That Special Smile/Whittenburg (16 page)

She reached for a block of wood on the tabletop and lifted it in her hand. It was rough to the touch, but the grain ran smoothly beneath the penciled outline of a caboose. Max had sketched the design he intended to carve from the wood, and Sylvie traced her fingertip over the lines. Putting it on the table again, she moved on to look at the rest of the room, paying more attention to detail than she had last night. There were molds and packages, tools, brushes, and a large kiln in the corner, but she examined those in a glance, turning her whole attention to the display of dolls on a low shelf.

These were not like the dolls in the toy shop. She bent for a closer look. These were real-life figures, a man in the robes of royalty, a woman with long, flowing hair and medieval dress. King Arthur and Guinevere. Sylvie didn’t know how she recognized them, yet it was clear whom the dolls were meant to represent. Maybe that was the skill Max brought to his creations, she thought, that ability to capture a fantasy and make it tangible.

She felt a little humbled by the realization that he was more than skilled at his craft. He was an artist in the truest sense of the word. She had been quick to dismiss his work as a hobby turned into a business, and not a particularly profitable business at that. She hadn’t asked many questions, hadn’t been terribly interested in his toys.

Until now.

Now she wanted to know everything about him. She wanted to be a part of his routine, as he was already a part of hers. Maybe she could help him.

Sylvie straightened both her posture and her smile. She would be of little use to Max in this workshop. Her skills lay more in the area of business and organization. Now, if he ever decided to market his toys....

The possibility loomed into focus.

Of course, why hadn’t she thought of it immediately? Max had a gold mine in this one little room. All he needed was a connection with the world of marketing and distribution. His dolls could be selling in stores throughout the country and all over the world.

Sylvie shook her head at the potential of her idea. Max could become tremendously successful. No, she thought, it was a foregone conclusion. And more than that, she could do something to help, something to prove she wasn’t insensitive to his feelings, that she had his best interests at heart.

But what was he going to say? She considered that as she roamed restlessly about the room and decided he would give her a resounding no. Hadn’t he told her that not everyone could understand the way he felt about his work? Hadn’t he questioned whether or not she understood? She had wondered why he spoke so casually of his work, but now that she saw how serious he was about it, she realized he must feel insecure in his talent.

That, undoubtedly, was the reason he hadn’t tried to find a distributor before.

Before. Sylvie hesitated to accept the idea already formed and waiting in her mind. Max would probably strangle her. But she could make success happen for him, or at least give him a push in the right direction. She knew she could. It would be as simple as contacting a few people. She wouldn’t make any commitments, just inquiries. And once she received a positive response, then Max could take over from there.

The more she thought about it, the more appealing the idea became. There was no risk involved this way. Max didn’t have to know until it was an accomplished fact.

Perfect, Sylvie decided, from every angle.

She’d begin checking into the possible markets tomorrow. It shouldn’t take too long. Maybe she would have a wonderful Christmas present for him.

Returning to the kitchen, she eyed the freshly made coffee with disdain. Who needed caffeine? She would slip back into bed and allow Max to awaken her. A perfectly delightful idea, she told herself as she stifled a yawn. The second-best idea of the morning.

The soft smile regained strength with the anticipation of his embrace. Forget second best, she thought. If she was going to fall heart over head in love – and she had no doubt that was exactly what she was about to do – she was going first class all the way.

“Well, I don’t know why you’re upset,” Juliette said from the doorway of Sylvie’s bedroom. “I’m not the one who stayed out all night.”

Sylvie answered that bit of glaring illogic with a skeptical lift of her brows and then unequivocally pulled back the sheets of her bed. Placing her glasses on the bedside table, she hoped Juliette would take the hint and leave. A mood was a fragile thing and Sylvie really preferred to keep the one she had. Her sister, unfortunately, seemed to think it needed improvement.

“And not only that,” Juliette continued. “You were gone all day too. For heaven’s sake, Sylvie, it isn’t like you to come home from a Saturday-night date at nine o’clock on Sunday night.” She shook her head in sad commentary. “And now you’re going to bed.”

