Holiday Kisses Page 4

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 w
as 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

  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.