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Holiday Kisses
Anna J. Stewart
His family's honour is at stake… And she holds the key Calliope Jones is the most vocal objector to Xander Costas and his design for the butterfly sanctuary that he hopes will save his family’s architectural firm. Can Calliope convince Xander to listen to his heart to see what the town – and he – really needs…


His family’s honor is at stake...
And she holds the key
Calliope Jones, Butterfly Harbor’s free-spirited organic farmer, is the most vocal objector to Xander Costas and his design for the butterfly sanctuary that he hopes will save his family’s architectural firm. Strangely, it’s Calliope who shows him what the town, and he, really need. Calliope makes Xander listen with his heart. And soon his heart may be telling him to stay with this extraordinary woman!
Bestselling author ANNA J. STEWART was the girl on the playground spinning in circles waiting for her Wonder Woman costume to appear or knotting her hair like Princess Leia. A Stephen King fan from early on, she can’t remember a time she wasn’t making up stories or had her nose stuck in a book. She currently writes sweet and spicy romances for Harlequin, spends her free time at the movies, at fan conventions or cooking and baking, and spends most every night wrangling her two kittens, Rosie and Sherlock, who love dive-bombing each other from the bed...and other places. Her house may never be the same.
Also by Anna J. Stewart (#ud344b41c-061a-5c7a-858d-48a4292e9f2b)
Return of the Blackwell Brothers
The Rancher’s Homecoming
Always the Hero
A Dad for Charlie
Recipe for Redemption
The Bad Boy of Butterfly Harbor
Christmas, Actually
“The Christmas Wish”
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).
Holiday Kisses
Anna J. Stewart


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-09124-4
HOLIDAY KISSES
© 2019 Anna J. Stewart
Published in Great Britain 2019
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Calliope tilted her chin up to the sky and drew him into a circle of trees. “Here. Sit with me.”
She twined her fingers with his as she gazed up into the endless cascading branches and leaves.
“Look, Xander. Really look and tell me what you see.” Her words were a whisper in the breeze, but her face was alight with a happiness and peace he didn’t think he’d ever encountered before.
What did he see? He saw a woman who could have made a living as a muse, a reminder of what beauty and joy looked like.
“As flattered as I am, stop looking at me.” She leaned forward, and for a moment, he thought she might kiss him. Instead she pressed her finger beneath his chin and tilted his head up. “Now look.”
It took a moment for his eyes to focus, to see beyond the twining limbs and leaves and branches that had probably grown long before he’d ever heard of Butterfly Harbor.
“And listen.” Her whispered command sent a shiver down his spine.
Dear Reader (#ud344b41c-061a-5c7a-858d-48a4292e9f2b),
One of the most enjoyable parts of writing a series like Butterfly Harbor is getting to know all the people who live there. From the very first book, Calliope’s story was the one I most looked forward to. Quirky, eccentric, comforting, understanding and, well, to a lot of people, odd, Calliope Jones is Butterfly Harbor’s answer to Hallmark Channel’s The Good Witch. Always welcoming, Calliope knows exactly what to say in whatever situation she finds herself in. But that’s not to say she hasn’t had to face some serious life issues. Her past isn’t as stress-free as one might assume, and if there’s one thing she can’t abide, it’s a close-minded individual who thinks he knows everything about...well, everything. Which means I found the perfect hero for her with Xander Costas.
Xander arrives believing he knows what the town needs in a design for the new butterfly sanctuary: something quick and something that will help him get his family’s business back on track. But as often happens in this town, leaving isn’t as easy as he expects, especially when his work becomes entangled with Calliope. Which means his carefully mapped-out plans for the future are about to take a major detour.
There are some of those who might think Calliope’s name is familiar, and that’s on purpose. Once upon a time, back in the early ’80s, I used to watch Days of Our Lives, my grandmother’s top soap opera. Her favorite characters were Calliope and Eugene. Talk about quirky. They just made her smile. And that’s what Calliope’s goal is in life: to make everyone’s day a bit brighter and to make everyone, especially you, readers, smile.
Happy reading,
Anna
For you, Grandma.
And for all the readers who asked me
for Calliope’s story.
I hope you enjoy it.
Contents
Cover (#u97521b4e-cef1-5b18-a470-501e58557212)
Back Cover Text (#u2b338c62-70bf-5bd0-b743-13a3f5f08f70)
About the Author (#u0eba773f-6512-5bb1-9d49-f0591fd4066b)
Booklist (#uf820e5f1-671f-5d4f-839e-933401e4c153)
Title Page (#ue37d997b-9d42-5c8f-a90a-05edf4745402)
Copyright (#u14e4eded-7ef8-5fde-b43a-c677808b56cc)
Introduction (#u3a571b37-f353-5e66-a682-b17ada6c05b4)
Dear Reader (#u8a01a8be-60fb-547a-9f29-ea11f5478588)
Dedication (#u5a51ea19-50fc-559c-93f2-e94a0f241a34)
CHAPTER ONE (#uddca991e-0077-51d0-b463-0ebf43da37ba)
CHAPTER TWO (#uc6c0d385-df37-517b-84ec-8500edcebe8d)
CHAPTER THREE (#u85cee63c-f3bd-54d9-84ce-30367dc8f9dc)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#ud344b41c-061a-5c7a-858d-48a4292e9f2b)
WITH HIS TAILORED jacket tossed over one arm and designer tie knotted hard into his throat, Xander Costas stood on the bottom plank of the steps and cringed at the deafening roar of waves crashing onto the beach before him. “Well, they’ve got plenty of water and sand, that’s for sure.”
He’d never understood the appeal of water, other than as a hydration agent, of course. The ocean was so unpredictable. Uncontrollable. So...loud. The way the tide left a foamy film across the damp sand reminded him of a badly topped-off latte or a rejected Jackson Pollock painting.
He was a city boy, born and bred. His family joked he had steel for bones—strong, unbending. Their code word for stubborn, no doubt, but he didn’t take offense. Steel stood the test of time—it shaped civilizations. Nature served its purpose, but it wasn’t the first thing Xander thought of.
Yet here he was, thousands of miles from home, placing all his hopes—and his family’s financial future—on an ocean-side town rebuilding its reputation as green and nature-friendly. A town that, up until a few months ago, few people had ever heard of.
Xander’s fists clenched as he forced himself to inhale. He nearly choked on the briny tang that scraped the back of his throat. His lungs would need at least a week to adjust from the smog-tinged air he’d been inhaling for thirty-three years. He missed the blaring traffic, the hard strength of cement and reinforced concrete, and what was with that sun? Didn’t California know it was only weeks before Christmas? His first without snow. He never thought he’d miss the snow-capped bite of an early winter cutting across his skin, and as the late afternoon rays beat down on him he wondered if he hadn’t just traveled across the country, but perhaps been transported to a different planet.
What on earth had he gotten himself into?
“Cash! Tabitha!”
The sound of urgent children’s cries accompanied by the frenetic, enthusiastic barking of two dogs drew Xander’s attention to the shore. Not only did the dogs dive snout-first into the ocean, but their adolescent owners also hurried after them. The boy hit the water face-first and came up sputtering, his arm filled with golden retriever. The little girl had come to a screeching halt. Her toes barely kissed the water before she backed away. The second dog, a terrier mix of some kind, bounded back onto the beach and plopped her drenched hindquarters into the damp sand beside her mistress.
“You’re gonna get in big trouble, Simon!” The superior tone in the little girl’s voice had Xander’s lips twitching as he was reminded of his youngest sister, Alethea. Strong, determined and most definitely unique. But where Alethea maintained a penchant for Bohemian-chic clothing and untamed curls, this little girl had crooked red pigtails, wore purple overalls and carried a worn butterfly backpack with a missing gossamer wing.
Alethea. Xander’s big-brother sigh rivaled the roar of the ocean. In the past six months his college-aged sister had to deal with their father’s debilitating stroke, plus the death of her best friend—a friend who had been just as much a part of the Costas family as any of their siblings. A car accident, he could understand. Just about anything else he could understand, but a drug overdose? Talia? The grief that had lodged itself in his chest six months ago surged. Sweet, pretty, ebullient Talia, who had made all of them laugh with her goofy antics was gone. It hadn’t taken Xander long to realize Alethea didn’t have any idea how to live without her.
“Give her time,” his mother had said when Xander broached the subject of therapy. His mother, who had her hands full dealing with their father and his caregivers, while Xander and his brother argued over how to save the family’s architectural firm. Alethea seemed okay, on the outside at least. She’d gone back to school for her last year, had insisted she needed to get back to her routine, move on with her life, sounding, at least to Xander’s ears, suspiciously like their mother. Xander had only one request when she’d left—to call him if she needed anything. Anything.
That he hadn’t received that call hopefully meant she was doing okay, if not stressing over finals.
The children’s laughter cut through his sour air-travel-related mood. The tension in his chest eased. His father and brother were content to believe the damage done to their company’s reputation a year ago would repair itself. That previous clients would be willing to stand up for them and continue to recommend them. Xander knew better. If Costas Architecture was going to put the past behind them and be in the running to build a new corporate headquarters for a massive banking and real estate empire moving to Chicago, they had to have active clients. Not just big conglomerates, but smaller, unassuming projects many firms their size would have passed on.
The only thing he and his brother agreed on, other than keeping their father as far out of the picture as they could, was that rebuilding their reputation step by step, job by job, was the only solution. What those steps would be was where they parted ways. If Antony thought going straight to the top would help them leapfrog over re-earning the industry’s respect, not to mention trust, his brother was seriously out of touch with reality.
Little jobs, projects with a modicum of fuss and expectation, were the best way to climb back up the ladder. Xander knew this in his gut, a gut that had never steered him wrong. That ladder’s first rung was Butterfly Harbor. He couldn’t explain it; he didn’t try to. He just knew it.
