Home for Christmas (11 page)

“Yes you do,” she smiled that self
satisfied smile he was becoming alarmingly accustomed to; “I’ve made sure you
do. I wanted you, for the first time according to Lois, to have a stocked
refrigerator so that you could make your own food whenever the mood hit.”

“Ah,” he said thoughtfully. “I’m
glad you told me because I probably would never have even opened the
refrigerator,” he teased, moving toward it with an expectant look on his face
as he viewed its burgeoning contents.

Savannah was enthralled as she
watched him delightfully discover all of the goodies she’d stocked his
refrigerator with, not to mention the leftovers from Thanksgiving she’d
purposefully put aside prior to serving dinner to his guests, knowing how
convenient it would be for him. With amusement, she watched Austin make an
enormous turkey sandwich, giggled as he promised it would rival Jimmy John’s,
apparently his deli restaurant of choice. Enjoying his now jovial mood, she
laughingly asked him why that establishment to which he shrugged with an impish
grin and said, “They deliver.”

Minutes later, after forcing her to
sit on the bar stool and insisting that he serve her today, after the feast she
had provided yesterday, Austin presented her with a shockingly huge sandwich
that she knew she’d never get her mouth around. Piled with layers of turkey,
lettuce, tomato, cranberry sauce, not to mention Dijon mustard and even aioli
sauce, Savannah’s smile waned as she considered all the competing flavors.

“What would make this really good,”
he said, turning quickly back toward the refrigerator while she surreptitiously
lifted the top sourdough slice of bread to inspect and hopefully adjust his
creative sandwich attempt … “is this,” he said ecstatically, holding toward her
a familiar container of leftovers.

“Stuffing?” she questioned,
evidently not hiding her alarm as successfully as she’d hoped.

“You don’t think?” he questioned
with surprise. “If you haven’t had leftover turkey stuffing on your sandwich,
my girl, you haven’t lived,” he exclaimed as he reached once again for her
sandwich.

Savannah felt faint. “And you’ve
had this kind of sandwich Mr. I-can’t-remember-when-I’ve-last-had-Thanksgiving-dinner?”
With a guilty smile, she recognized her chance to even the culinary score.

“Listen,” he said, hands in the
air, “You’ve been cooking for a week. I just wanted to serve you for a change.”

“A hah! Tell you what, Mr. Douglass,
I could never, ever eat this huge sandwich all by myself,” she said while
reaching for a serrated knife from the butcher block on the island, “so I’m
going to give you half of it,” she finished while slicing the mega concoction
into two perfect portions. “And then, we can get on the road sooner. Besides,”
she quipped with a knowing smile while spooning more stuffing onto his half of
the sandwich, “you’re going to need this sustenance for all of the chopping and
hiking we’re going to be doing.”

After handing his half to him, she
cheerfully took as large of a bite as was possible, followed by a brilliant
smile and encouraging nod for him to begin eating his.

He watched warily as she continued
to chew before examining his half. “It’s good?” he questioned hesitantly.

“Try it,” she encouraged, still
chewing.

Tentatively, he took a bite. She
tried very hard not to smile as his expression changed from cautiously
optimistic to horror in a matter of seconds.

Austin dropped the sandwich down
onto his plate. “You like this?” he demanded.

She smiled an evilly sweet smile
before also placing her sandwich back onto the plate. “More is not always
better,” she quipped before quickly hiding her chuckle behind a paper turkey
napkin left on the island from the night before.

Hands on hips and eyebrows raised,
“More is not always better? This from the woman who transplants the pumpkin
patch to the front of her house in the city so little kids can ring her
doorbell asking for candy?”

Smiling guiltily, she clarified, “I
said not ‘
always
.’”

Taking his plate to the sink and
dumping its contents, Austin chuckled. That pumpkin patch was his first memory
of her and one he was particularly fond of. Instead he told Savannah he admired
her tenacity and ability to swallow the disgusting combination as he reached
for her plate as well. She laughed when he mentioned her competitive streak,
evidenced in the football game the day before and she explained that if you
concentrated on the individual flavors, it wasn’t so horrible.

Standing at the sink, they each ate
a plain turkey sandwich garnished only with lettuce and tomato and a dab of
cranberry sauce with a side of cold stuffing, happily leaving the dishes for
later as they piled back into the SUV.

