A Down-Home Savannah Christmas (The Savannah Sisters Book 1)

by Nancy Robards Thompson

  * * *

  Once, Daniel had thought fate would spit on him at every opportunity. But in the wake of Aidan’s recovery and good prognosis, he was hopeful that his fortunes were looking up.

  That was why he didn’t bring up the proposal again. In fact, he gave Elle some space. Not the kind of space that said he was mad at her or that he was too cool to talk about feelings, but enough to let this thing—whatever it was—between them gel...or fall apart.

  He loved her. He’d always loved her.

  He’d also lived without her all these years. He wasn’t going to let her go, but...if he had to count on fate keeping her here in Savannah, he had to prepare himself to lose her. He loved her, but he wasn’t going to cling to her if her heart was in Atlanta, away from him and the life he’d fought hard to build for himself in Savannah.

  * * *

  “I went to see Aidan Quindlin in the hospital today,” Kate said.

  Ah, so there it was. She thought there had to be a reason for her sister’s unusual midday visit.

  Elle was busy setting up supplies for her fourth art journal class. Since the first one had been such a success, they had put word out to the community via the arts bulletin board and they had received such an overwhelming response that they’d formed four new sessions and started a waiting list.

  “I’m thrilled that he’s doing so well,” Elle said. “How did your visit go?”

  Kate got a funny look on her face. “Hasn’t Daniel told you?”

  “Told me what? Is Aidan okay?”

  “Sort of,” Kate said as she followed Elle’s lead and helped her sister sort ephemera into groups on her side of the table. “Physically, he seems to be recovering well. However, he does seem to be having some memory problems.”

  Daniel hadn’t mentioned it. The thought that he hadn’t shared it with her made her feel a little strange. “What do you mean?”

  “For one, he has no idea who I am.”

  “Well, it has been a while since your disastrous prom date. Maybe he’s chosen to block that memory.”

  Kate didn’t laugh or come back with an otherwise snide retort. “I’m serious. He didn’t remember me. I told him we went to prom together, thinking that would jog his memory, and he smiled and told me he was sorry but he didn’t remember and looked at me as if that night ended well.”

  “Uh-oh, did you enlighten him?”

  “Are you kidding? Of course not. What was I supposed to say? Once upon a time, you had a crush on me and I let you take me to prom, but I left with another guy?”

  “Well, he’s bound to remember sooner or later. What will you do then—or was this a onetime visit?”

  “No, I sort of volunteered to come by every day and help him shave and cut his hair when he needs it. His right hand is in a cast and I thought it was the least I could do.”

  “Are you feeling guilty over prom? Seriously, Kate? That was so many years ago.”

  She shrugged. “Well, it can’t hurt to help him out while he needs someone. I mean you, Mom and Gigi have been looking after Chloe.”

  “That was fun. She’s been at camp this week and I’ve missed her. That’s her little easel over there.”

  Sadness tugged at Elle’s insides as she wondered if she’d ever see the little girl again. Since Aidan had awakened from his coma, Daniel had been taking her to the hospital every evening after picking her up from camp. Then the two of them had gone home...or somewhere. Just not here.

  Since their night together, Daniel had been...more than cordial. He was friendly and still said good morning. In fact, several mornings a week they shared a cup of coffee before he started working on the renovation if he didn’t have to stop by other jobsites first, but there was something ever so slightly removed, something too polite in the way he interacted with her.

  He hadn’t kissed her since their night together—she’d noticed that, but she hadn’t let herself dwell on it because she couldn’t blame him. She’d written it off to him being nice and giving her room.

  But suddenly it felt like a whole lot of room.

  He’d been going to the hospital alone every day, which she thought was natural since Aidan was awake and was doing so much better. She’d wanted to give them time to talk—or not talk—time to interact however brothers interacted. When Aidan had been in the coma, she’d gone to the hospital to support Daniel, but she figured that if she tagged along now, she’d be a third wheel.

  They hadn’t been out together—for lunch or dinner or a walk...only the coffee at the Sentient Bean. She’d chalked that up to his new schedule that was dictated by Chloe’s camp. And now she had learned through her sister, of all people, that Aidan might be having memory issues. Daniel hadn’t said a word and that was weird. She had no idea if Aidan’s memory loss was confined to Kate—if he remembered Daniel. Or Chloe. Please, God, let him remember his own daughter. It would be devastating for a five-year-old if her father didn’t remember her. She wouldn’t understand.

  But she didn’t know, because Daniel hadn’t told her.

  “Hey, listen, I have to run. My first appointment is going to be at the salon in a half hour. I need to scoot.”

  After Kate breezed out, Elle stood alone in the sunroom, looking around. Her fingers toyed with the necklace Daniel had given her. She’d set up her easel in the corner and put her brushes in the antique box. She had been working on a painting. It still needed a lot of work, but she was happy with the way it was taking shape.

