Holiday Kisses. Anna J. Stewart
wings pulsed against the beckoning sun. “You were right.” Stella raised her porcelain face to Calliope. “They do listen.”
“When they want to.” Calliope bent down beside her sister and trailed a gentle finger across the edge of the butterfly’s wing. She could feel it tremble before it took flight once more. “Lori.” Calliope leaned over. “You’re looking exceedingly giddy. I take it marriage is agreeing with you?”
Words couldn’t express the joy Calliope felt at the healthy pink flush that erupted on her friend’s round face. Lori had been trapped by her own insecurities for as long as Calliope had known her. She had allowed herself to be controlled by what she thought other people believed, that because she was heavy, or too tall, or...whatever, she didn’t deserve the same happiness as others. It only proved how powerful falling in love with the right man could be. Lori was flourishing more heartily than her tour-worthy garden under Matt Knight’s gentle, loving care.
“It’s taken some getting used to,” Lori said. “But so far I haven’t found any loopholes I want to escape through. Have I thanked you for letting us use your farm for the wedding?”
“Profusely and many times.” That Lori and Matt had wanted to hold their small wedding at Duskywing Farm last month had been an honor. To be able to look out her kitchen window every morning and remember the celebration that had taken place in her beloved gardens was an added blessing. “And how is Kyle doing?”
Lori paused. “It’s an adjustment for him. Going from an abusive home to juvenile detention to living with me and Matt. There have been a few bumps.” But none so big as to erase the smile of contentment that had settled on Lori’s face, even before she’d said, “I do.” Still, becoming an instant mom to a troubled teen wasn’t the easiest road to take.
“Harder roads make the journey more interesting,” Calliope said.
“Kyle seems sad,” Stella observed as she patted in the dirt around the last of the rosemary shrubs. “Quiet and sad.”
“Matt took him to San Francisco this morning for the weekend. Some ‘guy time,’” Lori explained. “And I was thinking about maybe having him help me plan out BethAnn Bromley’s landscaping makeover. Seems someone talked her into updating her family’s home and I was the only one capable of taking on the job.”
Calliope ignored the knowing expression aimed in her direction. BethAnn’s recent return to Butterfly Harbor after many years away hadn’t been a smooth one. The former senator’s wife had ruffled more than a few feathers, including Lori’s. But it had been Lori who had taken the first step and helped the woman who had been silently grieving the loss of her husband. She hadn’t found where she fit without him. She’d only needed reminding that she would always fit at home in the Harbor.
“I don’t talk anyone into anything.” Calliope made a fuss of brushing a nonexistent piece of lint off her skirt. “I merely make suggestions.”
“Mmm-hmmm. Seems to me your ‘suggestion’ at the town-council meeting a few months ago is how I ended up married.”
“Don’t give away your accomplishments.” Calliope wasn’t about to take credit for anything where Lori and Matt Knight were concerned. They’d both overcome their inner doubts to earn their happily-ever-after. However, she was more than eager to help Lori build her clientele base for the gardening and landscaping business she’d started to talk about. “What can you tell me about the architect they’ve hired to design the butterfly sanctuary?” Her distraction these last weeks had meant she hadn’t been paying close attention to the goings on around town.
“Me?” Lori blinked, sat back on her heels and frowned. “Not a lot. Only what I’ve heard through the...gossip mill. Which I’m sure you already know,” she added with a laugh. “Word is the firm is in trouble and they’ve been looking for a project to use as part of their comeback. Seems as if we hired this Xander Costas for a steal and a half. Gil’s hoping there’s enough prestige attached to the firm that it’ll help with publicity for the sanctuary.”
“Xander Costas.” Calliope rolled the name in her mouth. “He’s already arrived.”
“What?” Lori’s head snapped around. “No, Monday. His reservation is for Mon...” Her voice trailed off at the sound of a car engine. She looked to Calliope. “You have got to be kidding me.”
Calliope smiled and pushed herself to her feet. “I’m afraid not.” Every inch of her skin felt as if it had been charged with electricity. An awareness overtook her. “Stella, I think it’s time we head into town. We’re going to see Mama tomorrow and I’d like to take her one of Holly’s pies.”
“Holly’s gone on pie overdrive ever since she’s been pregnant,” Lori muttered. “Jason’s stopped baking because we’re getting flooded with them.”
“It’s Holly’s happy place,” Calliope reminded Lori and helped her to her feet. “Go on inside. I’ll delay Mr. Costas for a few moments so you can find a place to put him.”
“Wow, good thing we have spare rooms available. Thanks, Calliope.” Lori brushed off her pink striped maxi dress, picked up her shoes and hurried up the porch steps and through the etched glass doors.
“I thought being really early is as rude as being really late.” Stella scrunched her nose and looked up at Calliope.
“It can be. It depends on the individual.”
The practical sedan that rounded the corner came as a surprise, and for a moment, Calliope wondered if she was wrong about who the new arrival was. But that thought faded as he climbed out of the car.
Her entire body went from ice-block chilled to volcanic flames, as if her system was resetting itself. He was tall, well over six feet, with jet-black hair that glistened almost blue in the sun. His skin had that rich, olive tone to it, as if his name hadn’t been hint enough of his Greek heritage. As he gathered a suitcase and garment bag out of the car, she noticed how the muscles in his arms strained against the perfectly tailored lines of his clothes.
Nicely made. The clothes and the man.
But when he faced her, and she looked into eyes as deep and clear as the Mediterranean, she found she couldn’t breathe. She trembled, recalling a face that had haunted her dreams not for weeks or even months, but for years. For almost as long as she could remember. He’d grown with her, from a boy to a man, and was oddly and unnervingly familiar.
Stella gripped hold of her dress, ducked behind Calliope and poked her head out as the man—and fate—approached.
“My second welcoming committee.” His voice washed over her like the evening tide. “It was you on the cliffs a while ago, wasn’t it?”
“It was.” Calliope’s voice shook. It wasn’t often she had to look up at people and until now she’d considered her height a bit of a curse. She felt Stella’s fingers clench tighter in her skirt and forced herself to relax. No need to make her sister as anxious as she felt. “Calliope Jones.”
“So Charlie said. The butterfly lady.” He set down his bag and held out his hand. “Xander Costas.”
Calliope looked down at it and considered it a few moments longer than normal before returning the greeting. The second she clasped his hand in hers, she gasped. Pride was the first thing she felt, strong and pulsing, followed closely by the faintest twinge of...nerves. Interesting. Not as confident as he appeared. “Welcome to Butterfly Harbor, Mr. Costas.”
He grinned at her formality but before she could amend her greeting, he shifted his attention to Stella. “And you are?”
“Stella. Stella Jones.” She slipped around Calliope’s side and kept an arm securely around her waist.
“My sister,” Calliope said before he jumped to the same conclusion most people did. The almost twenty-year age gap left plenty of room for misconception.
“You’re early,” Stella said.