Holiday by Design

by Patricia Kay

  She deserved to be miserable.

  * * *

  The show was on its way to becoming a huge success. Everyone who was anyone in Seattle society was there: Cornelia and Harry Hunt, tons of people who said they worked with Marcus on this committee or that committee, all of Joanna’s family and friends. Georgie and Zach had flown in from New York, all of Georgie’s sisters and their husbands were there, too, and even Alex Hunt had come, per Georgie’s invitation.

  Several members of the press had shown up, too, including Shea Weatherby, a writer Joanna admired enormously. Shea turned out to be really nice, and she interviewed Joanna at length. “You’re going to be a big star,” she predicted. “I wish I could afford to buy that color-blocked shift. It’s just gorgeous.” Joanna felt like hugging her. Maybe she should give her the dress.

  Joanna’s collection, Vanessa’s jewelry and Jamison’s paintings were all big hits, and both Brenda and Peter, her assistant for the evening, were kept busy taking orders. Joanna couldn’t have been prouder, but none of the triumphs of the evening could make up for the fact that underneath her smile, Joanna was miserable.

  This would be the last night she would ever see Marcus. That certainty throbbed inside. She could see he knew it, too, because he stayed away from her the entire evening. And she saw how he watched Vanessa and the way Billy was hanging all over her. She wished Billy would cool it. But then she thought, why should he cool it? If he liked Vanessa, there was no reason not to let her know it. He was just as good as she was. And Joanna was just as good as Marcus, and if he was too blind to see it, he didn’t deserve her.

  She was better off without him.

  * * *

  Although Marcus kept his distance, he couldn’t stop looking at Joanna. His misery over the past twenty-four hours had shown him something: he didn’t want to live without her. Since she’d entered his life, he hadn’t once felt lonely. He loved her; he’d finally admitted it to himself, and he wanted her. But more important, he had been wrong all along. She didn’t need to change. He did. But could he? That was the question of the night. Could he?

  While his thoughts were still going in this vein, Jamison walked up to him to thank him. “I’ll never be able to repay you for what you’ve done for me, Marcus.”

  Marcus stirred himself enough to smile and say, “No repayment is necessary. I believe in your work. I’m happy to have the opportunity to show it.”

  “This is such a great night!” Jamison said. He couldn’t seem to stop smiling.

  “Yes, it’s even more successful than I imagined it would be.”

  “And it’s all due to you.”

  “I just gave you the venue to show your work. You and Vanessa and Joanna are the real stars.”

  “Joanna! To think I might not have met her!” His face glowed as he watched her talking to a nearby group. “Isn’t she beautiful? Now that this show is behind us, I can make her my number-one priority.”

  After Jamison drifted off to talk to a potential buyer, Marcus wondered if he should have said something about his relationship with Joanna. Was it fair to let the younger man think the field was clear? And yet what could Marcus have said? For all he knew, Joanna wanted nothing more to do with him and would welcome the attentions of Jamison. That thought made him feel sick. What could he do to ensure that Joanna would realize how sincere he was about changing? And to let her know how much he loved her? Suddenly an idea niggled at the back of his mind.

  He was turning it over, wondering if it would be enough, when Cornelia approached to remind him she and Harry were hosting a reception for Joanna at their home after the show was over. “You’ll be there, won’t you?”

  He forced himself to smile warmly. “If I can, I’ll drop by later on. I have something important I need to do.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  Marcus could see she was bewildered. Of course she would expect him to be there. He took her hand and squeezed it. “I really will try.”

  As she walked away, Marcus realized he had disappointed her. He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately. Maybe he needed to change even more than he’d imagined.

  * * *

  Cornelia couldn’t imagine what could be so important that Marcus would skip Joanna’s celebration. Had they had some kind of disagreement? Now that she thought of it, she hadn’t seen them together at all tonight. Spying her husband standing alone by the bar, she joined him and slipped her arm through his.

  “I just don’t understand it,” she said after telling Harry about her conversation with Marcus. “I thought he was in love with Joanna. I thought he’d probably bring her to the party.” She sighed. “I wonder what’s wrong. Maybe there’s something I could do....”

  “Now, Cornelia,” Harry said, patting her hand, “it’s not a good idea to meddle in the love lives of others.”

  “As if you ever followed that advice,” she scoffed. She was very disappointed. Marcus and Joanna made such a wonderful couple. Why couldn’t they see it?

  Later, she even mentioned this to Frankie, her second oldest daughter, who teased her a bit, saying, “Now, Mom, aren’t you satisfied that the show is such a success? I didn’t think matchmaking was part of the deal when you decided to be Joanna’s fairy godmother.”

  “It’s not,” Cornelia said pensively. “But still...they do make such a lovely couple. I am glad my efforts to help Joanna’s career have paid off so handsomely, though.” She smiled. “It’s fun playing fairy godmother.”

