Home for Christmas (8 page)

At his raised eyebrows, she tried
again. “It just feels wrong. Like, you’re just using them; their money,
influence, connections. It’s not authentic. People here have deep roots. They
are generous people, welcoming in their own right. But if something feels off,
they won’t get involved with you.”

“Just so you know, Savannah, I am
nothing
if not authentic. I
hate
pretense. More than you will ever know. Don’t
ever
accuse me of doing something like that again. I may push the boundaries when it
comes to innovation, to designing software, gadgets … but
never
business
and
never
people.”

The bare room was deathly silent.
Savannah didn’t even take a breath while they regarded each other.

“I wasn’t accusing you of wrong
doing,” she finally said. “I was afraid that it would look …”

“Savannah, I don’t have time to
move here,” he uttered sharply running a large hand through his hair. “But …
you may have a point.”

This time, she held up her hand to
stop him. Utter relief. “Just leave it to me. I’ll have movers take care of it
… I’ll even have packers take care of your current residence. You won’t have to
lift a finger,” she promised.

“Scouts honor?”

“Cross my heart.”

He smiled sheepishly back. “I don’t
need packers,” he admitted. “There isn’t anything personal in the condo, save a
few changes of clothes and personal items in the bathroom.”

“Nothing?” she inquired
sympathetically.

“Now don’t give me that face,
Savannah,” he quipped.

“What face?”

“That face,” he pointed at her.
“That sad face. There is absolutely nothing wrong with me living out of a
suitcase … or without a home. Some would call it freedom. Some would call it
fabulous. Nothing to take care of. I can devote all of my time to my business.”

She continued to study him
intently. “That’s only because you don’t know the difference,” she explained
softly. When her eyes grew soft, Austin turned abruptly and walked to the
windows overlooking the skyline. The tips of his fingers resting in his front
jeans pockets. His massive shoulders rotating under the wool jacket he wore. He
bit his lip and Savannah knew instantly he was extremely frustrated. She hadn’t
intended to bring him more frustration but on some level, she knew it was more
than merely disgruntlement over a change in residence. It was something more,
something deeper and something she was compelled to uncover.

“You really think it’s necessary?”
he questioned once again.

“I really do, Austin,” she replied
quietly. “If I didn’t think it was essential, I would never suggest it. You
know, it isn’t forever. Just through the holidays. It isn’t unheard of for
people to have multiple residences within the city. Well, I mean, as close as
we are to downtown, it’s unnecessary,” she began, stopping at the thunderous
look on his face. “Just give it a chance. I think you’ll discover how nice it
is to come home here.”

“Right. Rattling around in this
monstrous house, all by myself.”

“Well, you could invite guests,”
she suggested and at the evil expression and smirk that passed over his face,
she turned away before he could see the blush rising in her cheeks. “Let me
know,” she called from the doorway.

“Hey, wait! Which room was yours?”

“None of your business,” she called
walking to the opposite side of the house. “I’m going to furnish these other
rooms obviously as guest rooms but there is another room over here, a bit by
itself, that you may want to use as a media room or private office if you’d
like an additional one besides the library downstairs. Maybe a hobby room,
providing of course that you have them,” she said sarcastically. Austin decided
to let it pass and enjoyed peering into each room as they passed.

“Savannah,” called a familiar voice
from below.

“Cort! Glad you stopped by. Austin
and I were just going over …”

“So, Courtney, which room was
Savannah’s?” Austin asked, wanting to provoke her more than really caring which
one it was.

“This one,” Courtney pointed before
Savannah could interrupt. She walked straight into a charming room with a similar
view to her parents with a small balcony beyond. “I can’t tell you how much
time I spent in this room,” she expounded circling her arms wide. “She had her
bed here …”

“Courtney,” Savannah said sharply.
“Austin is extremely busy. He doesn’t need to know how my room was furnished.

“Pink,” she whispered to Austin.
His smile lit up the room, “And yours?”

“Black.”

“Of course!” Savannah rolled her
eyes over the exchange and left the room. Austin shrugged and Courtney smiled
conspiratorially.

“I was just going to ask Austin
what he wanted to use this room down here for. Oh, and do you want to put your
two cents into the reasons why he should actually occupy the residence during
the holidays?” she questioned Courtney as they followed her down the corridor.

