A Down-Home Savannah Christmas

“Will you give me your architectural tour of Savannah?”

He blinked. Her request caught him off guard.

“Um... I don’t really have a tour, per se.”

“Maybe one evening we can walk around and you can point out some of your favorites.”

Normally, he would’ve made a joke about finder’s fees or something equally lame, but he didn’t want to spoil the moment.

“That sounds like a date.”

* * *

“It’s about time you made some time to see me.” Elle hugged her sister Kathryn and laughed to soften the reprimand so that Kate knew she was kidding—sort of.

“I got back into town last night,” Kate said, hitching her shoulder bag back into place. “I was on a weeklong cruise to the Bahamas. I got in late last night.”

“Well, that explains why you’re so tanned and why you haven’t been returning my calls,” Elle said as they walked through the lobby on their way to the kitchen. She waved at a couple who was spending their honeymoon at the Forsyth. They were dressed up and looked like they were heading out for a night out on the town.

“Right, I didn’t have cell service on the ship and I didn’t think you’d want me to call you at two o’clock this morning when I got home. You’ll have to catch me up on everything I missed while I was gone.”

“Oh my gosh. Where do I start?” Elle said as she made a mental list of everything—coming home because she lost her job. Daniel. Aidan’s accident. Daniel. Keeping Chloe. Daniel. Their mom and Gigi being at odds over the renovation and the new direction that Zelda wanted to take with the inn... Daniel.

From her shoulder bag, Kate pulled a bottle of red wine, a small bottle of rum, which she told Elle she’d brought back from the islands, some brandy, a carton of orange juice and several pieces of fruit. She lined them up on the table. “I thought I’d make some sangria for us to drink during this family meeting Mom and Gigi have called. Do you know where Gigi keeps the pitchers?”

“I’ll look for one,” Elle offered.

“Thanks, and if you’ll hand me that cutting board, I’ll get started cutting up the fruit so it can marinate in the brandy.”

As Elle pulled open the cupboard doors, she said, “Didn’t you use to date Aidan Quindlin?”

Kate snorted. “I don’t know if you’d call it dating.” She grimaced. “He had a crush on me in high school and asked me to the prom. It sort of ended badly and it was my fault. I’ll own that much. I should’ve never agreed to go to the dance with him. Why?”

“He had a bad motorcycle accident last week.”

“Oh, no. That’s terrible. But Aidan Quindlin rides a bike? He was always such a nerd.”

“Kate!” Elle said as she set a glass pitcher on the table. “That’s so mean. He got hurt pretty badly.”

Kate covered her mouth with her hand and looked truly contrite. “Oh, wow, I’m so sorry to hear that. Is he going to be okay?”

“He’s in a coma at Memorial University Hospital, but as of yesterday, his prognosis took a turn for the better. They think he’s going to be okay, eventually.”

“A coma?” Kate looked taken aback. “I’m glad he’s going to be okay. I think I’ll go see him tomorrow. When are visiting hours?”

Elle told her. Kate pursed her lips and squinted at her sister, knife poised midair. “How is it that you know so much about Aidan’s condition and visiting hours?”

Elle braced herself. “I was with his brother, Daniel, when he got the call about the accident.”

Kate set down the knife and held up both palms like a traffic cop commanding an intersection. “Whoa! Hold up there. Back up. What the hell were you doing with Daniel Quindlin?”

Elle’s stomach tightened, then flipped.

Here we go.

“Having lunch.” She said it as if she was discussing one of her high school girlfriends, not the guy whom both of her sisters hated on her behalf. Even though she was nervous to tell Kate about the unexpected turn of events, she was eager to talk about them and their new...friendship? She hesitated to call it a relationship because everything was so new, and had been driven by such volatile emotions, but it was definitely more than friendship. Friends did not kiss like that or have daydreams about doing so much more. She didn’t really know what to call it, what to call them. She wished she didn’t have to slap a label on them at this point. Because that was the fastest way to kill the passion.