“TRY IT AGAIN!” Socket wrench in hand, Calliope stepped back from the hood of her normally trustworthy car and crossed her fingers. Click. Click, click, click.
Stella sagged in the driver’s seat. “It’s dead. Now what do we do?”
Calliope swallowed hard, frustration knotting so hard in her stomach it almost hurt. They were already an hour later than she wanted to be for the drive to their mother’s care facility. If only she hadn’t promised Emmaline she’d be there today. If there was one thing Calliope never did, it was break a promise.
Even if the person she’d made the promise to wouldn’t remember.
Her heart stumbled as tears burned the back of her throat. Trips to visit their mother were the only reason she kept the car in the first place. Without it…
“Sounds like your starter.”
Calliope spun at the voice, shocked and a little unnerved at the way Xander casually stepped out from around the house. He’d bought one of Stella’s baskets, a sturdy one with a vine-wrapped handle, and filled it with a healthy selection of produce along with a cellophane bag of scones.
The snarky retort poised on her lips unsettled her. Why was his mere appearance enough to set her on edge? Because no man had any right to look as beautiful as he did walking through her gardens, black hair blowing in the breeze like some Renaissance painter on his way to his studio. He’d rolled up his shirtsleeves and left the buttons at his collar undone. And his shoes—those gorgeous impractical shoes—were caked in mud and dirt.
It was images like this that inspired the creation of man in the first place. She let out a long breath and pushed her nerves into the air. “The starter, huh? Okay. If you say so.” It had been over an hour since she’d closed the market. Over an hour since she’d sent the last of the Saturday morning customers off with their goodies. “What are you still doing here?”
“Listening.” He grinned. “Or trying to. I don’t seem to be very good at it. Let me take a look.”
“No, oh, no, please don’t. You’ll get your shirt—” She darted in front of him and grabbed hold of his arms with her grimy hands. “Dirty.” She released him as if burned but it was too late. The damage was done. “I’m sorry.”
She went to scrub her palms down the front of her dress only to have him drop his basket and stop her. His hands locked around her wrists, firmly but gently, as he drew her up.
“Oh, no,” she protested. The oil stains were never going to come out of that silk shirt.
He moved in, the warmth of his body radiating against her as he removed the wrench from her fingers. “Let me look.”
“Do you know how to fix cars?” Stella slammed the driver’s door after she climbed out of the ancient compact and waited for him by the engine.
“I grew up rebuilding engines with my grandfather.” Xander nudged Calliope aside and ducked under the hood. If he felt any reluctance about Stella watching him so closely, he didn’t show it. Though he displayed a pretense about his job as an architect, there was none of that when it came to his interacting with people. A charmer for sure, atypical of men she’d been attracted to in the past. And yet, for whatever reason, she reacted to him in new and confusing ways.
She took a long, cleansing breath. She didn’t have time to figure out puzzles. Not at this time of year, when the air was electrified by the excitement of the season. She definitely didn’t need a self-appointed knight in shining armor walking to her rescue with a basket of vegetables.
Calliope remained where she was, stone-still, as Xander and Stella’s conversation drifted over her. It wasn’t until she heard Stella giggle and Xander let out what she could only describe as a well-edited curse that she blinked back to the moment.
“Would you like the good news or the bad news?” Xander wielded the wrench a bit like a wand and faced her.
“Both.”
“The starter’s shot, but so’s your transmission and I saw at least one crack in the engine block.”
She could all but see every penny of profit from the last few months drifting into the sky. Calm, she told herself. Stay calm. “And that would be…”
“The bad news. Time to start looking for a new car.”
“And the good news?”
“Xander said he can drive us to see Mama.” Stella bounced on her sandal-encased toes, her red braids flying around her shoulders.
“Oh. Um, no.” She always seemed to be saying that around him. “We couldn’t ask you to do that.”
“You didn’t.” Xander shrugged. “I’m volunteering. Besides, my next plan of action is to head up to the property for the sanctuary and I can’t very well do that without you, can I?”
“You can.” Calliope pointed behind her. “It’s just up that road—”
“Correction.” Xander closed the hood on her car and bent down to scoop up his basket. “I don’t want to go up there without you. Clearly I need to see it through your eyes if I’m going to give the project the respect it deserves.”
“I never said anything about respect.”
“Sure, you did.” He tapped a finger against her forehead. “In here. You also called me an arrogant jerk for not seeing this as anything more than a filler job.”
“I did—”
“Admit it.” Xander’s grin did funny things to her stomach. “You did.”
