Punch is on me tonight, my way of saying 'thank you' for everything while there's still time."

"What is this, American wassail?" asked one of Tandy's friends.

"It's the punch my dad would always make for parties, guaranteed to punch you in the senses like a smoothie of fruitcake and fruit cocktail," said Molly, saucily. "Stir with cinnamon and drink while dancing."

"You are mad," teased Tandy. "You've been working too many hours."

"Hey, pour me a glass," said another customer, leaning against the bar.

"Let's change the song," said Bradley, looking for coins. A moment later, he punched a button on the jukebox and the Christmas classic 'This Christmas' played.

"Coming through," said Ted. "One hot American wassail, made to order for the mad American bird." He poured the hot juice into the bowl with the rest of the ingredients, which made a sizzling noise under a cloud of steam. "And for garnish." He popped a dried orange slice and a couple of cranberries on top as everyone watching cheered. Molly grinned at him.

After a few cups were ladled, everyone started dancing again. Bradley grabbed the hand of one of the regulars and began doing a cheesy version of the twist and shout, while a couple of others pretended to do the swim. Ted took Molly's hand and pulled her close, twirling her once.

Nina heard her name — maybe someone was asking her to dance in the crowd? She turned her head, and saw a familiar figure in the sea of customers, wearing a pair of jeans and a Christmas sweater. It was Vincent, who was scanning the room, spotting her.

Her heart's pattern of beats picked up the pace. She moved between some of the regulars in conversation to join him. He leaned down and kissed her on the lips. His fingers touched her shoulders, cradling them between his strong hands. Inside, she felt as if she was melting, turning to chocolate, as her heart raced out of control.

"Am I late for the party?" he asked. He slid his arms around her, drawing her close against him. Her hands slid against his shoulders as she looked into his eyes. Suddenly, she didn't care that this was her being vulnerable, or giving him the wrong idea about the future. She had never cared less about any mistake.

"Right on time," she answered.