A Merry Little Christmas (15 page)

Charlie didn’t hear another word, since Sylvie had strolled out the door with Franny. The evening was deteriorating fast. He let out some steam and headed after them.

Later that evening, Franny stood in front of a full-length mirror, gazing at herself, turning this way and that, which was an activity she’d had little time for over the years. She’d never seen herself in a cocktail dress before.
Hmm, not bad
—black taffeta with a flared skirt, puffed sleeves, and a square neckline. The best part was, she didn’t look overly ridiculous in it. Was this what women were wearing to fancy dinner parties? She had no idea.

Franny did a little whirl in front of the mirror and then curtsied with her forefinger touching her chin. She let out a giggle. Funny sound, coming out of her mouth. She’d never been one for giggling, but the day was turning out like the show tune “Some Enchanted Evening.” It was a good thing she was alone, though, since her primping and gazing felt a little silly.

Franny slipped on black lace gloves as she glanced back at the bed, where she’d found the evening dress and accessories laid out for her. It had been an unexpected sight, especially since Mr. Landau had told her that she could choose any of the dresses in the closet. It mattered little to her, and yet it had been a curious thing to see. Charlie wouldn’t have chosen the outfit for her, she felt certain of that. But didn’t Mr. Landau have more important things to do than select a woman’s clothing for a dinner party?

Then she remembered Charlie’s warning about his father and his controlling ways. Perhaps there was much more to Mr. Landau, many more layers of his personality yet to see. Maybe a maid had set out the clothes and her imagination was getting the better of her.

Franny sat down at the vanity table and smoothed her simple hairstyle, wishing it were in a bouffant, which looked more sophisticated and less matter-of-fact. She picked up a can of hairspray and used it liberally until she sputtered and coughed.

She picked up a bottle of perfume on the mirrored tray and took a whiff. The smell reminded her of the fragrance Sylvie was wearing. She gave the pump a squeeze, letting the spray mist her neck. Nice scent even on a farmer.
Imagine that.
Franny batted her eyelashes like she’d seen Sylvie do.

She fingered the bottle and then set it back down, wondering if Sylvie’s dressing table looked similar to this one. Charlie’s old girlfriend seemed accustomed to a luxurious lifestyle. Certainly her evening dress had been modish, a navy chiffon with an off-the-shoulder V-neckline. Striking, just like her personality.

Franny had to admit, Sylvie was attractive—the kind of woman men would want to take to the movies, but also the kind of woman who could be
in
the movies. And Sylvie was a mystery too. Her facial expressions and playful banter showed that she still cared for Charlie, but no matter how fascinating or trendy Sylvie came off, one thing was certain—she was not a good match for him.
Let it go, Franny.

A tube of lipstick sat front and center on the vanity table as if it were for her particular use. Someone had thought of everything. She pulled off the gold cover and rolled up the stick of color, which turned out to be a rich ruby red. But wasn’t pink the latest? Hard to know, since she couldn’t afford fashion magazines.

Franny leaned toward the mirror and smeared the tint on her lips. Totally different effect with the black dress. She touched her mouth, recalling Charlie’s lips against her own. Perhaps before the evening was over, there would be time for making more of those good memories. Which were even better than chocolate fondue.

Franny glanced around the huge room that was probably bigger than her living room and kitchen combined. In spite of all the furnishings and elegantly decorated alcoves to explore, she headed to the closet, curious about what was inside. She expected to see a row of spectacular evening dresses. To her surprise the closet was empty except for one item. A porcelain clock sat on the wooden floor like an abandoned toy. A tiny painted violin adorned the top. It was so pretty and delicate. She wound it up, placed it next to her ear, and listened for the ticking sound. It still worked. She set the time and looked at it again, fingering the gilded instrument on top. In the midst of her wonderment, the tiny glass violin broke off into her hand.

It took a second for the misfortune to register.
Oh my. What have I done?
Broken a family heirloom? A rare antique. A priceless relic! The horror of what she’d done struck her, and she nearly doubled over with pain. How would she ever tell Charlie? Since she couldn’t replace the treasure, Mr. Landau would surely order her out of the house. The incident made her feel as though she didn’t belong in such an elegant world—Charlie’s world.

On the other hand, how could the clock have broken so easily? Well, no matter the consequences, sometime during the evening she would have to find the right time to tell Charlie what she’d done.

Franny gently placed the broken clock on a shelf and closed the closet door, reprimanding herself for her inquisitiveness and wishing she had a bobby pin for a good chew. What had Momma always told her about her habit of nosing around in other people’s things? That it would get her into trouble one day.
Guess that day arrived.

She looked at a clock on one of the end tables, not even daring to touch it, and read the time. In five more minutes she would meet Charlie in the dining room.

The remaining minutes gave her time to study the room from a safe distance with her hands folded safely in her lap. The bedroom was no less than a masterpiece of beauty and elegance. The furnishings would make even the most levelheaded woman drool over all the loveliness.

Was she falling for the opulence and the romantic living that would come from great wealth, where anything seemed possible? The thought struck her as superficial but honest. It reminded her of a passage from a Jane Austen novel she’d once read—
Pride and Prejudice
. When the heroine, Elizabeth Bennet, first admitted to falling in love with Mr. Darcy, it seemed to be connected to the moment she saw the beautiful grounds at Pemberley. Was that admission a flaw in Lizzy’s character, and if so, was Franny succumbing to the same weakness?

