Home for Christmas (2 page)

“That would be great,” he replied.
He had intended to walk through the home this evening and her offer had made it
very easy.

She led him from behind the guest
house into the expansively lit backyard that boasted a stunning view of
Seattle’s skyline. Savannah paused while the man took an inordinate time gazing
at the view. Truly, it was a coveted piece of property. Not many homes had this
clear view of not only the city but the Puget Sound beyond. The Bremerton ferry
was making its way toward Elliot Bay. The night was clear and unseasonably
frigid, but in that, the lights absolutely sparkled and shimmered, showing off
the city she loved.

Turning, she made her way around
the pool and toward the kitchen entrance at the side of the house. Austin
followed, enjoying this view as well. The mullioned door opened and immediately
they both relished in the room’s warm heat and spicy aroma left over from Savannah’s
baking earlier in the evening.

“Here you go,” Savannah said as she
extended one of the few remaining mugs left in the kitchen.

Austin accepted the steaming mug
appreciatively and glanced around the kitchen. “I hadn’t expected the kitchen
to be quite so modern,” he admitted with a nod and a careful sip of the spicy
cider.

Savannah also glanced around, her
pride in the kitchen evident. “The house is over a hundred years old,” she
replied, “but the kitchen is only about five. It’s a necessity in a home this
large that the kitchen functions well.”

Austin watched as she ran her hand
lovingly over the marbled island. He knew next to nothing about kitchens or
their finishes. He knew about microwaves … and takeout. He wasn’t sure he’d
even used one of the plates or utensils stocked in one of the kitchen cabinets
in his condo, preferring instead disposable. In fact, even a meal at home was
rare. He spent his life in the office or on a jet.

He couldn’t say he was all together
unfamiliar with a kitchen, however. He had many memories, early memories of
time spent in them … back on the farm. His kitchen had been hardly functional
and extremely rustic. It had, however, been a warm and loving place where his
mother’s breakfasts had been hearty and delicious. After moving to his aunt’s
farm, that had all changed. Everyone fended for themselves and the farm hands,
of which he’d been one, had been relegated to the outbuildings, hardly suitable
for humans. By twelve years old, his life’s mission had been clear and simple.
To get out.

“Do you mind if I take a look out
there,” he asked nodding his head toward the darkened corridor.

Misinterpreting his interest,
Savannah relented, aware of her fleeting time. “Which house did you say you
purchased?” she questioned as she followed him through the butler’s pantry and
on into a stunning but bare dining room.

Austin hadn’t said. Instead he
walked off the dining room and examined the chandelier overhead. “Is that
original to the house?” he questioned instead.

“It is,” she answered with a subtle
note of pride. “That was imported from Ireland over a hundred years ago.”

“It’s really stunning,” he said,
noticing the way the light refracted onto the glossy almost shimmering ceiling,
complete with ornate moldings. Austin walked into the entry and then into the
formal living room and gazed at the Seattle skyline again.

Savannah let her gaze rest on the
view for a moment, reminded again of how much she’d miss her link to this place.
She had such pride in her home and its heritage. But time was short and she had
lots to do before the clock struck midnight.

Consulting her watch, she tried to
be gracious but firm. It was time for him to go. She would admit, only to
herself, that under other circumstances, she would have enjoyed spending more
time with him. He seemed genuinely interested in the history of her home and
was helpful and conversationally engaging. And, of course, extremely
attractive; well over six feet tall, large and muscled shoulders, the kind
women loved to cuddle up to, the bluest eyes, and the firmest, most capable
mouth. A package most women would consider too good to pass up. But she wasn’t
most women and she had absolutely no time for love or relationships. She had to
rebuild a life … not complicate it.

“Are you the owner?” Austin
questioned.

“I am,” she nodded. “Well, until
tomorrow that is,” she admitted. “It has been in our family for more than four
generations.”

“Ah … I suppose the movers have
already moved everything out then,” he answered for himself.

“Something like that,” she replied
evasively, not willing to let him know that there had been only a few boxes of
belongings left after the estate sale company had disposed of most of her
family’s treasures.

“Well, Ms. …” Austin let the
question hang while extending his hand toward Savannah.

“Miss Wentworth, Savannah.”

Nice to meet you, Savannah,” he
replied, grasping her hand in his. Absurdly, he found himself reluctant to let
it go. He had this strange since of destiny, of rightness with her hand in his.
It fit so perfectly in his, almost as if … but he wouldn’t go there. It was so
soft, so refined, so
ladylike
. And that wasn’t something he was used to.

