Home for Christmas (9 page)

“Savannah,” Austin chided as he
walked into the kitchen. “You shouldn’t sit her by yourself after dark with all
the lights on inside and the blinds open. This door wasn’t even locked!”

Hand on her heart to still its
beating, she agreed. Only she knew that her racing heart couldn’t
only
be attributed to the surprise arrival. She knew intrinsically that it had more
to do with the
who
rather than the how.

“What are you still doing here?” he
questioned coming to take a closer look at her Indian corn project.

“I’m almost finished,” she
promised, tying off the last of the vases. Austin looked down the row of
perhaps another nine or ten similar vases she had lined up on the marbled
island. “This is really cool looking,” he admitted, “but don’t kill yourself
here,” he replied guiltily. “It just a few people from work coming for
Thanksgiving.”

“Well, and their families,” she
admitted.

“Their families?” he inquired.

“I asked Lois to invite their
families,” she said lifting her chin a bit at the anticipated reluctance. “She
agreed. And I know my place, but really, Austin; you can’t expect your employees
to just leave their families on Thanksgiving for a company function without
inviting them as well.”

Austin sighed. “It wasn’t my
intention to leave anyone out.” How had all of this gotten so complicated? It
was just supposed to be a gathering away from the office where they could
discuss their creative plans for the IPO. “To be honest, I didn’t think any of
them had families,” he finally relented.

“They do, well, only a couple have
children, eight to be exact, and a couple have spouses. And don’t worry. I’ve
got it all planned out.”

“I’m sure you do,” he said, his
good humor returning as he admitted the appeal of her idea. Frankly, he was
glad Savannah and Lois
had
thought to invite them. He wouldn’t have.

“If you could just help me bring
these vases into the breakfast room and place them on the harvest table, I can
get out of your hair,” she spoke, already moving toward the expansive room that
sported a rustic harvest table, handmade by a local artisan she knew.

“Savannah, you’ve done a
spectacular job with this house,” Austin said behind her. “Truly, do you think
you should go into this kind of business instead of retail?” he asked.

She laughed appreciatively. “No, I
love doing this. But my expertise is really in operations. And there is nothing
I know better than retail.” He raised his eyebrows as he looked around at fall
décor on literally every surface. “You must do it pretty well,” he mused.

Once everything was arranged to her
satisfaction, he grabbed her hand and led her to the front door.

Embarrassed that he was trying to
get rid of her so quickly, she pulled her hand away, telling him she needed to
grab her handbag and tablet.

“No, I’m not trying to get you to
leave,” he admonished. “I have something to show you. I have a truck waiting
outside with some items you may be interested in.”

Curiously, she looked out the front
door and watched as Austin ran down the steps and up to a truck with the name,
“Winston” printed in block letters on its side.

“Winston?” she questioned, her
heart flipping over. “Winston,” she said to herself. “You don’t think …” Before
she could stop herself, she began running down the front steps before Austin
caught up with her, waving her back inside.

“By the way, what is it with you
and pumpkins?” he chuckled, pointing to the giant pumpkins lining the walk.
“I’m going to need a hand truck to help you clean these babies up.”

“Winston?” she questioned again
wide eyed.

“I had Lois track down the items
they purchased from you,” he said gently, grabbing both of her hands. “Do you
mind?”

Tears pricked in the corner of her
eyes as she merely shook her head. He gazed intently into her eyes. “You’re
sure?”

She nodded as the first of the
furniture came up the steps.

“The dining room, gentlemen, and
this lady will tell you where to place it.”

“Oh my word,” she breathed as she
saw the table carefully being lifted up the massive steps, tears now welling in
her eyes. “I never thought I’d see this again. How did you?” she questioned not
being able to finish for the emotion thickening her throat.

As Austin watched Savannah conquer
her obvious battle with tears, something melted deep inside his heart. He
didn’t understand her attachment to these
things
, he didn’t understand
attachment of any kind, frankly. He’d never had any. People or objects. But
something akin to attachment was pulling at his heart strings now and he was
powerful to stop the cavalcade of emotions he felt watching her eyes light and
soften, excitement enlivening her face. He couldn’t explain it, but he loved
being able to bring her joy.

“Here, here,” she said, finally
directing the movers into the dining room, giving them specific instructions as
to how she wanted it placed. And as furniture piece after piece emerged from
the truck, she easily instructed placement, never was there a question in her
mind over where it should go.

