Holiday Kisses. Anna J. Stewart
For you, Grandma.
And for all the readers who asked me
for Calliope’s story.
I hope you enjoy it.
Contents
WITH HIS TAILORED jacket tossed over one arm and designer tie knotted hard into his throat, Xander Costas stood on the bottom plank of the steps and cringed at the deafening roar of waves crashing onto the beach before him. “Well, they’ve got plenty of water and sand, that’s for sure.”
He’d never understood the appeal of water, other than as a hydration agent, of course. The ocean was so unpredictable. Uncontrollable. So...loud. The way the tide left a foamy film across the damp sand reminded him of a badly topped-off latte or a rejected Jackson Pollock painting.
He was a city boy, born and bred. His family joked he had steel for bones—strong, unbending. Their code word for stubborn, no doubt, but he didn’t take offense. Steel stood the test of time—it shaped civilizations. Nature served its purpose, but it wasn’t the first thing Xander thought of.
Yet here he was, thousands of miles from home, placing all his hopes—and his family’s financial future—on an ocean-side town rebuilding its reputation as green and nature-friendly. A town that, up until a few months ago, few people had ever heard of.
Xander’s fists clenched as he forced himself to inhale. He nearly choked on the briny tang that scraped the back of his throat. His lungs would need at least a week to adjust from the smog-tinged air he’d been inhaling for thirty-three years. He missed the blaring traffic, the hard strength of cement and reinforced concrete, and what was with that sun? Didn’t California know it was only weeks before Christmas? His first without snow. He never thought he’d miss the snow-capped bite of an early winter cutting across his skin, and as the late afternoon rays beat down on him he wondered if he hadn’t just traveled across the country, but perhaps been transported to a different planet.
What on earth had he gotten himself into?
“Cash! Tabitha!”
The sound of urgent children’s cries accompanied by the frenetic, enthusiastic barking of two dogs drew Xander’s attention to the shore. Not only did the dogs dive snout-first into the ocean, but their adolescent owners also hurried after them. The boy hit the water face-first and came up sputtering, his arm filled with golden retriever. The little girl had come to a screeching halt. Her toes barely kissed the water before she backed away. The second dog, a terrier mix of some kind, bounded back onto the beach and plopped her drenched hindquarters into the damp sand beside her mistress.
“You’re gonna get in big trouble, Simon!” The superior tone in the little girl’s voice had Xander’s lips twitching as he was reminded of his youngest sister, Alethea. Strong, determined and most definitely unique. But where Alethea maintained a penchant for Bohemian-chic clothing and untamed curls, this little girl had crooked red pigtails, wore purple overalls and carried a worn butterfly backpack with a missing gossamer wing.
Alethea. Xander’s big-brother sigh rivaled the roar of the ocean. In the past six months his college-aged sister had to deal with their father’s debilitating stroke, plus the death of her best friend—a friend who had been just as much a part of the Costas family as any of their siblings. A car accident, he could understand. Just about anything else he could understand, but a drug overdose? Talia? The grief that had lodged itself in his chest six months ago surged. Sweet, pretty, ebullient Talia, who had made all of them laugh with her goofy antics was gone. It hadn’t taken Xander long to realize Alethea didn’t have any idea how to live without her.
“Give her time,” his mother had said when Xander broached the subject of therapy. His mother, who had her hands full dealing with their father and his caregivers, while Xander and his brother argued over how to save the family’s architectural firm. Alethea seemed okay, on the outside at least. She’d gone back to school for her last year, had insisted she needed to get back to her routine, move on with her life, sounding, at least to Xander’s ears, suspiciously like their mother. Xander had only one request when she’d left—to call him if she needed anything. Anything.
That