'Tis the Season

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  “But your grandmother’s loom shouldn’t be moved that far. Something might happen to it.”

  “Nothing will happen.” He eased her back onto the mattress and pushed the shirt away. “At least, not to the loom. I can’t promise nothing will happen to you.” He kissed his way along her collarbone and moved down to the swell of her breast. “Especially if you invite me to share your bed tonight.”

  “Oh.” She sighed as he drew her nipple into his mouth.

  He lavished attention on that part of her before finally lifting his head to gaze into her eyes. “Is that a yes?”

  She reached for the belt of his robe. “With you, it seems to be the only word I know.”

  “And all you need to know.” He tossed his bathrobe aside.

  They made love slowly, each staving off their release as long as possible. After they finally succumbed to the pressure they’d built, they lay for a long time stroking each other, postponing the moment when they’d have to leave the sensuous nest of their first lovemaking.

  Eventually they could stall no longer. They dressed, ate a quick lunch and called Tessie about her loom. She agreed immediately to loan it for the TV special. But later, as Sam and Anna tied his grandmother’s loom in the back of his truck, Anna still battled her doubts. Although Sam’s suggestion made sense, she couldn’t shake her belief that Hilary Schute’s loom didn’t belong in New York City. During their drive in tandem down the turnpike, she kept looking in her rearview mirror, worried that some highway disaster would befall the loom.

  When the New York skyline appeared, she tried to remember how she’d left the apartment. Fairly well picked up, she thought, and she’d put clean sheets on the bed because it had become her habit to do that before taking off on Friday. Coming home to fresh linens gave her a small reward for having to leave Sumersbury, although tonight she’d have more reward than that. She’d brought the most important attraction Sumersbury had to offer home with her, and she wasn’t thinking of the loom.

  She’d protested again about the inconvenience for Sam, driving all the way to New York and all the way back home the next day. He’d insisted that on the way home Monday he’d stop off to take care of business with two clients, one in New Haven and one in Hartford. She suspected he was exaggerating the importance of those business calls, but in the end, she wanted him in New York tonight as much as he wanted to be there.

  They parked in the underground garage beneath her apartment building and managed, with some maneuvering, to get the loom into the elevator. On the way up to the fourth floor, they smiled at each other across the wooden structure.

  “This was a great idea,” Sam commented. “Admit it.”

  “Once the loom’s in my apartment and no harm has come to it, I’ll admit it. Although that’s not even considering the return trip.” She glanced at him as she realized they’d never discussed the length of this loan.

  “You’ve got that worried look again.”

  “We’ve left this deal—my design services in exchange for use of the loom—kind of open-ended. Are you aware of that?”

  “Completely aware.”

  She gazed at him as the elevator bumped to a stop on the fourth floor. “I guess you’re not too worried about getting your loom back.”

  “Oh, I intend to get it back.” He leaned down to pick up his end. “Ready?”

  “I think so.” But as she helped him carry the loom and directed him toward her door, she wondered how ready she was for Sam Garrison. When he retrieved his loom, did he expect that she’d be part of the bargain? Originally she’d viewed the loom as a symbol of growth in her life, a challenging new activity to expand her horizons. Was there a chance, a very small chance, that Sam viewed the loom as a bargaining chip to draw her in?

  They maneuvered the loom into her apartment without damaging it or chipping paint off the walls. Once it was settled near two double-hung windows that let in the morning light, she stepped back to look at it. “I love having this here.” She glanced at him. “Thank you.”

  “Seemed like the logical move.”

  “Only because you have a generous heart. And now you have to let me show you a little bit of the New York that I love.”

  “You love the city?” He seemed puzzled by that.

  “I do. I love the serenity of the country, too, but Manhattan has a magic quality I’ve always treasured.”

  “That’s…I have to admit that I’ve never been a fan.”

  “Maybe because you’ve never spent a night in New York with me.”

