Home for Christmas (14 page)

“Well, as long as you’re happy,”
she finally responded. “You’re … well?” she asked a little awkwardly.

“Really good. Listen, Savannah, I’m
sorry about not calling or texting …”

“Hey, Savannah,” Austin said as he
came up from behind Robert, patting him on the back. Savannah could have
expired on the spot.

It was horrible moment. It was as
if her jaws had simply locked together, unable to utter a word other than a
tight smile. Poised under most circumstances, Savannah was anything but. She
remained utterly still and mute as Robert uncharacteristically slipped his arm
around her waist, gently tugging her toward him.

“Hey, yourself,” Robert answered
for her. “I’m just greeting my girl,” he said, pecking her on her cheek once
again, sending a fiery red blush from her neck to her hairline. Not a beautiful
color on one as fair as she.

Nonplused, Austin’s eyes slid
toward Savannah as he cocked his head in an unasked question. She dropped her
eyes under his scrutiny.

“I see,” he finally said. “Well,
I’ll leave you to that,” he said to Robert before walking to a group of
investors standing not far away who were waving him toward their circle.

Savannah wished she could simply
disappear; she wished for a hole that she could crawl into and never have to
leave. Yet as the mortification began to recede, her frustration and anger rose
to the surface, obliterating all else.

“What was that all about?” she
asked angrily, glaring at this man she wasn’t sure she even knew any longer.

“What do you mean?” he questioned
innocently.

“You know exactly what I mean,” she
hissed under her breath. “You breeze in here after months …”

“Savannah,” he said soothingly as
he led her toward a dim and empty corridor. “This isn’t the time to have this
conversation.”

“I’m not finished,” she said
adamantly. “That was so …

“Shhh,” he admonished.

“Don’t you shush me,” she glared at
him. “This may all be a game to you …”

“It isn’t a game to me,” he replied
angrily. “I’m in this thing for keeps, Savannah. All of
my
contacts are
here, not yours. This is a huge opportunity for me; something I’m doing on my
own, without my family’s influence or money. It isn’t a game,” he said,
matching her anger. “Everyone here thinks we’re together. Until we figure
things out, that’s the way it’s going to stand. Understand?”

“No I don’t understand, Robert. And
it isn’t a game to me either. And I’m not going to pretend something is that
isn’t. Do
you
understand?” she said more quietly, glancing around to
make sure they weren’t creating a scene. “I’ve been working for Austin …”

“So I’ve learned,” he said, rolling
his eyes.

A moment passed where Savannah
looked at Robert with shock-filled eyes. “You’re … jealous?”

“No.”

“You are!”

“It isn’t what you think,” he said,
glancing to the dark end of the hallway.

“Then tell me … now.”

“I don’t care who you work for
Savannah, if that’s what you think.”

“Okay … so it’s more like a ‘
guy
thing
.’ If it isn’t about me, then it’s about you,” she correctly assumed
as a faint blush stained his cheeks. “It’s a competitive thing.”

“Not really, Savannah.”

“It is,” she said aghast.

“Listen,” he whispered intently. “I
care about you. I always have. This guy isn’t from our circles. He’s not one of
us. I’m protecting you and your reputation.”

“You’re not protecting my
reputation, Robert, because I no longer have one. Do you not remember what I’ve
been through this year? And if you really care about me, why didn’t you ever
call, why didn’t you ever reach out and even ask me how I was?”

“This isn’t the time.”

“No, it isn’t” she agreed. “That
time has passed, Robert. I thought we were friends. I thought I could rely on
you.”

“You can,” he interrupted. “I’m
here now.”

Shaking her head, Savannah said,
“It’s too late, Robert.”

“Nope. We’re not having this
discussion here,” he said, ushering her back into the fray of the party,
smiling as Courtney came toward them from the opposite side of the room.