“I don’t recall calling you a jerk, arrogant or otherwise.”
“I thought pretentious was another word for arrogant,” Stella said. “You had me look it up, remember?”
Calliope refused to look away as Xander smiled into her eyes.
She grabbed her sister by the shoulders and pulled her between them. “You and I need to review the rules of private conversation, poppet.”
Stella grinned up at them.
“I’d be happy to drive you and Stella to see your mom. I haven’t been out to this part of California before. And I hadn’t planned on seeing much of it while I was here.”
“It’s a ninety-minute drive,” Calliope said. “And I’m not sure how long we’ll be staying—”
“Aren’t we supposed to accept offers of kindness?” Stella’s brows knitted together in confusion. “Otherwise we would be rude, wouldn’t we?”
“Yes, you would.” Xander nodded with exaggerated solemnity. “And it would be a mortal wound to my pride should you refuse.”
“Calliope!” Stella practically whined. “We can’t say no. Not if we’re going to see Mama before Christmas and we promised we’d bring her the presents we made. And we have Holly’s pie.”
Calliope sighed. As much as she didn’t look forward to spending an extended period of time locked in a car with Xander Costas, the idea of disappointing Stella—who had been working for weeks on the handmade-mosaic picture frame and clay-butterfly wind chimes for Emmaline—overrode her reservations. “Thank you, Xander. I—we—happily accept your offer to drive us to visit our mother.”
“Excellent.” Did he have to look so smug about her surrender? “Let me go back to the hotel and change and I’ll be here in about a half hour to pick you up.”
“We’ll meet you at the Flutterby.” Calliope wasn’t about to give in completely. “I have some treats for Lori and Willa for the holidays and now is as good a time as any to deliver.”
“Sounds like a plan. I’ll see you down there.” He chucked a finger under Stella’s chin and headed out of the gate, something akin to a hop in his step.
“I like Xander.” Stella reached up and grabbed hold of Calliope’s hands, which were still resting on her shoulders. “He doesn’t talk down to me because I’m a kid.”
“People don’t talk down to you because they know you’re special.” Calliope pressed her lips to the top of her sister’s head. “And because they probably know what I know. That you’re smarter than all of us put together.”
Stella rolled her eyes and let out an audible snort. “You have to say that because you love me.”
“I only speak the truth, poppet. Now let’s grab one of the wagons and empty out the car. But first go change your shoes for a pair suitable for walking, please.” She pushed Stella toward the house. “And bring me one of the last scones!”
* * *
FOR SOME REASON Xander expected a care facility to look like something out of a gothic novel. A massive three-story stone estate surrounded by lush gardens and walking paths, and patients being pushed about in antique wheelchairs by starched and pressed uniformed nurses. Why he seemed to be stuck in a 1940s film noir was beyond him, but as he pulled his rental car into a parking space in front of a rather innocuous-looking Tudor-style home decked out in holiday finery, he frowned.
“It doesn’t look like much, I know.” Calliope’s soft voice broke through his thoughts. “But it’s quiet and Mama’s their only patient.”
“Specialized care?”
“Mmm.”
Had he not been looking at her he would have missed the almost imperceptible flinch. He might not be as tuned in to people’s emotions as she was, but even he could see she was uncomfortable. No, make that uneasy.
“What, exactly—”
“Stella, let’s get Mama’s presents out of the trunk.” Calliope shook her head once even as she cast him an apologetic glance before she climbed out of the car.
“Do you keep everyone you know supplied with garden goodies?” He hefted one of the wooden crates filled with jars of honey, tomatoes and what looked like a scrumptious homemade strawberry jam.
“It’s our calling,” Stella told him before Calliope could. “And it’s part of Mama’s rent.”
“We do what we can to offset the cost of her care,” Calliope clarified. “I also tend to their gardens once a month and keep them well stocked in books.” She gestured to the trunk. “I haunt the antique store in town and accept used book donations at the farm. Hildy’s a bookworm.”
“They’re building a library inside for her collection.” Stella’s eyes went wide with wonder. “You know like in that movie where the beast gives the heroine his? It’s like that.”
“Not quite, but Hildy has her goals.” Calliope’s laugh sounded strained. “She’s partial to romance novels and fairy tales. There’s a lovely coffee place about a mile down the road. If you want to wait for us there, we won’t stay very long.”
“Trying to get rid of me?” Maybe he could tease her out of her unease.
“No, of course not. This just isn’t exactly the most relaxing of atmospheres. Things could get…difficult.”
