Katia narrowed her eyes. “I don’t remember this event.”
“Oh, it’s only been in the past ten or twelve years,” Mrs. Beabots explained. “The money we raise is for the Heritage Foundation, to preserve the older homes and buildings around town. The first Saturday in December, we have a home tour for residents and tourists. Various committees volunteer to decorate some of Indian Lake’s loveliest houses. The florist and tree farms donate pine garlands and wreaths. Other merchants and retailers donate silk flowers, candles and other Christmas decorations. We have live carolers and musicians around town, and some of the homeowners pass out Christmas cookies or treats,” Mrs. Beabots said proudly.
“My company is very involved in the tour,” Sarah said. “It’s great advertising for us, and our designers and assistants enjoy the competition.”
“I’m curious. Why do you need me? I’m not a designer.”
Sarah stared at the ground sheepishly, and Mrs. Beabots stepped in. “We need you to talk to Austin for us.”
Katia rolled her eyes and broke into laughter. “You two are so devious. You didn’t need to bring me all the way out here to ask me this.”
Mrs. Beabots put a hand on her thin hip. “Pumpkins are required autumn decor in Indian Lake. You have to have some in your office. It’s our responsibility as your friends to guide you, dear. This is a small town, and tongues sometimes wag. You want to be accepted and to make the right impression for your business. You have to trust me on this. I was once a businesswoman myself.” She leveled her blue eyes on Katia with an unyielding gaze. “The tour is another matter altogether. Will you do it?”
Katia held back a chuckle. This tiny woman had a personality the strength of a gale-force wind. She felt as if the queen had spoken, and there would be some serious repercussions if she didn’t join the committee.
“Austin will never agree. I don’t remember Hanna opening her house to strangers, and he’s even worse about that kind of thing than she was.”
“Not anymore, he’s not,” Sarah said. “He just hosted that presentation for his museum. For the first time in his life, Austin is about people. Even if he doesn’t know it.”
Katia was thoughtful for a moment. “There’s a lot of truth in that, Sarah.”
Mrs. Beabots laid her hand on Katia’s forearm. “He’ll listen to you. The Heritage Foundation is vital to our community. It makes us unique. Of all the people in town, Austin is probably the most concerned about preserving the past. Especially his own family’s past. We thought that if you went with us, we could persuade him. What do you say?”
“Please, Katia?” Sarah said. “The McCreary mansion is the most elegant home in town, and until Austin’s presentation a few weeks ago, hardly any of us had ever been inside. Even Maddie, who takes him cupcakes every Friday, had only been in the kitchen or just inside the front door. And Austin was her first investor! We’re not saying it’s going to be easy. Other than putting a wreath on the front door every year, Austin hasn’t decorated since his mother died. But I think we’ll raise more money than ever if we can get him to show the house.”
Katia had never looked into two more beseeching faces than her friends’ at this moment. She knew this kind of charity played right to Austin’s interests. He adored old homes, old cars and the history of it all.
Katia remembered how his mother used to decorate the house for the holidays. It had been nothing short of magnificent. Hanna used to hire extra people to hang ornaments and garlands, arrange flowers and string lights through the shrubs outside. Hanna had made Christmas seem magical, even for the maid’s daughter.
“I’ll do it. But I’m only asking Austin once. If he turns us down, then I’m done. That’s it.” She paused. “It really was beautiful back when Hanna was alive.”
Sarah’s face lit up. “Thank you! I think this can work.”
“So do I,” Mrs. Beabots agreed. “Now let’s get some suitable pumpkins for your office, dear.”
Katia pretended to be interested in the pumpkin selection, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d just been railroaded by the best saleswomen she’d ever met.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
IT WAS POURING rain as Katia stood with Sarah and Mrs. Beabots outside Austin’s front door, holding a huge umbrella above their heads. She couldn’t believe she was this nervous about a silly fund-raising meeting. She was coming to care a great deal about Mrs. Beabots, and she was nurturing a friendship with Sarah. However, Katia didn’t think Austin would agree to open his house to as many as three hundred people on a Sunday afternoon just so they could finally peer into his private abode.