Amused, he realized he’d never been
so fascinated with a woman’s hand before. But there was something about
Savannah Wentworth that could get under his skin. And that was dangerous. While
he was known for daring, almost reckless business moves, his bravery ended
there and absolutely didn’t extend to the personal level.
           

Releasing her hand, he walked
through the French doors, arriving in the entry foyer, glancing appreciatively
at the dominating spiral staircase. “Goodnight, Savannah,” he said before
quickly letting himself out. She smiled and thanked him once again for his
invaluable help. And then the doors shut behind him. And the house was once
again … empty. And bare. But for just a few moments, it had come to life once
again.

“Oh,” she said to the nearly empty
home, “Wait!” She ran quickly to the front doors, opened them and ran out onto
the porch calling all the while, “I didn’t get your name!” But as she ran down
the steps, looking up and the down the sidewalks, he was nowhere to be found,
vanished into the haunting yet magical night that even now was beginning to
cloud over. The perfect, chilly autumn night was coming to a close. The winds
had shifted, bringing change and a return to Seattle’s sometimes dismal
forecast.

She would find out who he was, she
promised herself. After she’d taken care of the house and handed over the keys
tomorrow, someone around here would know him.   

Savannah walked through the glass
doors of the downtown Seattle title company handling the escrow on her family’s
estate and onto the bustling sidewalk. Business people were beginning to flood
the city streets, all heading quickly to their favorite noontime haunts,
determined to be first in line at Starbucks or slip into Nordstrom for needed
purchases or even some early holiday window shopping.

She used to be one of that crowd.
What a difference a few weeks could make. No longer belonging, no longer a part
of the mélange. She hadn’t yet decided if it was a bad thing … just different,
and that would take some getting used to.

Savannah was a planner by nature, a
doer. One of the difficult aspects of her life change was having nothing to
plan, nothing to look forward to. The holidays were quickly approaching,
Thanksgiving was already in the air and Christmas wasn’t far behind. And she
had no business to plan for, no home to prepare, no parties to plan, no one to
host.

Pulling her Burberry scarf closer
around her neck, she quickly headed toward the 6
^th
and Union Street
Starbucks. She was in desperate need of caffeine and was no longer interested
in her own company and the dismal thoughts it produced.

Willing herself to move quickly
toward Starbucks, she found that her feet wouldn’t obey as she passed the
downtown Seattle Nordstrom store; the windows eye-catching and brilliantly
executed. For a full minute, she stared at that window, evaluating everything
in minute detail.

           
A gust of wind whipped around the side of the building, sending shivers down
her spine and waking her to the reality that she was just a shopper this year,
not a retailer. Retail was in her DNA, it was second nature and compelling,
whether she wanted it to be or not. As a merchant … well, a
former
merchant, she knew how vital window displays were at this time of the year. It
was time to look forward to new things.

Finally, she was able to propel her
feet toward the end of the block, burying her hands more deeply into the
pockets of her cashmere coat. She didn’t have to worry about holiday displays
this year and promised herself it was actually a blessing.

Once upon a time, there had been
two entities that had helped put Seattle fashion on the map. John W. Nordstrom
and his business partner opened their downtown Seattle shoe store in 1901 and
her family opened a high-end department store a few blocks from it in 1902. And
there they both had remained … until a month ago when she herself had turned
off the lights and locked the building for the last time.

The store had been exorbitantly
successful for more than three quarters of a century, been moderately
successful for the last quarter and remained so until her father’s death. And
then the economy had gone into a tailspin. They’d had to rethink everything
they were doing as a company. She hired the best marketers, her buyers were
renowned, and she’d always been a crackerjack operational specialist. But it
hadn’t been enough to compete with the national brands and discount chains. And
the turbulent economy. While the Nordstrom’s had gone national with their
chain, her family had elected to stay local. She would never know if the
business could have been sustained had they also gone national.

Under her watch, sales had dipped
to a state where it had been impossible to recoup. National discount chains
were offering designer clothing for pennies. Sure the quality wasn’t there, the
material vastly different, the finishings mass produced, but it had a designer
name on the label, and for many, it was enough.

After the holidays, Savannah would
have a difficult choice to make. She’d been offered a research and development
position by one of those national discount chains. Could she do it, could she
make that mental shift? The second offer had been from Nordstrom, although it
was a position much less than what she was accustomed to. In any case, come the
sixth of January, she’d be starting work at one of those companies.

