Keep Me At Christmas (Romano Family Book 4)

by Lucinda Whitney

  Luciana looked away for a moment, then shuffled in place. “I brought a sandwich. I didn’t have much time today.”

  Was it lack of time or had she tried to avoid him because he hadn’t texted her? This was the part he didn’t like, the dating games and the expectations. Life was simpler when he didn’t date. But also lonelier. He’d been so much more confident before Madison broke up with him.

  He glanced at the front of the museum, where a large sign announced a new display coming soon. “What do you do exactly?”

  “I’m a knit restoration specialist. I was hired to help restore and get ready for exhibition a collection of ninetenth century clothing items from Irish and Italian families from the area.”

  Jack raised an eyebrow and regarded Luciana. She was attractive and obviously smart and interesting. Anticipation coursed through him for their Friday night outing.

  At his lack of reply, Luciana blushed. “I know. I have a weird job.”

  “No, nothing like that. I’ve just never heard anything like it before. I think it sounds fascinating,” he said at last.

  Luciana’s cheeks turned more red. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but the alarm of a nearby car went off and she turned toward the sound for a moment.

  “I should go. Bye, Jack,” she said to him.

  Jack nodded as she pushed the heavy oak door and stepped inside.

  He stayed for a little longer, replaying the past few minutes with Luciana.

  She was an intriguing woman. In a way, he was relieved she was only passing through.

  Otherwise, it would be a lot more complicated.

  * * *

  Luciana hung her coat and scarf on the rack. Oliver raised a hand in greeting, working at the photography station. She returned the greeting and approached her desk to look through the work binder.

  The time she’d spent with Jack DiLorenzo was still on her mind. Was he the mysterious guy she’d shared a moment with when they first met on Monday, or the easy-going man on she’d talked to today?

  He’d let his mom and grandma set him up with a virtual stranger, but Luciana couldn’t tell if he was used to it and didn’t care enough to protest, or if he was interested in her. Or maybe he was just a nice guy willing to give a tour of his town to someone from out of town, and Luciana was reading too much into it.

  The impression she got of him was of a regular, genuine guy who loved his family and town. She’d enjoyed their time together as they’d walked through the square and had seen all the preparations for the festival. So many preparations.

  The little town of Hudson Springs was intriguing, as were its people.

  One in particular.

  Luciana sighed and put all thoughts of Jack away. She’d come to New York to work, not to meet men.

  “Miss Romano, there’s someone I’d like you to meet,” Mr. Wynthrop said as he entered the room.

  A tall, broad-shouldered man in a dark blue suit followed closely behind.

  Luciana left the binder and took a few steps in their direction, curiosity rising.

  Mr. Wynthrop stopped near the work station and indicated the man he’d brought with him. “This is Mr. Garrison, the museum owner. And this is Miss Luciana Romano.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Miss Romano.” The man extended his hand to Luciana.

  Luciana shook his hand. “Mr. Garrison, how nice to meet you. Call me Luciana.”

  “If you call me Matt.” He smiled.

  Matt Garrison was the kind of confident man who put others at ease. Luciana nodded and returned the smile. “I’m glad we have the chance to meet. I wanted to thank you for the chance to work on this project.”

  Even though Augustus Wynthrop had hired her, he’d told her about Matthew Garrison and his insistence that she be the one to restore the collection.

  “I’m the one who should thank you for coming to our humble museum so close to the holidays. You came highly recommended, and it’s an honor to have you.”

  Despite his flattering words, his manner was relaxed and his tone genuine, and Luciana felt a swell of pride that her work was appreciated this much.

  “I’m passing through town and I was hoping to get a brief tour of what’s been done so far,” he said.

  Would he not be here when the exhibit debuted? Luciana held back her question. “Absolutely. Let me show you the plans and projections first.”

  Oliver rose from his station. “Good to see you, Matt.”

  Matt Garrison shook hands with Oliver. “You too, Oliver.”

  “I just realized you two have very similar last names. Are you related?” Luciana asked, curious at the possibility.

  “Matt is from the English Garrisons and I’m from the Irish Kerrisons,” Oliver replied.

  Matt nodded. “We’re practically cousins.”

  She looked between both of them. “Which name originated first?”

  Both men chuckled. “That depends on which side you ask,” Matt Garrison replied.

  Luciana took him to the work tables and showed him the binder first, then she walked him through the different stations with all the steps in the restoration process, including the washing, the dry-blocking and mending, the picture of the ribbon tags and the museum labels they’d started printing for each one, and the workroom that housed all the pieces in various stages—assessment, cleaning, and restoration. She ended the tour in the exhibit room where the supports for the displays had been brought in. Luciana pulled out her tablet and explained the projections and plans for the pieces and groupings.

  “I’m so impressed with the work you’re doing here,” Matt said. “It’ll be the best exhibit the museum has to offer, and I’m really excited about how much it will mean for the history of our town.”

  At his words, Luciana straightened to her full height. This was the second time he praised her work and she liked the recognition. Although she usually knew her clients appreciated what she did, the majority of them weren’t always this liberal in sharing what they thought of it so directly. This man, in just five minutes, had made her feel more valued than she had in long time.

