“I was a wall flower then, and in a lot of ways, I still am. I love to socialize, but after a certain point, I retreat. I’m not mean or anything, but I go quiet. I start to literally ache for silence and solitude. Sometimes, and I hate to admit this, but sometimes I find it tough going. I can’t quite believe God loves me so much, that Jesus finds me so precious, and so special, that he’d die for me. Me. I’m not extraordinary.”
“Yes, you are, Lillianna. Yes, you are.”
Chapter 5
“WELL, NOW. DON’T YOU HAVE the loveliest glow about you this morning. Is it a safe guess that your dinner date was enjoyable?
Maxine drifted through the entrance of Purple Door and made her way straight to the front counter where Lillianna stood, stuffing her purse into a nook beneath the gleaming wood-framed checkpoint. Hiding a blush, Lillianna booted up the computer data base and signed in for the start to a new day.
“I enjoyed it, yes.” Now, to use this spare time before the official store opening to debrief her partner. “Do you have a minute?”
A subtle furrow appeared above Maxine’s alert, probing eyes. “Of course, and always. Is the tea on yet?”
“I was just about to fill the samovar. Join me?”
“Absolutely.”
They adjourned to the formalized office/meeting space. Moving forward, Maxine tweaked the lay of a series of silk scarves, angled the position of a set of hand-painted porcelain tea cups and saucers.
Tucking into their consulting space behind the mahogany and silk screen divider, Maxine sat down in the chair across from the desk. In the adjoining kitchenette, Lillianna filled a pitcher with water and poured it into the sterling receptacle, wondering how best to explain Dustin’s business proposition.
No sense dodging the inevitable, and Lillianna was eager for Maxine’s input and opinion. So, while water heated, Lillianna outlined the franchising plan. For the next half hour, she detailed the specifics Dustin had provided. She took a break to pour them each generous servings of tea. As their beverages steeped, as fragrant orange and cinnamon spice swirled through the air, Lillianna found herself feeling grateful all over again for Maxine’s gentle sense of calm and interest. Such had always been her mentor’s way. In patient silence Maxine listened, nodded, and absorbed. Meanwhile, Lillianna poured free, not just with details about the franchising opportunity, but the complicating layer of emotion Dustin’s presence stirred.
“It’s not like he ever really noticed me, or—” Was that entirely true? She recalled, through a misty haze, a car ride he gave her to work one rainy day, out of nothing more than…caring, really. She had been so tongue tied and overwhelmed she barely spoke. But she felt. She felt deeply. And would he have done that had he not noticed her?
“It’s first love, Lilly. High school sweethearts and first loves are the first keepers of our romantic memories, and ideals.”
“Spoken like someone who studied the topic extensively.”
“Actually, a university analysis revealed that—”
“Oh. My. Goodness. You actually studied the topic.” Lillianna’s eyes went wide
“Darling. Please. I was a high school art teacher. The study of teenage behavior was vital to my survival. Anyway. Romances that resume five or more years after a separation like yours and Dustin’s actually have a seventy-six percent chance of success and commitment.”
Lillianna continued to gape. “Seriously. You’re going analytical on this?”
“Can you even stand the romance of it?” Maxine’s laughter created twinkling music.
“Ah…I’m trying here. Really trying.”
“Look at the wider view, Lilly. You’ve both matured, you’re seeing one another in a refreshed perspective. What’s the issue here?”
Fear. The word leapt to mind as though sprung from a trampoline. I don’t want to set my sights so high that my heart gets shot down like a skeet target…
“I imagined myself in love, sure. But I saw myself in love with someone like me, not my polar opposite. Even back in school I knew there was something within him that I longed for. A balance. An answer to all the things I’m not. The grounded analyst as opposed to the creative one.”
“Listen to what you’re saying. Are you letting those words you just spoke truly sink in? Balance? Connection? Longing?” Lillianna puzzled, staring at her friend. “Therein is the answer, sweet child. Open your heart and beliefs wide enough to trust that the kind of love you describe can be real. Whether it’s with Dustin or not, you need to start believing, and you need to hold on to that truth.”