And he refused to feel guilty about it.
Not when there were dozens of employees counting on them for their livelihood. Not when the Costas name was on the verge of becoming a punch line in the architectural world. Not when Xander had his own future to consider.
Still, guilt climbed up his spine and attempted to claw apart the few minutes of peace he’d taken to recharge. He’d acted as long-distance deal-maker and silent partner in the family firm for long enough. He wasn’t going to stand by and let his brother and father ignore the financial earthquake that had shaken the company to its core. People they cared about were relying on them to find stable ground.
They needed to get back to what had made the firm successful in the first place—originality and reliability. To do otherwise would be tantamount to surrender.
And Xander Costas never surrendered. Not to anything. Not to anyone.
Much like the boy and his dog on the beach, both of whom seemed determined to empty their part of the ocean one splash at a time.
“I’m not the one not allowed to go in the water!” the boy called back, but he slogged his way out of the surf and shook himself almost as hard as his canine companion. Thick-rimmed glasses soared off his face and landed in the sand beside his friend, who was squealing away from the salty shower.
Okay, Xander admitted. Maybe being able to swim in the ocean in mid-December wasn’t such a bad thing. In the hour or so since he’d driven down the main road of Butterfly Harbor he’d seen plenty of people—more than he’d expected—wandering about. Local businesses lined Monarch Lane, which ran parallel to the ocean. The street was decked out in holiday finery, from wreath-topped streetlamps to candy cane-accented garlands that stretched across the entry to town. He’d spotted a diner, which appeared to do a brisk business and a bookstore he’d somehow resisted the pull to explore. The hardware store could prove interesting and seemed to stock every kind of Christmas bulb one could think of. Local businesses like that sometimes carried the most unusual items and offered unexpected inspiration. He was determined to keep his mind open. The local grocery store boasted an extensive deli, while the ice-cream shop on the corner seemed to appeal to those out and about. Peppermint ice cream? Lavender honey? Might be worth a try.
What he’d read online about the tourist town located only a hop, skip and jump away from the more popular Monterey had been brief and incomplete. It would take him a while to acclimate, to really get a feel for the town. Only then could he solidify their plans for the new butterfly sanctuary. Then, and only then, could he finally get back to rebuilding his own life.
He shielded his eyes and inclined his chin toward the historic Flutterby Inn, which graced the edge of the cliffs above him. The bright yellow structure with stark white trim harkened back to classic Victorian style. Predictable, but solid. Welcoming. His home for the next couple of days while the town mayor and council approved his proposal for the butterfly sanctuary on which they hoped to break ground next spring.
When the wind picked up and a number of beachgoers turned away from the water, Xander took that as a hint he’d spent enough time mulling. He cast another quick glance up at the cliffs.
His heart stopped.
Even from this distance, the woman he saw was tall, with long arms, and was draped in color, from her sun-fire red hair to the blues and purples of the dress swirling about her legs. He stood there, transfixed, as she held out her hands, palms up. Tiny flecks of color exploded from her fingers and flittered around her so fast he swore he saw a golden circle of light appear.
Xander watched the light fade and shift into tiny sparks that drifted down the side of the rocks, spinning, racing, darting around each other as they approached...him.
He couldn’t move; didn’t remember how. And then he realized they weren’t lights at all. The sun’s rays had caught the colors of the butterflies’ wings. Butterflies that flittered their way closer, so close he could see the patterns of black spots among the light orange of the town’s namesake Monarch Festival.
The winged creatures darted around him, whipping in a circle, before they arced up and returned to the cliff face and disappeared into the rocks.
For a second, he wondered if he’d dreamed them. Xander tilted his chin higher, squinted into the bright daylight. The woman turned, just a step, and angled her face down. And looked at him.
“Woof! Woof, woof!”
Xander jumped and broke his gaze. As he shifted his foggy attention back to the sand, he found the terrier mix—Tabitha, wasn’t it?—sitting in front of him, tail wagging so hard she tossed sand onto his shoes. He swore the dog was grinning at him. “Hello,” he said.
“Sorry, mister!” The girl with the butterfly backpack raced toward him, a neon pink leash in her hand. “She’s friendly, I promise.” She dropped into the sand and locked her arm around the dog’s neck, latched the leash and wound her hand to secure her hold. “She likes butterflies.” She pointed a finger up the cliffs. “Especially Calliope’s butterflies. They’re special.”
“Calliope?” Xander blinked and looked back up the cliff, but the woman was gone.
“Calliope Jones. She runs Duskywing Farm. My mom and I do deliveries for her. Um... I’m not supposed to talk to strangers,” she stated matter-of-factly, but didn’t seem to be in a hurry to get away.
Xander glanced over the girl’s head to see the boy and his dog trudging through the sand toward them. “That sounds like a wise rule,” he agreed. He liked kids. While he wasn’t in any rush for a house full of his own, he’d found his niece and nephew exceedingly talented at keeping him grounded. “My name is Xander Costas.”
Her eyes went wide. “Ooooh! You’re going to build the new home for our butterflies!”
“Well, I’m helping to design the building.” As if he and his brother could agree on anything when it came to this place. “I mainly just draw, at this point.” To say he was rusty was an understatement, and he’d had to learn some new technology as drafting tables and protractors had become a thing of the past. He’d spent the last few years as the face of Costas Architecture based in New York with occasional trips to their Chicago headquarters. He was the deal-maker. The client-getter. Concepts had been where his brother and father dwelled.
Until disaster had come calling.
“That’s cool,” the little girl said. “Weren’t you supposed to be here a long time ago? Like during the Monarch Festival?”
Xander nodded. Might as well practice his mea culpas while he could. “My father got sick. I had to postpone. But I’m here now.”
“I hope he’s better. I’m Charlie, by the way.” She took a step closer and held out her hand, which Xander accepted. “Charlie Coo—oops. Bradley. I got a new name with my new dad ’cause he adopted me.”
She grinned, accentuating the dusting of freckles on her nose and cheeks. She had the brightest green eyes Xander had ever seen. Sea glass, he thought. Interesting.
“He’s a deputy here in town. You’ll meet him soon I bet. Simon! It’s the archi—archi-nerts. I can never say that word. It’s the building guy for the sanctuary! He’s finally here!”
Coated in damp sand, the boy reached her and, Xander noted, took a protective stance in front of his friend. “Hi. My dad’s the sheriff.”
“Noted.” Xander gave the boy a sharp nod of understanding. “Are you two the welcoming committee?”
Charlie laughed and Simon’s lips twitched. “Nah.” Simon pushed his sand-caked glasses higher up his nose. “But where Calliope’s butterflies go, she follows.” He jerked a thumb at Charlie. “Even when it’s to talk to strangers.”
“He’s not a stranger. His name is Xander Costas,” Charlie announced. “We know each other now.”
A sharp whistle sounded from the top of the stairs. Charlie’s cheeks went instantly pink as she looked up.
“Charlie!” The man in a khaki law-enforcement uniform must be the dad she was talking about. “Hustle it up! We’re already late!”
“I gotta go.” Charlie scrambled around him. “We’re planning my mom’s surprise graduation party. I get to help decide on the cake! It was nice to meet you, Mr. Costas.” Charlie raced up the steps. “Come on, Simon!”
“You can call me Xander. Huh.” Whatever unease he’d been feeling had vanished in the last few minutes. The tide didn’t sound quite so loud now. The air wasn’t quite so sharp. He felt...more comfortable.
He looked back up to the cliffs, a smile curving his lips as he remembered the image of the woman standing above him. There was something...odd about her. There was also a sense of calm and peace he couldn’t quite identify. Whatever he’d been expecting of Butterfly Harbor, this wasn’t it. “Can’t wait to see what else this town has to offer.”
* * *
“HE’S HERE.” CALLIOPE watched the man from her dreams interact with Charlie and Simon on the beach, uncertainty spreading through her body before settling into an uneven beat. The energy she’d pushed into the air, a test of sorts, had spun its way toward him—directly toward him, as if it hadn’t a choice of where to go. It had circled and observed, absorbing what information it could beneath the gray storm clouds the man had brought with him.
Calliope steeled herself against the shiver.
It seemed as if her family’s legacy of heartache wouldn’t bypass her after all.
Unease crept over her, an unusual sensation for a woman who prided herself on self-assuredness and clearheadedness. Reading people came naturally to Calliope. Call it intuition, empathy or whatever qualifier made people comfortable—it was all fine with her. She couldn’t explain it, had never fought it; not even when the ability pegged her as the strange girl growing up, or the eccentric woman who lived on what passed for a farm in Butterfly Harbor. Most of the time it brought her a sense of peace.
Now? A sensation she could only describe as panic crawled inside her and settled. As hard as she focused, try as she might, her take on the man was as blank as a rain-washed morning.
In that moment, the solitary future she’d seen so clearly for herself blurred. Or perhaps it had dwindled away earlier. She’d been distracted lately by the possibility of losing her farm and everything she’d worked for. Thankfully, trouble had been averted when the mayor decided to go with his second location choice for the sanctuary and education center. Instead of encroaching on her property—endangering both her livelihood and the land her family had lived on for decades—the center would be built on the recently designated protected area between her farm and Liberty Lighthouse. The project would still have to be developed in just the right way, with respect, understanding and, hopefully, deference. Not everything would survive as a good portion of the historic trees in the area would have to be cut down, but Calliope understood the importance of this venture, not only to the town, but also to its residents. It would take a special person to bring the sanctuary project to fruition and give her beloved butterflies a safe place to migrate. But this man?
Doubt knocked at the back of her mind as she gnawed on her lower lip. Would a man raised among skyscrapers and freeways understand the delicate balance between nature and its inhabitants?
