That Special Smile/Whittenburg

by Karen Toller Whittenburg

  His gentle kiss brushed her cheek. “I know.”

  * * * *

  Max wanted to say more. A lot more. But during the next few weeks he maintained a nonchalant and often painful silence. If he’d had any doubts about his feelings for Sylvie, they’d vanished the moment she walked freely into his arms. Love wasn’t an emotion with which he had a great deal of experience, yet he recognized it just the same.

  Once before, a long time ago, he’d felt like this ... about Melynda. But it had not ended happily. He’d decided to resign his high-salaried, heavy-pressure job with a toy-manufacturer and do what he’d always wanted to do – make handcrafted toys.

  Melynda hadn’t understood, and she had said so in the loudest, most incredulous manner at her command.

  He could smile about it now, but it had been a long time before he’d been able to see the silver lining. Max had finally come to believe he’d expected too much. But then, so had she, and in the end the result was the same: they had each made their choice.

  And now Sylvie had to choose. For the first time in their relationship he felt she wanted to ask his advice.

  She was hesitant about taking over the dress shop, he knew, and he also knew it had little, if anything, to do with the responsibilities involved. Hell, she’d had those all along, anyway. He thought, hoped, it had more to do with him and whether or not he wanted her to stay in Eureka Springs.

  Max was well aware that nothing would please him more, but telling her would only influence a decision that had to be hers alone.

  Sylvie loved him. He recognized that even if she hadn’t as yet. But love was not a substitute for self-esteem. He could not be happy in the pressurized atmosphere of a big city, not even with Sylvie. He was satisfied with himself, with his toys, his storefront and with his choice to measure success by his own standards.

  He had to allow Sylvie room to decide where and how she wanted to live and what successes she wanted in life. Only then could he speak to her about the future, their future.

  And if she chose to return to Boston?

  Well, in that case he would have saved them both the embarrassment of breaking a verbal commitment.

  Unfortunately, whatever Sylvie chose, Max knew his heart was already firmly committed.

  Chapter Ten

  As each crisp December day blended into the next, Sylvie spent less and less of her time at Hannah Lee House. The restoration was nearing completion and Juliette was doing most of the remaining work herself. She didn’t refuse Sylvie’s offers of help, but she made it quite clear that she was capable of handling the job. Sylvie suspected it was a demonstration, largely for Benton’s benefit, of the new Juliette; responsible, dependable, and even, occasionally, on time.

  On his visits, Benton displayed a keen appreciation for all the things she managed to accomplish in only a matter of hours.

  Sylvie had to admit a growing admiration for her future brother-in-law. He handled Juliette beautifully, loved her blatantly and, for that alone, Sylvie felt the world owed him a debt of gratitude.

  With the security of Benton’s love and the demands of planning the wedding, Juliette grew quieter, easier to be with, and even more understanding of others. Sylvie ran through a gamut of emotions before settling into the acceptance that her free-spirited sister was no longer in need of a guardian angel.

  Sylvie found it hard to believe, but at times she envied Juliette’s calm, steady progress toward the future. A certain, settled future with the man she loved.

  Sylvie wanted a share of that confidence to soothe her own doubts, but she simply didn’t know how to obtain it.

  Max remained elusive on the subject of dress shops, weddings, and relationships. He talked for hours about his plans for the coming season. With only a little prompting he showed Sylvie the process of sculpting, molding, and working with the various mediums he used in toy making. He made love to her with a tenderness and depth of feeling that made her ache to pour her indecisiveness at his feet and allow him to guide her.

  But she didn’t do that. She didn’t really need to have the decision made for her; she only wanted to know how he felt before she made a choice.

  The questions, pro and con, clung like a mist of fine rain to everything she did. No matter how she tried, she couldn’t bring her wishes to focus on the practical rather than the romantic. And Max further confused the issue with his Christmas gift.