  “Maybe you should go into business,” Frankie said, laughing. “You know, become a professional fairy godmother.”

  “I know you’re joking, but the truth is, I have been thinking along those lines,” Cornelia said. “I mean, I might as well put that money Harry gave me to good use.”

  “Seriously? You want to be a professional fairy godmother?”

  “Why not? There have to be a lot of other young women out there who need a helping hand. As a matter of fact, I’ve already talked to Harry about opening an office and hiring someone to work for me so I can continue mentoring young women who are trying to establish businesses.” She gave Frankie an exasperated look. “And in typical Harry fashion, he’s already bought me a building in Ballard! I wanted to kill him when he first told me, I mean, he thinks he can run everything, but I’ve gotten over it. Actually I’m glad I don’t have to do the legwork of looking for a place. Instead, I can concentrate on looking for a helper.”

  Frankie stared at her. “Mom, you continually amaze me.”

  “What? You don’t think this is a good idea?”

  “I think it’s an amazing idea. And you know what? I know just the person who might be persuaded to help you get your fairy godmother business started. Her name is Felicity Granger, but everyone calls her Phil. She’s got the perfect background. Tomorrow I’ll give you her phone number, and if you’re interested, you can call her.”

  Cornelia smiled happily, temporarily forgetting about her disappointment over Joanna and Marcus. “It’s a deal.”

  * * *

  Joanna wasn’t surprised when her mother told her she’d overheard Marcus telling Cornelia he wouldn’t be at the reception Cornelia was hosting. She was surprised, though, when Billy told her Vanessa was going with him. Joanna would have thought Marcus would put the brakes on that.

  The show was over at nine, but it was nearly ten by the time the group arrived at the Hunt mansion. Everything looked so beautiful, Joanna thought. There were fresh flowers everywhere and a combo played soft music for dancing and the dining room table groaned with a fabulous array of food. Champagne flowed freely, and two bartenders served the guests anything else they wanted to drink.

  And sitting in the place of honor on the mahogany buffet was an enormous cake decorated in pink. Congratulations, Joanna! was written across the top.

  Some of Joanna’s
pleasure and excitement in the evening faded as midnight came and went and Marcus still hadn’t shown up. People kept remarking on the fact that he wasn’t there and asking her where he was. It was horrible. She had to keep a smile on her face and pretend everything was fine, that he just had other commitments. The only person who understood was Georgie.

  “I’m so sorry, Jo,” she said at one point.

  “I know. Me, too.”

  “Maybe there’s some kind of family emergency he had to tend to.”

  “You really think so? And that’s why Vanessa is here having such a good time?” Joanna glanced over to where Vanessa and Billy were doing an energetic cha-cha.

  “Did something happen between you two?” Georgie asked gently.

  Joanna wanted to pour out her heart to Georgie, but she knew if she did, she would break down and cry. And she couldn’t break down. Not here. Not yet. “I’ll tell you tomorrow, okay?”

  “Okay.” Georgie leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Chin up.”

  Joanna nodded. At twelve-thirty, as some of the older guests were beginning to make noises about leaving, she finally had to face it. Marcus wasn’t coming. He, like she, had realized their worlds simply couldn’t mesh. She would most likely never see him again, unless for some reason their paths crossed at the gallery where her work would stay on display for the next week.

  At one o’clock, Joanna—who was fighting off a headache—headed toward Cornelia. “Cornelia, thank you for everything,” she said. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate the lovely party.”

  “It was my pleasure, Joanna.”

  Joanna smiled and hugged the older woman. She had just started to say that she was going to call it a night when there was a stir among the crowd. Turning to see what had caused it, Joanna felt her heart nearly stop.

  Marcus had come.

  He stood just inside the arched entry to the ballroom. He was looking at her. And everyone else was looking at him.

  Joanna couldn’t breathe. She was afraid she was going to faint. Why had he come? She wasn’t sure she could handle anything else tonight, especially if he was going to ignore her the way he’d done at the gallery.

  But he didn’t ignore her. Instead, he headed straight toward her and when he reached her, he pulled her into his arms. And then, in a voice everyone could hear—especially since the moment he’d put his arms around her the entire room fell silent—he said, “Joanna, I love you.

  “I love you just the way you are. I don’t want you to change even one hair on your head, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

  He released her long enough to reach into his jacket pocket and pull out a small black velvet box. Snapping it open, he removed a gorgeous antique diamond ring. “This belonged to my French grandmother,” he said, “And I want it to be yours. You’ve changed my life, and I don’t want to live without you. Will you marry me, Joanna?”

  Joanna trembled. She was afraid to trust what he’d said. She wanted to, but she was so scared.

  And then he did something she knew she would remember for the rest of her life. He removed his jacket and rolled up the left sleeve of his shirt. “This is why I didn’t come earlier,” he said.