  “Thank you,” Luciana said, smiling at him. “I hope you feel the same when the project is done.”

  “If what I see here is any indication, I’m sure I will.”

  They regarded each other briefly. He had bright blue eyes that seemed to take her in, and, despite the close scrutiny, Luciana didn’t feel intimidated but respected. She guessed him to be in his mid-thirties, and her curiosity of earlier piqued, several questions rushing to her mind. When her eyes slid to his left hand, she held the tablet with both her hands to keep her fingers occupied.

  No ring.

  As she looked back at him, the corner of his mouth rose. He’d caught her checking his ring finger.

  Luciana’s cheeks heated, and she rushed for something to say. “So how did you come to be a museum owner?”

  His expression softened. “I guess you could say it runs in the family.” He started walking toward the lobby, and Luciana adjusted her pace to his.

  A bronze bust on a marble pedestal sat to the side of the staircase and Matt paused beside it. “This is Thomas Garrison, my great-great-great-grandfather. He came from England and settled Hudson Sprints in 1829, hiring Irish and Italian immigrants to work in his textile factory.”

  Luciana touched the metal. “He looks fierce.”

  “History accounts would agree with you. Even though he brought growth to the area, he didn’t always have the best interest of his employees in mind. Most of the Garrisons that came after him kind of followed in his footsteps, and that created a rift between the locals.”

  “Let me guess. Garrisons on one side and Kerrisons on the other?”

  He let out a low chuckle. “With other families following each family.”

  “What happened to the factory?”

  “The original one burned down in a mystery fire in the late nineteen thirties.” He stepped to the wall on the right side where a large
painting hung, depicting a building that reminded her of the dark, imposing buildings from the Industrial Revolution era in England.

  “Impressive,” she said.

  He gestured to another frame, this one holding a black and white photograph. “A new, bigger factory was halfway through construction at the other end of town, which closed for operations in 1978. By that time, my grandfather, Cornelius Garrison the third, had diversified his financial interests into other areas and the closing didn’t set him back.”

  “That’s quite the legacy you have,” she said.

  Matt winced lightly. “You could say that. There’s a lot of animosity toward the history of this town and I’m trying to honor the past.” He tilted his head and gestured to the room at large. “This building was a private residence for a long time. Given its central location and architectural features, I always thought it would make the perfect museum.”

  He cocked his head to one side, as if deep in thought and lost for a moment in whatever skeletons his family had.

  “And here you are,” Luciana said.

  He straightened and smiled. “And here I am, trying to open a museum half the town doesn’t want to see.”

  Luciana frowned, but before she had the chance to ask a question, he went on. “Textiles are part of the history in this area, even if they’re not politically correct, and I’m hoping the exhibit will change the public opinion and bridge the gap of understanding.”

  They walked back to the workroom, and he stopped in front of the table where the binder lay open. “It’s very exciting to finally see these pieces get the spot they deserve.” He glanced at the clock on the wall. “I took enough of your time already. This is what happens when someone asks me how I became the museum owner. I’m sorry.”

  He smiled again and Luciana found herself responding in kind. “No need to apologize. I find textiles fascinating, as you can probably guess.”

  “I’m in town until after Christmas, and I’d like to return to see the progress of the restoration before I leave.” He extended his arm, and his large hand gripped hers firmly yet gently.

  She smiled at him. “Anytime you want.”

  As he left the workroom, Matt paused at the door and looked back at her and smiled, then turned toward the front of the building.

  He had quite the smile, and he knew he did.

  Luciana walked back to her desk, thinking about the encounter. What was it with all the intriguing men in this town?

  Chapter Five

  Thursday, December 14th

  Thursday morning arrived too early. Although by now the jet lag should have been on the downswing, Luciana would have liked to stay in bed a little longer. Her second floor room at the River View Inn faced downtown, and the Christmas lights were still on in the early morning grayness. She pulled a blanket off the bed and settled on the window seat.

  On the east side, a peculiar scene took place. A large group of people followed a couple walking leisurely down the street. After noting the video cameras, reflectors, dimmers, and sound equipment, she surmised they must be the camera crew from the wedding channel Mrs. Wells had been talking about almost every day since Luciana’s arrival. She watched them for a few minutes, and when the town’s Christmas lights turned off, they paused the filming and congregated in small groups before they started packing up.

  How fun to be in town when a documentary was being filmed. She’d have to find out the title and try to watch it when it became available.

  Pulling away from the window, she stood and laid the blanket back down on the bed. When she reached for the phone on the bedside table, it was turned off, and it hadn’t charged during the night. She plugged it, and the notifications pinged. There was a text from an unknown number and her heart flipped.

  Hi. This is Jack DiLorenzo. Is this Luciana?

  He’d sent it after dinner and she’d missed it.

  She sat on the edge of the bed to send a reply. Yes, it’s Luciana. Sorry. I didn’t see this until now.

  What if he thought she’d ignored him on purpose?

  A new text popped up.

  No problem. Just wanted to make sure I sent it to the right number.