As Courtney’s argument mirrored
Savannah’s, Austin knew his days were numbered at the condo. It wasn’t that it
he liked it overmuch. To be honest, he really didn’t care where he ended his
day because but for a few hours of sleep each night, his days and nights all
ran together. These women just couldn’t seem to understand that. Well, to be
fair, Courtney probably understood it, but she wasn’t budging.

Room assignments made, Austin made
his way back to the towers. On route, he spoke to Lois and asked her to track
down an estate or auction company named Winston. He explained that much of the
custom pieces of furniture that had originally resided at the residence were
now in their hands. He wanted an inventory of the items attached to the house.
In his mind, it was a waste of time looking for an alternative. At this point,
he didn’t really care if it was modern or rustic or vintage or classic or any
of the other words Savannah kept using. If it was good enough for them, it was
good enough for him. He wasn’t keen on spending a fortune for it, but he would
do anything to expedite the process.

It had been more than a week since
Savannah had seen Austin. They shared texts, updating each other of progress
and changes.  She also knew he had been out of the country most of the
week.

Walking through the house, Savannah
was excited for Austin to see the changes to the house. It was remarkable,
really. She loved everything that had been done. The home had a fresh, updated
look. A younger look that she felt really reflected the Austin she was
beginning to know. She couldn’t wait for him to walk through the door and watch
his expression.

There were still holes in the
furnishings, guest rooms that needed completion, additional items she’d had
difficulty sourcing but was confident she could rectify after the Thanksgiving
party. The only glitch remained in the dining room. She’d yet to come up with a
solution for the table and chairs. It was an imminent problem with Thanksgiving
only a few days away. It was her most pressing problem. Lois had promised that
she might have something that would work, but time was running out. She just
hoped that whatever Lois had in mind would work with the rest of the home and
seat as many people as they needed to.

Savannah had cleared a couple of
hours from her tight schedule to devote to the upper floors. While most of the
eleven guest rooms were furnished, others were not. Her old room had been
purposefully left empty. She’d closed the door and hoped it stayed that way.
She hadn’t been able to bring herself to furnish that room for some reason.

Strangely, she hadn’t felt that way
about her parent’s old room. Walking into the master, she knew it was because
Austin would occupy this room. She’d chosen dark, heavy furniture with simple
lines and a soothing, natural monochromatic color scheme reflected in a
watercolor of Eastern Washington’s Palouse region she’d found in a local
gallery. It was a simple painting, yet the artist had captured perfectly the
serene scene of soft rolling wheat fields set against a pale sky. This room had
varied textures, was extremely masculine, yet had a softness that only a woman
who cared more than she would admit could achieve. She was more than satisfied
with this room.

In a few minutes, Lois would arrive
with his personal items. While she could purchase and arrange furniture in this
room, she felt uncomfortable unpacking those things. While she was extremely
curious about them, it was too intimate. Besides, Lois knew his personal habits
better than anyone. She was the only one who could complete this very private
room. Thankfully, she’d agreed.

Going from one room to the next,
Savannah meticulously arranged furniture, reading materials, and accessories to
give each room a cared for look with a special touch. She had no way of knowing
if any of them would ever actually be occupied, but they were ready in case
there was a need. She had also arranged for the same cleaning crew that had
kept up the home while she owned it. Their gardener had retired but a suitable
replacement had been found. He was also due to arrive in a few minutes. She was
confident everything would run smoothly.

Before too much longer, Lois
arrived, using her own key. Savannah had a work crew downstairs steaming and
hanging new draperies in the office and reupholstering an antique she’d found
yesterday. Someone must have directed her upstairs.

Savannah pressed her lips together,
tightly, to keep a wayward smile from crossing her lips. Lois, always
professional, had arrived in a very old pair of jeans and a pink sweatshirt
sporting some kind of embroidered flowers. It was really so sweet. She had come
to
work
and today, she looked every bit her age. Savannah was touched by
her devotion to Austin. She knew he must treat her respectfully for her to give
so much of herself to his endeavors. She knew a thing or two about loyal
employees and could recognize them at a glance. It said a lot about the man.

“Good afternoon, dear,” she said
huffing efficiently into Austin’s room, directing men she’d brought with her on
where to put the boxes.

