Free An Island Christmas by Nancy Thayer

friend in the world. Isn’t Steven handsome?”
    “Yes, but Archie is, too. And, Jilly—”
    “I’ve got to go. See you tonight.”

    That night the Somersets’ house was crowded from wall to wall with guests. Jilly chatted with friends, but always kept a careful eye on Felicia and Archie. At last her surveillance paid off: she saw Steven approach the couple. Felicia spoke and the two men shook hands.
    With the sneaky swiftness of an FBI agent, Jilly crossed the room and became very busy refilling her cup with Christmas punch from the big silver bowl on the dining room table. It took her a long time to do it because she spilled some (on purpose), found a paper napkin to wipe it up, and fussed around ladling more, all in the interest of overhearing the conversation a few feet away from her.
    “Yes,” Archie was saying, “Felicia has told me all about you.”
    Steven laughed. “I hope not. You know you’re lucky, getting this gorgeous woman for your wife.” Steven wrapped a companionable arm around Felicia and hugged her against him.
    “I’m well aware of that,” Archie replied, bristling.
    “We’ve always been each other’s biggest fans,” Feliciaadded, snuggling into Steven. “We were each other’s date for senior prom. I have to show you the picture, Archie. We were so gorgeous!” Looking up at Steven, she smiled.
    “I’m sure you were,” Archie answered, and to Jilly’s eavesdropping ears, his tone was growing antagonistic.
    Felicia pulled away from Steven. “Archie and I are going to travel to the Himalayas after our wedding! Isn’t that exciting?”
    Archie still glowered at Steven. “Oh, look, Lisa just arrived. Excuse us, Steven, I want Archie to meet her.” Felicia took Archie’s arm and tugged him away from Steven toward the living room.
    Jilly wandered in the other direction, ending up in the living room talking with old Sherman Waterson, who had bad hearing and worse breath.

    All the next day, Jilly schemed and plotted, realizing how hopeless she was at strategy. She’d never read Machiavelli; she’d never even played chess. But in desperation, she did her best.
    It was four o’clock. Darkness was falling. At six they would all go to the Ernsts’ Christmas party. Jilly was in the kitchen, carefully covering a plate of gingerbread with ClingWrap when Felicia came in, carrying cups and glasses she’d gathered from around the house to put in the dishwasher.
    “Thanks, darling,” Jilly said, adding casually, “oh, andwould you mind taking this next door to Steven?” She held out the plate of gingerbread.
    Felicia was bent over the dishwasher, rearranging glasses—everyone thought she knew the best way to pack the dishwasher—so Jilly couldn’t see her face.
    “Why does Steven need gingerbread?” Felicia asked.
    Jilly trilled a laugh that sounded fake even to herself. “He doesn’t need gingerbread, silly. I just like sending him over seasonal treats now and then. He’s all alone, you know, in that big house. Have you been inside his house? It’s delightful. Lots of bedrooms for children.”
    Felicia stood up. She stared at Jilly. “Mom. What do you think you’re doing?”
    Jilly widened her eyes in innocence. “Well, I’m trying to give our good old friend a little Christmas cheer.”
    “Why not take the gingerbread over yourself?”
    “Oh, I have so many things to do …”
    “And?”
    The hell with it , Jilly thought. No more game playing. She wasn’t any good at it anyway. “And I thought you might like to talk with Steven about marriage before it’s too late.”
    “You want me to drop Archie and marry Steven?” Felicia asked. Both her hands flew to her mouth in shock and her expression was so odd Jilly couldn’t tell whether her daughter was laughing or crying or both.
    “I just want you to think —” began Jilly.
    With a strange croaking noise, Felicia shook her head and ran from the room.
    Jilly didn’t mention the gingerbread again.

    As they left