Katia dropped her head. This was a bad move all around. Mrs. Beabots was going to be disheartened when they were turned down, and Sarah probably would keep trying to fix things, which would only frustrate Austin more.
Katia had been up most of the night thinking of pitches and a persuasive approach that would convince him to participate. That was the reason her new friends had come to her. They believed she was their closer.
Daisy answered the door with a strong-armed whoosh and an ear-to-ear smile. “Ladies! Welcome. Come get out of the weather. Not fit for man or beast.” Daisy gestured toward the living room. “Austin’s on the phone, but he won’t be long. I’ll see to that. I have a fire going in there, so come on in.”
Mrs. Beabots walked straight to the fireplace and held out her hands to warm them. “It’s so cozy in here. I do love a real fire, don’t you, Katia?”
“I do,” Katia replied, surprised that Austin hadn’t succumbed to the convenience of gas logs and electrical-switch starters. She knew it had taken thought and extra work to prepare the fire for them, and it hadn’t been Daisy’s doing. This was all Austin. When they were young, it had always been his job to build the fire before his father got home from work. This was a good sign, she concluded. Perhaps he would be open to this event after all.
Austin walked into the room wearing black pants, a navy cashmere sweater over a snow-white cotton shirt and a smile so charming he took Katia’s breath away. “Good evening, ladies,” he said, walking straight up to Mrs. Beabots and taking her hand in both of his. “It’s great to see you again, Mrs. Beabots. You’re looking marvelous, as always.”
“Austin.” She beamed and placed her other hand over his. “I’ve missed seeing you, now that Hanna has been gone so long. I’m hoping this is the beginning of a renewed friendship for us.”
He bent and kissed her cheek. “Thank you for thinking of my mother. I’d forgotten how involved she was in the community when she was alive. I guess the years have just gotten away from me.” Then he turned to Sarah. “You’re looking terrific, Sarah. Married life must agree with you.”
“It truly does,” Sarah replied with a smile. “Though, I had no idea taking care of two children could be so demanding.”
Austin nodded. “If you do it right, it should be demanding.”
Katia was standing next to Sarah, and she watched as Austin’s eyes surreptitiously tracked back to her while he was speaking with her friends. When he moved toward her, she wasn’t sure if he would be formal or if he would embrace her.
“Katia, I’m guessing they brought you along to persuade me.”
“They did,” she said as he moved back toward the fireplace. Oddly, she felt slighted. No handshake and no compliment. A tiny fissure of sadness crept through her, disturbing her just enough to make an impression. She didn’t need Austin’s approval for anything, yet she wanted it. Why?
“Please, ladies, have a seat. I’ve got a fine Madeira port if you’d like...”
“I’d love one,” Mrs. Beabots chimed in before Austin could finish.
He gave another charming smile and glanced at Sarah. “And you, as well?”
“Thank you,” Sarah replied, taking a seat in a blue-and-white club chair across from the bergère chairs.
Mrs. Beabots sat on the sofa next to Katia. Austin went to a drop-leaf table in the corner of the room and po
ured four small glasses of port from a crystal decanter. He offered a glass to each of them just as Daisy entered the room with an enormous wooden tray filled with fresh fruits, cheeses, crackers and petit fours. She placed the tray on the coffee table and passed out pink linen cocktail napkins.
“These were your mother’s,” Katia said, smoothing out her napkin. “They were one of the first things I learned to iron when I was a little girl.”
Mrs. Beabots reached over and patted Katia’s hand. “You remember her fondly, then.”
“Most of the time, yes,” Katia replied. She couldn’t help but recall that Hanna had often acted just as paranoid about Katia and Austin’s relationship as Stephania had been.
Austin sat in a large blue leather wing chair, and after retrieving a strawberry and popping it into his mouth, he studied each of his guests for a long moment before his gaze moved on to Katia and lingered there. He sipped his wine cautiously, but didn’t say a word.