  He laughed. “That I’m willing to believe.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  The weather was perfect for a walk down Restaurant Row, and she took him to her favorite Italian restaurant. They shared a bottle of Chianti and ate pasta while they told each other stories about their lives before they’d known each other. She’d eaten at this restaurant many times, but she never remembered having more fun.

  After dinner she convinced him to take a harbor cruise and they cuddled in the brisk air as they admired the skyline at night. “See what I mean?” She glanced up at him. “Magical.”

  He gazed into her eyes. “Everything’s magical with you.”

  “Backatcha.” And when he kissed her smiling lips, she knew what had been missing from her life in New York City. It was a place for lovers, and despite her relationship with Eric, she’d never experienced real love here. Sam had shown her that. But this wasn’t his town, and he’d be driving back to Sumersbury in the morning. It was the one flaw in an otherwise perfect evening.

  * * *

  When Anna’s clock radio clicked on the next morning with a traffic report, she reached for the Off button and realized she couldn’t move—a man’s arm held her firmly to the mattress.

  Sam—who had admired her framed print of children in the country, who had joked about the fact she’d replaced the futon with a real bed. Privately she’d decided that she’d replaced Eric with a real man. Now that she knew the fun of having Sam with her in New York, she’d miss him all the more when he left today.

  She turned her head on the pillow to gaze at him. His slow smile in the semidarkness recharged her like a first cup of coffee. The night before, in his arms, she’d put aside her misgivings about their future, and the glow from their loving still warmed her this morning.

  “Hi,” he said. “Sleep well?”

  “You’re the guest. I’m supposed to ask you that.”

  “The sirens woke me a few times, but it was worth it each time to be reminded I was in bed with you.”

  “What sirens?” she asked. “Were they close? I didn’t hear anything.”

  “That’s because you’re a city girl, and they don’t bother you anymore.”

  “Oh.” The traffic report on the radio mentioned an accident on the Brooklyn Bridge before the station switched to music. In the street outside the apartment, the rush of cars and trucks was punctuated by honking horns. “I’ll bet you don’t wake up to an alarm each morning, either,” she said. “Or impatient taxi drivers.”

  “No, I wake up with the sun.”

  “The buildings block it here. If I got up with the sun, I wouldn’t be at work until noon.”

  He reached for her. “Let’s pretend we’re back in the country, then. Noon sounds about right to me.”

  “I can’t,” she said. “I’ll be late.”

  He rolled her onto her back and bent his face to her breasts. “I don’t want that, but you’re irresistible,” he murmured, kissing her softness. “And I won’t be able to do this again until Friday.”

  Thankfully she’d set the alarm for fifteen minutes earlier than her usual wake up time to give herself some leeway. She didn’t have to worry about being late…yet. “I should get up,” she murmured.

  “I know,” he said, his breath warm against her skin. “But I wish you didn’t have to. I wish you didn’t ever have to.”

  An alarm bell went off in her head, but she chose to ignore it, instead focusi
ng on the lovely sensations Sam was creating with his lips. “Right now, so do I.”

  He propped himself up on his arms and gazed down at her. “The falling part is over. I’m in love with you, Anna.”

  She gazed back at him as her heart swelled. “I love you, too,” she whispered.

  His lips came down on hers in a soul-shattering kiss.

  * * *

  Anna only missed the first two minutes of the design staff meeting. She gave as her excuse that she’d been tied up in an early-morning appointment with a client, which was technically true. But the time crunch meant she’d left the apartment without breakfast, and by noon she was ready to eat half the items on the menu of the store’s lunchroom. She’d just ordered a Reuben sandwich when Vivian walked in and scanned the tables.

  Spotting Anna, she hurried over and sat down. “I was hoping you’d be here. Store gossip has it that you were late to the design staff meeting, which you never are, and that you’ve been acting strange the rest of the morning. What gives?”

  Anna sighed and leaned back in her chair. “It could take me all lunch hour to tell you about this. Maybe you’d better order something.”

