“This is nice,” he murmured as she snuggled into his side, her eyes closed.
“It is,” she agreed. “It was another one of those perfect days, nothing at all like the day I’d been anticipating this morning. How about you?”
“Definitely not what I figured the day had in store,” he replied. “Luke’s been grumbling about getting all of the rescue squad’s paperwork up-to-date. There’s nothing I hate more than sitting at a computer filling in blanks.”
Abby stirred and studied his face. “Is Luke going to be furious that it didn’t get done?”
“Maybe.”
“And that doesn’t worry you?”
“I’m the one whose head will be on the chopping block if the reports aren’t ready for the budget hearings in January.”
Abby frowned. “Seth, why didn’t you say something? You don’t need to blow off work just because I could use your help.”
“Stop it. I’d rather spend the day with you anytime, and it’s not as if the meeting is tomorrow. I have weeks to pull these numbers together.” He held her gaze. “Given how I feel about irresponsibility, do you think I’d have put this off if the timing were critical?”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure,” he said. He waited until she’d settled her head back on his shoulder before asking, “Now maybe you can tell me why you suddenly went into party-planning mode?”
“I love the holidays,” she replied.
“And?”
“Does there have to be more to it than that?”
“There doesn’t have to be, but I think maybe there is.”
She was quiet for a long time, so long that he thought she might not answer.
When she finally spoke, her voice was low. “I used to love Christmas,” she said. “It was my favorite time of the year.”
“I think I got that when you went a little nuts picking out the trees,” he said. “Walker pretty much confirmed that your obsession with perfection goes way back. But why are you talking in the past tense?”
“Because for too many years the holidays started to feel like work. The restaurant was crazy with private parties. It was great for the bottom line, but I could barely catch my breath. And of course at the church there was something going on every minute. Marshall expected me to be there for every choir performance, for the Christmas pageant, and, of course, for every service. Then there was the Christmas bazaar and the annual party for the women’s guild. By January first I wanted to crawl into bed, pull up the covers and sleep for a month, but then the decorations had to come down at the restaurant and at the church. It was just too much.”
“So today was all about recapturing the way Christmas used to be,” he concluded. He allowed himself a smile, though he hoped she wouldn’t notice. “In that case, wouldn’t one tree have been enough?”
“Not when I intend to throw the most spectacular Christmas party I’ve been to in years, just for people I like.”
He finally got it. “Not for strangers. Not for your husband’s congregation. Not out of duty or obligation.”
“Exactly. This is going to be just for fun, a real celebration of the holiday spirit, the sort of party my parents used to throw for all their friends.”
“Have you picked a date?”
“I’m thinking about Saturday,” she said. “Or do you think that’s too little notice?”
“What I think is that it’s the same night as the holiday house tour,” he reminded her. “You know that’s Sandra’s moment of glory. Aren’t you supposed to be going to pay your respects?”
Abby groaned. “I’d forgotten.” Her expression brightened. “Okay, I’ll have my party the next Saturday.”
“The town tree-lighting ceremony,” he said. “And before you suggest the following week, that’s when the stores have their big Christmas open houses.”
She regarded him with frustration. “Suggestions, please.”
“Pick a Friday night or do a Sunday afternoon open house,” he suggested, then grinned. “Or resign yourself to having just one appreciative guest, me, for any night you choose. I’m pretty sure I can keep you entertained so you won’t even miss having no one else here.” He grinned at her. “I’ll bring presents.”
“An intriguing thought,” she agreed. “But I’m having a party with my friends. I like the idea of a Sunday open house. It’ll be less formal.” She grinned at him. “Do you think it would be tacky if I happened to leave the architectural drawings for Blue Heron Cove laying around in plain sight?”
“Not tacky, but maybe a little obvious.”
She nodded. “I can live with being obvious. I think I’ll invite everyone for next Sunday. And in a display of genuine holiday spirit, I might even include Sandra and her two pals on the council.”
“In that case, I’ll bring along a first-aid kit, just in case things get out of hand.”
“Not amusing,” she chided, then sighed. “But probably a very good idea.”
21
The Whittier family home was surrounded by lush landscaping, including flowering hibiscus and bougainvillea that draped over a low wall around the property, covering it with bright purple color. Elegant royal palms, outlined with hundreds of twinkling white lights, lined the driveway in a display more suited to a mansion in Palm Beach or Naples than the tiny island community, but it was beautiful just the same.
Abby glanced at Seth. “If this is any indication, Sandra has definitely gone all out.”
He smiled. “Wait till you go inside. I came last year with Luke and Hannah. I swear it looked to me as if she’d hired somebody from one of those fancy lifestyle magazines to decorate. I doubt a speck of dust would have had the nerve to try to sneak in.”
The house itself wasn’t all that impressive in terms of size, Abby decided after they parked along the edge of the driveway to walk the rest of the way. It had been built up off the ground with amazing forethought, given its age. Most early builders in the region hadn’t been as conscious of hurricanes
