Home for Christmas (10 page)

Thanksgiving Day dawned bright and
clear. Savannah had warned Austin that she and her catering crew would be
arriving around six in the morning. He’d been shocked by the hour and
decisively told her to let herself in. The last time he’d celebrated a true
Thanksgiving Dinner had been years prior when he was just a boy. If he even ate
turkey on the day, it was usually in an airport, a hotel, or a couple of times,
in a restaurant. To him, the best part of the day was football, and the fact
that the next day would be Black Friday, a day that his company looked forward
to all year.

This year, however, he was looking
forward to a bit more. He’d grown comfortable with Savannah and her crazy,
traditional ideas. He admired her work ethic, even though he thought she worked
too hard. He would never admit it to her, the non-traditionalist that he was,
but it was comforting to have her puttering around the kitchen, smelling those
aromas that seemed to fill even this monstrous house. He was coming to think
that just by chance there was something to this “home” thing.

Savannah inserted the timer into
the thirty-pound, locally raised, free range turkey just before seven that
morning. It was basted with butter, the breast covered with foil. It was huge.
But they were serving a lot of people and what a picture it would make sitting
on the buffet table laden with greens, sage and thyme leaves. Definitely
Pinterest worthy.

While the caterers were chopping
onions, garlic and celery, Savannah began setting the adult table with china
she’d rented for the occasion. It was too bad they couldn’t use the Wentworth
china, but it had gone to the estate company. To just touch the dining room
furniture she thought forever lost was such a delight.

A short while later, Austin found
her foraging around the back garden for twigs and leaves to augment the dining
room arrangement that had been delivered the previous day.

“You’re up early,” he said walking
over the where she was standing in the garden, reaching out to hold the limbs
for her. “Don’t you ever sleep?” he quipped.

“Not much these days,” she answered
wrinkling her nose. “But I really love it, and it isn’t as if I have anything
better to do, anyway,” she said, shrugging before once again turning back to
the bushes she was carefully pruning.

“I’m glad. I do hope you’ll take
some time, though, for yourself,” he said with concern.

“Trying to get me out of your
house?” she asked, laughing with delight.

“Absolutely not. I love it that
you’re around here all the time,” he said, watching with enjoyment as her face
turned pink.

“I need to get some berries from
those junipers and laurel bushes, then I’ll be through. Thank you for holding
those. As you can see, my basket is over-flowing,” she replied, successfully
changing the topic to something less personal.

As they walked side by side back
through the French doors leading directly into the dining room, they chatted
companionably about the schedule for the day and the guests that would be
arriving within a couple of hours.

Austin waited patiently for
Savannah to finish the dining room to her satisfaction. It was gorgeous. Better
even than some he’d seen at the most exclusive hotels in the country, or the
world for that matter. She was uniquely talented, her enjoyment coming through
in the myriad details that made a spectacular whole.

Touring him through the children’s
dining area she’d finished earlier, he was impressed with her whimsical
touches; from the cornhusk dolls lining the center of the table to the straw
turkey and stoic pilgrims holding baskets of gourds and garden produce. He
particularly loved the brown craft paper table cloth, already scattered with
crayons. What child wouldn’t love to sit at that table? Each place setting
sporting a non-breakable turkey compote, standing at attention, and a turkey
place card complete with pom poms. It was inspired, fun, and definitely
memorable.

Grabbing her hand, he led her
toward the front spiral staircase. “I have something I want to show you.”

Surprised, she followed. There
wasn’t much that she didn’t already know about his entire house.

“We finished the media room and I
wanted to get your opinion,” he said as excited as a child on Christmas
morning.

When Austin showed the media room
to Savannah, she was amazed. She’d had no idea that he had installed an entire
theater, complete with theater seating, in-wall audio system … even a curtain
and vintage style popcorn machine. He’d also had a mini-bar installed up here
as well. 

Showing her a cabinet filled with
animated classics was a further surprise. “I thought that perhaps if the
children got bored while the adults were watching football, this could keep
them occupied for awhile. They’re all Disney, by the way,” he proclaimed
proudly.

Savannah smiled brilliantly at his
effort, assuring him that the children would be most occupied and would love
his choices. Also reminding him that she’d hired a couple of nannies for the
day so their parents could enjoy themselves as well.