“And to sleep,” Sylvie said pointedly as she got into bed and tucked the covers around herself. She wished it were Max’s bed, but she’d decided it would be best to return home and give them both some time. She didn’t want to rush the discovery of where this new phase in their friendship – she still felt oddly hesitant about using the term relationship – might lead. And she didn’t want Max to get the wrong idea.

One night and one perfectly wonderful day, didn’t mean she was ready to move in with him.

Even if he’d asked her.

Which he hadn’t.

“Would you mind turning out the light as you leave, Julie?”

“Sylvie!” It was a plaintive cry, full of accusation and sibling demand. “If you think for one minute...! Honestly, I can’t believe you don’t want to talk about this. You should never go to sleep when you’re angry. Don’t you know that?”

“I’m not angry.”

“Of course you are. But it really isn’t my fault, you know.” Juliette sank cross-legged onto the foot of the bed and Sylvie had little choice but to pull her feet out of the way. “I’m sorry I forgot about returning your key and I’m sorry I locked you out. But everything worked out for the best.”

Only a fool would argue that line of indiscriminate reasoning, and Sylvie wasn’t feeling particularly foolish or argumentative at the moment. Still, it was apparent that Juliette wasn’t going to go away. She was intent upon apologizing or explaining or something equally distracting.

With a sigh Sylvie pushed up, levering herself on an elbow as she propped the pillows against the headboard and leaned back against them. She debated putting on her glasses, but decided this was one time she preferred keeping her sister slightly out of focus. “All right, Juliette, let’s have it.”

“There, you see? You are upset.”

For the sake of progress Sylvie decided she might as well take the offensive. “If I’m upset, Juliette, it’s because you’re twenty-two years old and you’re still losing your keys, borrowing mine and then locking  me out of the house.”

“You could have called.”

“I could have yelled myself hoarse and you wouldn’t have heard me.”

Juliette gave an exaggerated sigh. “I meant you could have phoned. You could at least have sent a text.”

“I could have done a lot of things. All of them irrelevant.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Juliette propped her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands. “I think what you did do is relevant.”

Sylvie lifted her hands in frustration. “I spent the night at Max’s house. Would you be happier if I’d slept on the porch?”

“You spent the night
with
Max. There’s a difference.” Her gold brows arched suggestively. “So if I hadn’t locked you out….”

“Juliette, how can you try to take credit for what happened last night?”

“And what did happen?”

Sylvie reached for her glasses and brought her sister’s pert innocence into view. “We played backgammon. What did you and Benton do?”

“We got engaged.”

Sylvie leaned forward. “As in
to be married?
”

Juliette giggled, nodded and giggled again. “Isn’t that the most amazing thing you ever heard?”

Amazing wasn’t the right word, but Sylvie laughed her agreement just the same. Her feelings at the moment were mixed, but she couldn’t resist the bubbly excitement of Julie’s happiness.

“Benton Prestridge is the luckiest lawyer in Arkansas. Maybe in all fifty states.”

“Oh, no.” Juliette’s smile softened with a tender seriousness. “I’m the lucky one. I mean, Benton is so....” Her sigh, her expression and her tone of voice all conveyed the message that Benton was wonderful beyond description and Sylvie, in a moment of sisterly understanding, nodded her complete accord.

“Yesterday,” Juliette said. “Well, really it was on Friday, Benton and I had a fight. Sort of a fight, anyway.” She frowned, remembering. “Actually, it was a big fight. He thought I should be spending more time at Hannah Lee House and that I was letting you take all the responsibility and that I wasn’t acting very mature about the whole business. Oh, he went on and on, Sylvie, saying I wasn’t being fair to you or to me. After all, he said, it was my idea and I should be working on getting the restoration done but I was being irresponsible and leaving everything for you to do.”

Juliette tangled her fingers into the blond curls at her temple and then extended her hand in apology. “I’m sorry, Sylvie. I didn’t mean to be unfair. I didn’t think – Benton says that’s one of my biggest problems – but really I didn’t know.”

“It’s all right.” Sylvie didn’t know where the reassurance came from, but she gave it unhesitatingly.