And together they drove under the covered
portico, chatting and teasing each other all the way.  

A mere hour after their chance
shopping encounter, and having deposited their purchases at the house, a quick
bite of lunch and donning appropriate clothing for the chill that was seeping
into the atmosphere in spite of the gloriously beautiful sunshine; they headed
east of Seattle along I-90 toward the Cascade Mountain range. There was a sense
of mutual excitement in the air. It was …
Christmas
. And they were about
to hunt for a tree …
together
.

She reached over to turn on
Seattle’s Warm 107.9 radio station for its 24-hour coverage of best music of
the season. Adjusting her seat belt, she smiled as Bing Crosby’s crooning of a
White Christmas filled the car, surrounding them with the warmth of the season.

Happy to let Austin drive, Savannah
began pulling up directions to Issaquah’s Trinity Tree Farm on her phone as
they breezed across the I-90 floating bridge over Mercer Island. Savannah gazed
out the car window to the dazzling Lake Washington water on either side of them
and at the sailboats meandering through the Island as her phone did its work.
The sun was glinting off the sparkling water. Even Austin’s attention was
riveted to the calm and picturesque scene, so different from their shopping
excursion that morning.

“Hard to believe it’s the end of
November,” he said nodding toward the sun. “Have you ever tried?”

“To sail?” she question. “Oh, I’ve
been on a number of them,” she explained. “We,” she began, pausing as she once
again remembered that the
we
had become singular. Beginning again she
continued, “My family has always belonged to the Seattle Yacht Club.”

“Is that the one by University of
Washington?”

She smiled. “I thought you were
going to refer to it as the ‘
old one
,’” she teased.

He shrugged good-naturedly. “It is,
isn’t it?”

“It’s one of the most active and
long-established yacht clubs in the country, founded in 1893,” she said with
pride. “I do love it there.”

“Not surprised,” he replied
neutrally. “Would love to see it sometime.”

“Sure,” she quickly agreed.

“As I’m sure your family was one of
the charter members, how’s it that you never learned to sail?” he questioned.

“Courtney knows how to sail,” she
replied quickly.

“She does?” he replied with mild
surprise.

Savannah smiled as she warmed to
the memory. “I’ll never forget the summer she started her sailing lessons. It
was all she did for three months. I mean, everyday, all day long. It was
literally all she talked about, all she did. She kept pestering me to join her,
but I never did,” she said, somewhat sadly.

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” she replied with a
shrug. “I guess it wasn’t really my thing. Besides, already I was spending all
of my free time at the stores, learning the business, from the stock room up.
And when I wasn’t busy with that, I was helping my mom entertain. There wasn’t
room for much else,” she said.

Austin’s pensive expression made
Savannah uncomfortable, she hated it when conversations became too personal,
too revealing. Actually, she didn’t mind the revealing and personal elements,
as long as she wasn’t the subject of the conversation. She loved learning about
others and their lives. It wasn’t that she was a closed book, she just hated
being vulnerable. And after the year she’d just been through, vulnerable was
the last thing she was interested in.

“Do you sail?” she inquired,
determined to occupy his mind in a decidedly different direction. 

He shook his head, still glancing
at the glimmering water mere feet from their car. “Where I grew up, the closest
water was the irrigation ditches and reservoirs. Some of my friends, though,
got to visit Moses Lake or Lake Chelan and they’d tell me all about the wave
runner they’d rent while there. To a farm kid, it sounded amazing,” he replied
thoughtfully, referring to a couple of Central Washington’s major inland lakes.

“Well,” she continued, spreading
her hands at Lake Washington’s glorious waters surrounding them, “It’s never
too late to learn,” she challenged.

With an answering smile, he said,
“I know. Amazing that when you have the resources, you don’t have the time …
when you have the time … well, at least it’s something to add to the bucket
list. Besides, I can’t let anything distract me right now with this IPO
looming. Nothing is as important to me as that.”

Savannah slid the power button on
her phone to bring up the directions to the tree farm, thankful for the
reminder that this camaraderie was really about business, nothing more. He
didn’t and wouldn’t take time for anything else. And neither should she. The
fact that she enjoyed his company was simply … that. Nothing more. Absolutely
nothing more, she promised herself. And as if on cue, the brilliant sun slid
behind a giant cumulus cloud, effectively blocking the sunshine and its glow.