As was becoming their custom,
hand-in-hand they walked back down the stairs to continue preparation for the
day; her to the kitchen, him to the library to fine-tune thoughts he was
preparing for an IPO status with his top-level employees and marketing experts
following the mid-day dinner.

Shortly, the guests and their
families and friends began arriving, in awe of Austin’s new home and most
especially the autumnal displays that greeted their eye at every turn. It was
the quintessential Thanksgiving. Sun streaming through the windows and French
doors, succulent aroma’s wafting from the kitchen beyond, a polite and
entertaining host, every need and wish anticipated and fulfilled.

The dinner was served buffet style
to an appreciative audience. Many of the guests were snapping photos with their
smart phones, images destined for Twitter or Facebook it was assumed. With the
giant 30-pound turkey dominating, the buffet was laden with relishes and side
dishes and vegetables; every autumnal delight could be found in abundance.
There were too many succulent deserts to even count, much to the children’s
delight. A separate table serving hot apple cider and before-dinner-appetizers
was emptied within minutes.

The table itself was a spectacular
and immense piece of craftsmanship, stretching longer than any of their guests
had ever seen. A burlap table runner ran down its center, connecting the two
ends separated by what seemed like miles. Each place setting was marked by a
handwritten name on a leaf die cut tied by twine to a ripe burgundy pear.
Napkins were tied with acorns and harvest squashes of the season were placed
here and there between candles and arrangements. Austin had determined the
seating order, insisting that he be placed at the head, as he should, and
Savannah at the foot, as she reluctantly and uncomfortably agreed.

Each end of the mantle on the
dining room fireplace was flanked by giant urns filled with leafed limbs of
burnt orange and crimson. Miniature pumpkins and gourds spanned the difference.

The room, formal as it was, was
warm and comfortable, putting each guest immediately at ease. Austin was a
brilliant host, engaging all in vigorous conversation; entertaining and
thoughtful. Before dinner, he’d given a Thanksgiving blessing and asked for a
moment of thoughtful silence. He then asked if they could do something a bit
unusual,
for them
, asking each to mention something they were thankful
for on this day. Austin had begun by opening with his own thoughts and thankfulness,
especially in the friendships and camaraderie they all had in working with one
another. Others reflected the same, some engaging in humorous antidotes that
had everyone laughing heartily.

Savannah was touched and surprised beyond
words at Austin’s thoughtfulness and forethought. She’d thought to mention that
it might be appropriate but had decided to refrain. It was his party, his
house, his friends, and his relationships. She couldn’t be more impressed with
the man. Dropping her eyes to her half-eaten plate, she realized she was
becoming more attached than was prudent. The word, love, floated through her
mind before being quickly chased away. She had Robert to think of, not Austin.
Although, she’d only connected with him through Courtney at this point.

The afternoon sun was waning as the
catering crew was finishing up in the kitchen and the IPO status meeting was
winding down in the library. All were a little sleepy after such a robust
feast. Shrills of laughter floated through the windows as children and guests
engaged in a vigorous game of football on the southwest lawn.  It was
Austin who had finally called a halt to the short meeting after being
distracted by Savannah’s perfect catch on the lawn, her hoop of victory when she’d
run through the orange cones serving as goal posts. Enough business was enough.
He was ready to show her a few things on the field.

Dismissing everyone, they
immediately flooded out through the French doors onto the lawn where Austin
somehow forgot the rules of tag football and insisted on tackling Savannah
every chance he could. The game continued until the lights from the city view
beyond began to twinkle and the Space Needle began to glow. The air had cooled
quickly as the daylight hours evaporated. Reluctant to leave their game, Austin
was the last man standing as guests began to return indoors, tired yet sated
from the glow of a perfect Thanksgiving Day.

It was a day Austin wouldn’t
forget, anytime soon. It touched parts of his inner soul he never spent much
time contemplating. When he’d lost his parents and things in his young life had
turned difficult, he’d built a wall around that soul he’d thought would be safe
and forever impenetrable. He never wanted to experience that kind of loss
again. And for years, the barricade had stood the test of time. Somehow,
though, in the days he’d known Savannah, she’d begun to breach those walls,
seeping in through some cracks he’d somehow left unattended. That realization
was daunting, yet Austin had never walked away from risk. This time wouldn’t be
different. He was determined to enjoy the occasions circumstances threw them
together. Colleagues, right? After all, when the holidays were over, they’d
each move on with their respective lives; he with the new IPO, she with a new
career. Fond memories of a well executed project would perhaps linger for a few
days, and it would end … this fascination with her
would
end, he
promised. And while the strategy seemed a bit flawed, even to himself, it was
all he was willing to acknowledge.

