A Savannah Christmas Wish

by Nan Dixon

  “She’s sweet,” Mom cooed.

  “Now what have you done?” Nathan drawled from the doorway, a beer in his hand. “Saved a life? Donated an organ?”

  “I’ll leave that to you.” Daniel crossed his arms. “I hear you’re donating your liver to science to study the long-term effects of alcohol.”

  “Enough!” Mom scowled at them. “I expect a civilized family dinner tonight.”

  Daniel set the plates while Nathan grabbed silverware. Mom tucked the flowers in a vase and set them on the mantel, and Pop kept the puppy out of trouble.

  Mom had made Pop’s favorite foods—stuffed pork chops, collard greens and her spicy potato salad. If this was a celebration dinner, they’d have said so immediately. Daniel worried through each bite he forced down.

  “Don’t sneak the dog any more of your pork chop,” Daniel warned his dad.

  Mom laughed. “I swear, those were the same words I used when Mike used to sit under the table near you and Nathan.”

  “Unfortunately, Mike never ate my broccoli.” Nathan shook his head.

  “Or Brussels sprouts,” Daniel added.

  They shared a grin. He rolled his shoulders at the strange sensation. Were he and his twin actually sharing a good memory?

  “I miss Mike.” Mom leaned down and brushed Carly’s belly.

  Daniel almost offered to leave Carly with them, but the look between Mom and Pop carried too much pain.

  He let his fork clatter on the plate. “Great dinner.”

  “Let’s get these dishes cleared.” Mom turned to Pop. “Do you want another glass of wine?”

  “No. Carly and I will sit in the living room.” Pop carried the puppy with him.

  His dad used to help Mom with the dishes, using any excuse to steal kisses. Daniel’s chest tightened. Now Pop was in the living room—resting.

  Daniel wiped down the table. These family dinners were like waiting for a wrecking ball to strike. What would crumble next?

  Mom touched his shoulder. “If you rub any harder, you’ll take off the finish.”

  “Sorry.” He stopped.

  “The pans can soak.” Mom held a wineglass. “Do you want anything?”

  “Nothing.” His stomach churned so hard he worried his dinner wouldn’t stay down.

  Nathan, a beer in his hand, wrapped an arm around Mom. Daniel followed them into the living room.

  Carly slept on Pop’s lap, her legs sprawled. Mom sat next to Pop, her hand on his knee. Nathan took the facing love seat. Daniel claimed an armchair.

  Pop tucked a bookmark in his book. “Mom and I wanted to give you an update on all these tests the doctor’s been running.”

  Daniel’s body tensed.

  “It appears my blood’s running thin.”

  “The anemia, right?” Nathan asked.

  Mom’s lips pinched together.

  “They’ve decided it’s more than that,” Pop said. “They say I have MDS.”

  “What’s that?” Nathan asked.

  “Myelodysplastic syndrome,” Mom said.

  Pop rubbed his hair, making the white strands stand straight up. “Bone marrow cancer, I guess you would call it.”

  “Cancer?” Daniel swallowed. Chills ran down his spine. “How do we fight this?”

  “They plan to run more tests.” Pop rolled his eyes. “Stick a big needle in my hip to check out my bone marrow.”

  “They have to determine what stage he’s at for treatment.” Mom’s smile was forced. “We’ll let you know when they schedule the biopsy.”

  “What can I do? Give blood, a kidney, what?” Nathan set his beer on the coffee table. He’d gone serious. A new look for his brother.

  “Nothing like that.” Pop laughed. “We wanted to let you know where things stood. We have a diagnosis. I’m counting on the docs to come up with a battle plan.”

  Cancer. His energetic, vital father had cancer. He’d expected an infection or a virus—not cancer.

  “Whatever you need me to do, I’ll do,” Daniel said.

  “I know.” Pop nodded. “Keep doing what you’re doing. Keep our projects on task. I expect the doctors will figure this out and I’ll be back on the job soon.” He touched both Daniel and Nathan’s hands. “No slacking off.”