  McKeever, the carousel horse from the toy store, was not a conventional gift. Sylvie couldn’t believe Max was giving it to her, and she couldn’t imagine why. When questioned, he told her not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but to rub his nose three times and make a wish. Sylvie had stroked Max’s nose instead, whispered a wish, and later told him he was much better at fulfilling fantasies than McKeever could ever hope to be.

  But she pondered the significance of his gift for days afterward. McKeever became a symbol of the choice she would soon have to make. In her apartment in Boston the carousel horse would be an oddity, a conversation piece admired for its singularity. In Eureka Springs, the brightly painted wood sculpture became something else entirely, a wistful magic touched with the same unhurried, enchanting quaintness that formed the resort town.

  She thought a lot about taking up permanent residence in Eureka Springs and the changes it would mean in her lifestyle.

  Yet, over a period of time, Sylvie realized it would mean more of a change to return to Boston and the offices of Smith-Kessler. Oddly enough, her attitude about life seemed to have altered course the moment she’d arrived in this town. She would have liked to believe that Max was the one and only reason, but she knew he wasn’t. The town itself had captured her interest, and the idea of opening the dress shop was more and more appealing. She even, at times, considered that she might eventually help Max in designing clothing for his dolls.

  By the week after New Year’s, Sylvie knew what she wanted to do. She was willing to take a risk with the dress shop and with Max. If he was pleased, wonderful. If he wasn’t, well, she’d worry about that when the time came.

  But some foolish corner of her heart hesitated to tell him until he gave some indication as to whether or not her decision mattered to him. With a resigned sigh Sylvie had to face the truth: she wasn’t nearly as liberated as she’d thought she was.

  She turned her attention and her hopes toward receiving that first and all-important response from one of the marketing firms she had contacted. Maybe that would be the breakthrough in this waiting game she and Max were playing. Maybe a business venture would provide the bonding their relationship seemed to lack.

  The letter of interest from Kelco Toy Company arrived in the middle of a gray January afternoon. Sylvie read it with mingled relief and anticipation. The message was concise, restrained, but eager. She read through it twice, receiving the same impression both times: beneath the politely vague response there was definitely a hint of eagerness. The excitement of possibility carried her all the way to Max’s door. He welcomed her with a kiss and a smile and accepted the letter she held out for his perusal. But his smile faded as he read, and when his eyes met hers, doubt squeezed tightly around her heart.

  “What is this?” he asked.

  Instinctively, she knew it was the most serious moment she had faced with Max so far, and confidence became a cottony taste in her mouth. “It’s a letter from Kelco Toys. They’ve expressed an interest in marketing your dolls, maybe some of the other toys too.”

  “Why would they think I would be interested in their type of mass market distribution?”

  “Aren’t you?”

  His lips tightened in a grim line. “That’s not an answer, Sylvie.”

  “I think it is,” she said, lifting her chin in defense. “If you’re not interested in taking this opportunity, then there really is no point in discussing it.”

  “Opportunity? You see this…” He slapped the air with the letter. “…as opportunity?”

  She didn’t know why he was angry, but she w
asn’t going to back down. “Yes, I do. You make beautiful dolls, wonderfully imaginative toys. Why shouldn’t they be on the shelves of toy stores all over the world?”

  “Spare me the bit about sharing my talent with the world. The bottom line, Sylvie, is success, spelled out in capital letters according to your own personal alphabet. Financial success with a touch of public recognition thrown in for my ego. Or, more accurately, your ego.”

  “You’re overreacting,” she stated as calmly as her pounding heart would allow. “I wrote to Kelco and two other toy manufacturers because I wanted you to have a chance to test your talent and skill in a more challenging market. My God, Max, there’s nothing wrong with making money or with being recognized by the public, especially when it’s derived from work you enjoy doing. What’s the point of creating something beautiful if no one else ever sees it?”