  “Honey, I’ll even buy your lunch if you’ll fill me in. I’m dying of curiosity. According to Jimmy, his friend Ted thinks you’re terrific, but you brushed him off. So I figure this guy from Sumersbury is in the picture somewhere. Am I right?”

  “You’re right.” Anna motioned to the server.

  “Wow. This gets better and better.” Vivian glanced up at the server and ordered a chef’s salad. “Was this man the reason you were late this morning?” she asked after the server left.

  “Only by two minutes! He apologized for that.” Warmth assaulted her at the memory of Sam, naked and apologizing. She pushed the memory away. Starting with the encounter with Estelle in the Sumersbury grocery, she told Vivian the story of falling in love with Sam Garrison. Their lunch arrived in the middle of the tale, and by the time Anna finished talking, they’d eaten most of it.

  “Amazing.” Vivian speared a quarter of a hard-boiled egg. “Old Ted never had a prayer, did he?”

  “I guess not. I shouldn’t have agreed to that, but there was an outside chance that I’d be attracted to him, too. I needed to know.”

  “And instead you’re in love with Sam.”

  “Yes.”

  “So, what are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t see how I could work as an interior designer and live in Sumersbury.”

  “Well, then, don’t. Market your weaving. You said yourself that his grandmother could have made money at it. And you clearly enjoy it.”

  “Yes, but I don’t know how much money.” She pushed her plate away and rested both elbows on the table. “And I’ll tell you something else, something I’ve hardly admitted to myself. I love the country, but I’m only in Sumersbury two days a week. What if I moved there and discovered that it was a little too quiet and peaceful?”

  “Only you can answer that, sweetie. But this Sam Garrison sounds like the sort who would keep you stirred up.”

  “Mmm.” Anna hid her smile behind her clasped hands.

  “Hey, gal, you have the look of a satisfied woman on your face. City or country, that counts for a lot.”

  “I know. Lord, don’t I know. But I don’t have a realistic picture of Sam’s and my relationship, either, because on the weekends, when I’ve been with him, he hasn’t been working. We’ve had an artificial situation where we could give each other our full attention.”

  “Well, old Auntie Vivian has a suggestion.”

  Anna laughed. “As always. I should have come running to you, instead of making you search me out.”

  “Perhaps you don’t quite appreciate me yet.”

  “I’ll try harder,” Anna said, chuckling. “What’s your brilliant suggestion?”

  “Spend a week of your vacation in Sumersbury, maybe the week before this Christmas tree extravaganza. Test your tolerance for small-town living before you make any big decisions.”

  “Vivian, that’s inspired!”

  “I know,” her friend said with feigned modesty. “I do, however, charge a fee for this kind of insightful advice.”

  “Whatever you say. I’m so impressed with your idea that I’d grant you anything.”

  “Better hear it first. I swear, I’ve never known you to be this spontaneous.”

  “I’m changing, too. I’m learning to take chances, to let loose. I think that started when I bought the house in Sumersbury. Every day I feel more adventurous, more free.” She recalled again how wildly free she had become in Sam’s embrace. “What’s the favor?”

  “I want you to invite Jimmy and me to Sumersbury during the filming of the television special.”

  Anna laughed. “You’re kidding. It’ll be a circus.”

  “I know!” Vivian clapped her hands. “That’s why I want to be there. First of all, I’ve never seen anyone cut down a twenty-five-foot tree, let alone the tree that will stand in the White House. Second, I’m really curious about your little town and your new beau, and third, I’d love to sneak in front of the cameras so I could be on TV.”

  “You and everyone else.” Anna grinned. “They won’t be able to see the tree for the forest of people, if you’ll pardon the expression.”

  “Go ahead, make fun. I know you don’t have the lust for fame that grips most people. You just have to put us up for one night. I know you haven’t invited anyone to your little farmhouse yet, but I thought that was because you were hibernating there, healing from the break up with Eric.”

  “I was.”

  “So I’m right again. Gosh, I’m good. But the hibernation is over, so can we come up?”

  “Sure, why not. What kind of bed would you like?”