Katia was as familiar with this move of his as she was with his backhand, though he had yet to set a real tennis date with her. He was waiting for her to start the discussion, and because he was letting her think he was going to be a hard sell, she knew he had something up his sleeve.
Austin had always liked to turn the tables on her, but she couldn’t figure out why he’d do it now. If he didn’t want to put his house on the tour, all he had to do was say no.
“Mrs. Beabots tells me you’re familiar with the Heritage Foundation and the Christmas Candlelight Tour, Austin,” Katia began.
“I am.” He grabbed a piece of cheese and a couple of wheat crackers. He took his time nibbling them.
Katia continued, “And Sarah tells me that, though you’ve been invited to join in the tour, you never have before. And yet you’ve agreed to this meeting. I have to say that I don’t believe for a minute that you were anxious to get our opinion about your port or to show off Daisy’s culinary expertise. I think you want to help the foundation this year. I think you’ve finally realized what an asset the McCreary mansion would be on the tour. Mrs. Beabots believes they can double their donations with your participation.”
* * *
AUSTIN DIDN’T TAKE his eyes off Katia as she spoke. When she had finished her spiel, he considered his words for a moment before launching into his reply.
“I’m flattered that you think I’m so interesting that people have enough morbid curiosity, or simply nosiness to actually pay money to find out some secret I might have. Makes me feel like a celebrity. Frankly, though, that’s why I’ve shied away from this event in the past. This year is different.”
“It’s because of the museum, isn’t it?” Katia asked.
“Yes. It is. As you all know, I’m deeply devoted to my parents and my ancestors and their creativity, talent and inventiveness. Their—” he steepled his fingers and pressed his lips against them “—pioneer visions. They were all more ambitious than I am. I would have been content being a car mechanic.” He looked down at his loafers, not seeing them or even his small audience. “I’m still happiest under the hood.” He chuckled to himself. “There’s something about a boy’s first car that strikes that pioneer chord in a great many men. We get our first adrenaline rush when we see a machine that can take us places, especially away from home, from demanding parents. Cars, for many young men, are an initiation into adulthood.” He blinked, his guests coming into focus again. “I digress. The reason I’m thinking about the Candlelight Tour this year is because I’m building a shrine, in essence, to my male ancestors, but my mother is barely acknowledged in all this. My mother loved Christmas, and because of that, I think she would be quite proud to display this house on your tour.”
“Austin!” Mrs. Beabots clapped her hands together. “You darling boy! Thank you.”
“Yes,” Sarah said. “Everyone on the committee will be very grateful.”
* * *
KATIA STARED AT AUSTIN. She wasn’t fooled for a minute. He wasn’t done. There would be a proviso. There always was. Just like he wouldn’t sign a straight deal with her for the construction insurance policy, she knew he’d want to negotiate bit further.
“So tell us, Austin. What’s the stipulation?”
He tilted his head back and guffawed. “You know me too well, Katia. I do have two things I want, or the deal is off.”
“Off?” Sarah gulped, her eyes widening.
“On the brochure, I want a dedication to my mother, so that everyone understands I’m doing this in her honor.”
“Done,” Mrs. Beabots said emphatically.
Katia’s eyes narrowed as he took a breath. “And the second stipulation?”
Austin met her gaze, as confident as a gambler with a winning hand. “I want Katia to do the decorating.”
“Me? Why? I’m not part of the foundation. I was just helping Mrs. Beabots and Sarah—”
“So?” He shrugged. “It worked. You got me. I’ll open my house, but you know how my mother used to decorate everything. I want it to look like it would if she were alive. You can have all the helpers you need, and I’ll have Daisy at your beck and call. But you will spearhead the decoration. That’s my deal. Take it or leave it.”
Katia slung her gaze to Mrs. Beabots. “I don’t know if I have time to help with something like this. I still don’t have my office furnished.” Her hands flew to her cheeks. “I can think of dozens of things I have to accomplish before December.”