  The letter crumpled in his fist. “I really thought you were beginning to understand, Sylvie. I thought you….” He turned away from her, his anger apparent in every move he made. “How could you have done this without asking me? And why? Did you think I was so backward, so ignorant of business matters, that I didn’t know about distributors and marketing channels? Or did you just conclude that I needed someone to take care of the business details for me?”

  “You’re blowing this all out of proportion.”

  “Am I? I don’t think so. This isn’t a simple misunderstanding, Sylvie. It goes a hell of a lot deeper than that. If you had had the slightest understanding of my feelings and of the things that are important to me, you wouldn’t have done this. You would have known how furious I would be at your interference.

  My business is none of yours. Remember, Sylvie? You told me that the first night you came to Eureka Springs. It’s too bad I didn’t think to reciprocate the warning. I should have known you wouldn’t be able to resist trying to change me and make me better. After all, now that Juliette has someone in a pinstriped suit to take care of life’s little details for her, it was only logical you’d start looking for someone else who needed your expertise!”

  She hadn’t dreamed Max could get so angry. He’d always been casual and easygoing. Obviously, he’d been saving it up. With a cool exchange of heated stares she waited for him to back off. When he didn’t, she decided to take the offensive. “Go to hell, Max.”

  “Do you really think I can find the way without you?”

  “Actually, no. But you can forget about asking for my assistance. If I’d had any idea you – ”

  “Which is the whole point, isn’t it, Sylvie? If you’d had any idea, if you’d only asked, if you’d given me the benefit of the doubt and not tried to correct what you consider a flaw in my character.”

  “I wanted to help, damn you!” Suddenly, she was as angry as he, and she pushed her glasses into place to prove it. “I thought you were too involved with your work to risk putting it on the market. I thought if I made the contact and received a positive response, then it would give you the incentive to carry something through to the logical conclusion.”

  “I don’t need incentive.” Max crushed the already crumpled letter in his fist and let it drop to the floor. How could she stand there defending this? Didn’t she realize she’d as good as slapped him in the face? He’d thought she cared for him, but obviously she only cared about her own criterion for success. So much for believing love meant acceptance, he thought dismally.

  Sylvie had never accepted him for the man he was, a man who was happy with himself and who could have made her happy if only she’d looked past the end of her nose.

  “And I don’t need you, either, Sylvie Anne. Take your business know-how home to Boston. We have a different way of looking at success here and, frankly, you just don’t fit in.”

  Her heart pulsed painfully in her throat, but she’d die before she let him know. “I’ve decided to stay in Eureka Springs and open the dress shop. How do you feel about that?” It was the most important question she’d ever asked, but she hadn’t intended to toss it at him in challenge.

  “What difference does it make, Sylvie? You’re going to do as you please, regardless of how anyone feels. But if you want my advice, forget the dress shop. You’ll never find fame and fortune here. Does that clarify my opinion for you?”

  “Perfectly. There’s just one more thing.” She straightened her shoulders to ward off the desolation of walking away from him. “I want you to come and get ... that horse.”

  “McKeever?” Max’s mouth formed a rueful frown. “Oh, no. You’re going to need him now more than ever. The winter isn’t over yet. There are still some cold and lonely days ahead, even for a woman who can take care of all of life’s little details. Besides, a gift is a gift. I have no intention of returning the book you gave me, and I certainly would never part with the shirt and tie. You never know, I might need to dress for success someday.”

  “Good-bye, Max.” Chin high, posture regal, she turned to leave. “Oh.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Shall I write to Kelco informing them of your supreme disinterest in making money? We certainly wouldn’t want them to continue to believe you’re worthy of their interest, would we?”

  It was a hateful thing to say and she hated the pride that made her say it, but at the moment pride was the only thing that stood between her and total humiliation.

  “I think you’ve pretty well established your opinion of me, Sylvie.”

  Sylvie experienced simultaneous impulses to deny it and to sob out a broken apology.

  She did neither, and she didn’t allow herself the luxury of having the last word.

