Trading Christmas - Debbie Macomber [35]
“Gotcha,” Thomas cried and did a jig of triumph, leaping up and down with his arms above his head.
Faith glanced at the house again and saw Charles laughing. She did a double take. The man could actually laugh? This was news. Perhaps he wasn’t so stuffy, after all. Perhaps she’d misread him entirely.
Was that possible?
FIFTEEN
“This is the Old North Church?” Emily stood outside Christ Church, made famous in the Longfellow poem. “The ‘one if by land, two if by sea’ church?”
“The very one,” Ray assured her. “Boston’s oldest surviving religious structure.”
Emily tilted back her head and looked to the very top of the belfry. “If I remember my history correctly, a sexton…”
“Robert Newman.”
She nodded. “He warned Paul Revere and the patriots that the British were coming.”
“Correct. You may go to the head of the class.”
Emily had always been fascinated by history. “I loved school. I was a good student,” she said. A trait her daughter had inherited.
“I can believe it,” Ray said, guiding her inside the church.
They toured it briefly, and Emily marveled as Ray dramatically described that fateful night in America’s history.
“How do you know so much about this?”
Ray grinned. “You mean other than through Charles, who’s lived and breathed this stuff from the time he was a kid?”
“Yes.”
“The truth is that, years ago, I edited a book—a mystery novel, actually—in which the Old North Church played a major role in the plot.”
Emily was so enraptured by Boston’s history that she’d forgotten Ray was an important figure in New York publishing.
“As a matter of fact, I have plenty of trivia in the back of my mind from my years as a hands-on editor.”
As they walked, Ray described a number of books he’d edited and influential authors he’d worked with. Apparently he no longer did much of that. Instead he had a more administrative role.
Emily found it very easy to talk to Ray, and the hours melted away. It seemed they’d hardly left the condominium, but it was already growing dark. She admired the Christmas lights and festive displays, which weren’t like those in Leavenworth, but equally appealing.
They stopped for a seafood dinner and then walked around some more, taking in the sights and sounds of the season. As Emily told him about Leavenworth, Ray grew more amused with each anecdote. “I wish I could be there to see Charles’s reaction.”
Emily continued to feel guilty about Ray’s brother—and about Faith—but she couldn’t have known. Her one wish was that Faith and Charles would be as compatible as she and Ray.
Being with him these last few days before Christmas made all the difference in the world. If not for Ray, she’d probably be holed up in the condo baking dozens of cookies and feeling sorry for herself.
“Despite all the mix-ups, I’m glad I’m here,” she told him.
“I’m glad you’re here, too,” Ray said. “I’m enjoying your company so much. Do you want to know what else I’m enjoying?”
Emily could only guess. “Being in Boston again?”
“Well, that too. But what I mean is that I’m completely free of phone calls.”
The first thing Ray had done, once he’d contacted his office and informed his assistant that he wouldn’t be returning until after the holidays, was turn off his cell phone.
“You might have missed an important call,” she reminded him.
“Tough. Whoever’s in the office can handle it this time. I’m unavailable.” He laughed as he said it.
Emily laughed because he did, but from the little she’d learned about his work, it was a hectic series of meetings and continual phone calls. Ray must be under constant pressure, dealing with agents’ and authors’ demands, in addition to various vice presidents, sales and marketing personnel, advertising firms and more. Although he held a prominent position with the company and obviously interacted with many people, he seemed as lonely