Her smile turned wobbly an hour
later as she watched the movers gather their supplies from the main floor
public rooms, surveying each new yet old and beloved piece with a tender eye.
Austin came quietly up behind her and whispered that there was more, one more
room and a few boxes that held accessories.

“Another room?” she questioned
swiveling around to meet his eyes. She mentally reviewed the remaining upstairs
rooms and instantly knew there was only one room that remained empty. Her eyes
widened as he nodded with a soft smile.

“I hope you don’t mind that I took
the liberty. If you do, we can put it in storage and you can consider it a
personal gift …” and at her vehemently shaking head, he amended, “or you can
accept it as a bonus.”

“No,” she interrupted. “If you’re
talking about my bedroom furniture,” she paused and waited for affirmation, “it
… it needs to stay here. I really want it to remain here,” she said firmly.

He watched her run upstairs, confused
by her attitude toward the most personal furniture in the house. He definitely
didn’t understand women on that level. He would have bet the ranch that she’d
be more excited about that acquisition than the others. Scratching his head, he
made his way across the entry to the Library, which always seemed to draw him.
Masculine … easy. This was definitely a room for him.

“It’s getting late,” she uttered as
the front door was finally shut and she walked toward the Library. “I’ll be
here early in the morning, if you don’t mind. Lots to prepare for Thursday.”

“You’re sure about …”

“I’m sure,” she said quickly. “It’s
perfect, here, actually.”

He nodded and offered to walk her
to her car parked out back. She quickly gathered her things, careful of
Austin’s treasure buried deep in her enormous bag.

The air was crisp and biting as
they stepped out into the night, so appropriate for this week of celebration.
She whirled around as they neared her SUV, “Are you staying here tonight for
the first time?”

Austin’s smile lit up his eyes.
“Yes, I am,” he replied, tweaking her nose. “All my things are here, now,” he
finished with a playful roll of his eye.

“Do you remember which room is
yours?” she questioned.

“I think I can figure it out,” he
said.

Savannah smiled up into his eyes. A
gust of wind ruffled her hair and she began to draw the lapels of her camel
colored cashmere coat more closely around her. Austin assisted in that endeavor
and instinctively they drew closer together.

“Stay warm,” he commanded softly,
as his breath vaporized, his nearness affecting him far more than it should.

“Okay,” she whispered, their frosty
breath clouds mingling together, drawn by an almost tangible pull she felt in
his presence, helpless to fight against it.

Austin couldn’t take his eyes from
her. She was beautiful beyond words, of course. Captivating and exquisite. Any
man would be proud to have her on his arm. But with Savannah, her beauty, her
true
beauty went far deeper. It began in the eyes and went clear through to her very
soul. Her loving and compassionate nature shown like a beacon on a dark, dark
night. Her passion; compelling, calling to something buried deep within his
soul. Something he couldn’t even put a name to.

 Each silently studied the
other, reveling in their close presence. Drawn to each other by an unknown yet
compelling force. Perhaps it was the starry night, or the cold … or
something
.

The silence surrounding them was
pervasive and alluring, like a private world where no one else or nothing else
existed. Not an utterance could be heard; not from neighbor, or critter. Each
stared into the other’s eyes. Contemplating, testing … wondering. What if?

Slowly, ever so slowly, Austin drew
her closer, placing a gentle kiss on her lips.

She knew it was coming, felt it
coming, was powerless to stop it … didn’t
want
to stop it. Yet when she
felt his lips touch hers for the first time, she melted. It was as if time
stood still for Savannah. She couldn’t breathe; she couldn’t think … only
respond.

As Austin felt her hands run up the
lapels of his jacket, the kiss lengthened.  His hands moved of their own
accord up the arms of her coat to her shoulders and neck finally reaching to
cup her face in his large, warm hands. Gently but expertly tilting it to more
deeply accept his kiss. As a matchstick to a flint, the gentle kiss ignited
into flames of passion, stealing their breath and their senses.

At long last, the sound of a
barking dog over the side laurel hedge effectively brought them back to a reality.
The passionate kiss turned gentle once again before Austin reluctantly pulled
his lips from hers.

Gazing deep into her eyes, trying
to judge her response, Savannah quickly dropped her eyes and backed up a step.
Embarrassment bloomed in her cheeks as she cupped one with a mittened hand.

Austin’s hand covered hers gently,
drawing it down, silently entreating her to meet his eyes.

She couldn’t.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered,
reluctantly drawing away from her. “That should never have happened,” he said,
running his hand through his hair and shaking his head, disgusted with himself.