Calliope sighed. These days she overthought everything, uncertain about any answers. No doubt her worrying was asking for trouble. Diving into the darkness and pessimistic possibilities wouldn’t do anyone any good, least of all her. She could only control what she could control. And so she forced herself to relax as she watched the man climb the stairs to the road.
A wave of energy washed over her, invisible, powerful, but in those few seconds, she identified strength. Determination. Concern.
And passion. It was buried, simmering deep and low. But it was there.
So much passion.
Calliope took a shuddering breath.
“Calliope! Come see!”
She stepped back, broke whatever tenuous connection she’d created with the newcomer and turned toward Stella’s excited call. The ten-year-old’s enthusiasm was contagious. Calliope had never been able to wallow for long around her. For that alone, she was endlessly grateful for the gift of her little sister. With a quiet word of thanks to the day and all it had brought, Calliope turned her back on the ocean and made her way down the uneven path to the Flutterby Inn.
The three-story inn felt like a second home to most who lived in Butterfly Harbor. It was on its second—or was it third?—life. Thanks to a restaurant reinvention and new ownership, the business was thriving as never before, and bringing in a whole new clientele to the reinvigorated town.
It had been a rough few years for Butterfly Harbor, but the town had worked together and instead of floundering in their depressed economic circumstance, they now embraced what was to come with eagerness and enthusiasm.
For the most part.
Calliope refused to dwell on the downside of town politics and possible ulterior motives. Not at this time of year. Christmas. The season of gratitude and new beginnings.
And just like that, she settled.
Christmas lights had been strung across every horizontal line of the inn, and around the windows that had been topped with hand-formed wreathes with oversize red and gold bows. Along the porch, icicle lights glowed. Since there was no snow to be found in this part of California, they added that frosty touch once the sun went down and the cool air kicked in off the Pacific. They brought to mind chilly winters and crackling fires made for roasting chestnuts and marshmallows. Mmm. Marshmallows. She’d have to make up a batch of her famous hot chocolate in the next day or so.
It had taken numerous volunteers, spearheaded by inn manager Abby Manning, to deck the halls and everything else at the Flutterby. But this wasn’t just any Christmas. Come Christmas Eve, Butterfly Harbor would be celebrating the wedding of their beloved Abby to former celebrity chef Jason Corwin, who, near as Calliope could tell, was becoming increasingly nervous with every day that passed. Funny how a man could oversee a multimillion-dollar company and own three restaurants, and still be flummoxed by the very mention of his starring role in a wedding. Literally a starring role, as the camera crews and advance photographers were due to arrive in little more than a week.
Calliope blinked back tears. Butterfly Harbor’s first holiday wedding in decades. And if Abby’s friends and family and the rest of the town had their way, the day would be absolutely perfect.
She found Stella—a mini replica of herself with long red curls and a spark in her eye kneeling in the garden bed that was spilling over with recently planted poinsettias and rosemary shrubs. Shrubs that Stella and Lori, the inn’s part-time assistant manager, had spent the last few hours decorating as fully and elegantly as the seven-foot tree glowing in the corner window of the inn’s lobby.
“It’s a baby butterfly,” Stella whispered as she drew her outstretched finger free of the bush beside her. “I just wished for one and it came even though it’s the wrong time of year.” She turned, and there, delicate as lace and strong as the sea, the butterfly’s wings pulsed against the beckoning sun. “You were right.” Stella raised her porcelain face to Calliope. “They do listen.”
“When they want to.” Calliope bent down beside her sister and trailed a gentle finger across the edge of the butterfly’s wing. She could feel it tremble before it took flight once more. “Lori.” Calliope leaned over. “You’re looking exceedingly giddy. I take it marriage is agreeing with you?”
Words couldn’t express the joy Calliope felt at the healthy pink flush that erupted on her friend’s round face. Lori had been trapped by her own insecurities for as long as Calliope had known her. She had allowed herself to be controlled by what she thought other people believed, that because she was heavy, or too tall, or...whatever, she didn’t deserve the same happiness as others. It only proved how powerful falling in love with the right man could be. Lori was flourishing more heartily than her tour-worthy garden under Matt Knight’s gentle, loving care.
“It’s taken some getting used to,” Lori said. “But so far I haven’t found any loopholes I want to escape through. Have I thanked you for letting us use your farm for the wedding?”
“Profusely and many times.” That Lori and Matt had wanted to hold their small wedding at Duskywing Farm last month had been an honor. To be able to look out her kitchen window every morning and remember the celebration that had taken place in her beloved gardens was an added blessing. “And how is Kyle doing?”
Lori paused. “It’s an adjustment for him. Going from an abusive home to juvenile detention to living with me and Matt. There have been a few bumps.” But none so big as to erase the smile of contentment that had settled on Lori’s face, even before she’d said, “I do.” Still, becoming an instant mom to a troubled teen wasn’t the easiest road to take.
“Harder roads make the journey more interesting,” Calliope said.
“Kyle seems sad,” Stella observed as she patted in the dirt around the last of the rosemary shrubs. “Quiet and sad.”
“Matt took him to San Francisco this morning for the weekend. Some ‘guy time,’” Lori explained. “And I was thinking about maybe having him help me plan out BethAnn Bromley’s landscaping makeover. Seems someone talked her into updating her family’s home and I was the only one capable of taking on the job.”
Calliope ignored the knowing expression aimed in her direction. BethAnn’s recent return to Butterfly Harbor after many years away hadn’t been a smooth one. The former senator’s wife had ruffled more than a few feathers, including Lori’s. But it had been Lori who had taken the first step and helped the woman who had been silently grieving the loss of her husband. She hadn’t found where she fit without him. She’d only needed reminding that she would always fit at home in the Harbor.
“I don’t talk anyone into anything.” Calliope made a fuss of brushing a nonexistent piece of lint off her skirt. “I merely make suggestions.”
“Mmm-hmmm. Seems to me your ‘suggestion’ at the town-council meeting a few months ago is how I ended up married.”
“Don’t give away your accomplishments.” Calliope wasn’t about to take credit for anything where Lori and Matt Knight were concerned. They’d both overcome their inner doubts to earn their happily-ever-after. However, she was more than eager to help Lori build her clientele base for the gardening and landscaping business she’d started to talk about. “What can you tell me about the architect they’ve hired to design the butterfly sanctuary?” Her distraction these last weeks had meant she hadn’t been paying close attention to the goings on around town.
“Me?” Lori blinked, sat back on her heels and frowned. “Not a lot. Only what I’ve heard through the...gossip mill. Which I’m sure you already know,” she added with a laugh. “Word is the firm is in trouble and they’ve been looking for a project to use as part of their comeback. Seems as if we hired this Xander Costas for a steal and a half. Gil’s hoping there’s enough prestige attached to the firm that it’ll help with publicity for the sanctuary.”
“Xander Costas.” Calliope rolled the name in her mouth. “He’s already arrived.”
“What?” Lori’s head snapped around. “No, Monday. His reservation is for Mon...” Her voice trailed off at the sound of a car engine. She looked to Calliope. “You have got to be kidding me.”
Calliope smiled and pushed herself to her feet. “I’m afraid not.” Every inch of her skin felt as if it had been charged with electricity. An awareness overtook her. “Stella, I think it’s time we head into town. We’re going to see Mama tomorrow and I’d like to take her one of Holly’s pies.”
“Holly’s gone on pie overdrive ever since she’s been pregnant,” Lori muttered. “Jason’s stopped baking because we’re getting flooded with them.”
“It’s Holly’s happy place,” Calliope reminded Lori and helped her to her feet. “Go on inside. I’ll delay Mr. Costas for a few moments so you can find a place to put him.”
“Wow, good thing we have spare rooms available. Thanks, Calliope.” Lori brushed off her pink striped maxi dress, picked up her shoes and hurried up the porch steps and through the etched glass doors.
“I thought being really early is as rude as being really late.” Stella scrunched her nose and looked up at Calliope.
“It can be. It depends on the individual.”
The practical sedan that rounded the corner came as a surprise, and for a moment, Calliope wondered if she was wrong about who the new arrival was. But that thought faded as he climbed out of the car.
Her entire body went from ice-block chilled to volcanic flames, as if her system was resetting itself. He was tall, well over six feet, with jet-black hair that glistened almost blue in the sun. His skin had that rich, olive tone to it, as if his name hadn’t been hint enough of his Greek heritage. As he gathered a suitcase and garment bag out of the car, she noticed how the muscles in his arms strained against the perfectly tailored lines of his clothes.
Nicely made. The clothes and the man.
But when he faced her, and she looked into eyes as deep and clear as the Mediterranean, she found she couldn’t breathe. She trembled, recalling a face that had haunted her dreams not for weeks or even months, but for years. For almost as long as she could remember. He’d grown with her, from a boy to a man, and was oddly and unnervingly familiar.
Stella gripped hold of her dress, ducked behind Calliope and poked her head out as the man—and fate—approached.
“My second welcoming committee.” His voice washed over her like the evening tide. “It was you on the cliffs a while ago, wasn’t it?”
“It was.” Calliope’s voice shook. It wasn’t often she had to look up at people and until now she’d considered her height a bit of a curse. She felt Stella’s fingers clench tighter in her skirt and forced herself to relax. No need to make her sister as anxious as she felt. “Calliope Jones.”
“So Charlie said. The butterfly lady.” He set down his bag and held out his hand. “Xander Costas.”
Calliope looked down at it and considered it a few moments longer than normal before returning the greeting. The second she clasped his hand in hers, she gasped. Pride was the first thing she felt, strong and pulsing, followed closely by the faintest twinge of...nerves. Interesting. Not as confident as he appeared. “Welcome to Butterfly Harbor, Mr. Costas.”
He grinned at her formality but before she could amend her greeting, he shifted his attention to Stella. “And you are?”