  It suddenly dawned on her that she could stand at her easel right now and paint all day long if she wanted to. When Roger left, she had been forced to regroup and rethink her path. Straight out of art school, her plan had been to be a full-time artist after they got married. Roger had been a business major at the University of Georgia and had graduated a semester ahead of her because she had opted to stick around Savannah and pick up an additional class taught by one of her favorite contemporary artists who had agreed to teach at SCAD for that semester only. Roger had landed a good job with an accounting firm straight out of school and the plan had been for him to work while she finished the extra semester and they would get married after she graduated.

  When he’d walked out on her, he’d taken with him her chance to paint full-time. She had to get a job that allowed her to support herself. Teaching hadn’t been her first choice, but it was logical and it paid the bills. So, she’d picked up her teaching certificate and had put down her personal art.

  As she looked at her painting in progress—a large study of the Christmas garden outside—it hit her. She wasn’t so eager to get back to her so-called life in Atlanta as much as she was running away from the risk involved in having another shot at all the things that she once thought would make her happy.

  Since the county had made sweeping budget cuts, it was a given that she wouldn’t get another job teaching art. If she was lucky, in the fall, she might land an ESE—exceptional student education—position as an art therapist. What was more likely was she would be placed in a curriculum specialist position, which would require her to spend several months training, or they might even put her in some kind of coaching position.

  While she loved the chance to work with kids, even elementary art wasn’t her dream job. It went downhill from there when she thought of the other nooks and crannies where they might stick her. Those jobs wouldn’t make her feel happy or fulfilled.

  Not like she’d been while surrounded by her family at their beautiful inn.

  Not like she’d been when she’d taught the guests art journaling.

  Not like she’d felt when she was with Daniel.

  What was wrong with her? If she kept running, not only would she keep getting farther away from who she was and what she liked to do, but she’d push farther away from the man she loved.

  She wasn’t falling in love with Daniel Quindlin. She was way past falling. She
was in love with him and it scared the bejeebers out of her.

  Suddenly the only place she wanted to be was with Daniel. She hoped it wasn’t too late. She knew the only way to find out was to put herself out on the line.

  * * *

  Daniel was up on a ladder in the dining room, surveying the severity of the water damage. It was too bad that Wiladean and Zelda had only cosmetically masked the problem, because it looked as if the moisture had caused some wood rot and that meant repairing it was a bigger job that would take longer. He wasn’t looking forward to delivering the news.

  “Hey, Daniel,” Wiladean called from the doorway. “Can you help me with something, honey?”

  “Sure, what do you need?”

  Now would be as good a time as any to tell Wiladean what they were facing.

  “When I was outside tending to the ivy on the wall, I noticed there was something different about one of the balconies. Would you come and have a look?”

  The balcony? What could be wrong with the balcony?

  He couldn’t help himself. His mind flashed back to that first morning when he’d seen Elle on the balcony off her room.

  He blinked hard. He’d promised himself he wasn’t going to do that. He still loved her. Always had. Always would. And because he loved her, he needed to let her figure out things. But it was difficult to give her space when she was living in his head. So, he tried not to think of her.

  “You okay, hon?” Wiladean asked.

  “I’m fine,” he said as they stepped off the stone front porch steps into the front yard.

  “Oh, good, because I need you to look up there and tell me what you see.”

  He squinted up in the direction she was pointing. It was at Elle’s balcony.

  “Wiladean, I’m sorry, I don’t see anything wrong. Can you be more specific? What am I looking for?”

  “Really? You can’t see that? It’s glaring. Are you sure you don’t have something in your eye?”

  “No, I don’t.” He started to shade his eyes, but Wiladean grabbed his arm.

  “Here, come across the street with me. Maybe you’ll be able to see it better from the park.”

  “Maybe I should go upstairs to the balcony and take a look close up?”

  But she was already pulling him into the empty street, across the sidewalk and onto the grass. As he started to turn around, he saw Elle sitting on a blanket with a picnic basket at her side and a small tabletop easel with a canvas on her lap.

  “There’s Elle,” he said.

  “Well, yeah,” Wiladean said, as if he’d pointed out the Forsyth fountain a few yards behind her. “That’s who I’ve been trying to get you to see all along.”

  “But you asked me to look at the balcony.”

  “Did I say balcony? I meant for you to look at the park. Oh, well, go on over there and you kids have a nice picnic.”

  “A picnic? She didn’t invite me on a picnic.” She was painting. He didn’t want to disturb her. But then she raised a hand in greeting. He did the same.

  “Go on, now,” Wiladean said. “I think she’s making that painting for you.”

  He felt almost as bad for Wiladean as he did for himself. She had tried so hard to get the two of them together. But it wasn’t going to be. Not right now, anyway. Of course, the county was going to call her and offer her something. She was good at everything she did. They’d be crazy to let someone like her get away.

  He’d be crazy to let someone like her get away. But it was out of his control. He wasn’t going to force her into anything she didn’t want. And she’d turned down his proposal—as unconventional as it was. When it came to relationships, she seemed scared to death of going down the traditional path again after Roger had done such a number on her.

  When Elle motioned for him to come closer, he went to her.

  “Hi,” she said. “Thanks for coming out here. Do you have a minute to sit and talk?”