“It’s okay,” she finally added. “It
was just … I don’t know. Maybe it was just the upcoming holiday.”

Austin laughed harshly. “It
definitely wasn’t the holidays,” he chided.

Savannah’s face flooded with
humiliation at his words. She didn’t know why she’d said that. Anything but
that, she chastised herself, burying her hands deep in the pocket of her coat,
looking down at her boots.

“Well, no harm done,” she said,
backing further until her backside bumped up against her car. Twirling quickly,
she yanked open the car door and was about to close it when Austin grabbed the
door before it could slam.

“There may be no harm to you,
Savannah, but I’m not sure about me.”

Confusion filled her eyes as he
more gently shut her door and waved, stepping back into the shadows.

Sometime later that night, Savannah
laid in her bed at Courtney’s, her arm flung across her brow, unable to sleep,
unable to think clearly. Still, her face heated at the memory, and she rolled
over to bury her head in the down pillow, hoping to bury the humiliation as
well. The problem was, she knew, she’d never been kissed like that in her
entire life.

Robert was a good man, a great man.
He was everything she could ever ask for in a mate; cool, calm …
dependable
.
He was never one to let passion guide him, in anything, and most especially in
their relationship. They’d never been … overcome, with
anything
.

She liked familiarity, she like
control … she liked Robert, didn’t she? They had an unspoken commitment, at
least she thought they did. Always little mentions of,
someday
, entered
into their conversations. It was assumed, by both parties, and both sets of
parents. It was expected, easy … good.

And now this. This wasn’t something
she was at all comfortable with. It was tingly and frightening … but oh so
alluring and mesmerizing. Still, in the wee hours before dawn, she could feel
his lips on hers. Didn’t understand his frustration, humiliated by his words.
And in just a few hours, she had to go to his house and throw a party in his
name. Oh how complicated life could become.

Savannah gave up trying to sleep.
She rolled over so many times, she was afraid she’d wear a rivet in Courtney’s
guest bed mattress.

Grabbing her handbag sitting on the
chair beside the door, she quietly crept to the kitchen, keeping the lights out
and hoping that a cup of warm tea would settle her thoughts.

Gathering the cashmere throw draped
over the upholstered club chair nearest to the panoramic windows, Savannah
curled up with her cup of tea. Thoughtfully, she watched Seattle’s skyline, a
city that never truly went to sleep. It was comforting, somehow. As if there
was always someone awake, people going about their business.

Her tea began to cool before she
realized she had watched the sun rise in the sky, promising another gorgeous
autumn day. Her day would be long and tiring. There was so much to ready for
Thanksgiving, just a couple of days away. Yet she looked forward to the long
hours she would spend in the kitchen, creating. There wouldn’t be time to
contemplate Austin, or his kiss, or her reaction … or much of anything. At
least, it was her dearest wish.

Setting the hardly touched tea
aside, she reached into her handbag and carefully withdrew the faded
photograph, the pressed flower and the family Bible. Setting the Bible on a
nearby side table, she studied the woman in the photograph, running her finger
gently along its torn edge.

She was beautiful, Austin’s mother.
Capable, strong. She had a set jaw line but a twinkle was evident in her eye,
discernible even through the fading of the image. And she saw … love. Whoever
the photographer had been, that person had been dearly loved.

An overwhelming sadness enveloped
Savannah as she gazed into the woman’s eyes, her mind creating an image of a
twelve-year-old Austin and the loss of his mother. What had happened to him?
What had happened to the mother?

And then her eye trailed to the
Bible sitting on the side table. Savannah bit her lip, knowing it was wrong to
look, to peruse its contents. It was snooping, it definitely wasn’t her
business. But she couldn’t help herself. Driven by a need to know something of
the man she couldn’t get out of her mind, she opened the book gingerly,
ignoring the guilty warning from her conscience, until she came to the family
section just a few pages in.    

Running her finger down the list of
births, she found the entry for Austin Douglass and the name of both his father
and mother. Her finger gently caressed his name written so lovingly in the
family Bible. She backed up and ran down the list of marriages, easily finding
his parents. He’d been born exactly eleven months after that date. She smiled,
for some reason finding joy in that.

Next, she ran her finger down the
deaths. It was the last entry in the Bible. And the death date was written in a
child’s hand. Again, she ran her finger along the entry, attempting to reach
out to a boy who hurt, oh so many years ago. A lone tear ran down her cheek as
she looked at the carefully written entry. Perhaps she learned more about him
in that moment, than she’d previously discovered combing through his biography
and company websites.