She’d also have to be extremely
careful with her budget. She’d forgone a personal paycheck for several months
before the store closings and the profit from the sale of her family’s estate
would be used to pay off store debts. She had enough until Christmas, if she
was extremely frugal.

The noise and din of the busy
Starbucks assailed her senses the moment she opened the door. The warmth and
spicy aroma of dark roasting beans soothed her worried thoughts and melancholy
reminiscence. The bustling activity was a salve.

“Miss Wentworth,” greeted the
barista. “Long time no see.”

“It has,” she returned grinning
widely. This barista was her favorite, always delivering an excellent Grande
with an upbeat, pleasant and shinning smile. It made her day. Each visit, she
always remembered Savannah’s beverage preferences. It was a beautiful
arrangement as her preferences rarely if ever changed.

Savannah turned from the coffee bar
to make her way toward an empting corner table. Just as she was pulling her
chair from the wall, another occupant slid into the bench seat.

“Courtney,” she cried with surprise
as they quickly hugged and settled their coffees; a traditional non-fat and a
pumpkin, no whip.

“It’s so good to see you,” Savannah
said, her eyes glistening.

“You, too my friend,” Courtney
replied popping off her lid and stirring her latte before taking a deep sip.
Savannah smiled as she watched her long-time friend, sorority sister, and
sometimes business colleague repeat her habitual coffee routine.

“Haven’t seen you at the Club
lately,” Courtney said, dropping her eyes and studying her latte intensely.

“I know,” Savannah replied simply.
“I haven’t had time … actually, haven’t been in the mood.”

Both sat in comfortable
companionable silence for a few moments, watching the business moguls and the
want-a-bee’s come and go from the counter. Both remembering many a lunch where
they’d challenged each other into labeling each and every customer as either;
“arrived,” “to arrive” or “never ever.”

“How’s the house?” Courtney finally
asked.

“Just signed the papers an hour
ago,” Savannah replied, chewing on the corner of her bottom lip.

“I’m sorry,” Courtney said, “I know
how difficult that was for you.”

“It was … difficult,” Savannah
admitted. “It was my family home. My roots. I loved that house. I never thought
I’d ever live anywhere else.”

“Really?” Courtney questioned
aghast. “I couldn’t get out of our monstrosity of a house fast enough. Please.
Give me modern, give me convenience, give me
small
.”

“Right,” Savannah replied wryly.
“Like your top floor condo is
small
.”

“Comparatively speaking,” she
admitted.

“It’s not about size for me,”
Savannah said, studying the wood grain on the table before them. “It’s about a
sense of …
old
, established, something timeless, the craftsmanship,” she
finished shrugging her shoulders.

Courtney eyed her friend. She could
see a despondency in her friend she’d never seen before. Savannah had always
been an upbeat, optimistic kind of person. Annoyingly so, actually. The toll
recent events were taking on her friend was truly sad.

While she and Savannah were vastly
different kinds of people with different outlooks on life, truth was, she
admired Savannah more than she could say. Oh, she’d been jealous of her when
they were young, who wouldn’t be? And in college, Savannah could have had any
guy she wanted. She was the “perfect” girl with the “perfect” life. Who
wouldn’t be envious? But time had mellowed those feelings and she’d grown
mature enough to see Savannah for who she really was. And the grace with which
she’d handled the devastation of her family’s wealth and loss was nothing short
of courageous.

“You know,” Courtney said
continuing to stir her latte, “I didn’t just run into you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,
sister
, you are a creature
of habit. I knew, eventually, you would return to your haunt. I’ve been coming
here every day this week!”

“Why?” Savannah uttered astonished.
“Why didn’t you just call or text?”

Courtney shrugged and poked her
cat-eye glasses higher on her nose.

“I didn’t want to intrude and I
knew you needed time.”

“I did … I
do
need time … I
… Who are you looking at?” she questioned curiously as her friend’s attention
was diverted to something mesmerizing on the other side of the room. Scanning
the entry, her eyes abruptly stopped when she recognized her visitor from last
night. He hadn’t noticed her yet and she tried to angle her face away from him
just enough that he might not recognize her but she could still observe him.