  Vivian’s eyes widened. “You have that many choices?”

  “I have a whole catalog of choices. I don’t have any bed in the house except mine, so I’ll order you one. What do you want?”

  “Now I feel guilty. We’ll bring sleeping bags or something.”

  “Nonsense. I’ve had a growing urge to start decorating that house, anyway. Don’t worry. I’ll find a good buy, something on sale. It’ll be fun.”

  “You’re sure?”

  She nodded. Yes, she wanted to fix up her house, and the apartment as well. Partly through Sam’s influence and partly from her own new sense of self, she longed to give her surroundings the stamp of her personality.

  Ten

  The following Friday night Anna helped Sam drape the hallway and parlor of his house in preparation for stenciling the walls the next morning. With the sofa at the upholstery shop, the two vinyl chairs gone and paint cloths over everything, his house looked cold and unromantic. Anna had suggested they spend the night at her house, instead. She’d talked him into bringing his harmonica, and after serenading her by the fire, they’d headed upstairs for a night of lovemaking.

  They’d scheduled the next day full of activities—painting in the morning and quilt shopping in the afternoon—but he’d reserved Saturday night for a special treat. The sleigh bed would be ready to be picked up in the afternoon, and Sam had insisted that they should take it for a test drive.

  He’d thought it would be nice if they could lie under a homemade quilt, too, although he wasn’t thrilled with the idea of going through Estelle Terwiliger to find the right one.

  “So how does Estelle want to do this? Will the quilters be at her house?” he asked as he moved his stepladder to the next section of undecorated wall in the parlor.

  “She’s asking all the women of the guild who have quilts to sell to bring them to her house and leave them there. Then we’ll go over this afternoon, and if we like one, we can buy it from Estelle and she’ll reimburse the woman who made it.” Anna dipped her brush in forest green and filled in the stencil outline of a fir bough taped to the wall.

  “I suppose Estelle’s plan is efficient.”

  “I think so.”
r />   “But I’ve had about enough of her.”

  “I know.” She climbed down and repositioned her ladder. “Had about enough of stenciling, too?”

  “Yeah, but we’re almost done.” He was impressed with her stamina with the stenciling. She hadn’t complained once, although she had to be getting tired. He certainly was. “I’m glad you decided the hall and the parlor were the only places we’d do this.”

  “I guess those two areas are enough,” she said. “But if I had the leisure and could do it gradually, I’d have fun stenciling other rooms. Pineapples in the kitchen, for example. That’s a traditional pattern, and I can see a bright yellow border of them really adding a lot in there.”

  “You can stencil my walls anytime.” He smiled. “Even after the TV cameras leave.”

  “Well, I just might.” She acknowledged his flirtation with a glance. “But even without pineapples in the kitchen, the house will look great by December. I’m excited about the final product. I haven’t enjoyed the design process this much in a long time.”

  “Good.” But as he continued working, he thought about her statement and frowned. Someone with career burnout usually didn’t make comments like that. Once he’d switched to Christmas tree farming, accounting had become a necessary chore. He harbored a selfish hope that her enthusiasm for this project had to do with him instead of the work itself. From what he could tell, she was still bored with her New York assignments.

  Still, she’d sounded happy about the dresser scarf she’d recently woven and incorporated into a client’s bedroom design. The woman wanted more of her work in her home, and Anna had talked about presenting her woven designs to other clients, as well. He’d chosen to interpret the trend as a sign that she was moving toward a career in weaving and away from interior design. He had to agree with her that interior design wouldn’t sustain her in Sumersbury. But weaving was a different story.

  And she seemed so contented when she was in Sumersbury. She’d resisted the idea of quitting her job without establishing an alternative first, and he understood that. Her weaving might never bring in as much money as her present career, and she might not be as happy in Sumersbury if she had to live on a restricted budget. But if she was falling in love with the simple country existence, her hefty New York paycheck wouldn’t matter as much. He’d been through that transition, and it had worked out well for him. Maybe it would be the same for her.