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.