He was as handsome in broad
daylight as he’d been that night. He was every woman’s dream. He was tall, well
over six feet she imagined. He wore an expensive casual jacket and designer
denim. His shoes … really nice, spendy, yet practical. She hadn’t realized
she’d spoken her thoughts out loud. Courtney had a quizzical look on her face
as she looked at Savannah and then back at the object of her intense attention.

“Oh! He’s coming this way,”
Savannah whispered, scooting her chair as close to the table as possible,
although why that would matter was anyone’s guess. Courtney regarded her with a
quizzical expression.

Savannah pulled her blond hair to
the side, hoping it hid at least part of her face while she became transfixed
by a crumb lying on their tiny round table.

“Courtney,” came the familiar
voice, followed by a strong outstretched hand she recognized from the evening
before. Savannah glanced up as her friend rose to greet the man. She could feel
her face heating, determined to look the other way, hoping against hope he
would just pass on by. It was inevitable, of course, that he wouldn’t. And why
that mattered, she couldn’t say.

And the moment she knew would come,
of course
, did. Courtney turned to her in that oh-so-predictable way and
asked curiously, “Have you two met?”

Austin quickly glanced her way,
never meeting her eyes as he nodded to an acquaintance across the room. “I
don’t believe we’ve met.”

She blinked. He doesn’t recognize
me? At first she felt delight at avoiding a potentially awkward moment … and then
… a little tidbit of prideful irritation poked its little head out of hiding as
she rose to stand next to her friend. There was no way he didn’t recognize her,
it had only been mere hours that she’d been serving him apple cider … in her
own
home
. Rather than create an embarrassing moment, she remained silent.

Courtney gazed curiously at
Savannah for a second before quickly rushing to fill the awkward pause. “Well,
then, Savannah, let me introduce you to Austin Douglass. Austin, Savannah
Wentworth.”

“Nice to
meet
you,” Savannah
replied coolly, successfully gaining his attention for the first time. She
didn’t, this time, offer her hand.

“Wentworth?” Austin questioned,
looking directly into her eyes. “Didn’t we meet last night?”

Years of social training came to
her rescue. “Did we?” she questioned, seemingly perplexed. “I was passing out
candy to hundreds of children and their parents last night. Did you and your
children trick or treat at my house? I must admit, we had so many that I
couldn’t possibly remember.” She smiled.

A wry smile crossed Courtney’s
face.

Amused and intrigued he answered,
“No, I wasn’t offered any candy that I remember. I would have been the one who
helped you clean up after those hundreds of children and their parents.
Recall?”

“Oh my, how could I have
forgotten,” she smiled, a wicked gleam shining in her eye.

“He helped you clean up last
night?” Courtney couldn’t help but ask.

“Oh, just a couple of things,”
Savannah said dismissively. He happened to be walking by.”

“Uh huh,” Courtney replied,
glancing back and forth between the two.

“Yes,” Austin replied, enjoying her
discomfort. “Just a couple of
dozens
of hay bales and a couple of
hundred
s
of pumpkins, cornstalks, sticks and stones. Merely a handful.”

Gone was the cool, socialite mask
Savannah had been wearing. A genuine amusement bubbled to the surface as she
watched from the corner of her eye Courtney’s head bobbing back and forth at
their tit for tat. “It wasn’t hardly that much! I could have easily taken care
of it myself had I known how difficult it had been on you. Anyway … how do you
know Courtney?” she questioned, changing the subject to the first thing that
popped into her mind … anything comfortable … anything other than herself.
 

Before Austin could answer,
Courtney interrupted. She’d had an idea, an amazing idea actually. And the only
two people who could ruin it were standing right before her. It was somewhat
selfish, but it could prove to be extremely diverting, and who knew? There was
definitely …
something
between the two of them.

“Oh, I’m working on a project for
him,” she quickly interrupted. “Now what,” she said quickly turning her
attention fully to Austin, “are you doing on this side of town? Don’t you have
a Starbucks in your own building?”

“I’m meeting someone, actually. In
fact, he’s just walking in the door. Good to see you, Courtney. We’re still on
for his afternoon?” And at her confirming nod, he glanced toward Savannah,
“Nice to see you again,” he said with a chuckle.

Savannah bit her lip as she quickly
turned her back on Mr. Douglass. Bristling a little at his meaningful chuckle
and truly not wanting to discuss the whole episode with Courtney. He was an
arrogant man, just as she suspected, she thought. A little anger, after all,
was a whole lot healthier attitude toward him than the instant attraction she
couldn’t help but feel. And that was something she definitely didn’t have the
courage to consider right now.