Nan Dixon - A Savannah Christmas Wish

“How’s it going?” Quint called out.

“I’m staying busy.” Bess’s laugh was sweet and high. “That’s always good.”

Bess ignored Daniel. Nothing new there. Bending, she snapped open a folding table.

Daniel tried not to, but his gaze darted to her gaping tank top. The shadow between her breasts called to him like the satin finish on a freshly varnished floor.

“Daniel, when can I work on the gardens?” Bess still didn’t look him in the eye.

When would he and Bess get over this—stiffness? After ten years they should have forgotten what had happened. One night among thousands. Why couldn’t Bess forgive or at least forget?

“Give me a couple of weeks,” Daniel said.

Abby set a tray of sandwiches and bars on the table. “I brought food.”

Bess hefted a large thermos. The table rattled as she set it down. “And lemonade.”

When Forester Construction crews worked for the Fitzgeralds, there were delicious fringe benefits.

The crew headed to the table, but Daniel shook his head. “It’s not even ten thirty.” To the Fitzgeralds, he said, “Thanks.”

Bess crossed her arms and finally looked at him. Her changeable hazel eyes were bright green today. “I need a better answer than a couple of weeks. There are things I want to get done before it gets cold.”

He knew the carriage-house construction schedule but didn’t want Bess painting him into a corner. “Once the footings and floors are in, I’ll give you the exact date.”

“Come on.” Her coppery eyebrows drew together. “You have everything scheduled to the minute.”

Daniel rested his hand on his phone. “Things happen.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t they, though.”

The concrete mixer churned, the noise too much to talk around in this enclosed space. He mouthed, “I’ll let you know.”

Smiling, Abby waved and walked away. Bess frowned. Didn’t that describe his relationship with the two oldest Fitzgerald sisters: Abby so friendly and Bess ready to take a bite out of his hide.

Once he was sure the crew was back on track, Daniel headed out. In his truck, he sampled the thick ham-and-cheese sandwich Abby had made. No wonder his dad liked working with the Fitzgeralds.

He wound his way through Savannah’s historic district, slowing for tourists and pedestrians. Even in the heat, the sidewalks and cafés were packed. As he crossed Broad Street, the foot traffic eased. By the time he’d driven into his parents’ neighborhood, the only thing moving was the Spanish moss waving in the oaks.

Daniel grabbed the bid file and headed up the walkway. He frowned. The grass needed cutting. His pop didn’t usually let stuff like that go.

Walking into the air-conditioned house, he sniffed. The scent of lemons wafted from the kitchen. “Something smells good.”

His mother moved into the hallway, drying her hands. Her bright blond hair curved around her chin. “It’s lemon meringue pie.”

“I could handle pie.” He rubbed his belly. “Pop here yet?”

Lines formed between his mother’s eyebrows. “Your father’s upstairs resting.”

“On a workday?”

She twisted the towel in her hands. “I think he overdid it in the heat.”

Daniel tapped the file against his leg. Pop was...energetic. Tireless. Smart. They’d celebrated his fifty-fifth birthday last month, and Pop had kept them up until morning. Then he’d swung a hammer with the crew the next day.

“Are you ready to talk about the Carleton House bid?” his mother asked.

He held up the file. “Got it right here.”

She poured sweet tea and they sat at the heavy wood kitchen table.

“With Fitzgerald House complete, your father can’t wait to start on Carleton House.” His mother leaned closer. “Abby needs to stop feeding him.”

“Like that will happen.” He took a swig of his drink. “Abby brought sandwiches to the carriage house today.” And Bess brought the lemonade and her attitude.

Pop came down the back stairs, rubbing his neck. “Who’s stealing my pie?”

“Mom hasn’t offered me a piece.” Daniel pushed the file over to him. “I finished reviewing the Carleton House bid. That’s a lot of money.”

“I know.” Pop nodded. “That’s why I wanted your eyes on it.”

Mom was on her feet. “Do you want something to drink?”

“Tea’s fine.” Pop gave Mom a hug. “Thanks.”

Mom cut the pie and poured another glass. Then she grabbed her laptop and Pop opened the folder.

“It looked like you missed the wrought-iron bids. I added them in.” Daniel took a bite of pie. The sharp lemon had his mouth watering. “You make the best pie.”

“Aren’t you sweet?” Mom smiled. “Did you send me a new bid file?”

“This morning before I headed out.”

Pop mumbled and pulled out the subcontractors’ bids. He grabbed a pen and ticked off amounts. “Gol darn it, I missed the wrought iron.”

“I double-checked all the other sub bids.” Daniel had triple-checked everything. Mistakes weren’t acceptable. “It looks good now.”

He finished his pie, pushing his plate away.

“We’ve got another problem,” his mother said. “Carleton House will deplete our cash.”

Daniel frowned.

“I’ve run forecasts on our current projects.” Mom flipped around her laptop. “Once we add in Carleton House, our credit line won’t cover our operating expenses.”

They looked at the graph. Pop ran his hands through his white hair, making it stand up. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

Mom raised an eyebrow. “I’m not just a pretty face.”

“Don’t I know it?” Pop kissed her on the forehead. “You’re the best risk I ever took.”

“I took the risk, falling in love with an upstart contractor.” She linked her hands with her husband’s.

Equal doses of happiness and envy shot through Daniel. His parents were a team.

“We have time to get a bigger line in place,” Mom said.

Pop tipped his head. “The bank pushed back last year when we renewed the credit line.”

“What about the State Street apartments?” Daniel tapped his finger against the table. “Real estate markets are coming back. We could turn the apartments into condos.”

They kicked around ideas while his mother ran numbers. “If we sell three units by November, this will work.”

Three months. Daniel nodded. That sounded plausible.

“I’m glad we hadn’t decided on the rent increases.” Mom shut her laptop. “I’ll look up the renewal dates and contact the tenants.”

She looked at Daniel. “Bess.”

Daniel cringed. Bess had just told her sister how much she loved her apartment.

“Why don’t you warn her?” Pop suggested.

Heat filled his face. There were plenty of reasons he didn’t want to talk to Bess, but none he could tell his parents. He checked the schedule on his phone. Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything critical that would prevent him from breaking the news. “Sure. I’ll talk to her.”

Daniel rubbed the bump on his nose, compliments of Bess. How she would take the news was anyone’s guess.

* * *

DAMN DANIEL. BESS anchored the final lotus plant in the pond with more oomph than necessary. Water and mud splashed her face. He knew exactly when she’d be able to get into the gardens.

Sugar wouldn’t sweeten Daniel’s in control, I’ll tell you when I’m ready disposition.

Something nudged her hand. She flicked her fingers and a flash of orange and yellow darted away.

“How does it look?” Bess asked her assistant.

“Fantastic,” Molly said. “This is the best pond we’ve ever put together.”

Bess slogged her way out of the middle, her feet squishing inside her waders. Halfway up the hill, she pulled them off and tipped out the water. “So much for staying dry.”