  “I always have time for you.”

  As he sat down, she moved her easel to the side. The canvas was facing away from him and he couldn’t see what she was working on, but he was too busy trying to figure out how to say his bit about wanting to give the long-distance romance a try when she opened her basket and took out two red cups.

  She handed one to him. “What’s this?”

  “It’s champagne. I know it’s midday and you’re working, but I have news. And I can’t imagine celebrating it with anyone else but you.”

  His gut twisted, because he knew what she was about to say.

  “You know how I said I was going to leave my decision about whether to stay or go up to fate?”

  “You got a job.” He tried to infuse enthusiasm into his voice, but he wasn’t sure if he was successful.

  She nodded. “Curiously enough, it’s the job I’ve always wanted, but not the job I thought I’d get.”

  “Did the county figure out how to fund your job teaching art?”

  “Oh, no, see, that’s the thing. They didn’t. So, I am going to be teaching art. Right here. At the Forsyth Galloway Inn.”

  He frowned. “I’m not sure I am following you.” He was afraid to read too much into what she said. Afraid that his wishful thinking was clouding his logic. Afraid he was jumping the gun again, like he did when he proposed.

  “Are you saying you heard from the county and they didn’t have a position for you?”

  “No, I still haven’t heard from them. And it’s given me a chance to do a lot of thinking. A very smart man once said, ‘Life doesn’t give you many second chances. When it does, you better take it.’ Daniel, I’m staying right here in Savannah.”

  His heart squeezed and then turned over in his chest. “I’d say that calls for a toast.” He held up his cup and she touched hers to his.

  “Does that mean that we can start over and take things slowly?” he asked.

  She frowned.

  He continued, “I think I was so worried that our time was limited and I thought that putting everything on the fast track would somehow make you want to stay—”

  “Daniel, do you love me?”

  “I do. I always have and I always will.”

  She leaned in and kissed him, slow and sweet.

  “You don’t know how happy that makes me, because I love you, too. And I’m going to go way out on a limb now. I painted this for you.”

  He raised a brow. “Thank you. I’m honored.”

  “I hope you will be. Because I don’t want to take things slowly. I want to keep them on the same trajectory that they were on before I got scared and almost ruined everything. Or at least I hope I didn’t ruin everything. Well, here—”

  She turned the canvas around. It was a painting of the Forsyth Galloway Inn. When he looked closer, he saw that she had painted a woman standing on the balcony—the balcony she’d been standing on that first day...the one that Wiladean had him staring at when she’d asked him to come outside.

  In the painting, the woman on the balcony was holding a sign that said in the finest calligraphy, Daniel Quindlin, will you marry me?

  His mouth fell open and it took a moment before he could ask, “Are you proposing to me?”

  She squeezed her eyes closed and held her breath, as if bracing herself, and then nodded.

  “Of course, I will. Marrying you would make me the happiest man in the world.”

  A squeal escaped her throat as she got to her knees and threw her arms around him, the sheer force of her joy knocking him backward onto the blanket. They kissed for the longest time.

  When they came up for air, she said, “Maybe fate was a better friend than we realized, because she’s finally brought us together.” Then she laughed and waved her hand as if clearing the air. “Naaah, on second thought, Gigi worked harder at bringing us together than fate did. If anyone besides us gets credit, she
does. Oh! Which reminds me—”

  Elle reached down beside the blanket and picked up another canvas. She held it up over her head.

  It said, HE SAID YES!

  A rousing cheer went up from the balcony where it all started.

  Epilogue

  On Christmas Day, Daniel and Chloe joined the Boudreau-Clark family at the Forsyth Galloway Inn for a lavish Christmas dinner.

  The night before, Daniel and Elle had played Santa for Chloe, showering her with dolls and games and puzzles, among other things. They went all out to give the little girl the best Christmas possible. She was sweet and appreciative, but she couldn’t hide her disappointment when she didn’t get the one thing she most wanted for Christmas: her father to come home from the hospital.

  She held it together pretty well for a five-year-old. Daniel had to admit, better than he might have at that age.

  As they were getting ready to sit down to the delicious dinner supplied by Charles Weathersby, family friend and owner of the restaurant, Wila, in downtown Savannah, Daniel got a call on his cell phone.

  He nodded to Gigi and then whispered to Elle, “It’s time.”

  He excused himself from the table. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Where are you going, Uncle Daniel?” Chloe asked.

  “I just got word that Santa has delivered one more gift for you. Would you like another present or do you think you already have too many?”

  Chloe blinked at him. Her sweet little face turned solemn. “Santa already brought me a lot of nice things. It would be okay if he needs to give it to someone who didn’t get as much as I got. All I wanted was my daddy, but he’s still hurt in the hospital.”

  She hugged Princess Sweetie Pie close, and for a moment, Daniel was afraid that she might start crying.

  “Oh, I don’t know, Chloe,” he said. “It’s very sweet of you to think of others, but you might want to take a look at this before you give it away.”

  The girl held onto her cat, but didn’t respond.