As he waved goodbye and her
taillights followed some of the guests out of the driveway, he knew he had more
to be thankful for on this special day than he was willing to admit. It would
be a long night after the cleaning crew left. Time to get some work done.

Ten in the morning, Black Friday,
and Savannah found herself waiting in line at a downtown Macy’s sales counter
among thousands of other patrons, waiting patiently and enthusiastically for a
pair of boots she’d found she couldn’t resist. It was a door buster and one she
wasn’t going to miss out on.

Santa was in the window warmly
greeting the hundreds of children vying to sit on his lap, Christmas music was
playing throughout the store, and brilliant red ornaments were hanging from the
ceiling at varying heights. Window shoppers crowded around a corner outside
window delighting in Macy’s famous depiction of a snowy village surrounded by a
Christmas train. The very young to the very old had their noses pressed to the
glass, excitedly pointing to this and that. A festive atmosphere Savannah
relished.

And just like that, the warm hues
of autumn, overnight, were replaced by the glittering brilliance of Christmas.
Oh, there were still the stubborn russet leaves clinging to the dark oak tree
branches, but the season had shifted and Savannah was already anticipating the
wintery transition.

Later that night, a Seattle
Christmas symbol would light up the night sky at Westlake Center and draw
crowds into the tens of thousands for the lightings of both the star, the
Christmas tree and the preceding firework show. For more than 55 years, this
famous piece of artwork, this true symbol of Christmas, has inspired the hearts
of Seattleites and its thousands of visitors. Designed by local artist, Bob
James, a former Bon Marche employee, this symbol had always inspired Savannah
to remember the true spirit of what she celebrated. The now
Macy’s
Christmas Star was known far and wide for its innovative design, its mammoth 161
foot height and its 3,600 light brilliance. Each light brightening Christmas
spirits in the heart of the city.

She had a lengthy shopping list to
which she’d already made great headway. Her next stop, however, was the City
Target store. It was crazy she knew to even venture into that madhouse. But as
a born retailer, she craved, absolutely craved those bustling, Black Friday
shopping days.

Her phone beeped and vibrated.

“This is Savannah,” she cheerfully
answered, neglecting to read the incoming ID.

“Austin. Something tells me by the
sounds behind you that you’re shopping,” he teased.

“Well, if I’m hearing right, I
think you must be too. I can hardly hear you,” she cheerfully explained.

“What’s your plan for the day?” he
questioned loudly.

“I’m heading down to City Target
next,” she said silently thanking the smiling sales lady behind the counter who
handed her the shopping bag. “Where are you?”

“Believe it or not, heading toward
there as well. I wanted to check and see how our merchandise looks. Want to meet?”

“Sure,” she exclaimed, her heart
jumping to keep rhythm with her fast moving feet. “We better designate a
meeting spot,” she said, crossing Pine Street to keep heading south toward
Union.

“Are you driving?” he asked, also
making his way down a busy sidewalk.

“Of course not,” she exclaimed. “I
would never find a decent parking spot –“

“Never mind,” he interrupted.

“Excuse me?” she questioned.

“Can I carry those for you?” Austin
questioned, slipping his phone into his wool coat pocket and smiling at her
startled look.

“Where did you come from?” she
laughed, slipping her phone into her oversized quilted leather tote bag.

Austin pointed across Westlake Mall
toward Nordstrom. “I’ve been told I needed to order a couple of suits and other
such items, which I have, by the way,” he smiled.

“I can’t believe you spotted me in
this crowd,” she said gratefully relinquishing her shopping bags to Austin.

“Uh, how could I not?” he
questioned with amusement. “Your bright red coat is so, uh, subdued,” he joked.
Secretly, he knew it was more than just her coat. He was finding it startling
easy to immediately pick her out of any crowd.