“Stella. Stella Jones.” She slipped around Calliope’s side and kept an arm securely around her waist.
“My sister,” Calliope said before he jumped to the same conclusion most people did. The almost twenty-year age gap left plenty of room for misconception.
“You’re early,” Stella said. “For your reservation.”
“Yeah, I know.” He shrugged and retrieved his bag. “I had some meetings cancelled so figured I might as well come on out. Given it’s a small town, I’m sure they’ll have a room for me.”
“Are you?” Calliope wasn’t fond of assumptions and leery of those who made them. “Why?”
“Why?” Xander blinked those entrancing eyes of his as if he hadn’t a care in the world.
“They could be booked up. Butterfly Harbor is growing more popular every day. It seems to me it would have been appropriate for you to call and at least check before you made the trip out here. In case they don’t have one.”
“I honestly didn’t think it would be an issue.” He looked confused but not at all concerned. “I’m sure a room can be had for the right price.”
“Not everything has a price.” Calliope arched an eyebrow, uncomfortable with the way her thoughts escaped her usual careful control. “We look forward to hearing about your plans for the butterfly sanctuary.” She reached around for Stella’s hand and squeezed. “One thing you might not know about small towns, Mr. Costas, is how involved we are with every aspect of our home. Just a word of caution as you settle in.”
“Okay.” He frowned and Calliope took more pleasure than expected in seeing him knocked down a peg. “Did I do something to offend you? Normally, people take to me right away.”
“Normal and I have never been on speaking terms, Mr. Costas.”
“Xander.” His grin returned and it was then she realized he assumed she was flirting with him. She wasn’t. Was she? He hefted his bag over his shoulder. “I guess I’ll be seeing you around. Small town and all.”
“Yes, you will.” Calliope stood stone-still as she watched him head inside. The troubling gray haze hovering around him on the beach had dissipated, but sparkles of silver and gold still appeared. Indications of hope to offset the worry and concern that plagued him.
“You weren’t very nice to him,” Stella said. “You’re nice to everyone.”
“I was nice enough.” Guilt drifted down and settled on Calliope’s shoulders. She didn’t want to like him. But she’d learned a long time ago that when fate had set its mind on something that was that. As much as she hated the idea, Calliope couldn’t shake the sensation that as of this moment, her life—her happy, contented, safe life—was never going to be the same.
CHAPTER TWO (#ud344b41c-061a-5c7a-858d-48a4292e9f2b)
XANDER HAD NEVER seen a Christmas tree decorated with seahorses and sand dollars before. Then again, he’d never had a California coastal Christmas before. Personally, he thought the giant starfish on the top of the forest-scented pine tree was an inspired touch, as were the seashell garlands interspersed with clumps of sugarcoated cranberries.
“Help yourself to some coffee and cookies, Mr. Costas, please.” The tall, plump woman behind the whitewashed counter offered him a friendly, if tense, smile. “The white-chocolate macadamia nut is my favorite.” She tucked a wavy lock of hair behind her ear and her wedding set glinted in the sun streaming through the lobby’s bay window.
“Never could say no to a cookie.” Leaving his bags by the seafoam green-and-gold upholstered chair, he wandered across the wood floor, humming along with the muted instrumental holiday music cascading through the room. The building had an old-world feel to it as he’d expected, given the structure’s history. The updates were recent, within the last year he figured, but the Flutterby did what a lot of boutique hotels and bed-and-breakfasts couldn’t quite manage—it felt like a home.
A new barrage of nerves hit his chest. He liked the idea they’d come up with for the preliminary design, but now that he was actually here, was it too modern for the town? From his discussions with Gil Hamilton, Butterfly Harbor’s mayor, he assumed they were looking to move into a more contemporary style, which had been a relief. Now...he wasn’t so sure. The town had a lot of history that it seemed to celebrate. Although the few conversations he’d had with the mayor told him the man was more concerned with cost rather than design, an attitude that loosened the reins that usually held Xander’s creativity back.
In his mind, the project would be a simple structure or two, big enough to get the Costas name out there, but small enough not to keep him up at night. And it should be the kick-start to rebuilding his family’s reputation as reliable architects.
And...if there wasn’t enough personality in the sketches, he could add a few butterflies here and there.
Butterflies. Xander smirked. Like he knew anything about the winged creatures other than what conservationists and environmentalists had been sounding the alarm over. The loss of migration habitats, the dwindling numbers, negative environmental factors. That’s what the facility would educate people about. Nothing fancy on his end, just a building they could teach in. Easy enough.
Even now he could see his father’s eyes narrowing as he asked Xander what he could possibly be thinking by taking on a butterfly project.
What was Xander thinking? He was thinking the family business was sinking faster than a tugboat in storm-tossed seas. He was thinking they had to grab on to any opportunity that presented itself. He was thinking that when in danger of drowning, you grab hold of whatever life preserver you can to stay above water.
For the Costas family, for Xander, that meant putting all their hopes on...butterflies.
Butterfly Harbor and its cozy village feel was a huge step away from the high rises and office buildings his family had been designing for the last sixty years, but they had to start over somewhere.
With his coffee in hand, he caught a glimpse of Calliope Jones and her sister heading down the hill into town. He bit into the cookie he’d been unable to resist, grateful for the burst of brown sugary goodness to offset the hunger rumbling through his stomach.
Calliope. As fascinating and unique as her name indicated. It was like watching a pair of rainbows take an evening walk, brightening the way for any who followed. The tiny silver bells in Calliope’s hair, holding a braid in place, had tinkled ever so slightly when she moved, adding to that fairy-like quality he’d picked up on the moment he’d laid eyes on her. And speaking of eyes...
She had the most unusual amethyst eyes. Xander had only seen that color once before, in China as he’d gazed at the Purple Mountain, which was beautifully rich at dawn and dusk. It made sense, he supposed, as there was something ethereal about the woman, entrancing. Even the slight hostility aimed in his direction felt oddly like a prize of some kind.
She struck him as the type of woman who made friends with everyone. That he put her on edge felt like a gauntlet was waiting to be thrown. He wasn’t entirely sure what she disapproved of—the project in general or him. He had no doubt he would find out. He anticipated a challenge in the offing, which added a zing to his already charged insides. He did his best work around adversaries. Xander couldn’t care less if people liked him or not, but they would respect the work he did. No matter how he had to earn it.
“Okay, Mr. Costas, I think we have you all set now.” Lori’s soft voice rose over the sound of the young woman tapping away on the computer. “I’m afraid we aren’t able to put you in the tower room like you requested, at least not until Monday afternoon.”
There was that strained smile again. Xander set his almost empty cup on the counter.
“I hope you understand. We weren’t expecting you until then and we’re almost full through the weekend. What we can offer, if a regular room won’t suffice, is one of our residential cabins. It includes a private galley kitchen, dining and living area.”
“The gardens are exceptional,” her assistant interjected with a sly expression on her thin face. “Lori works magic with flowers and plants.”
“Willa’s one of the town cheerleaders,” Lori laughed as Willa flushed bright pink.
“The cabin sounds perfect.” No doubt he should apologize for arriving early, but he’d learned years ago in business that apologizing was often taken as a sign of weakness. “Will the rate—”
“We’ll charge you the same rate as the tower suite,” Lori assured him.
“Perfect.” He pulled out his debit card and handed it over with barely a twinge of unease. As long as he and his brother were at odds over how to save the business, he wasn’t going to give Antony any ammunition to use against him. Which meant for the foreseeable future, he’d be footing the bill on this project himself. The private kitchen would be a plus, especially if it had a microwave. He could stock up and not worry about eating out at every meal, which meant he could get his work done all the faster and maybe be back home in time for the holiday.
“Would you like to make a reservation at Flutterby Dreams for dinner this evening?” Willa asked, still seated at the computer. “We have a few tables still open.”
“Not this evening, no.” Although the appeal of eating at one of Jason Corwin’s four-star restaurants again was tempting. How he missed the wining and dining of clients with expensive food and even more expensive wine. If things went as planned, this time next year he’d be back to schmoozing at Rockefeller Center or, even better, in Paris. But only if things went as planned. Otherwise, he’d be knee-deep in debt with real-estate agents trying to offload his New York city penthouse apartment. “Perhaps another night.”
“Of course,” Willa said with a nod. “Breakfast is complimentary every morning of your stay. You can either eat here or we can have breakfast delivered to your cabin. “Would you like to keep the same checkout date?”
“For now.” He’d paid extra for an open return ticket, but he was hoping to be back in Chicago well before Christmas. He needed to be home. He could only imagine what his brother was getting up to with the business...or how his mother was coping with their father.
“I’m sorry you’ll be leaving before our holiday activities really get going. But just in case.” Lori handed him a flyer designed like a child’s Christmas list. “It all kicks off with a beach bonfire next Friday night.”
“Sounds like fun.” He pocketed the flyer to be polite.
“If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to your cabin.” Lori plucked up a monarch-butterfly keychain out of one of the cubbyholes on the wall, and after he declined her offer to carry one of his bags, he followed her back outside.
In the few minutes since he’d parked, the temperature had dropped and the sun had dipped. Small solar lamps embedded in the landscaping had blinked to life and lit the way around the side of the inn toward a charming stone path. The cabins were lined up and down the cliffs, each cordoned off by black wrought-iron fencing and arching gates within floral-covered trellises. The exteriors were the reverse colors of the main inn, with bright yellow trim and woodwork and pristine white siding. Large windows allowed for a view of a cypress-framed ocean, which roared beneath him against the rocks and beach.
White noise, he told himself, even as he cringed at the volume of Mother Nature.
“I’ve put you in our largest cabin.” Lori glanced over her shoulder at him and pointed farther down the path. “It’s at the end, but it’ll give you the best view and also the most privacy.”