“It’s going just as we’d hoped,”
she whispered to Robert, sidling up to him comfortably. Turning toward her and
sliding his arm around her, he led her off to meet some friends she hadn’t yet
been introduced to. Savannah watched their departure without even a backward
glance toward her.

Standing alone in the center of the
room, Savannah clutched her bag closer to her side, unnerved and humiliated.

Glancing around, her eyes met
Austin’s across the room. And they stayed. His eyes were chilly, distant. Hers
… guilty. Nothing was as it seemed, but she felt powerless to correct the
wrongs, too tired to fight that uphill battle. For months, she’d held her head
high in the wake of her historic business failure; portraying a woman confident
on the outside, shielding from the public the woman who was crumbling on the
inside. She’d become accustomed to the judgmental glances she received from
long-time “friends.” Somehow, this crushed her far more. Turning her back, she
made her way to the elevator, thankful for the second time that day, that it
was empty.

It was five o’clock in the morning
and Austin had slept only a handful of hours. Sunday morning. The first day of
the week. A week he was now anticipating for its hellish schedule and travel,
thanks to the turn of events and revealing information he’d learned the evening
before. A couple of days ago, he had dreaded the next two weeks. That brief
interlude, those days when thoughts of Savannah interspersed everything he did,
had been hauntingly attractive. In retrospect, they were wasteful days dreaming
of what could never be, what he would never
allow
to be. It had been
pure deception and a complete distraction from the course he had set for his
life. Lesson learned.

Somehow, he’d thought she was
different. In the beginning, he had been drawn to her incredible beauty, what
man wouldn’t have been? But the more time he spent with her, the more he
realized that her attractiveness went far deeper than the thin layer of veneer
most people let you see. Underneath the cultured perfection, she’d had
character; depth.

 Memories floated through his
mind of the countless hours she’d spent preparing and serving his employees at
Thanksgiving; how much time and attention to detail she’d devoted to children
she never knew or would know. The amazingly warm and inviting home she’d
created, just for him, was astounding. It was the first real home he’d had
since the rustic farmhouse in Eastern Washington … and that was only the first
twelve years of his life. He’d scoffed at Savannah’s determination to create
that home. Now he understood. It was … nice. More than nice, actually. This
project so far had benefited her very little. Other than what Austin considered
to be a modest salary, his gain far outweighed hers.   

How he remembered her brilliant
smile that Thanksgiving day. Utter joy and contentment. As if she was made for
such a time, as if she had found and was in the center of her calling. How
delighted she had been watching the enjoyment of others. Never a complaint;
even though she had to be exhausted from the whirlwind preparation. Hours spent
investing herself in providing joy to others. And yet, there had to be private
moments of sadness. For here she was in the home she’d grown up in, serving
guests that weren’t hers, in a house that belonged to someone else. A house she
dearly loved and identified with. It was selfless service and truly, that was
the source of what Austin believed was her authentic and unique beauty.

So … what had happened? Why the
pretense? Why did she cover up her long-term relationship with Robert Winslow?
How could she have engaged with him on the level she had, knowing the
commitments she’d made elsewhere? Too many unanswered, frustrating questions.

Restless and agitated, he walked
the corridors of the empty estate. Austin’s dilemmas were most often exercised
and solved through his renowned pacing. Reminders of Savannah were in every
corner of the massive home, it was driving him crazy. Every public room had a
spectacular Christmas tree. It was like living on a holiday movie set.

He hadn’t had any vestige of
Christmas in the places he’d slept since he was twelve years old, since he had
lost his mother. Though their family Christmas traditions had been homespun and
simple compared to this; they had been incredibly meaningful to him. More so
than he’d allowed himself to remember. It wasn’t until he had helped Savannah
cut and decorate the Library tree that he realized how much he’d allowed
himself to miss.