Together they made their way toward
City Target, enthusiastically pointing out window displays they both liked,
comparing shopping lists and observations of the day. The excitement in the air
permeating their conversation.

City Target was more than a
madhouse. It was insanely crowded, wall-to-wall people, moving together in
tandem out of necessity. And both Savannah and Austin thoroughly enjoyed it.
Austin loved their product placement and Savannah was able to pick up a couple
of trinkets on her list, a friendly sales associate quickly ringing up her
purchases in the isle with no wait. “Love those,” she commented, nodding toward
the mobile device as the sales associated completed her purchase.

Scooting by the Home Seasonal and
Christmas tree display, Austin spoke before he could give much thought to the
idea.

“Do I get to have a Christmas
tree?” he questioned with a crooked grin.

“I seem to think you’ve asked me
that before,” she teased. “Didn’t you see my budget? You will have plenty of
Christmas trees,” she answered.

“I suppose that means they’ll all
be like those plastic trees,” he said with unusual chagrin. She smiled to herself
as glimpses of the little boy he must one day have been surfaced. “Plastic?”
she giggled.

He shrugged. “I remember you
telling me about your family cutting a Christmas tree every year.”

“We did,” she answered, feeling
nostalgic at the memory that suddenly surfaced in her mind of her family and
their tree hunting exploits. She could remember the excitement she felt as
their car sailed east of Seattle on those weekends just following Thanksgiving.
Dad would always take the morning off from the store, and wouldn’t go in until
he had brought it back to their home and set it up. They’d wait until late that
night when her father returned before decorating it together as a family. Every
year they would stand back, admire their work, and declare
that year’s
tree
to be the best and most perfect Christmas tree there ever was.

Working their way single file
through a growing crowd at one of the entrances, Austin said, “I also remember
cutting a Christmas tree with my parents, before my Dad died. Of course, we
didn’t have much choice where I lived,” he smiled wryly. “Those were good
memories.”

Despite the push and shove of the
crowd, Savannah studied his eyes that had momentarily clouded. She was touched
that he had shared something so personal with her, small though it was. Its
rarity invaluable.

Now out on the street corner
waiting for the green hand to appear at the crossing signal, Austin buried his
hand deep in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels. “Would you like
to … I mean, if I wanted to …” he stammered and looked away. A slight flush
tinged his windblown cheeks. “Never mind,” he uttered quickly. Embarrassed by
what he’d been about to ask, he handed her the shopping bags before saying,
“I’ve got to get back to the office, it was nice seeing you.” His last words
barely discernible as he quickly crossed the busy road just as the hand had
turned to yellow.

“Wait,” she called, quickly looking
both ways as she raced across the street, oblivious to the red blinking hand.
He continued up the hill and she raced after him, finally reaching through
pedestrians that were crowding between them to grab his coat sleeve. “Please,”
she entreated, desperate for him to stop, even if only to catch her breath, if
not to recapture the request she knew had come straight from his heart. A
request she was sure was rare and worth preserving. She just couldn’t let it
go, although she adamantly refused to consider the reason. A moment had
occurred that was worth savings, worth exploring, and that’s all the further
she would allow her mind to go. End of matter.

“Please,” she said again, this time
successfully gaining his attention, forcing him to stop and look at her once
again. In the few second interlude, he had controlled the vulnerability he’d
let her see, back was his casual, confident, illusive self. “Uh,” she
stammered. “You know, I haven’t been able to cut a Christmas tree for … well,
since my parents died. I didn’t have anyone to help,” she smiled. “Would it be
too much to ask if we could, for old times’ sake, because I’m working out of
the house –“

“Don’t patronize me, Savannah,” he
said gruffly. “You and I both know I got caught up in the moment. Just forget
it.”

“Could we please not forget it?”
she implored, still tugging on his coat sleeve. “You can’t even imagine what it
would mean to me, personally, to cut a Christmas tree for that house again.”
Unwillingly, her eyes misted and she furiously blinked to stem the emotion.
Aware for the first time of her own desire to fulfill not only his request but
a forgotten dream of her own and how incredibly important it had become to her.
To one last time, bring a Christmas tree … home. Even if it was someone else’s
home.