“I appreciate that.” At least he thought he did. He wasn’t exactly a loner. He more than enjoyed the company of other people, but when it came to work, silence and solitude had always been his most welcome companions.
“There’s maid service upon request,” Lori added as she took a short path to the left and stopped at the gate. “We want our guests to think of their cabins as their home away from home, so just a few hours notice is all we need.”
“Short-staffed?” He couldn’t imagine a small town like this having that many people clamoring for housekeeping jobs. He followed her into the front yard and cast an approving look at the fall flowers spilling out of the window boxes and around the foundation of the cottage. The place looked like a miniature version of the main inn. Smartly designed, he thought, and fitting for the location. Doubt in their plans for the sanctuary crept in again, squeezing his heart.
“Not at all.” If Lori was offended at his question she didn’t show it. “Most of our employees are part-time and hold other jobs in town. We just like to make sure we’re making the most of their time. If you’d prefer daily service, I can certainly arrange that.”
If that didn’t make him sound like a pampered, pompous primadonna. “Put me on the books for Monday. That should be fine.”
She nodded and opened the door to his cabin.
The second Xander stepped inside, his nerves settled. “This is marvelous.” He dropped his bags on the floor by the door and walked across the thick-knotted throw rug beneath the small coffee table and sand-colored sofa. The soft blue on the walls gave the open space the feel of a seaside cottage, which, of course, this was even at this height. The wood floors were polished and glistened in the dim light of the table lamp Lori switched on. He followed her through to the small but efficiently stocked kitchen, where she checked that everything was in working order. She then led him to one of the two bedrooms, each with its own bath. The cozy beach feel continued in here with a sand-encrusted framed mirror over the dressers and ocean-inspired accents on the walls.
“There are extra linens in the closet here in the hall.” Lori popped open the door, no doubt to satisfy herself that it was appropriately stocked. “Anything else you need, just call the front desk and we’ll have it brought out.”
“This is exceptional.” He made it sound as if he’d been expecting a hole in the wall. “I’ve stayed in some of the finest hotels in the world and this matches all of them in comfort and style. Nicely done.”
“We only finished the remodel on this cabin last week. Kendall Davidson is a one-woman construction crew. She served in Afghanistan with my husband and doesn’t stop until everything is perfect.” Lori walked over and pulled open the drapes on the main window in the living room. “She’s moved on to refurbishing the Liberty Lighthouse, which has needed attention for as long as I’ve lived here.”
“I’ll have to go check it out. I want to get a feel for everything in town, so we can make sure the sanctuary fits what Butterfly Harbor wants.”
Lori’s hand stilled on the gauzy white fabric. “Wants and needs might be two different things. But if you’d like to get the full Butterfly Harbor experience, I’d be happy to leave a list of our oldest buildings at the front desk for you.”
“That’d be great.”
“If you’re a morning person, I suggest Duskywing Farm. Calliope opens up at eight sharp until noon every day but Sunday. You can load up on produce and locally made goods. She’s supposed to have the last of the summer lavender honey this weekend.”
“Calliope’s a farmer then?” He couldn’t quite imagine the woman he’d met wrist-deep in dirt and tugging potatoes out of the ground.
Lori smiled. “Calliope’s a bit of everything. Farmer, healer, confidante.”
“Healer? You mean like a doctor?”
“Oh, no. Medicinal herbs and home remedies for various ailments, although she has acted as midwife and doula from time to time. She’s also our local butterfly wrangler. Whatever you’d like to know about butterflies, she’s your best source. Was there anything else you needed? A worktable for your computer, perhaps?”
“This kitchen table should be fine.” He didn’t want to be a bother and besides, he wasn’t going to be here long enough to settle in. “I just need to call the mayor’s office and let him know I got in early.”
“He’s partial to meetings at the Butterfly Diner. And bonus, Holly, the owner, is offering a free slice of pie for dessert with every meal ordered.”
“Free pie, huh?”
“Holly Saxon is known for her pies.” Lori backed toward the door. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll leave you to get settled in. Just dial six on the phone to reach the front desk.”
“Thank you, Lori. For the room and the hospitality.”
“Welcome to Butterfly Harbor, Mr. Costas.”
* * *
“DO YOU THINK they’re plotting to take over the world?”
Calliope glanced up from the tattered paperback copy of her favorite murder mystery as Paige Bradley slipped into the seat across from her. While she’d recently earned her nursing degree and license, Paige had offered to continue working at the diner until after Holly’s baby arrived. A small-town quirk, Calliope thought with a smile.
Until recently, Calliope had been an infrequent visitor to the Butterfly Diner. She preferred her own—and Stella’s—company, at her farm, in her drafty but cozy stone house. But Stella’s teacher had suggested at the start of the school year that Stella needed to socialize more with kids her own age. So their weekly visits to the diner had begun...at times when Calliope knew both Simon and Charlie would be around.
Those two could work miracles with anyone, even her shy sister.
Paige tugged her ponytail tighter on top of her head before sagging lower into the booth and pointed at the trio of kids.
“If they are, our worries are over.” Calliope closed her book and set it on the table beside her nearly empty plate. Her second cup of herbal tea had gone cold, the telltale sign of a good story. Or a distraction. Something about Xander Costas continued to set her on edge, but maybe conversation with a friend would help. “It’s more likely they’re making plans for conquering the holidays. Rough couple of days?”
“Busy.” Paige blew her bangs out of her eyes and plucked a leftover fry from Calliope’s plate. “I took Mrs. Hastings and Abby’s grandmother in for checkups this morning.” Abby’s neighbor, Mrs. Hastings, the former high school principal, had become an unofficial grandmother to both Abby and Charlie. She’d also become the latest senior citizen to join the Cocoon Club, a smorgasbord of town seniors involved in all kinds of local activities. “I swear, Charlie on a sugar rush is less trouble than those two. They made me stop for fast food on the way back.” She lowered her voice. “Don’t tell Holly. That might break her heart.”
“I’d worry more about Ursula than Holly.” Calliope had a fondness for the curmudgeonly one-time US Navy cook who ran Butterfly Diner’s kitchen, not to mention Ursula’s amazing veggie burgers. Holly Saxon might own the Butterfly Diner, but everyone in town knew Ursula wielded a mighty spatula. “Must be the day for doctor’s appointments. Holly’s about due for her second sonogram, right?”
Paige cringed. “She was supposed to go today, but she cancelled. Third time she’s skived off in the last couple of weeks.” Paige’s words didn’t unsettle Calliope as much as her tone. And the way she suddenly seemed interested in the alley outside the window. “Can’t blame her. I don’t like him.”
“Who? Holly’s doctor?”
“Yeah. From what Holly’s said he’s one of those ‘there, there’ practitioners who likes to hear himself talk. And okay, I know there’s a lot to be said for experience, but he doesn’t listen to her.”
“But you do,” Calliope observed. Paige wasn’t usually an alarmist, but concern for her friend was rolling off her in waves.
“She’s worried something’s wrong and frustrated because he just nods and tells her she’s being overly sensitive.” Paige glanced around to make sure no one was listening. Not that there were a lot of patrons at the moment. Aside from the kids and Calliope, only a few other tables were occupied, the one in the far corner by Dr. Selena Collins, the local vet. “Holly would be ticked at me if she knew I was telling you this, but maybe you could speak to her? Suggest she change doctors so she’s not stressed out over appointments?”
“What do you mean she thinks something’s wrong?” The midwife in her went on full alert. “Is she in pain?”
“No, not that I know of.” Paige leaned her arms on the table. “She says things are just different this time around than when she was pregnant with Simon. She’s sick all the time when she’s not here at the diner. Which is one reason she won’t leave, but I’m beginning to wonder if she’s right and something’s...off with the baby.”
Calliope didn’t like the sound of this. “Are you speaking as a nurse or her friend?”
“Both. Prenatal care is vital. Being scared isn’t an excuse not to go, but not trusting your physician is. She needs to change physicians.”
“Yes, she should.” And Calliope had just the right doctor in mind, but she’d known Holly for most of her life. Holly Saxon needed to be nudged in the right direction, not pushed at high speed.
“I don’t suppose you can tell if something’s wrong.” Paige bit her lip and looked almost embarrassed for asking. “I mean, you know what I mean. I heard you can tell things, especially with expectant mothers.”
“Are you referring to my unbroken streak of gender determination?” Eager to ease Paige’s uncertainty, she smiled.
“You’ve, what...? Guessed right seventeen times?”
“Eighteen, not that I’m counting.” Public perception really needed updating. “And not that I’m advertising. I’ll tell you what. You stay here and keep an eye on those three.” She looked pointedly at Simon, Charlie and Stella, surrounded by Simon’s infamous notebooks, frosty half-filled milk shake glasses and empty plates that once held grilled cheese sandwiches. “And I’ll go talk to her. No promises.” Calliope stood up and smoothed her skirt. She was happy to guide, but she never, ever, ordered. Free will was as important to life as oxygen.
“I’ll take what I can get.” Paige jumped up and squeezed her arm in thanks. “Speaking of getting. New customer.”
Calliope didn’t have to glance over at the door to know who had walked in. The charge in the room was enough of a warning. He carried a laptop bag in one hand and a long mailing tube tucked under his arm. He’d changed his shirt to one of sapphire blue that only made his piercing eyes all the more nerve-racking to her. The unbuttoned collar, slightly loosened tie and too-long black hair spoke more of sipping exotic coffee on the seashore than hovering over a laptop screen drawing pictures. Her gaze dropped to his hands—strong hands, long fingers, the slightly olive skin kissed by the sun.
“Calliope?” Paige’s brow pinched as she inclined her head. “Something wrong?”
“No, nothing.” Calliope curled her toes in her sandals. Did she walk ahead of Paige, in which case she’d clearly have to say hello to him, or did she wait until Paige led him to a booth on the other side...? What was wrong with her? When had she ever been indecisive?