Living like this, festooned with
Christmas, was a bit of a stretch. Yet he had to grudgingly admit, Savannah had
achieved the inconceivable. Somehow, she’d found the perfect balance between
magical holiday wonder and simple beauty. What he noticed most, however, was
the Christmas she’d also spread into the private spaces of the house. She’d
added little touches that brought it from the front door of the house clear
through into the private nooks that he inhabited. Places that no one else would
ever see.

Nothing fit or made sense, he
grumbled as he made his way into the dimly lit kitchen; scouring the pantry for
his favorite whole coffee beans to grind and then brew. Everything about last
night hadn’t gelled with what he’d come to know about Savannah. From the moment
she’d walked off the elevator to the moment she had slipped back on; and
everything in between.

He’d met Robert Winslow a few times
prior to last night; both socially and in preparing for the event. Never had he
mentioned Savannah … and he had to have known of her contract, especially if
they were as close as he intimated. Somehow, his instincts were screaming;
waving those little red flags he’d become so adept at discerning.  

The lights of the Seattle skyline
were glittering in the early morning driving rain, the Christmas tree atop the
Space Needle, 560 feet in the air, was glowing as Austin stood at the bank of
windows, sipping his scalding hot black coffee. It was the last day of
Thanksgiving weekend, but the first day of December. A new month also signaled
a new beginning, in his mind.

It was the first Sunday of Advent.
He had little opportunity to celebrate such occasions these days. But somehow,
with his house as Christmassy as it was and the looming challenges he’d face;
it seemed mandatory that he also celebrate Advent. He attended church when he
could, but lately, not as often as he wished.  

Rolling his shoulders, Austin
considered the coming week that would begin for him in just a few hours. He
anticipated the coming back-to-back days that would run into each other; from
the breaking dawn through the wee hours of the night; making speeches, meeting
with investors, globetrotting, media interviews; all an effort to pull off this
IPO, something he’d dreamed of in those endless summer afternoons harvesting
wheat in the scorching sun. If anything could help him forget Savannah Wentworth,
it was this grueling schedule.  

Sitting in the fifteenth row, two
spaces left of the center aisle, Savannah let herself relax for the first time
since Saturday and absorb the peaceful atmosphere of her family’s home church.
Glad the hardwood pews had a comfortable padding; she let her back rest against
the solid form. Little by little, Savannah was endeavoring to say goodbye to
her history; piece by piece, shred by shred. It was terribly difficult.
Everything she’d known, she was discovering, was transitory. But this hallowed
place was perhaps the most difficult of all to say goodbye to. In this
building, all of her important family events had been commemorated; births,
marriages and deaths.

As she sat quietly waiting for the
eight-thirty early morning service to begin, she allowed the gentle strains of
the time honored Christmas carols to sweep over her soul, embrace her spirit
and comfort her like nothing else could.

The pipe organ began playing the
Charles Wesley Advent tradition, “Come Thou Long Expected Jesus” and the
presence of Christmas lifted her fledgling spirit. How her father had loved
that pipe organ. Just hearing its robust sound brought back so many tender
memories of him. Many Sunday evenings, he would regale his family with the
details of this $1.5 million project that he’d been so instrumental in helping
fund as well as serving on the organ committee. It had taken years of research
to determine which organ would qualify. Trips to other sites and other cities
finally yielded a contract with Reuter’s Organ Company to create and design a
pipe organ that would be musically unequaled in the Pacific Northwest. Savannah
would never forget that Sunday in 1999 when she’d heard its music for the first
time. Tears had clouded her father’s eyes that Sunday as the first chords of
the magnificent instrument filled the sanctuary.  

So many memories here, she mused.
For some reason, today, she just couldn’t face attending this first Advent
Sunday at her regular hour. Her family had always attended that service and sat
in the same pew. It was comforting and it was tradition, but it was one she
couldn’t observe this day. She couldn’t bear the sympathetic glances during
this most holy season. Though she’d attended services all year, people were
exceptionally sensitive to other’s losses during Christmas. And while she
appreciated it more than they would ever know, she couldn’t face it on top of
everything else.