  She stared at his left biceps. Maybe he was serious. Maybe he really did love her enough to stop trying to change her. Because Marcus had gotten a tattoo! Two beautifully rendered initials—a J and an M entwined together inside a heart now adorned his biceps. “That’s where I was all this time,” he said, grinning. “Do you like it?”

  “I love it!” Laughing, she wrapped her arms around him. “Of course I’ll marry you.”

  When they kissed, the onlookers all clapped. And every woman in the room had a lump in her throat and tears in her eyes. Everyone loved a happy ending.

  Epilogue

  From the pages of Around Puget Sound magazine:

  Marcus Barlow Finally Takes a Wife

  by Phoebe Lancaster

  This past Saturday evening, just one month after giving her his French grandmother’s antique engagement ring, Marcus Osborne Barlow III wed Joanna Marie Spinelli at St. Dominic’s Catholic Church in Georgetown. As most of you who read my column regularly know, Marcus has been the most eligible bachelor in this area for a long, long time, and area women have despaired of his ever succumbing to Cupid’s bow. But the fair Joanna, the up-and-coming fashion designer who recently had a sensationally successful show at the real Up and Coming, stole his heart and snatched him from under the noses of all those other hopeful women.

  Acting as best man was longtime Barlow family friend and lawyer Walker Creighton. Georgie Fairchild Prince was Joanna’s matron of honor. The bride wore a simple white satin gown of her own design and carried a cascading bouquet of stephanotis and ivy. Her grandmother’s lace mantilla adorned her head.

  The newlyweds are building a home on the Barlow Estate and, after a honeymoon in Italy—where the bride has always wanted to go—they will begin their new life as Mr. and Mrs. Marcus Barlow.

  PS: The bride confessed to me privately that she and her new husband are expecting a little Barlow in approximately seven months. Oops!

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from THANKSGIVING DADDY by Rachel Lee.

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  Prologue

  Flying with the air force combat search and rescue team had given Major Edith Clapton nerves of steel. At least when she was in the middle of all hell breaking loose. This op had been like many other ops, flying into enemy territory to pull out a recon unit, this time a group of navy SEALs. She didn’t want to know their mission. None of her business. Her job was to fly that Pave Hawk helicopter in and pull them out no matter how dangerous it became.

  This time there had been gunfire and rocket-propelled grenades, enough to put her teeth on edge, especially during the part where she had to hover over a cliff top that simply didn’t seem big enough, getting far closer than she would have liked, given her rotors.

  It had been close, but there had been wounded in the team she was picking up, one of whom needed a litter, and under fire there was no way she could use a rope lift. They needed to be in and out as fast as possible, with minimal exposure to those attackers on the surrounding mountains.

  So trying to hover while nearly scraping the ground of a nearby cliff, holding perfectly still while fire came her way...well, it might take some time to calm down completely. The nerves of steel that helped her on missions never failed to desert her back at the base.

  After showering, she headed to the officers’ club, looking for a good meal and an illicit drink or two. Illicit because legally no alcohol was allowed in Afghanistan, but somehow it made its way in to the bases anyway.

  She drank only after a mission, and only a couple of drinks. There were too many others around her to remind her that alcohol could become a crutch. She didn’t want any crutches, but she did want to wind down. Every nerve and muscle in her body seemed to be shrieking.

  She nodded to the people she knew,
which was nearly every officer at this base, and found herself a rickety table in the corner. They were supposedly at the rear of all the fighting, but that could change at any moment. In the meantime, this clone of the U.S. tried to pass for normal, with hurriedly built structures, a few fast-food joints and an exchange.

  It didn’t quite deceive anyone, but it was sure better than some of the firebases she had seen. For some, spending time here almost amounted to a vacation.

  She saw the SEAL team walk in just as she was being served a steak. Yeah, a real steak. It hardly seemed fair when so many of her fellow troops would be dining on barely warmed freeze-dried rations tonight. It was, however, one of the perks of being stationed at a permanent base. Well, semipermanent. She let the politics of it all fly by her.

  She was on her second drink and halfway through her steak when one of the SEALs she had rescued pulled out a chair and sat across from her.

  “Mind?” he asked.

  “We’re not supposed to hang,” she reminded him. Like many of his type, he seemed to be all hard angles and planes encased in muscle. Short dark hair, brown eyes that held flecks of green. Just sitting there, he looked dangerous.

  “No one knows you pulled us out today. Besides, if we can’t trust the people in this room, who can we trust?” He stuck out his hand. “Seth Hardin.”

  She shook it, taking in the subdued captain’s eagle, which was stitched into the collar of his camouflage uniform. His rank was the naval equivalent of the air force’s colonel. “Edith Clapton.”

  “That was some flying job you did out there,” he said.

  “Thanks. Your guys okay?”