  “Not me.” Nathan picked up his beer and drained it. “Never.”

  Daniel’s hope for his life to get back to normal evaporated. He would keep Pop from worrying about the company. He’d do anything for his parents. Even ride herd on his lazy brother.

  * * *

  “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” BESS held up her champagne flute and toasted Abby.

  Dolley tipped her glass to Abby’s and the glasses chimed.

  “I can’t believe Gray set all this up.” Abby scanned the packed Olde Pink House restaurant tables.

  Bess touched her hand. “He was upset he couldn’t be here for your birthday.”

  “I knew he was a softy.” Dolley took another stuffed mushroom from the appetizer plate.

  Bess and Abby stared at her.

  Abby pointed her finger at their sister. “You used to call him megarich.”

  “He is megarich.” Dolley waved her fork. “But under all his gruffness, he’s a marshmallow.”

  Bess laughed at the thought.

  And she had to keep laughing. If she let herself think, she’d be stressing over the fact she had no place to live. Her problem. Not a burden to share with her sisters while they were celebrating.

  “Daniel swung by this afternoon.” Abby cut the last fried green tomato in half. “He says the plumbing in the carriage house should be done by week’s end. Things will roll on the interior after that.”

  “Did he give a completion date?” Bess didn’t want to move into the Fitzgerald carriage house, but it was an option.

  “Three weeks, maybe four.”

  The timing might work. Maybe she should warn her sisters she’d be homeless after Halloween.

  Their entrées arrived, giving Bess another excuse to ignore her housing problems. They’d all chosen different meals, allowing Abby to taste more of the menu.

  “This stuffed grouper is fantastic.” Abby took a sip of her wine. “Maybe I should add a crab-stuffed fish to the wedding menu selections.”

  They all took a bite.

  “I like your sea bass better,” Bess said.

  “Me, too,” Dolley added.

  “You guys are the best.” Abby’s grin lit up the room. “What would I do without my sisters?”

  Bess shared her Vidalia-onion-and-sweet-potato ravioli. Without her sisters, she’d feel like a plant ripped out by its roots. Why didn’t Daniel and Nathan want that kind of closeness? And how could she help bridge the divide between the brothers?

  “I’m lucky.” Bess grabbed her sisters’ hands. “I have you.”

  Dolley pointed. “Don’t you cry. If one cries, we all cry.”

  Bess sniffed back tears. She waved her hands. “Too much wine.”

  They ate and talked about Fitzgerald House, which morphed into a discussion on Carleton House.

  “I’m hitting estate sales over the weekend. Mamma and Aunt CeCe plan to do the same, and they’ll check out antique stores in Atlanta,” Dolley said. “Are we staying with iron or sleigh bed frames?”

  They talked room themes. Dolley had created a furnishing checklist and inventory, and they’d bought a few pieces from Mrs. Carleton, but there was a lot more house to furnish. And they would do it together. Because that’s how they worked.

  She shouldn’t worry about telling them her bad news. Taking a deep breath, she said, “Daniel says they accepted a bid on my apartment.”

  Abby’s hand covered hers. “I’m sorry.”

  Dolley sat straighter. �
�When do you have to move?”

  “End of October.”

  “Four weeks. It will be close.” Abby nodded. “Once I move out of the carriage house, you’ll move in.”

  “It feels like I...failed.” Bess’s breath puffed out. “And I have to move home.”

  “No!” Abby’s green eyes flashed. “You’re moving closer to your work.”

  Dolley’s fiery curls bounced as she nodded. “It will be easier to work on the courtyard and keep Daniel in line.”

  “Keep him in line?” Bess snorted. “Like that will ever happen.”

  “Daniel’s a marshmallow just like Gray,” Dolley insisted.

  “Are you crazy?” Bess asked.

  Dolley pointed with her fork. “He kept the puppy.”

  “Yes.” An image of a naked Daniel with his rock-hard muscles and fierce face sideswiped her. Nothing about Daniel was marshmallowy.

  Okay. Definitely too much wine.