Her hands flexed into fists. The last thing she or this town needed was a charming interloper. She knew the damage men like him could do; the pain they left in their wake. They’d offer a wink and a smile while snatching your heart. She’d been warned against men like this since she could walk, witnessed it firsthand as a teen. And she’d been dealing with the aftereffects ever since. “Hello, Mr. Costas.”
One way to ensure Xander Costas didn’t wreak havoc on her life was to keep him in sight: front and center.
The other way was to stay away from him altogether. Given this was the second time in only a few hours they’d encountered each other, she knew what choice had to be made.
“It’s Xander, please. And hello, again, Calliope.” Xander’s smile reminded her of sliding into a warm lavender-infused fizzy bath—equally relaxing and invigorating. “We seem to keep bumping into each other.”
“Yes, we do.” She took an almost stumbling step toward him, suddenly grateful for the nearly empty diner. She had enough of a reputation in town as an eccentric. She didn’t need to go making a fool of herself because of a stranger. “Ah, Xander Costas, Paige Bradley. Xander’s the architect who’s designing the butterfly sanctuary and education center. Xander, you met Paige’s daughter, Charlie, on the beach earlier, I believe.”
“Yes, I did.” He leaned over and glanced at the kids, then outside, where the dogs were waiting patiently. “Cute kid. And dog.”
“Thanks. I like them. Welcome to Butterfly Harbor.” Paige offered her hand and then grabbed a menu out of the holder. “How about I give you the seat with the best view?” She led the way to the center booth by the large windows. “You can never get too much of the ocean.”
“If you say so,” Xander said in a way that rankled Calliope’s nerves. The niggling suspicion that he was not the right man for the job kicked up a notch.
“I’m meeting the mayor here in a bit.” He set down his things before he took a seat. “But as I’m staving off jet lag I’d love to start with some coffee.”
“You got it,” Paige said.
“Meeting with the mayor already?” Calliope couldn’t stop herself from asking the question as Paige headed behind the counter. “That’s pretty quick work.”
“I don’t like to waste time.” He shifted in his seat to face her. “So far everyone’s been accommodating to my early arrival. Besides, the sooner I get done with this part of things, the sooner I can get home.”
“This part of things?”
“The face-to-face meetings. Getting a feel for the town, for the area where the education center and sanctuary is going to be. Get our plans approved.”
“Is that something that’s normally done so...quickly?” She heard the disbelief-tinged irritation in her own voice and pulled back. Stella was right. She didn’t sound particularly nice. “Forgive me as I know next to nothing about architecture. Or architects.”
“Every project is different. We’ve been known to take months coming up with design ideas.” He smiled as Paige set down his coffee. “Something like this is leaps-and-bounds easier.”
“Oh?” Something about the way he spoke ignited her impatience. “Why is that?”
“Well, it’s not as big as most projects I’ve worked on. Not much to it, really. A couple of buildings, a classroom or two. Throw it all together, one, two, three.” He reached behind him and patted the cardboard tube. “I’ve already got a sketch I think the mayor will be more than happy with.”
“Throw it all together.” Calliope’s insides burned. She swallowed hard, hoping to rid herself of the bitterness—and offense—coursing through her. “You’ve done all that work already without looking at the land itself? Without taking anything into consideration, like the migratory patterns of the butterflies or plans we townsfolk might have for the use of the structures?”
Xander frowned. “As I said, it should all be straightforward. There’s nothing particularly, well, special about it.”
“Nothing special about it,” Calliope muttered more to herself than to him.
The sound of clanking dishes and raised voices in the kitchen startled her and put a brake on the tirade building behind her lips. How could he come up with a design without having looked at the property? The land would have to be cleared, trees cut down and roads built. Even worse, he didn’t think the sanctuary needed to be anything “special”?
Xander sipped his coffee and arched a challenging eyebrow at her. “You’re not going to say our ideas are damaging to the land, are you? At least not without seeing our plan first.”
“Of course not. I like to have all the information in front of me before I make any kind of judgment. If you’ll excuse me, I believe I’m needed in the kitchen.”
Calliope managed a weak smile before she turned toward the kitchen’s swinging door, grateful for the excuse to escape.
And she walked into something she could only describe as a silent standoff. She stopped just inside, the door bopping her in the back as she found Ursula, spatula in hand, advancing on a pale-looking Holly, who wielded her own weapon—her grandmother’s ancient rolling pin.
It wasn’t hostility Calliope felt vibrating on the air, but frustration. And more than a little concern.
“I hope I’m interrupting.” She kept her voice gentle but was purposely loud enough to stop whatever words were about to come flying out of Ursula’s mouth.
The barely five-foot cook swung to face her, knuckles white around the handle of the spatula. Her short gray hair was cropped around a thin face in a way that gave her a hawkish appearance. Ursula’s less than friendly demeanor put off a lot of people, but Calliope had known the older woman long enough to recognize that look was more defense mechanism than bad temper. There was no one in town more protective of those they loved than Ursula Kettleman.
The harrumph Calliope received in response would have made her smile if she hadn’t noticed Holly’s colorless face. In that instant, Calliope understood precisely why Paige was concerned about their friend. There was a dullness in the diner owner’s eyes, like a specter of fear had taken up residence and she couldn’t quite shake it loose. Holly’s hands trembled as she swiped tears off her cheeks before she turned her back on both Calliope and Ursula.
“I’m taking a break,” Ursula muttered and tossed her spatula onto the counter beside the griddle. “Maybe you can talk some sense into her.”
“What kind of sense would she be needing?” Calliope kept her voice light. She didn’t want Holly to walk away as well.
“Thinks she’s superwoman,” Ursula mumbled. “She can’t keep working herself into the ground because she’s too scared to face what’s worrying her.” The cook whipped her apron off her waist and tossed it onto a hook before she slammed out of the kitchen.
“Sorry about that.” Holly managed a watery smile as Calliope turned back to her. “I don’t know what’s gotten into her all of a sudden. She hovers around me like she’s...” Tears exploded in her eyes before she set down the rolling pin and sank onto the tall stool next to her workstation.
“Like she’s your mother, I know.” Calliope walked over and wrapped an arm around Holly’s shoulders. She squeezed hard, partly to push the fear coursing through Holly to the surface, partly to see if she could sense what was beneath the avalanche of emotions. “In a lot of ways she is. That’s quite a badge of honor if you ask me.”
“I know.” Holly nodded and let out a shuddering breath. “She stepped in when my grandmother died. I need to remember she thinks she’s responsible for me.”
Something sparked under Calliope’s fingers. Something unexpected and... Calliope circled around her friend, took one of Holly’s hands in hers and squeezed. “You’re scared. And no, this isn’t me and what you call my woo-woo feelings. You never cry, Holly. Even when you should. What’s going on? Paige said you cancelled your doctor’s appointment this afternoon. Why?”
“I can’t explain it.” She pressed a hand against her rounded stomach. “I’m—I’m afraid something’s wrong with the baby.”
“And you’re afraid to find out for sure?”
“No. Well, yes. Dr. Oswald doesn’t really listen to me. He thinks I’m overreacting. But something’s off.” She gripped Calliope’s hand so hard Calliope winced. “Nothing is the same this time. Simon was easy to carry. I can’t sleep because I’m worried and I can’t talk to Luke—”
“Of course, you can talk to Luke.” Calliope’s heart constricted. “There’s no one in this world who loves you more than that beautiful husband of yours.”
“He wants this baby so much. I wasn’t sure at first, you know, because of his history with his own father. That he’d be afraid about being a father.”
“Anyone who sees Luke with Simon knows that isn’t true, or wouldn’t be true,” Calliope assured her. “He’s been a wonderful dad to him from day one.”
Holly nodded, her lips curving slightly. “I know. And in the last couple of weeks, he’s really been embracing the idea. He’s hoping for a girl. He gets this goofy grin on his face whenever he talks about the baby and I can’t bear the thought of him worrying.”
“But it’s all right for you to worry for both of you?” Calliope sighed. Why were all her women friends so incredibly stubborn? “So is Ursula upset because you won’t go to the doctor or because you won’t talk to Luke about this?”
“Both,” Holly mumbled. “I know I have to find out for sure, but what if...”
Calliope let go of Holly’s hand and caught her face in her palms. “What if everything is fine? You need to go, Holly. And you need to see a doctor who will listen to you and do all they can to alleviate your fears.”
Holly nodded. “I know. I’m making it worse, aren’t I?”
“You’re making things more difficult than you need to, yes.” Calliope released her hold and rested her hands on Holly’s stomach. “You trust me, don’t you?”
“Of course I do.”Holly looked down at her belly and sniffled. “I don’t suppose you can tell me...”
A jolt of energy sparked against her hand, causing a slow smile to spread across Calliope’s lips. She closed her eyes and blocked out the muted noise of the diner—children’s laughter, spoons clanking against coffee cups. The calm, cool silence of contentment she tried to carry around with her every day descended, encapsulating her and Holly for an instant before Calliope found the answer.
“Oh.” Calliope’s eyes flew open and she bit her lip, a laugh bubbling up from her toes. “Oh, Holly.” She blinked away her own tears. “I think you need to make a new appointment. In fact, I’m going to call a friend of mine and have her get you in. She’s exactly who you need.”
“I was right, wasn’t I?” Holly whispered as she ducked her chin. “Something is wrong.”
“I’m not a medical professional, so I’m afraid I can’t ease that fear, but I can tell you I believe you’ve gone down the wrong road. This is a good something, Holly.” She flexed her hands against Holly’s stomach and suppressed what she could only describe as a giggle. Life in all its forms had always connected to Calliope in a way she couldn’t explain, but in this case, in this wondrous, thrilling case, she’d never been more grateful for the gift she’d been given.
