Anna Stewart - Holiday Kisses

Doubt knocked at the back of her mind as she gnawed on her lower lip. Would a man raised among skyscrapers and freeways understand the delicate balance between nature and its inhabitants?

Calliope sighed. These days she overthought everything, uncertain about any answers. No doubt her worrying was asking for trouble. Diving into the darkness and pessimistic possibilities wouldn’t do anyone any good, least of all her. She could only control what she could control. And so she forced herself to relax as she watched the man climb the stairs to the road.

A wave of energy washed over her, invisible, powerful, but in those few seconds, she identified strength. Determination. Concern.

And passion. It was buried, simmering deep and low. But it was there.

So much passion.

Calliope took a shuddering breath.

“Calliope! Come see!”

She stepped back, broke whatever tenuous connection she’d created with the newcomer and turned toward Stella’s excited call. The ten-year-old’s enthusiasm was contagious. Calliope had never been able to wallow for long around her. For that alone, she was endlessly grateful for the gift of her little sister. With a quiet word of thanks to the day and all it had brought, Calliope turned her back on the ocean and made her way down the uneven path to the Flutterby Inn.

The three-story inn felt like a second home to most who lived in Butterfly Harbor. It was on its second—or was it third?—life. Thanks to a restaurant reinvention and new ownership, the business was thriving as never before, and bringing in a whole new clientele to the reinvigorated town.

It had been a rough few years for Butterfly Harbor, but the town had worked together and instead of floundering in their depressed economic circumstance, they now embraced what was to come with eagerness and enthusiasm.

For the most part.

Calliope refused to dwell on the downside of town politics and possible ulterior motives. Not at this time of year. Christmas. The season of gratitude and new beginnings.

And just like that, she settled.

Christmas lights had been strung across every horizontal line of the inn, and around the windows that had been topped with hand-formed wreathes with oversize red and gold bows. Along the porch, icicle lights glowed. Since there was no snow to be found in this part of California, they added that frosty touch once the sun went down and the cool air kicked in off the Pacific. They brought to mind chilly winters and crackling fires made for roasting chestnuts and marshmallows. Mmm. Marshmallows. She’d have to make up a batch of her famous hot chocolate in the next day or so.

It had taken numerous volunteers, spearheaded by inn manager Abby Manning, to deck the halls and everything else at the Flutterby. But this wasn’t just any Christmas. Come Christmas Eve, Butterfly Harbor would be celebrating the wedding of their beloved Abby to former celebrity chef Jason Corwin, who, near as Calliope could tell, was becoming increasingly nervous with every day that passed. Funny how a man could oversee a multimillion-dollar company and own three restaurants, and still be flummoxed by the very mention of his starring role in a wedding. Literally a starring role, as the camera crews and advance photographers were due to arrive in little more than a week.

Calliope blinked back tears. Butterfly Harbor’s first holiday wedding in decades. And if Abby’s friends and family and the rest of the town had their way, the day would be absolutely perfect.

She found Stella—a mini replica of herself with long red curls and a spark in her eye kneeling in the garden bed that was spilling over with recently planted poinsettias and rosemary shrubs. Shrubs that Stella and Lori, the inn’s part-time assistant manager, had spent the last few hours decorating as fully and elegantly as the seven-foot tree glowing in the corner window of the inn’s lobby.

“It’s a baby butterfly,” Stella whispered as she drew her outstretched finger free of the bush beside her. “I just wished for one and it came even though it’s the wrong time of year.” She turned, and there, delicate as lace and strong as the sea, the butterfly’s 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.