  “Maybe I can move into an unsold unit in my building.”

  “Do you want to move from one location to another and do it again?” Abby asked.

  “I want to stay where I am.”

  Abby rubbed her shoulder. “We know.”

  Bess hated the idea of moving home. Of—failing. She had enough income coming in to pay rent. But she couldn’t swing a mortgage.

  “I’ll keep the option of moving into the carriage house in mind.” Her sisters wore matching frowns. “Come on, this is a party. We’re not talking about my problems.”

  But she would ask Daniel about moving into another unit the first chance she got. Maybe she’d get this alleged marshmallow Daniel when they talked.

  And maybe they would have a foot of snow tomorrow. Both were as likely to occur in Savannah.

  * * *

  “THANKS, CADE.” BESS danced inside, but she kept an easy smile on her face. She had the consulting gig. “I’ll make sure Jimmy understands every step I’m taking.”

  “Thank you.” Cade stood from his desk.

  “We’ll all profit.” She shook his hand. “Jimmy and I will make the client happy. And when people ask who did the work, he’ll get the credit.”

  It might be shortsighted to let Jimmy take the credit on this project, but her bank account would be happy.

  She loaded the Fitzgerald House flower arrangements into her car. The boxed vases were wedged in her trunk and backseat. She buckled the biggest one in the passenger’s seat. With all the rooms now complete in Fitzgerald House and Carleton House’s remodel, she’d have to find another way to transport the B and B’s flowers, or get a truck or van.

  Bess grimaced. She wanted to buy an apartment, not a vehicle. Taking on new debt wouldn’t help her qualify for a mortgage.

  She brought in the first vase as Cheryl came out of the kitchen.

  “That’s gorgeous,” Cheryl said. “Need help?”

  “Sure.” Bess used her shoulder to brush a curl from her mouth. “The rest of the arrangements are in my car.”

  She carried the vase into the foyer. Removing the fading arrangement, she replaced it with the new one. She fluffed the yellow chrysanthemums and tucked the baby’s breath underneath the rust-colored pom-pom dahlias.

  “Those are beautiful.” Marion came out from one of the parlors. “The fall colors look wonderful against the green marble.”

  “They do, don’t they.” And that’s what she’d imagined when she’d paired the golds, yellows and oranges.

  “I walked through Carleton House.” Marion fanned her face. “I’m not sure how they’ll pull it all together so we open in February.”

  “Hard work.” Bess flexed her muscle. “Daniel will get it done.”

  “He’s a hardworking young man, and handsome at that.”

  Oh, the man was handsome. And hardworking. And inflexible. And could kiss her into next week. And break her heart with a scowl.

  She dumped the old flowers in the garbage and headed back outside.

  Cheryl stopped her at the door. “This is the last of them.”

  “Thanks. I’ll get them up to their spots.”

  “I’ve got this,” Cheryl volunteered. “Where do you want the used vases?”

  “Supply closet.”

  Bess rinsed and set the large vase on the cabinet shelf.

  She wandered through the Fitzgerald gardens, winking at the troll she’d tucked under the blooming gardenias. The flowers’ creamy scent, not as strong as they would be at night, was still heavenly. Life was good.

  It was a perfect day to work on the patio, cool but still sunny. She gathered her gloves, tools and coffee, and wheeled everything over to Carleton House.

  The wheelbarrow clattered to the ground. “No!”

  Broken concrete lay scattered over the patio surface. Deep wheelbarrow tracks furrowed the gravel. She ran both hands through her hair. Yesterday’s work was trashed.

  Anger bubbled up like a fountain. She would kill Daniel.

  She stomped into Carleton House, slapping the door shut. “Forester!”

  Carly barked.

  Eddie stuck his head around the kitchen door, then disappeared.

  She didn’t care if she’d frightened him. Someone had to clean up this mess. “Forester, show your face!”

  She stomped through the rooms.

  A jackhammer pounded in the basement.

  “Aha!” She slid down a makeshift ramp and followed the noise.