She let her eyes roam the beautiful
sanctuary; the tall stained glass windows lining its length on both sides and
depicting stories of Jesus’ life in gloriously warm hues, the glass hurricanes
and candles at each base, lit for evening services and would cast a flickering
glow, creating an almost tangible feeling of warmth, the pair of pointed arched
paneled doors at either side of the platform. The chancel had an angled back
and housed the towers of cascading pipes, leading upward to a central focus of
a trio of stained glass windows representing the resurrection and sitting atop
a stunning limestone carving of The Last Supper, a simple yet masterful piece
of art. The sanctuary, in which she sat this morning, was the only one she’d
known in her lifetime, having been built in the early 1950’s as an addition to
the existing church. Though its interior was as familiar as her home, it held
special appeal this day. She let its beauty wash over her, the Christmas
decorations – the advent wreath, the garland swags embellished with red velvet
bows draped the chancel and balcony, candles lit on the altar and in every
corner served only to accentuate her church’s beauty and the holiness of the
season.  

One wasn’t supposed to feel proud
in church, she knew. So she amended her thoughts to “blessed” and “grateful.”
And she was, very much so. A sense of belonging filled her heart each time she
entered those front church doors. 

How dearly she loved to sit and
commit the details of this lovely building to memory. And as she did so, she
reviewed her family history and its association with this sacred place. She was
reminded of her family’s service, beginning as far back as 1908 when this
church was but a mere plant from First Presbyterian downtown Seattle. It was
deemed necessary that the students and families of the “new” university
district needed a house of worship. More than one hundred years later, a
descendant of that first group sat in a wooden pew, still supporting the effort
began so long ago.

But it was more than just a new
building to her family all those generations ago. She couldn’t count the hours
her mother and father had dedicated to this church, busy though they each were.
Her father not only served in administrative and financial roles, but was
always willing to lend a hand where needed. Her mother’s contributions were
always in benevolence, in keeping with the mission of the church. How many
lives her parents had touched through their ministry here. She could hardly
remember a holiday or occasion at their home when there hadn’t been stranded
students from the University; treated like family because they were unable to
make it to their own. It was a stunning legacy Savannah would never forget.

People started filing into the pews
ahead and behind her as the rain outside picked up its intensity, pummeling the
stain glass windows and roof of the church. Brushing off droplets of water from
their rain splattered coats, church goers nodded and smiled apologetically to
others as they slid into their dry seats. There was a cozy camaraderie to the
group who had braved the elements of this dark and rainy morning to celebrate
the first Sunday of Christmas together.

Studying the order of service in
her Advent bulletin, Savannah felt someone slide onto her pew. She continued to
read the musical selections chosen until she felt a person slide nearer to her.
Glancing up to offer a smile, Savannah face froze as she encountered a very
familiar set of twinkling eyes.

“What are you doing here?” she
asked under her breath, trying to maintain a polite smile but failing
miserably.

“Same thing as you, I suspect,” he
said with a small smile, opening his bulletin to glance at the program for this
morning.

“Um,” she said, trying to gain his
attention quickly, “There are lots of empty seats elsewhere in the sanctuary.
You don’t need to sit here.”

“That’s okay,” he whispered
conspiratorially. “I like this seat. But you’re welcome to move if you wish.”

Savannah glanced around the
auditorium, making sure they weren’t creating a scene. “I can’t,” she whispered
emphatically, opening her handbag to make sure she’d silenced her phone. “This
is my pew. I always sit here.”

“No, you don’t.”

Aghast, her mouth fell open as she
glared back at him. “Yes, I do,” she emphasized. “I was practically born on
this pew.”

“Really?” he questioned, studying
the wooden seat curiously, which caused Savannah’s face to blush a fiery red.

“No, really,” she hissed, trying to
regain her composure. “I’ve sat in this pew my entire life.”