Free 3 Service for Two by Kate Kingsbury

beneath it. Her gaze strayed to the headstone, where the black lettering seemed to jump out at her.
James Richard Sinclair, beloved husband and father, taken from us before his time. In death, as in life, we shall be united
.
    She had wanted death to come to her at first. It hadn’t seemed possible to go on without him. And now? The ache had eased, returning only when she relived those wonderful moments of their life together. As she did now.
    The tears felt cold on her face when she finally rose to her feet. With numb fingers she carefully unpinned the sprig of mistletoe from her lapel and laid it gently at the base of the headstone. “A kiss from me, James,” she whispered, and straightened again.
    Turning, she squared her shoulders. Most of the mourners had left the graveyard, and only the three men from Dr. McDuff’s family still stood by the grave. Looking across the snow-covered mounds, Cecily saw Baxter standing by the trap, one hand shading his eyes against the sun as he watched her.
    She gave him a little wave, then pointed toward the church. There was something she had to do before going back to the hotel. Baxter would just have to wait. Thankful that at least the sun shone today, she trudged across the crisp white snow to the portal.
    Inside the church and out of the bright sunlight, the dim shadows clouded her vision, and it took several moments for her eyes to adjust. When she could finally see clearly, she realized that Algie was talking to someone.
    The man had his back to her. Even so, his regal bearing made an impression on her. She thought at first he was fair-headed, but as she drew closer she saw it was merely the slant of sunlight through the stained glass windows casting a yellow hue across his dark brown hair.
    Catching sight of her, Algie started fluttering his hand in front of his face. “Oh … ah … Mrs. Sinclair. We werejust … ah … talking about you—” He broke off, sending a nervous glance at the stranger, as if afraid he might have said the wrong thing.
    Before Cecily could speculate on the gentleman’s conversation, the stranger turned.
    He was not quite as tall as Baxter, but still tall enough for her to look up at him. He appeared to be about her age, or perhaps a little younger. His mouth, curved in a smile, was partially hidden beneath a luxurious mustache, and his bushy eyebrows gave him a heavy-lidded, almost languorous look.
    There was nothing languorous about his eyes, however. They were dark brown, with a warm gleam of interest as he looked down at her, which quite disturbed her, though she wasn’t sure why.
    Algie coughed, then managed to stammer, “Mrs … ah … Sinclair. I’d like you to meet Dr. … ah … Postwick … no … Prestwick….” He stopped and mopped his forehead with the folds of his sleeve. “Oh, dear … I am not managing this very well….”
    “Dr. Kevin Prestwick,” the stranger said, ignoring Algie’s mumbled apologies. “At your service, madam.” He inclined his head in a slight bow, then shifted his bowler to the crook of his elbow and extended his hand.
    More than a little flustered, much to her dismay, Cecily put her hand in his. His firm grasp warmed her as he raised her gloved fingers and touched them to his lips, his eyes never leaving her face.
    “How do you do, Dr. Prestwick,” she said, sounding a little breathless. “I’m pleased to meet you.”
    “Yes, yes,” panted Algie. “And so am I. As … ah … I’m sure everyone will be.”
    Cecily glanced at the vicar. He seemed even more bumbling than usual this morning. Then her heart gave a little skip when she realized her hand was still in the warm grasp of the doctor’s. Hastily she withdrew it, trying not to be distracted by the smile playing around his mouth.
    “Forgive me, Mrs. Sinclair,” he said in his rich, mellow voice, “but I did not catch your Christian name.”
    That was because Algie hadn’t managed to get that far. Shepaused to make sure she had enough