The various courses of dinner went well and were only fraught with minor hiccups. Mr. Landau had insisted that Charlie be seated across from Franny throughout the dinner instead of next to her. Even though Charlie didn’t seem too happy about the request, he recovered and was jovial in general, especially when he looked her way.

Charlie looked like a prince, adorned in his double-breasted jacket, but she hoped the formalwear wasn’t too appealing on him since Sylvie was seated right next to Charlie.

The supper itself came off spectacularly, like a fantastical dream, one Franny knew she would never forget. She’d done her best not to embarrass Charlie in front of his father, and hopefully, she’d accomplished her goal. All that remained of the evening was to consume the dessert—individual red-velvet cakes, each adorned with a chocolate swan.

The way the guests escorted her into the conversation with such cordiality astonished Franny, and the fact that Charlie’s father didn’t seem to mind his son having affection for a woman with such humble beginnings was also a welcome surprise.

On a more realistic level, it felt too good to be true, like fleecy clouds concealing a cyclone. Franny took the last sip of her coffee and let her shoulders relax. Of course, she still had to figure out a way to tell Charlie about the broken clock. That thought took some of the sweetness out of the cake.

“I have one last question for you, Francine. About the farm.” Mr. Landau dabbed at his mouth with his linen napkin. “Charlie mentioned a large orchard and garden on the farm. Do you take advantage of this commercially?”

“No.” Franny set down her fork. “I’ve never sold the produce.”

“And why is that? You can’t eat it all by yourself.” Mr. Landau chuckled but seemed to focus all of his attention on her reply.

Perhaps he wanted to top off the evening with his toughest questions. “I’ve continued my father’s tradition of giving away the surplus fruits and vegetables to the needy in town.”

Sylvie raised her cup in Franny’s direction, making her dangling snowflake earrings shimmer. “Well, I think it’s commendable, Francine. Here, here. I would do the exact same thing…that is, if I had a charitable heart.”

Chuckles trickled through the room.

Mr. Landau stroked his beard, ignoring Sylvie’s lighthearted comment. “It’s generous of you, Miss Martin, but if you do this service for the locals year after year after year, won’t you hurt them more by keeping them in ignorance? How will they ever learn to take care of themselves? It will no longer be charitable but an impediment to their education.”

Franny took a sip of coffee to swallow the cake that had lodged a complaint in her throat. “I see your point. And it is a good one.”

“Thank you. Now don’t disappoint me. I know you have a rebuttal.” Mr. Landau’s voice seemed buoyant enough, but something in his eyes appeared foreboding. Was it her imagination?

Charlie offered her an encouraging smile.

“It’s just that the people I’ve helped over the years, well, many of them work hard. I’m not giving the nod to slovenly behavior or taking away their desire to work; I’m just trying to have some compassion for people who aren’t given a reasonable wage. It’s the employers who are in need of an education on ways not to be so scrooge-like.” Franny set the cup down, since her hand was about ready to shake the coffee right out of the dainty cup.

“Bravo.” Mr. Landau patted his hands together in silent applause. “Your reasoning is faulty, of course, since even Jesus said the poor will always be with us, but you have such sagacity and conviction it’s hard not to applaud.”

Franny’s jaw twitched in indignation, but she kept a civil tone. “It’s rude to argue with one’s host, but I think you’re taking the Lord’s words out of context.” In her flustered state, she dropped her napkin on the floor.

Barkley reached down and picked it up with some formality and handed it to her with a wink. She had no idea what that was all about.

Charlie made a wad of his napkin and set it next to his untouched dessert. “Father, we’ve all grilled Franny enough for one evening, don’t you think?”

Perhaps Franny had missed Charlie’s rising emotions. Apparently she had, since he looked like he was about to blow.

“Now, Charles, the banter was all done in the spirit of fun.”

“Well, perhaps Franny could do with a little less of the Landau brand of entertainment.”

Mr. Landau ignored his son’s comment and said, “As the guests in this room know, I don’t enjoy the company of a great number of people, so you are an anomaly, Miss Martin.”

Barkley raised his glass. “Well, here’s to this evening’s lovely anomaly.”

Everyone chuckled, including the other two guests, Horace and Harriet—the pensive ones. They raised their glasses like dutiful guests. Franny suddenly felt more naive than brave. An anomaly meant
irregular
, after all. She looked at the tiny swan on her plate. Franny had been saving the best for last, but seeing the hapless expression on the bird’s chocolate face, she couldn’t devour it after all.

Mr. Landau scooted his chair back. “Charles, it’s getting too late to travel back, so you’ll both need to spend the night. Separate wings, of course. I think you said you have someone watching over the farm until tomorrow. If that’s the case, then you both may have breakfast here and get an early start in the morning.”

“Fine.” Charlie scooted his chair back.

“Glad you all could come this evening.” Mr. Landau rose from the table and everyone did the same, as if the final curtain had now come down and the theater was closing.

Mr. Landau’s audience of six said their pleasantries and good-nights, and then Charlie took Franny by the arm and whisked her down a long corridor.

“Charlie, what is it?” Franny held on for dear life as he propelled her down the hallway without saying a word.

Charlie opened the doors to what looked like a large family library.