It wasn’t embarrassment he saw on her pretty face, but trepidation. Was her mother terminal? Was it possible she was so ill she could expire at any moment?
“I thrive on difficult,” he said. “I’ll carry these inside for you.”
“Hi, Hildy!” Stella hugged her basket of presents for her mother against her chest and bounced over to where a middle-aged woman in cartoon character scrubs exited through the metal gate. “Sorry we’re late.”
“We were beginning to worry.” Hildy turned a kind smile on Calliope as she hugged an arm around Stella’s shoulders, her free hand locked around the handle of a large wooden wagon. The woman had a calming presence about her, like a Mrs. Claus who was only interested in giving people milk and cookies while listening patiently to their wish list. “You’ve brought a friend with you, I see.”
“Hildy Ranier, Xander Costas,” Calliope said, introducing them. “Xander was kind enough to drive us when my car refused to cooperate.”
“Been telling you to have that engine checked for months.” Hildy’s long brown ponytail whipped back and forth as she shook her head. “It’s lovely to meet you, Xander. Just load this on up and we’ll get everything inside. No need for you to break your back.”
“Appreciate it. Thanks.” Xander gently pushed Calliope aside and lowered the crate he carried into the wagon.
“How is she today?” Calliope hugged her arms around her chest in a way that made Xander want to pull her into his embrace.
Hildy gave Stella a quick squeeze. “Eddie and Joshua are in the kitchen if you want to go say hi, Stella. Maybe take them some of this jam?” She pulled one of the mason jars free of the container and handed it over.
Stella rolled her eyes. “She’s getting rid of me, so the adults can talk,” she told Xander in a tone so similar to Alethea’s that he nearly burst out laughing. “Fine, I’m going. Joshua was going to keep an eye out for that family of sparrows.”
Xander set the final box on the wagon and pried the handle free of Hildy’s grasp. “Please. Let me.” He clicked the car lock.
“How bad is it?” Calliope asked.
“It’s been a rough few days. I had Dr. Cavanaugh out here yesterday and she thinks Emmaline might need another medication adjustment. It’s nothing to worry about, really.” Hildy stepped back inside the front yard to hold the gate open for the two of them.
“Hildy.” Calliope caught Hildy’s arm before the caretaker could walk away. “You promised to always tell me the truth. If Mama’s getting too hard for you to manage—”
“Oh, no. No.” Hildy shook her head but even Xander, who hadn’t known her more than a few minutes, could tell she was lying. “Most of the time she’s a sweetheart, your mom. And it’s partly my fault. I forgot how much she dislikes carrots. Her dinner plate ended up smashed on the floor. Lesson learned.”
“I’ll pay for the broken dishes, of course.” Calliope put a hand on Hildy’s shoulder. “I am so sorry. Honestly, I can look for another—”
“We aren’t there yet.” Hildy squeezed her hand. “We agreed we’re in this together. And it’s been months since she’s had one of her spells. It could be months before she has another.”
Calliope didn’t look convinced.
“I noticed that garden shed as we pulled up. It looks a little worse for wear?” Xander moved in and placed a comforting hand on Calliope’s back. She tensed, as if uncertain how to accept the gesture, then seemed to sag back against him. He took that as a good sign.
“We’ve cordoned it off until we can get someone out to tear it down,” Hildy said. “Hopefully next week.”
“Let me take a look. That way Calliope won’t have to worry about me while she’s visiting with her mother.”
“Xander, really,” Calliope insisted. “You’ve done more than enough—”
“It’ll keep me out of trouble.” And he got the distinct impression Calliope was more worried about him being around her mother than she was letting on. “I’ll be over there.” He pointed to the other side of the house, along a narrow rock path strewn with lush greenery and shaded by overhanging trees.
“Ah, yes, okay.” Hildy looked as shell-shocked as Calliope. “Please, be careful. You should find some gloves—”
“Go on inside. I’ve got this.” He gave Calliope’s shoulder a quick squeeze before he turned the wagon over to her.
* * *
“WHERE DID YOU find him?” Hildy asked in a somewhat awed tone. “Because I’ll take half a dozen.”
“He came into town yesterday,” Calliope said as she followed Hildy into the house. And half a dozen? One Xander Costas was more than enough to handle. He was so take-charge, so helpful. And she, for some unknown reason, was incapable of fighting him on it. “He’s the architect the mayor hired to design the butterfly sanctuary I was telling you about. Are you sure everything is okay? If Mama’s becoming a problem for you all—”
“You need to stop worrying about this so much, Calliope.” She guided Calliope and the wagon to the front door. Together they hefted it over the threshold. “It comes with the territory. And there’s no point in blaming yourself. We’ve made some adjustments and I’ve brought in a night nurse to monitor her room when we’re sleeping. We’ll work it out.”
