A Down-Home Savannah Christmas

She nodded. “Curiously enough, it’s the job I’ve always wanted, but not the job I thought I’d get.”

“Did the county figure out how to fund your job teaching art?”

“Oh, no, see, that’s the thing. They didn’t. So, I am going to be teaching art. Right here. At the Forsyth Galloway Inn.”

He frowned. “I’m not sure I am following you.” He was afraid to read too much into what she said. Afraid that his wishful thinking was clouding his logic. Afraid he was jumping the gun again, like he did when he proposed.

“Are you saying you heard from the county and they didn’t have a position for you?”

“No, I still haven’t heard from them. And it’s given me a chance to do a lot of thinking. A very smart man once said, ‘Life doesn’t give you many second chances. When it does, you better take it.’ Daniel, I’m staying right here in Savannah.”

His heart squeezed and then turned over in his chest. “I’d say that calls for a toast.” He held up his cup and she touched hers to his.

“Does that mean that we can start over and take things slowly?” he asked.

She frowned.

He continued, “I think I was so worried that our time was limited and I thought that putting everything on the fast track would somehow make you want to stay—”

“Daniel, do you love me?”

“I do. I always have and I always will.”

She leaned in and kissed him, slow and sweet.

“You don’t know how happy that makes me, because I love you, too. And I’m going to go way out on a limb now. I painted this for you.”

He raised a brow. “Thank you. I’m honored.”

“I hope you will be. Because I don’t want to take things slowly. I want to keep them on the same trajectory that they were on before I got scared and almost ruined everything. Or at least I hope I didn’t ruin everything. Well, here—”

She turned the canvas around. It was a painting of the Forsyth Galloway Inn. When he looked closer, he saw that she had painted a woman standing on the balcony—the balcony she’d been standing on that first day...the one that Wiladean had him staring at when she’d asked him to come outside.

In the painting, the woman on the balcony was holding a sign that said in the finest calligraphy, Daniel Quindlin, will you marry me?

His mouth fell open and it took a moment before he could ask, “Are you proposing to me?”

She squeezed her eyes closed and held her breath, as if bracing herself, and then nodded.

“Of course, I will. Marrying you would make me the happiest man in the world.”

A squeal escaped her throat as she got to her knees and threw her arms around him, the sheer force of her joy knocking him backward onto the blanket. They kissed for the longest time.

When they came up for air, she said, “Maybe fate was a better friend than we realized, because she’s finally brought us together.” Then she laughed and waved her hand as if clearing the air. “Naaah, on second thought, Gigi worked harder at bringing us together than fate did. If anyone besides us gets credit, she does. Oh! Which reminds me—”

Elle reached down beside the blanket and picked up another canvas. She held it up over her head.

It said, HE SAID YES!

A rousing cheer went up from the balcony where it all started.

Epilogue

On Christmas Day, Daniel and Chloe joined the Boudreau-Clark family at the Forsyth Galloway Inn for a lavish Christmas dinner.

The night before, Daniel and Elle had played Santa for Chloe, showering her with dolls and games and puzzles, among other things. They went all out to give the little girl the best Christmas possible. She was sweet and appreciative, but she couldn’t hide her disappointment when she didn’t get the one thing she most wanted for Christmas: her father to come home from the hospital.

She held it together pretty well for a five-year-old. Daniel had to admit, better than he might have at that age.

As they were getting ready to sit down to the delicious dinner supplied by Charles Weathersby, family friend and owner of the restaurant, Wila, in downtown Savannah, Daniel got a call on his cell phone.

He nodded to Gigi and then whispered to Elle, “It’s time.”