Hearing Courtney move down the
hall, Savannah quickly closed the Bible, returning it to the safety of her
handbag just as her friend walked into the kitchen.

“Hey, Savannah,” Courtney muttered,
reaching for the coffee pot. “What are you still doing here?” she yawned.

“Just … well, just, you know,” she
finished lamely.

As tired as she was, Courtney still
recognized how unusually disturbed her friend was. Waiting until she sat in the
accompanying chair in front of the windows, she determined to find out why.

“Robert was here last night,” she
finally said, looking out the window instead of at Savannah. Glad she could
watch her reflection in the glass.

“How did he know I was here?” she
questioned with alarm.

“Not, ‘
Oh I’m so sorry I missed
him
,’ just ‘
How did he find me?
’” she asked defensively.

“You know what I mean,” Savannah
returned.

“I don’t, actually. “

“Hey, Cort, aren’t’ you the one who
lectured me just weeks ago, asking, no demanding that I tell you what I saw in
Robert. How he was just ‘
too perfect
?’”

“Okay … let’s start again,” she
said taking a deep breath. “I wasn’t trying to accuse you of anything,
Savannah. I was just surprised. I’m not awake yet, if you hadn’t noticed.”

Savannah smiled in spite of
herself. She’d never had difficulty waking up in the mornings, Courtney always
had. It took her the better part of an hour before she was even human and
cognizant sometimes.

“But seriously, how did he know I
was here?”

“I told him when I ran into him at
the club night before last.” And she squeezed her eyes shut, furious with
herself for uttering what she’d planned on keeping to herself.

Shock registered on Savannah’s
face. “Night before last … he was home?” He’d never called her, never let her
know?

“Well, he’d just flown in, had a
meeting at the club, and then went home to bed. Jetlag, you know,” Courtney
replied evasively. “I told him where you were and a little about the project
you’re working on.”

Somewhat satisfied, Savannah sat
back in her seat, pondering. But as the silence stretched uncomfortably, she
decided to end their conversation and move on with her day. It wasn’t
Courtney’s fault she’d had a trying night. “Oh, well, I’m sure I’ll be seeing
him soon. Did he look good?”

“Oh yes,” Courtney smiled, almost
to herself. Savannah was again on alert. Something just didn’t add up but she
was too distracted to give it a proper thought. That would come later.

“Have to rush!” Savannah exclaimed
as she looked at the clock in the kitchen. “It’s baking day and I’ve got a
couple of errands to run before. Have a great day, Courtney.”

Courtney muttered as her friend
fluttered away. Mystified at both herself and Savannah. Why had she tested
Savannah like that? She kept prodding and prodding, hoping for what? She knew
what. She wanted to find out that Savannah’s feelings for Robert had
changed. 

It was mid morning and Savannah had
flour all over the front of her turkey apron. She wasn’t a messy baker,
usually. She was one of those bakers who put the ingredients away as soon as
they were used. It was her trick to keeping a tidy kitchen and one that her
mother had helped her perfect.

The aroma in the kitchen was
divine. She had just pulled out of the oven several loaves of pumpkin bread.
The pies were next, homemade crusts, of course. Classical music played in the
background and Savannah was oh so happy. She was in her element, the
distractions of the evening before safely tucked away for another day. For the
moment at least.

She jumped when she heard footsteps
thumping down the back staircase that led directly into the kitchen. She had no
one scheduled to be here for another few hours.

“It smells so good in here I
couldn’t wait a moment longer,” Austin said as descended into the kitchen.

She just stared at him, with
nothing to say. Amused he leaned over and quickly gave her a peck on her
floured cheek. It worked magic. Before she could take another breath, she was
finding an excuse to move to the far corner of the kitchen.

Embarrassed, she said, “I’m sorry!
I didn’t know you were home. There’s no car …”

“Garage.”

“Oh, of course … the garage. I
would never have barged in here without knocking if I’d known you were home,”
she gently admonished.

Smiling he walked over and picked
up an orange studded with cloves. “Can I eat these?”

In spite of herself, Savannah returned
his smile. “Here,” she replied opening the refrigerator door. “One of these
will taste a lot better.”

“And what about these?” he
questioned, moving over to the loaves of pumpkin bread cooling on the marble
island.

“No!” she exclaimed. “Not those! Those
are for Thanksgiving but here, I can spare a couple of these Date Nut Muffins,”
she said, quickly retrieving a plate from the cupboard. “Or I could make you
some oatmeal … what about coffee?” she continued, firing questions at him in
her nervousness.

