Will Work For Love

by Amie Denman

  “Agreed,” Whitney said. She hoped that, by the time she got home, the cold Boston air would take some of the sting out of it all.

  ****

  That night, the family ate an early dinner then lit a fire in the seldom-used fireplace in the living room at East Pointe. Taylor and Jackson stretched on the couch watching a movie, Taylor’s parents were outside looking over the pavilion, and Whitney felt like a fifth wheel. She considered going upstairs to read or watch TV in her room, but there was a knock on the door.

  “I’ll get it,” she called.

  Whitney opened the kitchen door and all she saw was a giant tree. An evergreen tree. The fragrance of it immediately filled her with nostalgia. It was a very large tree, much taller than she was and too wide to come through the door. She still couldn’t see who was on the other side of the tree, but her heart told her not to have any doubt about it.

  “Tree delivery. Straight from Maine,” a familiar voice said. Chris poked his head around the side of the tree and smiled the rakish grin she had seen that first day at the airport when they met in the revolving door.

  “Who is it?” Taylor called from the living room couch.

  “Special delivery,” Whitney called back. “Stay right there.”

  Whitney stepped through the kitchen door and closed it behind her. “How did you do this?” she asked.

  “Well,” Chris said, “in addition to a thriving construction company, you might recall that I also own a small freight company. I also have two generous parents in Maine who insist that I have a New England Christmas even though I have decamped for the Caribbean.”

  “This is your tree?”

  “It’s from my parents’ property, but it’s not exactly mine. I asked them to send two trees this year.”

  Whitney breathed in the wonderful evergreen scent and took in the sight of Chris standing before her holding the trunk of the tree in one large hand. She smiled giddily. She had no idea how to reconcile their relationship, but the warm blood coursing through her veins made it all seem right.

  “For the record, I ordered the trees a week ago.”

  “Before—”

  “Before you knew you should be mad as hell at me,” he said.

  “There’s no peace offering like a Maine pine. I think it actually pre-dates the olive branch,” Whitney said.

  “Where would you like me to set it up?”

  “Follow me.”

  Whitney led him around the outside of the house and through the double doors into the living room. When she and Chris came through the doors with the tree, Taylor’s eyes opened wide with surprise. She looked from Chris to Whitney and complete understanding dawned on her face. She raised one eyebrow and grinned at Whitney. Taylor’s parents came in right behind the tree.

  “This is Chris Maxwell,” Whitney said and she introduced the entire East family one at a time.

  “He owns Blue Isle Construction,” she explained. Taylor’s parents glanced at each other, their expressions darkening. “His company did all the repair work from Hurricane Destiny.”

  “I hope it didn’t give you too much trouble,” Taylor said. “It looks wonderful to me.”

  Her parents said nothing, apparently reserving comment and letting Whitney take the lead.

  “My pleasure,” said Chris. His eyes rested on Whitney as he spoke and several other sets of eyes turned her direction.

  “Do we have a tree stand somewhere so we can get this set up?” Whitney asked.

  “I’ve got an extra one in my truck,” Chris volunteered. “Be right back.”

  As soon as he was out the door, Taylor spun on Whitney. “Would he happen to be the main character of the long story you were going to tell me?”

  Whitney nodded. She didn’t trust herself to speak.

  “I’d say it’s going to be a great story,” said Taylor’s fiancé.

  “Does it have a happy ending?” Taylor’s mom asked, looking pointedly at Whitney and waiting for an answer.

  “I don’t know,” said Whitney.

  Chris returned with a heavy iron tree stand and made short work of setting the tree up where Taylor’s parents directed him. Her mom disappeared into the kitchen and came back with eggnog. They toasted the tree as they watched its branches slowly drape and settle in its new location. The room smelled like Christmas.

  Kitty East offered Chris cookies from a silver platter. “Thank you for the tree, Mr. Maxwell,” she said. “It reminds me of home.”

  “I remember my first Christmas on the island three years ago. It seemed so strange. I’ve gotten used to it now, though, and I doubt that I’ll ever move back to Maine.”

  “I can sure see the appeal,” said Mr. East.

  Chris stayed for a while and they found some decorations in the Christmas boxes to decorate the Maine pine. Whitney noticed Taylor slipped a white envelope to Chris when she thought Whitney was preoccupied with putting the star on the tree.

  Whitney walked Chris to his truck after they finished drinking the eggnog and decorating the tree.

  “What did Taylor give you?” she asked.

  Chris pulled the white envelope from his pocket. Whitney immediately recognized it because she helped Taylor pick them out. “An invitation to her wedding,” she said. “Tomorrow night. Christmas Eve.”

  “Do you think her parents want me anywhere around?”

  Whitney considered it. The Easts were forgiving people. Especially after she got Taylor out of the way earlier in the day so she could explain Chris’ Robin Hood actions to her parents. While not thrilled that their estate had been neglected, they also agreed not to press the matter legally.

  “They’re forgiving people,” Whitney said, shrugging. “Especially since everything turned out all right. Maybe someday we’ll tell Taylor the whole story, but not now.”

  “Do you want me to come?”

  “Yes.”

