Holiday Kisses

A dull thud echoed against the window. A familiar, heart-clenching thud. Alethea got to her feet and walked closer, faced Xander with the biggest grin he’d ever seen. “Do you see this?”

“Is that a...butterfly?” Dyna asked.

“Flutterby!” Iris dived close to the tree in her excitement.

“Sign already.” Antony poked his finger against the contract.

Xander nodded and scribbled his name, still partially transfixed by their unexpected and wayward visitor. “Okay, great. Now what?”

“Now you go pack.” Helen reached behind her and handed him an airline ticket.

“Mom?” He wasn’t sure he could process any more surprises. “It’s Christmas. I can’t—”

“It’s the perfect gift for everyone. You’ve lived enough for us, Xander. It’s time you started living for yourself.”

Images of Calliope and Stella exploded in his mind. The sadness and melancholy and anger that had come to Chicago with him evaporated.

“Go. Calli. Ope.” Cyril pushed himself forward in his chair and grabbed Xander’s hand. “Xander. Son. Go. Home.”

* * *

“BREATHE, ABBY. IN AND OUT. There you go.” Lori held a paper bag against the bride’s face and stroked her perfectly curled hair. “Everything is fine. Just relax.”

“But.” Wheeze. “The photographers.” Wheeze. “Are everywhere. I can’t do this. I can’t.” Wheeze. Wheeze. Whe-e-e-eeze.

“I can’t stop it.” Lori turned panicked eyes on Calliope. “What do we do?”

“Desperate times.” Calliope poured two fingers of Scotch and after waving aside Lori, Paige and Holly, dropped to her knees in front of Abby. “Abigail Manning, unless you want me to bring your grandmother in here to give you what for, you will drink this.” She pulled the bag away from Abby’s face, pushed her hands into her lace-covered lap and pressed the glass to her lips. “One sip. Come on.” She placed her free hand against Abby’s chest, and tried to pinpoint the panic.

“It’s like when I’m sick and I’m afraid I’m going to puke,” Stella announced as she huddled with Charlie on the loveseat by the beauty stations.

“Not helping,” Calliope said over her shoulder. “There.” She pushed a bit of energy forward but still couldn’t identify Abby’s issues. If anything, on the inside, the bride felt utterly and completely calm.

“She’s not pregnant, is she? Or is she?” Holly asked and sent Abby into another round of wheezing.

“No, she’s not pregnant.” Calliope really shouldn’t be laughing. “Abby, honey, you need to get this under control. We’re already a half hour behind schedule.”

“Is that all?” Abby gasped. Her alert eyes flickered over to Paige, who was peering out the door. “Seems like.” Wheeze. “It should.” Wheeze. “Be longer.” Wheeze. Wheeze.

“Long enough.” Paige waved her hand at them as if signaling something.

Abby deftly plucked the glass out of Calliope’s hand and rose to her feet, an elegant pixie perfectly ready for her fairy-tale beginning. “Thanks. Whew. I thought I’d never get my breathing under control again.” She inhaled deeply and released the long, loud breath as the women in the room flittered about and...were they giggling?

“What on earth is going on?” Calliope followed Abby across the room, watched as she checked in the full-length mirror one last time. The suite’s door opened slowly. She heard the music first, the lilting notes of Christmas melodies emanating from the seven-piece orchestra on the front porch of the inn. “Abby...”

Calliope lifted her gaze to the tuxedo-clad figure before her. Standing in the doorway. Watching her.

Her world went silent. Her vision exploded. Her body tingled as she turned, slowly, deliberately—she was terrified she was imagining things.

Terrified he wasn’t really here. “Xander.”

“Sorry I’m late.” He tugged on the button of his jacket. “Couldn’t find a parking place. Thank you for the assist, ladies.” He brushed a kiss over Paige’s cheek as he entered the room. “One major jerk reporting for happiness.”