The challenge formed a deliberately crafted impasse. Step forward. Step away. The choice was all Lillianna’s, and that scared the wits right out of her. Calm as could be, though, Maxine waited, gauging Lillianna’s reaction and intentions.
“The intangible.”
Maxine sipped, then settled her tea cup, resting a hand against Lillianna’s. “I’m afraid so, yes.”
“All my life I was urged not to waste my time on intangibles. My family struggled to stay above water financially, so security was an issue I was constantly urged to not only address but take very seriously.”
“That’s wise.”
Lillianna sighed and heaved from her seat. In desperate need of a distraction, she trekked to the kitchen where she positioned a batch of almond and poppy seed tea cookies on a plate. The sweetly sculpted, sugar-dusted confections were a favorite of Maxine’s.
The interlude gave her time to formulate a response. “This offer is vindication to me.”
“Full-on retirement for me,” Maxine retorted.
Lillianna bypassed that touch of humor. “I can still hear my father’s voice in my head. ‘Don’t waste your time on things that won’t bring stability to your life.’ He wasn’t evil, he wasn’t trying to trample my dreams, but it was drilled into my head—”
“And heart.”
Lillianna shot her mentor a wry look. “It was drilled into me that I have talents, sure, but when I was younger, no one believed in those talents enough to encourage me to risk my future on them. Art wasn’t reliable.”
“Conversely, it sounds like Dustin was told to follow through. To pursue a legacy of excellence rather than whatever might make him truly happy.”
“Strive for tangibles rather than illusions.” Lillianna jumped on the axiom and fired it like a gunshot. “I’m just the opposite. I’m an artist. Oil and water. Watch us not mixing.”
“Except for what sounds like a divine dinner and dessert at Christmas Inn last night.”
“Except for that.”
Lillianna muttered the reply, trapped between the proverbial rock and hard place. She refused to accept anything other than friendship from Dustin. Entertaining any other form of…illusion...was nothing more than stupidity and emotional recklessness.
There it was again. Blast it all.
Dustin traversed the expansive lobby of Christmas Inn and once again a tickling breeze skimmed across the back of his neck, lifting fine hairs, triggering awareness. Where was it coming from, for heaven’s sake?
Doors and windows were closed. Warmth filled the air like a temptation all its own. Outside, the gloaming cast shadows along acres of rolling land, the towering pines, and ice-laden streams of the Inn. Low-rolling cloud cover lent further mystery to the landscape outside, but inside the B&B a low, appealing hum of conversation and the light and crackling sparks of a cheery fire left Dustin confused and disconcerted.
He stood across from the reception desk. Again. Drawn to the nativity display. Again. What was going on? Looking up, Dustin studied the porcelain statuettes that rested lovingly within a drifting bed of white silk. A rough-hewn wooden manger rested inside its designated cubby above the welcome area. The display was out of reach, but even if it had been at an accessible level, there was no way he’d deign to touch it. This creche struck him as an artifact to be revered.
Shimmering figurines depicted the baby Jesus in a cradle, Mary and Joseph praying at
each side. A heralding angel was flanked by three wise men in ornately detailed robes, holding trunks overflowing with gold and jewels, with jars filled by frankincense and myrrh. In sharp contrast were the humble set of farm animals stationed nearby.
He inched as close as he could, captivated. A curious burn, an itch, pushed against his senses. In ways almost consuming he wanted to study the finer details of each exquisitely crafted piece.
Paulina Kovacs descended the nearby stairs and gave him a nod of greeting. “Lovely, isn’t it?”
An inner jump jerked him to attention. He covered the skittish reaction with a smile. “Absolutely.”
Paulina joined him, looking up at the creche. “The figurines there? They were hand painted back in 1928 by Eloisa Christmas.”
A stunned silence beat by, marked in time by the tick of a grandfather clock. Dustin swallowed. “My…Eloisa…she…what?”