  Chris pulled her close and held her for a moment. There was no pressure, just the warmth of her body pressed intimately against his. She enjoyed breathing in his scent mixed with some pinesap stuck to his clothes. She could have stood there for a long time, but she wanted something more. She looked up and her lips found his.

  She meant to say thank you for the tree with the kiss. She thought it might also say how much she admired everything he did for other people. Perhaps the kiss could say she was sorry she had not tried to understand his motives for failing to do the work at East Pointe. Maybe it could say how pleased they all were with his skill in repairing the damage.

  Instead, the kiss simply said how much she wanted him and how much she had fallen in love with him in only a dozen days.

  ****

  There were lots of deliveries on Christmas Eve, the day of the wedding. The cake was delivered in a white van, the flowers were delivered in a pink van, and a catering van from the hotel deposited a chef and his kitchen staff early in the day. Relatives who were on St. Thomas for the wedding and were staying at the Marriott also came and went throughout the day, so it was no wonder that Whitney did not notice one of the deliveries.

  Taylor knocked on the door of Whitney’s room with a small package in her hand. “Special delivery,” she said.

  Whitney opened the door and Taylor came in and sat down on the edge of her bed. “This came for you,” she said.

  “For me? What is it?” Whitney asked.

  “Well I guess you’ll have to open it, silly.”

  Whitney tore off the outer layer of brown paper. Inside was a gift-wrapped box with a card taped on it. She sat down on the bed next to Taylor and opened the envelope of the card with trembling fingers.

  December 21

  I know that I don’t deserve to be a happy memory for you from your time on St. Thomas, but I will always remember that your skin is just this color when the sunset’s rays glance off it. Merry Christmas.

  Love, Chris

  Taylor was reading over Whitney’s shoulder, so there was no need for her to explain the tears stream
ing down her face.

  “This is dated three days ago,” Whitney said.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Before we made up.”

  “I guess he had confidence you would,” Taylor said. “Open the box, what is it?”

  Whitney pulled off the gift-wrap and removed the lid from the long slim box. She knew what was inside before she even looked.

  “That’s beautiful,” Taylor said in the hushed tones one might use to describe a priceless painting.

  The necklace with alternating pink and silver beads lay glistening in the box next to a matching pair of earrings. The thing that attracted Whitney to it when she first saw it in the shop was that it was a mixture of modern silver beads with salmon pink beads made of shells. The islands meeting the outside world in one beautiful necklace. She stared wordlessly at the gift.

  “It’ll match your dress perfectly,” Taylor said.

  “I know,” Whitney said, nodding slowly and smiling at her best friend. “Thank you for inviting him to your wedding.”

  “My pleasure. I saw the way you lit up when he was anywhere near you.”

  “I love muscles,” Whitney giggled.

  “He’s got’em,” Taylor said.

  “And a whole lot more.”

  “I’m still looking forward to hearing that whole story,” Taylor replied.

  “Let me see how it ends first.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Whitney stood in the back of the pavilion with Taylor. The bride’s silky white dress flowed smoothly over her protruding belly and stopped short of her sparkling sandals. Whitney wore the salmon colored strapless dress Taylor chose from the bridal store in Boston. The silk shantung flowed to her knees, stopping there and exposing her shapely calves.

  When the hired quintet from the hotel began Mendelssohn’s bridal march, Whitney stepped forward slowly. Taylor’s fiancé waited next to the minister with his best friend. Guests occupied the three dozen rented white chairs decorated with elegant salmon ribbon bows.

  Whitney knew more than half of the invited guests because of her long friendship with Taylor. But there was one invited guest in particular she hoped to see. Her eyes scanned the rows of chairs as she smiled and tried to look straight ahead while walking slowly and holding her maid of honor bouquet. When she got to her place by the minister, she temporarily halted her scanning of the guests. All she wanted to see was her best friend, radiant, stepping slowly down the aisle.

  The white lights of the pavilion twinkled in the early evening twilight. The fresh white paint of the newly repaired pavilion gleamed in the glow of the lights that were Chris’ idea and his doing. Whitney looked up at the lights, her eyes filled with tears, then back at Taylor as she completed her walk down the aisle. It was magical, just as she had hoped it would be.

  There had been many days in the past two weeks where she feared this wedding would be ruined by Hurricane Destiny. Now, it seemed, Destiny had something in mind for her as well. But she had no idea where it was leading her. Taylor handed her the bridal bouquet and took both of her fiancé’s hands in hers. They all turned toward the center to hear the minister speak the familiar words.

  When Whitney turned slightly to direct her attention to the vows, she saw him. Seated in the third row back, clear on the outside of the pavilion. Perhaps he didn’t feel comfortable crowding toward the center when he hardly knew Taylor. But he had come. Whitney had known he would.

  His eyes were on her. She met his gaze and caught the unspoken acknowledgement as his eyes dropped to her necklace and then raised to her eyes again. He nodded slightly. She smiled broadly. No one would mind. Smiles at her best friend’s wedding were exactly what people expected to see.

  She had done it. The pavilion and gazebo and everything else at East Pointe were perfect. As a maid of honor, she had come through.