  I get off at six tomorrow. Does the invitation still stand?

  Yes, of course, came his prompt reply. I can pick you up at the inn.

  That would be great. Six fifteen?

  I’ll be there.

  Are you always up this early? Luciana replied before he signed off, not ready to say goodbye yet.

  Baker’s hours. And you?

  Jet lag.

  Your reason is more glamorous than mine, came Jack’s reply.

  The corner of her mouth rose in a smile. Yours sounds more delicious.

  You’ll have to come by to prove that statement.

  I’ll come for lunch.

  I’ll look forward to it.

  Me too. She grinned, unable to hold the smile any longer.

  Was she flirting with Jack DiLorenzo? It had been so long, she wasn’t quite sure what she was doing. Whatever it was, her heart felt light and happy, and she was still smiling.

  Her chest squeezed with twinge of longing. When was the last time she’d wanted to befriend a man? Her life was divided between work and family, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d gone on a date. Something drew her closer to Jack, and she didn’t understand the reason behind the feeling. With only two weeks in town, expecting more of a short work trip was unrealistic. Wasn’t it?

  With a sigh, she put the phone down and stood. Might as well get ready for the day.

  Her morning at the museum was fast paced, despite her earlier than normal arrival. By now, half the collection had been cleaned and repaired, and the restoration was progressing on schedule. Luciana had cataloged those pieces, and put some preliminary touches in the presentation of the collection. As it usually happened with most of her projects abroad, she wouldn’t be in Hudson Springs when the exhibit was set to open, but she was committed to do as much for it as she could before she left.

  The fingerlace veil took most of her time. She supervised Oliver with the simpler knit pieces, but the veil was her project, as it required more expertise and attention to detail than the rest of the collection. The yarn was spun very thinly, and the lace knitting was a true work of art, and very delicate. She didn’t want to make a mistake. In her notebook, she sketched the pattern and measurements, as she often did with favorite pieces. It was incremental work, as each step of the process called for a pause before the next one could be completed, allowing her to multi-task with other pieces and coordinate with Oliver.

  While the veil waited for the next step, Luciana separated the baby items. She worked in silence at one of the tables by the large window, with all the pieces laid out in front of her. The pale, Winter sunlight filtered through the glass and warmed her fingers as she repaired, darned, and stitched. She relished her time with these articles of clothing, with the soft colors and natural textures, and often thought about the people who had knit them and for whom they had knitted. Had the knitter been a mother or a grandmother? How many babies had worn each piece? What about the wedding veil? Had the bride knitted it herself? How old had she been when she got married? Life had been so different back then, so much harder. Preserving the history was an important part of the work, even when the provenance was unknown, as it often happened. These knitted garments had been important to someone’s life and as Luciana spared her thoughts to them, they became an intrinsic part of her.

  The baby pieces gave her the inspiration for the gift she was knitting for Carlota, her cousin’s baby and her goddaughter. While she worked on the restoration, her fingers knew what to do, movement after movement. It left her with free time to think about her early morning exchange with Jack.

  Almost too much time to think.

  Oliver poked a head in from the other room. “I’m heading out to lunch.”

  Luciana glanced at the wall on the clock. “I’ll be going soon too.” Sh
e picked up another item and matched it to the swatch samples in the binder. “I just have a few more pieces to sort through.”

  She looked forward to going to the café. Usually, when she traveled to a new city, whether in Portugal or abroad, she tried new restaurants and off-the-way eateries almost every day. It was one way she had to immerse herself in the local culture. For being a small town, Hudson Springs had enough variety, but she didn’t feel inclined to try other places. As good as the food was at the DiLorenzo Café, there was something more enticing. Or someone.

  Luciana stopped the direction of her thoughts, and questioned herself. Did she have the right to seek a friendship with a man when she was leaving in just a few days? What could come of it? An online friendship through Facebook? If she were honest with herself, she didn’t want another virtual friend; she wanted one she could go out with, even if he’d been pushed to do it by his family. The attraction was there, but it was not enough to make up for the distance that would separate her from Jack in two weeks time.

  A soft knock came at the door.

  Luciana kept her eyes on the yarn samples, trying to match the best ones. “Come in.”

  “Augustus Wynthrop said it was okay to come back here,” a male voice said, a hint of hesitation trailing the words.

  Luciana looked up from the work table. “Jack?”

  He entered the room with a large paper sack in his hands. “Oliver Kerrison came to the café and when I asked him about you, he said you were still working when he’d left.”

  She glanced at the wall clock—less than fifteen minutes for the lunch hour to be over. Luciana touched the middle of her forehead and closed her eyes. “I totally spaced it off, didn’t I?”

  “When you didn’t show up for lunch, I figured you were stuck here working,” Jack said with a small smile, then raised the paper sack.

  Luciana left her work station and met him at the front of the room. “You brought me lunch?”

  “I didn’t want you to miss your meal.” He handed her the bag.

  Luciana peeked inside, where she found a wrapped sandwich, a pastry, and a bottle of her favorite organic lemonade. “You brought me lunch,” she repeated.