Calliope got to her feet and found a notebook by the phone. She scribbled down an address and handed it to Holly. “I want you to go get Luke and have him drive you here. My friend’s name is Dr. Cheyenne Miakoda. She has a select patient list, but she owes me a few favors. I’m going to call her right now and tell her to expect you. You’re going to love her. And you’re going to let her examine you and tell her—and Luke—everything you’ve told me, along with everything you haven’t. Please do this both for you and your baby. Okay?”
It was all Calliope could do not to say more, but this wasn’t her moment—it wasn’t her information to share. But she could make certain that Holly—and Luke—were able to put their minds at ease sooner than later.
“What about my pies?” Holly sniffled and wiped her face.
“Paige is here and I’m happy to stay until Ursula gets back. Now get your coat and purse. Enjoy the fresh air, take your time and get your thoughts in order. I’ll call Cheyenne and let her know you’re coming.”
“Hey, everything okay?” Paige poked her head in the room and looked around as if waiting to get smacked with a rolling pin. “You need me to cover for the afternoon?”
“The kitchen’s yours.” Holly stiffened her shoulders and gave a shaky nod to Calliope. “I have an appointment to keep.”
“Okay.” Paige held open the door as Holly walked out. “Your dad’s here, Holly, so he can take Simon if you need him to.”
“Dad’s here?” Holly stopped and peered around the doorframe. “Oh, he’s meeting with Selena.” She frowned. “That’s strange. He doesn’t have any pets.”
“I’m not sure it’s pet-related.” Paige waggled her eyebrows. “They’ve been meeting for coffee and pie a couple of times a week for the last month. You didn’t know?”
“Ah, no, I didn’t.” But the light that had been missing from Holly’s gaze glimmered to life. “That’s kinda nice, isn’t it?”
“It’s very nice,” Calliope assured her. “Now go find Luke. We’ll see you when you get back.” She pressed a hand against the small of Holly’s back and sent a burst of positive energy directly from her heart.
And then felt the response—a gentle pulse of joy—from not one baby.
But two.
CHAPTER THREE (#ud344b41c-061a-5c7a-858d-48a4292e9f2b)
XANDER CLICKED AND tapped his pen, a nervous habit he’d never kicked from his college days. What did he have to be nervous about? Aside from the fact that the quiet and leisurely pace of Butterfly Harbor made him feel as if he was suddenly moving in slow motion. Sitting in the Butterfly Diner—an eatery that had clearly taken its monarch moniker to heart—should have given him exactly what he needed, a place to sit and revel in the fact he was about to get the family firm back on track.
Instead, doubt had crept in.
He was being ridiculous. He hadn’t taken a wrong turn; he’d done exactly what was expected of him and created a practical, if not boring, blueprint that would be serviceable for whatever plans the town—and its mayor—had made.
What did it matter what one person—Calliope Jones—thought? She hadn’t even seen his ideas. Although, yes, maybe she did have a point. He probably should have at least taken a walk around the property, but the mayor knew he’d done the design sight unseen. And since the mayor’s opinion was really the only one that mattered...
The doubt continued to gnaw at him, eating away at the constant reminder knocking on the back of his head: he couldn’t afford to mess this up. One job. That was all they needed to prove Costas Architecture was still alive and kicking.
His seat beside the plate glass window did indeed afford him a lovely view of the ocean. He could hear the gentle roar and lapping of the waves onto the shoreline across the street and beyond the short stone wall. Every breath he inhaled offered the promise of fresh-baked pastries, grilled onions and hot-out-of-the-oil fries, but right behind was the ever-present scent of sea and air.
The orange-and-black upholstered booths and stools were a nice contrast to the typical red-and-white color scheme of most diners. So far nothing had been predictable where this little town was concerned, and while it might take him longer than expected to get used to the less hurried pace, he decided to make the most of it. If he didn’t die of boredom first.
He sipped his surprisingly delicious coffee and scanned the laminated menu. There was something kitschy about the artistic butterfly renderings scattered around the diner. They dotted the walls and lined the doorframes. There was even a trio of them hanging from fishing line over the cash register, each wearing teeny tiny Santa hats. The holiday season was well represented with the tinsel-and-garland-draped doorways and potted miniature Christmas cacti on each table.
A few more customers arrived as he drank his coffee, filling up booths as their conversations filled the space.
Christmas to him meant snow, hot spiked cider and skiing at his family’s vacation house near Alpine Valley. He supposed there was plenty of holiday spirit to be found sans snow, especially if the not-so-hushed conversation behind him was any indication. The three kids—Stella, whom he had met at the inn, and Charlie and Simon from the beach—sounded inordinately serious as they made plans for some upcoming holiday event by the ocean.
“We have to use all-natural elements,” Simon said in a tone just shy of frustrated. “The only tools we can use are buckets and shovels.”
“But the rules don’t say what kind,” Charlie announced. “And we have to find an adult to be on our team. It’s in the rules.”
“My dad can’t do it,” Simon grumbled. “He has to help with the Santa parade for after the competition.”
“Darn it,” Charlie said. “That probably means mine can’t, either.”
“I don’t have a dad to ask,” Stella said in a way that kicked at Xander’s heart.
“What about Calliope? Would she do it?” Simon asked.
“Maybe?”
Xander heard the doubt in Stella’s voice.
“Sorry for the wait.” Paige set her notepad on his table and tied an apron around her hips. “Crazy day. Hope you weren’t in a rush.”
“Not at all,” Xander assured her. “Sounds like there’s a lot going on in the next few weeks. Holidays a big deal here?”
“From what I hear, they’re a huge deal.” Paige’s eyes sparked like someone had plugged her in. “It’ll be the first Christmas Charlie and I spend here. Have you, um, heard something from over there?” She cast a side-eyed glance at the kids and looked back at him. “Calliope and I were trying to figure out what they were talking about. But if it’s world domination, I don’t want to know.”
“Something about a competition, shovels and buckets.” He shook his head. “I’m stumped.”
“Oh, it’s the gingerbread-sandcastle contest. Now that explains why Charlie’s computer time has been spent looking up images of gingerbread houses.” She let out a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness. I was afraid she wanted to make a real one.”
“Not good with gingerbread?”
“I’m great with it. Up here.” She tapped the side of her head. “Funny how it never turns out the way you imagine it will. Can definitely be an ego-crusher.”
“The trick is doing all the decorations and frosting before you put it together.” Xander grinned at Paige’s wide-eyed stare. “Family tradition. We have a gingerbread-house contest every Christmas.” Usually after a morning of sledding and cider or hot chocolate. An odd longing pulled at his core. His mother made the best hot chocolate.
“Careful or you’ll get sucked in,” Paige warned. “Right, Calliope?” She caught her friend’s arm as the lithe redhead attempted to glide unseen behind her.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“The sandcastle competition. That’s what they’re up to.” Paige jerked her chin toward the kids. “We can rest easy. The world is safe for a while longer at least.”
Xander was tempted to ask for clarification, but all thoughts of conversation shot straight out of his head as Calliope turned toward him. For an instant, it was as if he was trapped in a movie or hokey TV show, where one of the characters begins to move in slow motion. All that was missing was a fan and an 80s rock ballad blasting out of car speakers.
What was it about Calliope Jones that warmed him from the inside? To say she was unexpected sounded like a cliché, but for a man who had dated models, publishing CEOs and, for one particularly entertaining summer, a disavowed princess, Xander couldn’t compare her to any woman he’d ever known. He’d never met anyone who seemed to be comprised completely of energy and light.
She was pretty beneath the mass of long red curls accented with ribbons and bells. Her face was clean of makeup, and her fresh, bright skin glowed. The simple, colorful, ankle-sweeping dress she wore drifted over a subtle figure. Other than a solitary silver butterfly charm situated in the hollow of her throat, she didn’t wear any jewelry, and when he glanced at her hands he saw the telltale hint of darkness under her short, practical nails. A woman who wasn’t afraid of getting her hands dirty.
“I didn’t realize Stella was interested in competing.” Calliope frowned over at her sister before giving her head a quick shake. “I’ll have to talk to her about it.”
“You sound like you disapprove.” He started to laugh until he saw her strained smile.
“Of competition, yes, usually.” She shifted and directed her attention—and her laser-sharp gaze—on him.
“Really? Why?”
“I’ve found pitting people against one another doesn’t necessarily bring out the best in individuals.”
“It’s character-building,” Xander argued and tried to keep his smile in check. He didn’t think she’d appreciate knowing her irritation toward him made her even more appealing.
“Competing against oneself is character-building. Participating in activities that could increase animosity feeds into negativity I’d rather avoid.”
“Gotta disagree with you.” If only because he found arguing with her invigorating. “Win or lose, you learn something. About other people, about yourself. I competed with my older brother constantly when we were growing up. I like to think we turned out okay.”
“Are you friends?”
“Friends?”
“You and your brother. Are you friends?”
“Ah.” Xander had to think about that as an image of his fair-haired brother popped into his head. “Well, yeah, I guess so. We’re brothers. Isn’t that a given?”
“Not always. No.” Calliope’s tone hadn’t changed, but something had. In her stance, in her expression.
“Ah, looks like table three is ready to order.” Paige backed away and held her hands up in surrender as she cast an uneasy look at her friend. “I’ll be back for your order in a bit.”
Xander barely heard her. “You don’t think my brother and I are friends?”
“I don’t know one way or the other,” Calliope said. “I’ve just found that siblings who grew up trying to one-up each other don’t always share a mutual respect or affection.”
“Funny. I didn’t notice judgment listed on my menu. Maybe you can show me where I missed it.” He pointed to the lunch selections.
“I’m not judging you. Or your brother,” she said. “I’m simply voicing my opinion on competition in general and its possible repercussions. Isn’t there enough conflict in the world without adding a prize at the end?”