  In addition to celebrating that success, she had something to look forward to at the reception. She hardly finished her ceremonial walk down the aisle after the bride when she saw Chris heading straight for her. He wore a black suit fitting his broad shoulders perfectly. His smooth shaven face showed off his happy grin and his blond curls were tamed to perfection.

  He stopped only inches from her, his magnetism almost indecent with so many people around. Fortunately, they were all busy rushing to congratulate the bride and groom or queuing up at the food tables. The quintet struck up a lighter piece of classical music and the sounds wafted over the manicured lawn.

  “You wore it,” he said.

  “How could I resist?”

  “The jeweler told me it was the one you tried on.”

  “So that was you. I thought I caught a glimpse of your reflection, but then you were gone.”

  Chris picked up her hand and raised it to his lips. “I didn’t think you’d want to see me.”

  Whitney smiled and stepped a little closer, resting her free hand on the lapel of his coat. “It was right after that that I discovered the clue that explained Chris Maxwell to me. Or should I call you Robin Hood?”

  “Not in this crowd,” he said in a mock whisper. “That wouldn’t be too popular with the aristocracy here.”

  She looked at him curiously. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

  “Tell you?”

  “That you used the insurance check to help dozens of other people instead of fixing up the play lands of the rich?”

  “Would you have understood?”

  “Understood?” she asked. “Yes. But, it wouldn’t have changed anything. I still needed this work to get done, and you still did something that was—”

  “Criminal?”

  Whitney put a finger over his lips. “Forget all those things I said. I know the truth now about you. But I still wonder one thing.”

  “Ask anything,” he said.

  “Why? Why do you feel so compelled to help others even at risk to your own business?”

  Chris looked seriously down at her and hesitated. “Do you remember what I said about my Dad always being driven by the bottom line?”

  “Yes,” she said, understanding coming over her.

  “I don’t want to be like that. We didn’t see eye to eye on the profit margins, and I thought it was best if I went my own way.”

  “You went pretty far,” she said.

  Chris nodded. “I love it here,” he said seriously, and then he grinned and kissed her on the lips. “Besides, I was tired of snow.”

  “I don’t miss that a bit,” she said.

  “Speaking of which…”

  “Yes?” she asked.

  “I was talking to Mr. East about your business in Boston.”

  “Really? You were discussing my business?”

  “We have testosterone. It’s our job to want to solve problems.”

  “Oh, please,” she said, rolling her eyes. “So, I’m curious, did you decide whether I should gamble the future of my company by borrowing money to buy a chunk of land? Should I take the giant leap of building my own apparel manufacturing facility?”

  “Yep.”

  “Yep? As in, yep you decided what I should do about all of that?”

  Chris grabbed two glasses of champagne from a strolling waiter and handed her one. “We think you should build the factory and dive in.”

  “Oh,” Whitney said. Going back to gray Boston where the lease was up on her ex-boyfriend’s apartment and burying herself in work might have sounded like a decent idea a few days ago, but now the warm breeze on her skin and the incredible freedom and happiness she found right here made it the last thing on earth she wanted to do.

  “You don’t sound happy about it,” Chris said. He grinned at her and leaned in close, brushing his lips over hers. He tasted like champagne and that wasn’t the only intoxicating thing about the kiss. “Perhaps you should hear out the rest of the plan.”

  “By all means, what did your testosterone figure out?”

  “You want affordable land for one thing, especially land that comes wi
th tax breaks for creating jobs.”

  “Of course, but that’s hard to come by anywhere near Boston.”

  “You’d want a workforce of reliable people. Good weather helps, too.”

  Whitney started to think there was some creativity at work here. “Are you suggesting—”

  “And, of course, you’d want a reliable builder. Someone you already have a relationship with.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying I’ve built a business here. I’ve found a home here. I’m just missing one thing.”

  “I’m missing one thing, too,” she said slowly. This was incredible. Could she move here, build a business here, leave her old life behind? Perhaps the real question would be…could she have it any other way? Could she stand to leave this island and leave Chris?

  He watched her intently. “Will you stay?”

  Would she? Could she? Kelly could manage the business in Boston. She could run the facility here. She would still see Taylor’s family when they came to this home. And Chris was here.

  “I think…I think I have to stay,” she said slowly and raised her eyes seriously to his face. “I can’t give up Mavis’s chicken.”

  Chris pulled her close and kissed her. This kiss held all the tension and desire of their previous ones, but something more, too.

  It held long days working together on storm damage.

  It held sunshine, sand, and water.

  It held shared meals and stories.

  It was possessive, suggesting more to come.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he said in a husky whisper.

  Whitney pulled back slightly. “Can’t,” she said. “Maid of honor duties.”

  “How long?” he said.

  She slipped her hands under his coat and ran her fingers over the smooth white shirt beneath. She brushed her fingers over his hard chest muscles. “Two hours, tops,” she said. “Dinner, a short speech, cut the cake, some dancing, and then we’re free.”

  “Won’t Taylor miss you if we slip out of here later?”

  Whitney glanced over to Taylor and Jackson holding hands and talking with guests under the twinkling white lights. She looked radiant and happy. Whitney knew her old friend wouldn’t begrudge her some happiness for herself.