  Daniel, wearing headphones, manned the noisy machine. She shook her fist, trying to get his attention. He didn’t stop until Eddie touched his arm and pointed at her.

  He switched the machine off, smiling.

  The silence almost hurt her ears. She stepped over and jabbed him in the chest.

  His smile went from happy to irritated. “Working here, Bess.”

  “Well, you’ve ruined my day.”

  Eddie sneaked out with another wheelbarrow full of concrete chunks.

  “Freeze, buddy,” she threatened.

  “Don’t order my crew around, Fitzgerald.”

  “Your idiot crew dropped crap all over my patio site.”

  The helper’s eyes widened. “I dumped where Quint told me.”

  Daniel tucked his gloves in his jeans’ back pocket. “Upstairs. You, too, Eddie.”

  Her boots slipped and skidded on the ramp, but Daniel pushed her ahead of him.

  “Hands off, Forester.”

  He tried to hold the kitchen door, but she pushed it open and let it slap in his face.

  “Shit,” he said under his breath, surveying the yard.

  “Why the hell didn’t you dump the concrete in the Dumpster?” Daniel asked Eddie.

  “Quint said...” the kid mumbled.

  “Clean this up and get the concrete in the Dumpster.” Daniel’s eyes narrowed.

  “Um, where is it?”

  Daniel pointed a finger around the side of the house.

  Daniel tugged Bess into the house. They went through the kitchen and to the front parlor. He kicked the door closed.

  “Let me go.” She tried to pull away, but his hand shackled her arm.

  “Don’t scream at me in front of the crew.” He thrust her away from him.

  “Where were you this morning?” She rubbed her arm where his fingers had been.

  “Working,” he growled. His brown eyes were so dark they were almost black.

  She’d only seen his eyes that dark when they’d had sex.

  “You’re in charge of this project,” she snapped. “Can’t you handle it?”

  He moved toward her. “I am handling it.”

  “Doesn’t look like it to me.”

  “Why didn’t you rope the area off?” he shot back
.

  “This is my fault?” She jerked her head. “Don’t you dare blame me.”

  He pushed off his hat, running both hands through his hair. His sigh feathered the hair around her face. “No.”

  She slumped against the wall, her fury fading. “You cost me two days of work.”

  He stepped closer, resting his hand on the wall above her. “I screwed up.”

  “What did you say?” The scent of sandalwood and Daniel filled her head, pushing away the last of her anger.

  “I’m sorry. My crew will correct our mistake.” There was dust on his eyelashes and fire in his brown eyes. “They’ll help you relevel or whatever you need to do.”

  He cupped her cheek, staring into his eyes. “I’ll even help move gravel.”

  She reached up to yank his hand away, but instead her fingers covered his. And stayed there.

  His hips pressed against hers. She wanted to wrap her hands around his lean waist and tug him closer.

  Her breath heaved, but now it was from the way Daniel looked at her.

  “Bess.” He brushed his mouth on hers.

  He tasted of dust and coffee.

  Bess melted from the heat of his body. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and pull him close, but he pressed their joined hands against the wall. His mouth coursed a trail down her neck to the top of her shirt. The stubble on his chin tickled the crest of her breast. He kissed between her cleavage and her knees almost gave out.

  Tugging her to her toes, he kissed her again, forceful and sure.

  “I’ll pick you up at seven tonight.”

  She fought her way back through a gauze of lust. “Seven?”

  “Dinner.” He rolled his hips against hers and groaned. “With me.”

  “Okay,” she mumbled.

  He dived back in for a kiss. The man wasn’t thinking about dinner. And neither was she.

  * * *

  THEY WORKED SIDE by side for most of the day. Daniel and his team contributed the muscle to fix their mistake, Bess and Molly the expertise to build the patio’s foundation.

  Daniel dumped another bucketful of sand where Bess directed. It had been interesting having someone tell him what to do. For so long, he’d been the expert and problem solver.

  Bess moved over to Eddie as he ran the compactor. She explained something and had the kid smiling. How could she be so competent while working and drive him crazy the rest of the time?