Seemingly oblivious to Dustin’s shock, Paulina continued. “From what I’ve been told, Eloisa operated the front desk for almost twenty years and wanted Christ’s birth to be central to this place.”
Dustin listened but couldn’t quite absorb. He kept circling back to the revelation that had rocked him hard and deep.
“Eloisa Christmas was my great grandmother.” He whispered the words, his stomach dancing.
“Really?” The delight of discovery lit the depths of the older woman’s pale gray eyes. “You’re a relation to the Christmas family?”
“It’s why I came to this Inn for a stay. Retouch some old family roots, but…but I had…I had no idea that she had created such a beautiful display. That she was so gifted.”
So creative. Such an…artist.
“How fascinating, Mr. Farrell. I’d love to hear about your family history.”
Dustin couldn’t take his eyes off the manger scene.
“Would you like to see the pieces?”
“I really don’t want to disturb—”
“Nonsense. There’s a step stool in my office. Always comes in handy. Stay here; I’ll be right back.”
Dustin had a couple minutes—less than that probably—to compose himself and allow facts to sink in. His great grandmother Eloisa had been an artist? He had known she was a numbers-savvy businesswoman who helped manage Christmas Inn at its birth so long ago. The family lore of the Inn had always filled him with wonder, that’s why he was here after all, but it seemed a few key elements of that lore had been overlooked, or not properly relayed through the sharing and retelling of stories.
What a shame…
“Here we are, Dustin.”
Paulina unfolded the step stool and made ready to climb aboard. Dustin stopped her at once, not wanting to see the woman take on such a precarious spot. “May I?”
“Aren’t you kind? Certainly.”
Dustin climbed, then, with the utmost care, he lifted several of the figurines from their resting spots. He leaned against the wall, studying the rendering of the angel, with her gold-framed wings, vivid blue eyes, smiling lips, delicate hands folded in prayer.
Paulina, bless her heart, stood by in a silence that sang with understanding. She seemed content to leave him to his thoughts, and a most unexpected discovery.
One of the wise men wore flowing robes of burgundy, a golden crown. Black hair waved down his shoulders. From eyes to mouth, he possessed the most evocative expression of reverence.
All because of the deft touch of a painter’s brush tip. All because of his great-grandmother’s talent. Undiscovered by the world at large, yet lasting, and impactful. Valuable. So much like Lillianna’s creations.
But what if Kilgore Group stepped in and turned her shop, her works, into a national brand that wasn’t true to what she held in her heart? Once the dotted lines were signed, she’d be powerless to execute change.
“So, you’re a relation of Eloisa?”
Paulina finally surrendered the silence. Replacing the wise man, Dustin next studied the baby Jesus, stroking swaddling clothes perfectly painted. He examined the Savior’s slumbering countenance which in this case was the quintessence of Holy peace.
“I’m her great-grandson. She died when I was a baby.” Lost to his own longings, his own imaginings, Dustin studied the figurine, embracing the history, the emotion behind it. “The things I know about her come from not much more than Sunday dinner conversations with my family, old photos, scrap books. I had no idea she was such a skilled artist.”
“I see.”
“Faith Christmas married Nathan Farrell, my grandfather. Julius and Carolina Farrell are my parents.”
Parents who were a successful team in life and in business—as well as very demanding. All of a sudden, his clear-cut business dealings swerved toward matters far deeper, and, thanks to family history, washed through by waves of fresh emotion.
He was the descendent of a gifted artist. Dustin felt honor bound to protect that legacy, as well as the woman from his youth he was coming to know all over again, and in far richer terms.
Chapter 6
THE ANGEL DESIGN LILLIANNA HAD shared with Maxine was gradually coming to life. Stroke by stroke, curve by curve, painstaking detail by painstaking detail. Face mask in place, hand resting for a moment on a low-slung sanding prop, Lillianna rolled her taut shoulders, deliberately relaxing her muscles. A Basswood square with scalloped edges formed the surface of her piece. She had already stenciled the image into place and used a pen to transfer the image onto the wood.