“It’s beautiful, Savannah,” she
cooed, taking in every detail of the room. “My goodness, this will suit him …
perfectly,” she said wide eyed, slowly turning around the entire room. She
stopped at the watercolor and gazed for some minutes. Turning slowly she said
with misty eyes, “You must have known.”

Savannah became instantly aware
that there was more to the wheat field story than she knew. She actually
knew
little. Tidbits, really, of conversations, mentions, gut feelings. Wasn’t sure
she wanted Lois to know that. Perhaps she could learn more …

“Has he seen this?”

Savannah shrugged her shoulders. “I
don’t think so, but I’m not sure if he has come here at night after I’m already
gone.”

Lois turned back to the painting.
“It was very perceptive of you to include this. That,” she indicated, pointing
her finger at the painting, “is what motivated him to do what he’s done. I
think it’s been long enough that he can now look back and see the good that
came out of it.”

Savannah realized she needed to be
honest. “I don’t really know much about it,” she admitted. “He told me once, in
passing, that he grew up on a wheat field. And when we went shopping, he always
gravitated to these colors, the simplicity of these lines. When I saw this, it
was like it had his name written all over it.”

Lois gazed at her perceptively.
Savannah became uncomfortable and turned toward the boxes. “Oh my, there isn’t
much here is there?” she questioned. “Is he bringing his clothes over later?”

“That’s it. Clothes and all.
Everything from his bureau, his closet
and
the bathroom.”

Moving across the room and opening
a smaller box, Lois said, “And here are a few items I’ll let you place. All
were in the bedroom. Nothing else in the condo.”

When Lois opened the box,
Savannah’s eyes were immediately drawn to a lone photograph of a beautiful
woman sitting on a red tractor seat, the edges worn, the color fading. There
was something so familiar about her eyes, however. Studying the portrait, she
felt Lois come up behind her.

“That’s his mother,” she said
reverently. “It’s the only photograph in his condo … and I found that in his
bedside drawer, along with a family Bible and this,” she said, retrieving an
envelope that held a pressed prairie sunflower.

Savannah reached out to hold the
delicate stem reverently. It occurred to her that the envelope had most likely
resided in the Bible with the photograph. It was the only remnant of his
private life. It touched her so deeply that she couldn’t speak for a few moments.

“Is she still living?”

“His mother?” Lois questioned as
she began unpacking items for the bathroom. “No, she died when Austin was ten
or twelve years old I think.”

Tears gathered in the corner of her
eyes, misting them over completely. “And his father?” she questioned
emotionally.

“Don’t know about him. I think he
died before the mother.”

She couldn’t imagine any twelve
year old boy she knew with the foresight to preserve a delicately pressed
fragile flower, a torn photograph and an aging Bible. Obviously, it meant a
great deal to him.

“Do you think he would mind if I
took these to a framer friend of mine and had them preserved?” she questioned.

Lois stopped her work and looked at
Savannah. “I probably don’t need to tell you how valuable those items are. But
I agree with you. They need to be preserved.”

“What if he asks about them?”

“I’ll tell them that I have them
and will get them over to the house.”

Savannah carefully tucked them into
her bag, wrapping each individually with tissue paper she had on hand in a
wrapping room she’d set up for the holidays.

Joining Lois back in the closet of
Austin’s new bedroom, she quickly perused his clothing, thinking she had just
begun to hang his items. There were only three garment bags.

Hands on hips, Savannah questioned,
“Surely there are more clothing bags to bring up?”

“Nope, just these three.”

“Three,” Savannah exclaimed. “As in
three, total?”

Lois answered with a nod. “You
should see how he travels. It’s really amazing that anyone can travel that
light.”

She began sliding the hangers
apart. “Jean, jeans, and more jeans. Does he even own a suit?” Savannah
questioned.

Lois shook her head. “I doubt it.
We don’t dress like that at the office, as you know. Well, they don’t,” she
further explained, shaking her head. “In my day …” she let the matter drop.

“Okay, Lois. You have to get him
fitted for two suits at least for the holidays. A lot of his entertaining will
be more casual, but he absolutely has to have two.” Lois delightfully agreed as
Savannah gave her directions to Butch Blum on Fifth Ave., one of her favorite
downtown apparel stores.