The turmoil in Katia’s head reminded her of frantic birds in a cage. Despite the mountain of work she needed to scale, the one thing that underscored her trepidation was the fact that Austin was setting this up so she would be forced to be in his house on a weekly basis from now until the first weekend of December. Katia knew exactly what Austin was expecting.
In the McCreary attic there were no less than fifty boxes and crates of ornaments, garlands, Christmas linens, dishes, glassware and silk florals. Katia remembered her mother talking about the standing orders for wreaths on every single window and the yards and yards of spruce and cedar garland she ordered from the tree farm. Austin would expect all of it to be an exact replica of Hanna’s extravagant Christmas decor. She wouldn’t put it past him to hire a photographer and put the pictures in his museum.
Katia knew Austin was tossing her a challenge, which was just fine with her. She was up to it.
But in a few short days, both Jack and his ironclad rules about client-agent relationships would be moving to Indian Lake.
Austin clearly had romance on his mind. If he didn’t, then what was he doing with her?
There was the possibility that he was masking some kind of revenge scheme, and that he was trying to romance her only to dump her later, just as she’d done to him. She didn’t think he was that devious; perhaps she’d underestimated his anger. Then again, what if his intentions were pure? What if he did still have feelings for her?
At the thought of romance with Austin, a zing went through Katia’s heart. This wasn’t an attack. It was an awakening. Could she trust those emotions? What if she lost him again and she had to relive that horrible heartache?
The worst thing for Katia at this point in her career and her life was to allow herself to fall back in love with Austin.
Handling Jack was going to be another matter. As far as her boss knew, Austin McCreary was nothing more to her than a client. She could never tell Jack the whole truth about her past with Austin, but there was the real possibility that he would hear it from just about anyone in town. It was too easy for Jack to become suspicious, especially if he ever saw the way Austin looked longingly at her, like he was doing now.
And if she spent too much time with Austin playing Christmas carols and decorating a tree, Jack could very well fire her with no questions asked.
Because she’d been so determined to land Austin’s business over the past few weeks, she hadn’t thought or planned much beyond getting him to sign the contract.
Suddenly, what had seemed like an innocent Christma
s charity fund-raiser was now a threat to her career. Katia had unwittingly treaded onto a minefield of her own making.
She pressed her hand against her temple to hold her jumbled thoughts inside. She took a deep breath and smiled at Austin.
“I’ll be happy to decorate the house for you.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
JACK CARTER’S ARRIVAL in Indian Lake was a comedy of errors. Driving into town in his turbo-charged BMW, he got a speeding ticket for doing thirty-five in a twenty-five zone. The moving van he’d hired got lost on the interstate and took the wrong exit for Indian Lake, and Jack ended up spending more time relaying navigation instructions on his Bluetooth than talking with his client, whom he kept putting on hold. This caused Jack a great deal of frustration, which he carried with him right through the door of his new offices.
Katia was waiting by the entrance as he trudged up the stairs with a large cardboard box, grumbling incoherently.
“Welcome to your new home, Jack,” Katia said brightly, her arms spread wide. She was proud to have gotten the office so ready for him, and couldn’t wait to show off what she’d accomplished.
“Hi,” he muttered, walking past her.
Luke Bosworth was in the last stages of hanging Jack’s office door.
“Oh, Luke,” Katia said, following her boss into the loft. “This is Jack Carter. The owner of Carter and Associates.”
Luke swung the door closed, glanced at the shiny new brass hinges with satisfaction and turned to extend his hand to Jack. “Nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot of good things about you from Katia.”
Jack exhaled and returned Luke’s smile. “Thanks for helping out so much. Katia says you’re quite talented, and it looks as though she was dead on. I love the door.”
“The design was all Katia. I just hung the thing.”
“And put up the walls,” Katia interjected. “Jack, the carpet installers should be here in half an hour, and then we can start moving your furniture in this afternoon.”
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