Minutes later, Savannah was
navigating Austin through the quaint little town of Issaquah, down its main
thoroughfare called, “Front Street.”

“You’d think they’d have named this
street, ‘
Main
,’” he warmly chided.

“I know,” she agreed, “It’s the quintessential
small town. It has quite an active theater district and attracts lots of diners
to all these restaurants down here,” she said referring to the myriad of dining
establishments lining the street. “And you have to love those vintage Christmas
wreaths surrounding each of those light posts. Really, it’s like a holiday
movie set,” she said, peering out the window at the passing displays;
commenting on the painted farm murals adorning the dairy processing plant. “I
used to think they really had cows in there,” she said pointing to the plant.
“It wasn’t until I was older that my mom finally told me the truth,” she
complained while he smiled.

“It’s not really that small of a
town, however,” she continued. “The Issaquah Highlands is one of the largest developments
in the Seattle area.”

“I’ve heard of that.”

“We used to have a couple of
manager who lived out here with their families. They loved the urban village
concept. They said the community was really vibrant and they loved the trails
and schools … they even have goats that graze the hillsides in the summer.”

“Have you looked out there?” he
questioned, knowing she wouldn’t stay with Courtney long-term.

“No,” she replied simply. “I
haven’t completely decided what I’m going to do.”

A comfortable silence filled the
car as they made their way through the town and out toward the beautiful
countryside of May Valley at the foot of what is called, “The Issaquah Alps,”
where their 40-acre destination was found nestled between Tiger and Squak
Mountains. After a couple of twisted turns and miss-directions, they finally
found the correct winding road that led to the top of the mountain and their
waiting exploration.

Boots donned and tree saw in hand,
Austin and Savannah, with unspoken agreement, quickly passed the pre-cut trees
near the entrance and the many families mingling near the log cabin gift store,
donning boots, and hats and gloves for the little ones who also were out on a
beautiful Thanksgiving weekend, searching for that perfect Christmas specimen.

“Okay, boss,” he teased. “Where
to?” When she began consulting a map they’d given her at the log cabin near the
entrance, Austin grabbed it out of her hands and stuffed in into his jacket
pocket.

“What?” she demanded, hurrying to
catch up to his retreating form. “We need to know where the different varieties
are planted,” she explained.

Finally, he stopped his trek and
turned to wait for her to catch up. “Is that how you hunted for the right tree
as a kid?”

“Well … we always asked for
directions …”

Austin started shaking his hand
before she finished. “Not this time,” he said, hooking her mitten clad hand
through his elbow. “We’re doing this the right way,” he said with an engaging
smile. Gazing into his enigmatic eyes, amused but up for their playful banter
and feeling her resolve melt, she asked but already knew the gist of what he’d
say but asked anyway, “And that is?”

“Explore and see what we see,” he
said extending his hand toward the hundreds of trees with little blue tags
surrounding them. “Let’s just be spontaneous and see where it leads.” Unsure
whether he was talking trees … or something else, Savannah decided to set aside
the customary shroud of caution she’d lived with every since her world had
turned upside down and do exactly that … for today anyway.

Together, they began tromping up
the steepest trail, winding through acres of Douglas fir trees, both tiny and
statuesque, toward the top of the mountain; reveling in the scent of pine, the
cool breeze and the expectation filling the air.

For a couple of hours, Savannah and
Austin combed the backwoods, high planes and little nooks of the more than 40
acres of trees. By mutual consent, they gravitated toward the largest, tallest
trees they could spot. She kept examining the trunks, knowing they’d need a larger
tree stand if they chose one of these, he was unconcerned. She tended toward
the more perfectly trimmed specimens while his eye drifted toward the uneven,
less cultured varieties. They bantered back and forth, enjoying the
good-natured and friendly debate.

The unseasonably warm afternoon had
taken a turn and suddenly become downright chilly as the sun began to wane and
slip into the distant sky. Austin pulled the collar of his wool coat closer
around his neck while glancing at the sky. He remembered so well how often he
used to do that … glance at the sky. Their family’s livelihood was at the mercy
of the Inland Northwest fickle weather patterns. He’d promised himself he would
find a better way – a way that had nothing to do with Mother Nature. And he had,
but he wasn’t so sure that it was a whole lot better. He’d just exchanged
Mother Nature for the whims of a volatile economic climate and the fickleness
of the consumer marketplace.