  It would have been a meaningless gesture, anyway, considering it was a little late in the game to say, “I love you.”

  * * * *

  “Juliette, please stop badgering me with questions.” Sylvie folded a nightgown and laid it on top of the others in her suitcase. “Nothing happened. I’ve just decided to go home. The restoration work is done, Hannah Lee House is listed with a realtor, this house is rented from March until October, and the wedding plans are made. You don’t need my help any longer, and I have other things I could be doing.”

  “Like what?”

  Leave it to Juliette to ask for an impossible explanation. “I don’t know. Things. What does it matter? It’s time to leave, and I’m leaving.”

  “It isn’t like you to run from a problem, Sylvie Anne. That never solves anything, you know.” Julie took the nightgown from the suitcase and shook it out. “This is mine. You must have borrowed it and forgotten to return it.”

  Sylvie grabbed the rose silk gown from her sister’s hands. “You have one like it. Aunt Evelyn gave them to us two years ago at Christmas.”

  “Oh, is that when it happened?”

  “I just told you, Juliette. Aunt Evelyn – ”

  “No, is that when it happened with Max?”

  Sylvie sighed and walked to the dresser. “Nothing happened. How many times do I have to tell you that?”

  “If nothing happened, why are you leaving? You and Max have had an argument. Admit it, Syl. I’m your sister. I understand how impossible you can be at times.”

  “Jules, I’m not up for this today,” Sylvie warned.

  Pushing the suitcase aside, Juliette made room for herself on the bed. “Did you fight about McKeever?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Why would we fight over a piece of wood?”

  “It’s a mystery to me, but ever since Christmas you’ve been moping around in a daze.”

  “I do not mope.”

  “But you’ve been crying.”

  “It’s my contact lenses. You know how they bother my eyes.”

  Juliette shook her head. “I also know you left them in Boston. Come on, Sylvie. It will do you good to talk. You can’t just pack up and leave.”

  Pausing between the lingerie and the sweater drawers, Sylvie let her hands grip the polished mahogany wood. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but there’s nothing else to say. I had thought I might sell
my half of the insurance-investigation firm to my partner and buy your investment in Hannah Lee House as soon as the lien is cleared.”

  “Oh, Sylvie, please do.” The bed bounced a little beneath Juliette’s delight at the idea. “Benton received the legal papers releasing the lien yesterday. That has to be a good omen.”

  “No, Juliette. It’s not a good fit for me. You know it’s not.” Her voice trailed into abject silence. It had taken weeks of vacillating before she’d reached the conclusion it was, after all, a practical idea, and she wouldn’t say it wasn’t.

  “Max would approve. He’s in love with you. He’d probably buy the house for you if he thought you’d stay.”

  “He wouldn’t, even if he could afford it.”

  “Are you kidding? Max can afford to buy Hannah Lee House a dozen times over. Why, some of his Figures in History dolls have sold for thousands of dollars. And that sculpture he gave you, is probably worth a small fortune by itself. Max McConnell is one of the leading artists in this country, Sylvie. People come from all over the world to buy his work. He usually travels during the winter months, giving seminars and talks and stuff. Didn’t he tell you that?”

  No, he hadn’t. But then, Sylvie thought, she hadn’t asked. A lump the size of her pride lodged in her throat and she had to swallow twice before she could answer. “Why didn’t you tell me before, Juliette?”

  “Before what? I thought you knew. You spent so much time with him, how could you not know?”

  Sylvie raked a shaky hand through her hair. No wonder he’d had been so angry. She had given his pride a terrific punch. In all the time she’d known him, it hadn’t once crossed her mind to ask about his craft except in the most technical ways. And then only when she wanted information to send to the marketing firm.

  An artist? She’d recognized that on her own, she just hadn’t thought anyone else had. How could she have been so stupidly blind? The first man to pursue her, to offer her friendship and love and she’d insulted his intelligence, his talent, and his self-confidence.