She was baiting him, and evidently, he was more than willing to give it a chomp. “For your information, my brother and I get along great.” Or they had up until a couple of years ago. Maybe if things had been different, the family business wouldn’t be circling the drain. “Having someone to compete against drove us both to the top of our profession.”
“Together? Or are you on that pedestal all by yourself?”
“Wow.” Xander wanted to laugh, and almost did, but only because it was the only way to temper the anger bubbling inside of him. “You really don’t like me, do you?”
“I don’t know you,” Calliope reiterated in a tone he could only describe as haughty. “But I know people well enough to recognize when someone is looking down their nose at something. Or someplace. You were hired to do a job, not fix what isn’t wrong. And there’s nothing wrong with Butterfly Harbor.”
“Funny, I could have sworn I applied as an architect. Did I miss a memo?”
The front doorbell chimed, announcing both a new arrival and the end to round two with Calliope Jones. Xander shifted his focus to the man heading toward him.
“Xander Costas. Gil Hamilton. Great to meet you.” The tall man looked like he’d walked off the set of a surfer movie, from his blond-tipped sandy hair to the tanned skin beneath sharp, intense eyes. If he held any resentment because of Xander’s unexpected early arrival, it didn’t come across.
“Mayor Hamilton.” Xander accepted the hand offered to him. “A pleasure.” He glanced at Calliope as the mayor sat across from him.
“It’s Gil, please. I apologize I don’t have much time, but you seemed anxious to discuss your preliminary plans.”
“Not a problem. I needed to eat, anyway, and I was told there was free pie involved.”
Gil chuckled as he slid into the seat across from him. “Holly’s pies do tend to draw in the customers. Calliope, lovely to see you. Making friends as always, I see.”
That she didn’t answer wasn’t lost on Xander, nor did he think the mayor was being sarcastic. “Calliope was telling me how anxious she is to see the plans we’ve come up with for the sanctuary and education center.” Xander flourished the cardboard tube and popped off the top, struggling to ignore the hint of roses and sunshine drifting off her skin. “Might as well get the business stuff out of the way before we order, right?”
“You can’t go wrong with the mac-and-cheese casserole.” Gil pushed his napkin and flatware out of the way. “Especially if Paige is in the kitchen.” He leaned over and lowered his voice. “She uses cheese crackers as the topping.” He glanced up at Calliope, who had yet to move. “Aren’t you joining us?”
Calliope glanced over her shoulder to the kids, as if looking for an excuse to say no, something that didn’t escape Xander’s notice. “She’s worried she might actually like our ideas.”
“I’m hopeful I will, actually.” Calliope lowered herself into the seat beside Xander and folded her hands on the table. “I try not to hold any preconceived notions about anything. Or anyone.”
Another bit of bait, but this time Xander resisted the urge to nibble. Instead, he brushed aside the implied criticism. “Okay then.” Challenge accepted, Xander pulled out the plans and rolled them out over the Formica tabletop. He smoothed his hands over the inked images. “As you can see, we went with a modern feel. Strong, angular lines and features. We discussed multiple options as far as the number of floors you might want, so we gave a few options, each keeping the original design in mind. I like the idea of a lot of glass and open light, as much natural light as possible, but depending on the location, you’ll have to take maintenance into consideration.”
“What will it be constructed out of? Concrete? Do you mind?” Gil glanced at Calliope before he turned the illustrations around so that he could see better.
“Yes, steel and concrete. We can, of course, bring in some natural features here and there, use them as accents to tie them into the rest of the buildings around town.” Those nerves he’d been repressing earlier came back with a vengeance. “You did say you wanted to keep costs to a minimum. We have a reliable company we work with out here on the west coast. Once we lock everything in place, I should be able to get you a good deal.” Because that’s where his talent really shone.
He heard a dismissive tsk-tsking from beside him and locked his jaw.
“Not everything has to come down to finances.” Calliope turned her focus up and out the window.
“In this case, it very well could,” Gil said. “I have to admit, it wasn’t exactly what I was thinking, but I don’t know. It could grow on me. Calliope?”
“Yes?”
“What do you think?”
Xander bit the inside of his cheek. What did it matter what Calliope Jones thought of his designs? It wasn’t her building, after all, and it wasn’t her family’s business on the line.
“It doesn’t matter what I think,” she said and bolstered Xander’s flagging confidence. Until he realized the mayor didn’t agree.
“You don’t like it.” Gil’s left eye twitched as he signaled Paige for some coffee.
“It’s difficult to take what’s on paper and imagine it in reality,” Calliope said. “But, no, it doesn’t feel right. I would be interested to see what Mr. Costas would come up with once he saw the land in question. For instance, you mentioned a lot of glass, but the original idea was to have part of the building facing the ocean to take advantage of the view. Will that work with this design?”
“It can.” Xander made mental adjustments to the type of glass needed to reinforce the structure against the increase in wind resistance.
“I like the idea of glass,” Calliope said. “I like the idea of using as many natural elements as possible, as a reminder to everyone who visits that a natural habitat and migration path is why we have the opportunity to build the sanctuary in the first place. What about the eucalyptus trees? How many of them would have to come down for this to work?”
“Ah, quite a few, I’d imagine,” Xander said. “I was told clearing the area wouldn’t be an issue.”
“As those trees are a natural habitat for the butterflies in question, that might be a bit shortsighted. Not to mention a waste of money.” Calliope smoothed her hand over the image of the two-story structure. “All this steel and concrete feels so...”
“Cold,” Gil said, finishing for her. “Impersonal. I agree. What are our other options?”
“Well, that would take a bit of reworking.” Xander’s stomach tightened. So much for a quick in and out of town. “We went by the guidelines we were given and honestly, at the time, I didn’t realize there was a lot of room for interpretation.” His design skills were beyond rusty and he’d been worried he’d strike out on that. But he wouldn’t do so again. Too much was at stake for him to just walk away.
“Then that was my mistake,” Gil said. “This seems like a great start, a launch point so to speak. I’d just prefer something more out of the box.”
“Agreed.” Calliope nodded and Xander caught a glimmer of appreciation in her eyes.
“As I stated, these are only the preliminary sketches.”
Perhaps he had been presumptuous thinking this was a one-off project he could whip up in a matter of days. The pressure that was already at suffocating levels pressed in on him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d put pen to paper or come up with anything other than cost projections and suggestions for materials. “Why don’t you give me a few days and I’ll have some alternate ideas. Is there a time you’re available before I head home next week?”
“I’ll check with my assistant,” Gil said. “That will give you time to get a good look at the property and see what adjustments can be made.”
“I appreciate the feedback.” Xander started to roll the papers back up, only to stop when Calliope placed her hand over the small water feature he’d sketched in the corner.
“This is lovely,” she said. “What type of stones did you plan to use on the bottom?”
“Oh, that was just a throwaway idea I was playing with.” In fact he’d meant to erase it. “I was thinking imported Italian stained glass.”
Calliope inclined her head. “Butterflies are attracted to shiny objects, especially glass. If you were to construct one of these, or a larger version of this, for outside the structure, it might draw butterflies to it, like a watering hole. That could offset some of the coldness of the structure.”
“Charlie did say you were the butterfly expert in town.” Xander continued to roll up the papers, then he stuffed them back in the tube.
“I was just looking for ways to bring more natural elements into the design. I didn’t intend to overstep or challenge your ideas. I apologize. This isn’t my project.”
“Maybe it should be.” Gil glanced between the two of them. “Maybe that’s what’s needed and what’s missing—another pair of eyes. Eyes that see it from our perspective.”
“Oh?” Calliope shifted closer to Xander as Paige appeared with another cup of coffee for the mayor.
Gil dumped three packets of sugar into his coffee. “I met with the town council earlier this week and we’d tossed around the idea of assigning a community liaison to Mr. Costas for the extent of the project. We originally thought it should be one of us, but now I’m not so sure. We need someone who can help him get a feel for the town and make certain all our needs are addressed, including those of the butterflies, as you said, Calliope. Given your expertise and connection to Butterfly Harbor, I don’t think we’d find someone better suited.”
Xander set down his coffee before he choked on it. “I’m not entirely sure that’s nec—”
“Gil, I don’t think—”
Xander and Calliope broke off at the same time, looked at each other, then both laser-eyed Gil.
“It’s one thing to put all this down on paper, what we expect, what we want,” Gil went on, as if neither of them had spoken. “It’s another to make certain we’re all on the same page without wasting time. And given how close the sanctuary and education center are going to be to your property, Calliope, this solution makes the most sense.”
Wow. Xander hid a smirk. That couldn’t have sounded more rehearsed if the mayor had been standing on a Broadway stage. Which meant Gil had been saving this tidbit of information for a time when Xander had no means of escape. Literally and figuratively. Clearly small-town mayors were as adept in political speak as big-city ones. Still, it didn’t escape Xander’s notice that Calliope was expecting Xander to put the kibosh on the idea.
“I’m not normally fond of babysitters.” Xander turned his thousand-watt smile on the local eccentric. “But in this case I’m happy to make an exception.”
“Given the impact this project can have on our natural surroundings,” Calliope spoke in a slow, deliberate tone. “And because I want what’s best for the town and the creatures we’re trying to help, I’ll accept responsibility.” Calliope’s hands clenched into fists before she pulled them into her lap.
Fascinating, Xander thought as an odd zing shot through his system. Positively fascinating.
“Excellent,” Gil said. “How about we get the formalities out of the way right now?”
“I need to get home and prepare for market tomorrow,” Calliope said. “You know where I am when you want to fill me in on the details, Gil. Xander.” She gave him a quick nod before heading over to the kids at the counter. Seconds later, the smile was back on her face as she hugged her sister close.

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