She’d learned years before that frustration and forgiveness went hand in hand with being kin to Juliette. And it was kind of nice to know someone else had been telling Juliette what Max had been telling Sylvie for weeks. “I suppose you resolved your differences with Benton last night and everything’s all right now, since you’re … Oh, My God, Juliette! You’re getting married!”

“I know. Can you believe it?”

“Not quite yet, but I’m really happy for you.” Sylvie paused, squeezed her sister’s hands. “Are you sure you want to marry Benton?”

“Yes.”

The very simplicity of the answer was an affirmation in itself, and Sylvie smiled. “So, when do I have to give you a wedding present?”

“Valentine’s Day.” Juliette dimpled in anticipation. “But gifts will be accepted at any time before or after. And you’ll wear red, of course.”

“Of course.” Sylvie shifted position and straightened the pillow at her back. “I would never wear any other color when giving you a wedding gift.”

“At the wedding.” Juliette aimed a swift and inaccurate kick at Sylvie’s foot. “You’ll be the maid of honor, Syl. And I’ll throw the bouquet to you, but you have to promise to give it back.”

“Oh, you have my word on that.”

Juliette grinned and began tapping her fingers against her shin. She pursed her lips and let her gaze wander around the bedroom. Sylvie braced herself for a change of topic and guessed that the Hannah Lee was about to enter the conversation.

“You know….” Juliette broached the subject with caution. “I have to make a decision about Hannah Lee House.” Wide blue eyes turned to Sylvie, seeking support. “Benton says I could commute from Fayetteville, but I don’t think I’d like that very much. In fact, I think I’d hate it.”

When Sylvie made no comment, Juliette sighed. “I know I’d hate it. I’m going to sell the house. There’s really nothing else to do.”

It was a sensible decision, yet Sylvie felt a stab of disappointment just the same. She hated the idea that the dress shop wouldn’t open. She’d wanted success for Juliette, but it was not to be. Not in business, anyway. And Sylvie accepted a share of the disappointment for herself. She’d put a lot of effort into the renovations; she’d spent a lot of time there. So had Max. What was he going to say about this?

“There’s nothing else to do. Unless … you’d want to take over the project and open the shop yourself.” Juliette’s expression brightened at the prospect. “That’s a great idea, isn’t it? Then you’d be here to handle everything and the business would be a huge success.”

“Juliette, I have a business. A successful business. In Boston.” It seemed unreal even as she said it. “The last thing I need is a dress shop in Eureka Springs.”

“But what about Max?”

“I don’t think he needs a dress shop either.”

“That isn’t what I meant and you know it.”

Sylvie did know, but she had no intention of discussing it. The difficulty of maintaining a long-distance love affair had already occurred to her, but she wouldn’t have to face that decision for a while. Besides, everything might work out for the best. Somehow, it always did for Julie. “Then you’ve definitely decided to sell the Hannah Lee House?” she asked to keep her thoughts from the possibilities.

Wrinkling her forehead, Juliette brought her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. “Yes, as soon as the renovation is complete. Benton says it will be worth more then, and since it’s going to be another few weeks before the Erikson estate is settled and the lien cleared, I may as well finish the work.”

Sylvie noted the use of the singular pronoun, but didn’t choose to respond. She felt a bit lonely all of a sudden.

A ridiculous feeling, considering that only a few minutes earlier she’d wished Juliette would leave her alone. And after all, she wasn’t losing a sister, she was gaining a reprieve from responsibility.

It was silly to mind, even for a moment, that Benton would be the one to advise, rescue, and generally worry about Juliette from now on.

Sylvie didn’t mind, not really, but she couldn’t help feeling a tiny bit displaced.

 “It’s been a real experience,” she said quietly. “…being your partner for a couple of months, Jules.”

“Now, don’t worry about your investment, Sylvie. I’ll pay you back. Benton says …. ” Her cellphone hummed from the other room, faint but recognizable. Juliette was off the bed and out of the room in two seconds flat.

In a moment, Sylvie heard the soft hello of lovers and then the muffled closing of a door.

Of their own accord her thoughts turned to Max.

What was he doing now? she wondered.

Was he thinking of her? Was he sleeping? Dreaming, maybe?