The knots that had been forming in Calliope’s stomach days before finally made sense. She should have realized something was off, but she’d been so distracted by Xander’s arrival and getting the market ready this morning, she’d pushed aside those warning bells. Warning bells she’d sworn never to ignore again.
A plate of food was one thing, but next time it could be worse. She’d never forgive herself if something happened to her friend or her friend’s family because of Emmaline, and Calliope’s inability to care for her.
Hildy pushed the wagon down the hallway into the kitchen. The breakfast nook, where Stella sat and chatted with Eddie, Hildy’s husband of twenty-seven years, and their son, Joshua, who had been diagnosed as severely autistic seventeen years ago, was well out of ear shot, allowing Calliope and Hildy to speak freely.
Calliope took a moment to enjoy the view of her sister, who always brought a smile to Joshua’s face. Stella, bless her, was as patient and calm as a summer breeze as she asked Joshua all about the birds in his journal.
“Should I be worried about Stella seeing Mama?” Calliope murmured.
“It’s hard to say.” Hildy seemed inordinately concerned with hoisting the boxes onto the center island. “But it might be best if I stay with you when you do. She’s been mumbling things about you, Calliope. I can’t understand most of it, but enough that you need to be careful around her.”
Calliope closed her eyes and let out a long, slow breath. “Okay.” Calliope prided herself on her strength and her ability to bend with the forces of life, but she’d never been able to quell the terror that accompanied the thought of Stella being alone with their mother. While Calliope could protect herself, Stella couldn’t. “Let Stella see her without me then. I don’t want Mama to connect the two of us.”
“A good idea, Calliope.” Hildy turned an understanding yet concerned face toward her. “If it’s too hard on you to visit…”
“It’s not too hard. I love Mama, she’s my responsibility.” This wasn’t the first time Hildy had made the suggestion. Nor would it be the last. And while she understood where her mother’s caretaker—and her friend—was coming from, walking away from her family, no matter the circumstances, simply wasn’t an option. “If it’s best she not see me, I understand. But I made her a promise I’d visit at least once a month. One day out of thirty doesn’t seem too much to ask.”
“As if you aren’t thinking about her and worrying the other twenty-nine days.”
A sad smile tugged at Calliope’s lips. “True. But knowing she’s in such good hands makes it easier. I also don’t want Stella to believe I’ve stopped caring. That I’ll give up when things get rough. Children learn by example and I aim to be a good one.”
“How could you be anything else. But you might consider giving yourself a break, maybe share that responsibility with someone.” Hildy rose up on her toes to look out in the backyard. “Say, a handsome architect?”
“I’ve read your résumé extensively, Hildy,” Calliope said. “Matchmaking is not part of your repertoire.”
Hildy shrugged. “Just saying. And it can’t hurt to look.”
“Can’t hurt who?” Eddie Ranier, a burly, dark-haired man with eyes as kind as his wife’s, slipped up behind Hildy and wrapped his arms around her. “You looking to see what else is out there?”
“I’d never find anyone better.” Hildy turned to kiss her husband’s cheek. “Although your friend does make a fine picture. I’ve got iced tea in the fridge, Calliope. Why don’t you take him out a glass while I take Stella up to visit your mom.”
“As saying no would be rude, yes, ma’am.” Calliope waved her away when Hildy headed for the refrigerator. “I know where everything is. Besides, I don’t want to take too long today. I’ve already imposed on Mr. Costas enough.”
“Mr. Costas.” Hildy actually cackled. “Did you hear that, Eddie? Mr. Costas. It’s like she’s living in a Jane Austen novel. Oh, how I would love to see you fall in love with a man like that, Calliope. Now that would do my heart a world-full of good.”
Maybe. But it would break Calliope’s.
She watched Hildy draw Stella gently away from Joshua and gather the gifts for Emmaline before they headed upstairs.
“It would do my heart some good as well, Calliope.” Eddie retrieved two glasses and set them on the counter as she set out the pitcher of tea. “Time for you to think about settling down, finding your own path.”
“I’m on my path,” Calliope said. “And as much as I appreciate the sentiment, it’s one I’m meant to walk alone.” Because to do otherwise would only bring her—and Stella—even more disappointment and pain.