“You don’t have to serve me,
Savannah,” he said, watching her with amusement as she fluttered from one end
of the kitchen to the other. “I help myself all the time,” he said with a wink.

She wasn’t quite sure what he had
meant with that remark and decided she didn’t want to know.

“Have you tried the espresso
machine at the bar?” she asked instead, expertly changing the topic of
conversation.

“Nope, but I’d love to give it a
shot. Want one?”

She nodded asking politely for a
non-fat latte, hoping he knew how to operate the pod-driven machine as she made
her way back toward the kitchen. Moments later, Austin joined her in the
kitchen, sat himself at the bar and watched her bake. He was an expert
conversationalist and before long, forgotten was the awkwardness of the evening
before. They had a similar wit, enjoyed each other’s company; making all sorts
of plans for the upcoming season.

“So do we get a tree?” he asked,
swallowing the last bite of his muffin before interrupting himself. “Did you
really bake these?” he questioned with amazement.

She looked up, easily following his
rapid-fire questions, as if they’d known each other for years instead of mere
weeks.

“Yes, we’re going to have several …
and why is that so shocking?”

“Because I don’t know anyone who
bakes,” he shrugged. “Several?” he questioned looking around obviously trying
to determine where they’d put several Christmas trees. “I didn’t know women did
that anymore,” he replied, picking up the crumbs left on his plate.

“Just women or do you think men don’t
bake either,” she teased. “Both … either,” he grinned.

“Lois doesn’t bake?”

“I have no idea. I’ve never asked,”
he smiled. “Why do we need several?”

           
“Because. Day after Thanksgiving, by the way. And … you get to help. It’s on
your calendar,” she smiled at his immediate negative response.

An easy silence followed. “What
about your Mom?” she carefully asked. “Did she bake?” When he didn’t readily
answer, Savannah chewed on her lower lip, aware that she’d intruded into his
private life with that question. But his mother had been constantly on her mind
since dropping off the photo and other treasures with a trusted archivist she
knew. And so she waited patiently to see what he might reveal.

“She did bake,” he answered
finally, a far-off look in his eye. “She baked a lot, actually. I remember that
she baked bread, quite often. Of course, we lived on a wheat farm, grain was
plentiful. But she baked other things too. My favorites, as I recall, were her
apple pie and her chocolate chip cookies. Truly, they were the best,” he said
enthusiastically. “When I’d come home from school and could smell those cookies
… it was like no matter what kind of day I’d had, it was going to end just
right.”

Savannah thrilled with his story
and the fact that he would reveal even that much to her proved he was beginning
to trust her.

“Speaking of my mother,” Austin
continued. “I had a photograph of her in my condo that I’ve not been able to
find here. You didn’t by chance run across it did you?”

She bit the corner of her lip. She
had hoped he wouldn’t immediately notice for her friend had promised to
preserve and frame the objects before the day was through. How did she answer
that question without appearing as presumptuous as she had been?

“I, um, I actually had help in your
room, Lois took care of your personal belongings. I’ll take a look after you’ve
left,” she answered, quickly turning to place the pumpkin pie she’d just made
into one of the ovens, her face heating despite her determination to remain
cool.

“I’ll ask her about it too,” he
said thoughtfully.

“You know, I’m sure I can find it.
Why don’t you wait before asking her. She works really hard and I know she
would have taken the utmost care.”

“You’re right. I’m sure it’s here
somewhere,” he answered just as a doorbell rang in the front of the house.
“That’s some guys from work who are going to install some media for me in the
room you suggested. That was a great idea, by the way …” he said while walking
quickly down the hall and toward the front of the house, the kitchen door
swinging behind him.

Savannah released a breath she
didn’t realize she was holding. It was a close call and one that she would
really, really like to not have with him until the photograph was finished.

The rest of the day passed by in a
blur. She had spent countless hours in the kitchen, baking apple, pecan and
pumpkin pies; turkey shaped cookies for the children; muffins and breads. Her
feet hurt and her back ached. Courtney had called at some point during the day,
admonishing her for taking all of the baking on herself. There were perfectly
good bakeries in town that could have provided the goodies. And she’d been
right. There were fabulous bakeries in town; Dahlia and Macrina Bakeries to
name just a few. But there was something therapeutic about the baking she’d
done. Like carrying on a tradition that her mother had started as a young wife.
Who knew but this would be her last opportunity in a very long while to
continue that tradition. It was worth the effort, at least in her estimation. The
look on the guest’s faces would either confirm or reject the idea.