He studied her for a few minutes,
as shoppers jostled and flooded around them, gauging the sincerity of her request,
realizing that it was almost beyond him to deny her much of anything. She’d
worked so hard yesterday for all of his guests, providing a warm and welcoming
environment. She’d made him look incredibly good to his employees. And yes,
despite the fact he wasn’t completely convinced she was requesting a Christmas
tree purely for nostalgic reasons, he relented. And was rewarded by a brilliant
smile and shining, sparkling eyes that would rival any Christmas tree,
anywhere.

Deciding to take her SUV over his
luxury coupe, they wove through the congested downtown traffic, weaving between
the festive holiday shoppers, Salvation Army bell ringers and bikers trying to
navigate the gridlock. After a quick stop to buy a couple of pairs of rubber
boots, of which neither of them possessed, they finally cleared the worst of
the traffic.

Austin wasn’t a patient driver,
Savannah noted. Amused, she pulled out her ever present notebook and started
jotting down notes and plans for their tree cutting expedition. Austin glanced
at her writing as he waited through yet another red light. “Notes for the first
holiday gathering?” he inquired regarding the commencement of their robust
entertaining schedule beginning Sunday. “No,” she replied absently … “our tree
cutting activity.”

“Tell me you’re not seriously
making a list for today.”

“Okay, I won’t,” she smiled,
continuing to scribble down her list.

“Savannah, put it away,” he replied
seriously. Undaunted, she continued until a jolt of electricity shot through
her arm as he touched her writing hand, effectively stilling what his words
could not. “Truly,” he said simply. “I didn’t intend this to be another … job
for you. It will rob us of any fun if you start making lists.”

Flustered, and uncomfortable, she
sat looking out the front of the SUV trying to determine how to extricate
herself from this awkward moment. A little irritated, if truth be told. Why
should he care if she was making a list? She wasn’t caring that he commented on
the errors of every driver within a mile radius of them.

“If you’re only thinking of me, I
would prefer to make a list,” she finally answered. “If it bothers you, then,
of course, I’ll wait to make it.”

Austin sighed, realizing he’d
somehow bungled the entire conversation. Women, sometimes, were so difficult.
“It’s not that it bothers me, Savannah.”

“I like making lists,” she
interrupted as if he hadn’t spoken. “It makes me happy,” she shrugged tensely.
“I can see where some consider it a chore, but for me, it’s just a … way of
life. It’s how I’ve managed all the way through school and into my career. And,
I might add, it’s served me well. I’m sorry if it ‘robs’ you of any fun,” she
finished stiffly.

Austin grimaced and after a few
moments said, “I’m sorry, Savannah. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that
I … well … my life is so structured that sometimes, rarely, actually, when I
get a few moments, or more likely
take
a few moments to have fun, I
bristle at the structure. Does that make sense?” he questioned honestly.

She glanced over at his entreating expression
before his eyes slid to the traffic beyond as he made a left-hand turn toward
Capitol Hill. Feeling foolishly juvenile for taking offense and truly glad he’d
explained himself, she made a mental note to try and relax and if only for
today, enjoy some spontaneity. At least a mental note was better than an actual
note, she promised herself wryly.

“I’m sorry too. I’m not usually so
snippy or sensitive. Courtney is a lot like you. She carries her
notes
around inside her head, or just goes with the flow. There’s something to that
as well,” she admitted. “So,” she continued, dramatically closing her notebook,
tossing it into her bag and zipping it up, “for today,” she qualified, “no
notes,” she concluded with an enchanting smile.

His answering smile was just as
radiant. “Thanks,” he said, patting her hand, letting it lay there longer than
necessary as he navigated the last hill toward the property.

“I’m hungry,” Savannah announced as
they entered the pristine kitchen.

“Hungry?” Austin questioned as he closed
and locked the mullion-windowed door into the side entrance of the house.

“You know … food?” she teased as
she made her way toward the cabinets where she’d stored some of the everyday
dishes and glasses she had purchased for him.

“I’m sorry,” Austin apologized with
a grin. “I drifted for a second. What were you saying?”

“Food,” she explained with a
chuckle. “I don’t know about you but I need a slice of pumpkin pie and I happen
to know there are quite a few leftovers in your refrigerator because I put them
there. And oh … I just have to have a turkey sandwich.”

“Um, I’m not sure I have all the
necessary things to make a sandwich.”