Page 22 of The Christmas Book Flood

His face froze in that way it always did when he seemed to think bad news was coming. “You’ve decided not to come.”

“No!” She laughed, shaking her head. Why did he always do that? “I am most definitely coming to your mother’s. You can’t rescind the invitation now.”

His eyes went wide. “I wasn’t—” At her next laugh, he sighed. “You know that.”

“I do.” She reached out and rested her hand on his wrist. “I was only going to say that... that I’d rather give you your gift beforehand, if that’s all right.

Or after. But... here, not there. So perhaps you could come a bit early to pick us up?

Or you could plan to stay a bit after you bring us home again, after dinner. ”

“Or... both?” A single corner of his lips pulled up, hope—and a bit of daring—sparkling in his eyes.

A week ago, he wouldn’t have dared to ask.

She grinned. She’d eventually convince him to stop second-guessing this.

Her. Them. But it could well take a while.

Another week, at least. But perhaps, if all went well, by the time the calendar turned to 1945, he’d be ready to put more faith in them.

“Both sounds perfect.” Unable to resist, she reached out and ran her fingertips down the festive red tie he wore with his best gray suit.

“Look at you, in something other than your usual blue tie.”

“A nod to the occasion. Fair warning—I’ll be wearing it again tomorrow. Unless I spill something on it tonight. In which case I’ll have to hope it’ll come clean and be dry by tomorrow, because if I show up to my mother’s not wearing the tie she gave me last year, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

She smiled into his grin. “A mother’s prerogative.”

“I’d never say otherwise.” He glanced down at her sturdy gray wool skirt. “I’m going to venture a guess that you haven’t dressed for the party yet.”

Her smile might have gone a little mischievous. “What? You don’t think this is appropriate?”

He narrowed his eyes, cheeks only flushing a little. “The flour might at least need to be brushed off first. Though you look beautiful in anything.”

She’d never been gladder that she’d splurged on a proper party dress last year, after Christmas, and had been saving it all this time.

New clothes were a luxury she rarely indulged—no one did, these days, with so much of the world’s fabric going to the war effort.

But the red gown in the secondhand shop had called her name, and it had been marked down, and.

.. well, she had no regrets. “I’ll go put my hair up and then change.

I told Aunt Beta that we might come a bit early to lend a hand with any last-minute details, if we had the time. ”

“I’ll entertain myself at your bookshelf.”

Elea emerged from the bedroom as Tatiana was walking toward the bathroom. After giving a twirl in her own party dress—remade from one of Ari’s old dresses, if she was identifying the fabric correctly—she dashed after Tatiana. “Can I have a crown braid for tonight?”

“Absolutely.”

They pulled out the ribbons holding her usual two braids, loosened the strands, and then Tatiana got to work on the crown. Once finished, she shooed her niece out and set about pinning up her own hair, humming a carol as she worked.

She went ahead and applied her makeup too, pursing her red lips at the mirror and then smiling in satisfaction. Her dress was just this shade. Careful to keep her face pointed away from the main room as she emerged, she hurried into her bedroom and latched the door.

The dress had been waiting all year in a garment bag, which she unzipped now with a smile.

It had long sleeves, slim and tapered at the wrist, but with gathers at the shoulder to give it just a bit of a puff.

A neckline that went straight across from shoulder to shoulder, rouching along the left side from bust to waist, the lines it created running diagonally through the slender skirt.

Simple, but elegant. And, she thought as she zipped herself into it and surveyed herself in the mirror, it fit like a glove.

Valdi threw this party every year, but she’d always gone home for Christmas.

.. and sophisticated parties weren’t exactly common in Hellnar.

She’d never had cause to get so dressed up, but as she turned to try to see how the back was laying, she couldn’t help but think she could get used to this tradition. It felt so festive. So fun.

And when she saw Anders’s jaw drop the moment she stepped back out into the main room, she had to admit that was part of the allure too.

Idly, she wondered if he would have reacted like that had his first glimpse of her been at her uncle’s, if this last week hadn’t progressed as it had. Would he have turned from whoever he’d have been talking to like he now did from Elea and just stare at her as he was doing?

She hoped so. But didn’t at all mind that there was no crowd of people between them. She pirouetted much like Elea had done earlier and struck a pose like one of the movie stars in the magazines. “Well? Better than my flour-dusted wool?”

For a moment, he just gaped, moving his mouth without saying anything. Then he smiled in that lopsided, uncertain way she loved. “Are you certain you want to go to this party with me ? I can’t fathom that I’m so lucky.”

She grinned and moved closer. He held out a hand, and she put hers in it.

His eyes sparkled down at her. “You’re gorgeous, Tatiana. I’ve never seen a more beautiful woman.”

Not objectively true, but she could see he meant it. And if he really meant it, then surely it was because his feelings for her clouded his eyes. Oh, she hoped so.

He held out his arm. “Shall we?”

She tucked her hand into its new favorite place. “We definitely shall.”

Elea ran ahead toward the door. “Let’s hurry! I want to see the banana trees!”