Lois and Savannah treated
themselves to an Oregon Chai tea latte from the new espresso machine she’d had
installed at the bar, after learning about Austin’s penchant for them. She
hoped he’d be pleased, and that he would actually use it. Lois was ecstatic
over the new machine, promising that she herself would use it every time she
was at the house for various functions.

“So, do you have the guest list
finalized for Thanksgiving?” Savannah asked Lois, determined to find out a
little about the people who would be attending their first function.

“I do,” she said, quickly
retrieving a hardcopy of an excel file, ever organized. “I can email this to
you as well if you’d like,” she stated, knowing she was the only one in her
world that actually liked to have a hard copy of anything.

“That would be great,” Savannah
confirmed, retrieving the list and glancing through the twenty something names.
“You know what would help?” she said after a moment. Could you run through
these names with me, tell me something about them, who else they are bringing
to the dinner, etc.?”

“Sure,” she responded quickly
sliding her reading glasses into place. “I don’t think any of them are bringing
anyone. Austin didn’t specify that in his email. Usually these functions are
attended only by the individual.”

“But, this is Thanksgiving Day,”
Savannah reiterated. “Don’t any of these people have families?”

“Well, let me think. A couple of them
do. Like, Mike Price, he has a wife and a couple of small children, I believe.
I’m not really sure about the others,” she said, mystified that she didn’t know
even basic things about their lives.

“You have to understand,” she said,
lowering her glasses while confiding to Savannah, “we run a million miles a
minute. No one talks much about their private lives because so few of them have
time for one. In my day, it was different. But with your generation, it just
seems like that’s the way it is.”

Savannah nodded sadly. In her
industry, it was much the same. Retail never quit, especially during the
holidays. But she’d been somewhat insulated from it. Wentworth’s had never gone
national or international. They had held to seemingly old fashioned or outmoded
ideals. For instance, not a Christmas ornament could be found decorating any of
their stores until the day after Thanksgiving. Crews would have parties, late
on Thanksgiving night, transforming the stores into winter wonderlands just in
time for opening on Black Friday morning.

But Thanksgiving had always been a
special holiday in her home. While her mother always had help, she would work
for days, perfecting recipes, making things ahead, freezing. While the caterers
took care of the main dishes, it was always accompanied by special treats her
mother would make. They would have bounteous food and dishes. Their vice
presidents, directors and managers and their families would join them every
year before those famous decorating parties.

Wentworth’s had made a priority of
having and giving family time to their employees. It was an old custom that
really didn’t fit today’s world. And in the end, perhaps some of their old ways
had caused their eventual demise. But for whatever the cost, she was glad that
she had rich memories of her family holidays.

 By noon, Savannah’s new
gardener had arrived at the side door with the promised pumpkins he’d found at
a local CVS farm as well as a truckload of gourds, Indian corn, squashes and
the like. For the next couple of hours, she directed as he and his men placed
the giant, one hundred plus pound pumpkins on the front steps along with
barrels and fall colored mums, creating a one of a kind autumnal display that
would definitely put their guests in the mood for Thanksgiving upon arrival.

While the gardeners were busy
outside with their projects, Savannah turned her attention to the main floor of
the house. There were seven fireplaces in the house. The family room, dining
room, and library mantels were the most important to Savannah’s thinking. Each
were decorated with a variety of fall leaf garlands, twigs, pinecones, gourds,
miniature pumpkins, acorns and nuts. The entry way round table hosted a giant
earthenware jar filled to capacity with twigs and limbs from trees around the property
that had leaves clinging to its branches, ranging in color from red to russet
to orange and gold. Branches of red berries were also included in the immense
display. 

Savannah had a penchant for
Thanksgiving memorabilia. There wasn’t a public room in the house that didn’t
have its own set of pilgrims and turkey’s.

Long after dark had descended on
the city, Savannah still found herself at work. She needed to finish all of the
fall decorating so that tomorrow, she could dedicate herself to baking. Thanksgiving
was fast approaching.

Lost in the creation of creating
centerpieces out of glass hurricane vases, Indian corn and twine, Savannah
failed to hear the car pull up under the portico. She jumped off her bar stool,
heart hammering, when the side door opened. She froze, realizing she’d lost
track of time and failed to light the side of the house after dark. After all,
dark came so quickly these days since the time change.