As a result, the skin that had once
burned in the summer sun had faded to a much paler version due to his countless
hours locked away in city skyscrapers, airplanes and hotel rooms. Ventilated
air and purified water was what his life had become. Sun, now, had become a
luxury.

Before this moment, he hadn’t
noticed or realized the artificial sum his life had become. But today, outside,
breathing mountain fresh air, the contrast became stark. Gazing over the acres
of manicured and trimmed Christmas trees to the distant horizon of natural
landscape fed his soul in a way that his business goals and dreams could not.
Out here, he could fully expand his lungs, actually feel the air and smell the
earth and pine again. It was exhilarating.

And then his eyes drifted to
Savannah’s red wool coat meandering among the giant Noble’s yards away. She was
incredibly beautiful, he noticed yet again. But he was used to beautiful women,
in his world. There were so many. One didn’t need to try very hard, they would
simply appear, gravitating to the wealthy and up and coming business stars of
his world. And yes, he was particularly attractive to them, he knew. His
lifestyle was desirable, his growing wealth, intoxicating. Surface
relationships were all they ever were. And to this point, it had suited him
beautifully. He didn’t have the desire or the time for more. It never even
entered his mind … until now.

While Savannah had that classic,
natural and untouched beauty, there was something more alluring about her. It
drew him, beckoning, until he was lost deep in the twinkle of her amber-colored
eyes. She was warm and intuitive … and smart. He never tired of their
conversations as he had most women that he socialized with. He’d had a
prejudice about women like Savannah who were reared in the traditional,
old-monied world he’d eschewed for as long as he could remember. That prejudice
now required revision. She was a priceless treasure that, to be honest, scared
him to death. And fear wasn’t an emotion he was well acquainted with.

“Over here,” she beckoned, peaking
around one of the taller trees on the hillside. “This one might be a
contender,” she mulled out loud while walking the circumference of the tree.

“Might?” he questioned warily.
“Savannah, it’s going to be dark soon and the sky is looking a little funny,”
he grumbled good-naturedly, tucking his bare hands under his arms. “I don’t
even like perfect trees … do you? I think this one would be just fine,” he
said, again, glancing toward the sky, refusing to admit that the trees were all
beginning to look exactly the same to him.

“You?” she teased. “Are you afraid
of a little …”

“What?” he questioned, seconds
later when she hadn’t finished her statement and continued to stare into the
distance at something he couldn’t begin to find any fascination with.

“It can’t be,” she finally
exclaimed with awe.

“What?” he asked again, growing a
little impatient with the guessing game. Yet that impatience instantly
evaporated as her eyes met his in absolute wonderment, warming his insides as
nothing ever had. She tried to contain her excitement by covering her mouth with
her red mitten, jumping up and down, only to give up, spread her hands wide as
she turned a complete and giddy circle.

“So … you think it’s the perfect
tree as well?” he questioned with amusement.

She stopped swirling to look directly
into his eyes with surprise and uttered one word … “Snow!”

“Snow?” he questioned, instantly
looking to the sky again and the receding hillside for signs. And after a
moment, he could definitely detect infinitesimal flakes floating haphazardly
here and there.

His grin connected with Savannah’s
heart, marking the moment in her memory forever. So handsome and charismatic; a
meeting of hearts and minds. It shouldn’t affect her, but it did. After all,
this was business, wasn’t it? It definitely was supposed to be. But … snow
could change … everything.

“Isn’t it perfect?” she whispered
giddily as the snow picked up, easily distinguishable now as children’s voices
and shouts of glee echoed throughout the farm.

“The tree?” he joked.

“Um, I’m not sure about that yet,”
she answered with a smile.

“You’re just about out of time,
little lady,” he answered more seriously.

Agreeing as a cold wind seeped
through the weave of her wool jacket, sending a chill down her spine; Savannah
scrutinized the tree up and down one more time, backed up the hill a ways and
gave it a last inspection. It would do, she finally decided. More than do … it
truly might just be the perfect tree.