She rotated the canvas, polishing the freshly burned portion of her angel—smoothing a few subtle imperfections along the edges of her wings. In the strangest way, at times, inner turmoil lent introspection to her touch.
Steady control, richness moved through her careful strokes. Maybe that’s why Gabriella—Lillianna’s name for this sweet, innocent angel of joy—meant so much. Rendered from the grooves and grains of wood, Gabriella Angel emerged as something magical and inspiring.
They had agreed to come to a decision about the franchising opportunity when Maxine arrived today. From there, God would call the shots.
“Hello?”
The unexpected sound of Lydia Forrester’s voice prompted Lillianna to switch off her Colwood burner and lift into a comforting stretch. She checked the corner clock of her computer in passing and marveled. How on earth had a full hour already passed? Maxine would be crossing the threshold any time now.
Fighting a rush of anxiety, Lillianna strode from the design studio to the front of Purple Door to welcome her friend. “Hey there!”
Lydia gave her a smile and one-armed hug since she presently carried a cheery red and green checked plate covered by layers of chocolates…the very same chocolates Lillianna and Dustin had sampled at dinner. “I can’t get over how cold it is out there. I swear I can smell snow in the air!”
For her part, Lillianna couldn’t get past the image of those delectable sweets. “Please tell me those are mine, because, oh, yum.”
Lydia laughed deep and withdrew the plate, taking a playful swipe at Lillianna’s reaching hand. “Ah, ah, ah. These are for your customers.”
“And me. And Max.” Lillianna’s tone left no room for dispute. “They’re so good.”
“And I was just teasing—take a few and share the rest.”
“I will, and I’ll rave about Christmas Inn the whole time.”
“I love you for that.” Lydia unwound a thick, yellow scarf from her neck and slid free of her long wool coat. “Graham tells me you and Dustin made quite a glamorous pair at the restaurant.”
“We had fun. Great food, great company. Not much more to wish for.” Lillianna shot for a light and breezy attitude and knew instantly her friend saw straight through her.
“This is climbing into the realm of serious, isn’t it?”
The quiet, gentle question worked past Lillianna’s typical defenses, but that didn’t mean she’d surrender the fight completely. “He’s nice. We shared a friendship in high school. Walked in different circles, but he remem
bered me, so it’s been nice catching up…”
Lydia sent her a grin full of knowing. “Uh-huh.”
“Stop it.”
“Uh-huh all over again. Plus, your cheeks are so rosy.”
“Stop it all over again.”
“All I’m saying is, Graham likes him, and when my path has crossed with Dustin since he’s been staying at the Inn, he’s seemed so nice. Don’t hide yourself away, or retreat from him if there’s something there, Lil. You deserve the best, and you’ve never really let yourself believe that.”
“Gee. Thanks.”
“It’s not a criticism. Humility is a beautiful characteristic, but sooner or later you have to remember Who created you, and Who you honor with your gifts. God wants you to lift your head high and embrace the life He gives you.”
Wise and beautiful words, Lillianna thought. But how do I take them to heart?
The question plagued her when their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Maxine. The older woman blew across the threshold with a sturdy gust of wind at her back and swirls of snow that danced into moist, melted dots against a rubber mat that stretched across the length of the entryway.
“Good morning, lovelies.”
“Good morning, Max!” Lydia retrieved her coat and scarf after depositing the plate of chocolates on the nearby cashier’s counter. Re-dressing for the elements, she pulled a pair of gloves from her coat pocket and shoved them into place as well. “I’ve got to scoot, but I wanted to drop off some goodies for you and the customers.”
Like Lilliana, Maxine eyed the confections like a starving woman. “How sweet! Literally! They’re gorgeous. Tell that handsome hubby of yours thank you.”
“Will do. Talk to you soon.” That arch-browed farewell was directed over Maxine’s shoulder and straight to Lillianna who fought a tremble of foreboding. When it came to matters of romance, Lydia Forrester was relentless. She knew she was going to have to do some tall explaining about developments with Dustin Farrell.
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