A Savannah Christmas Wish. Nan Dixon

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       CHAPTER ONE

      I do not understand how anyone can live without one small place of enchantment to turn to.

      Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings

      “WAIT!” DANIEL RUSHED through the carriage house, his work boots thumping on the wood floor.

      Quint climbed out of the trench. “What?”

      Pointing at the two-by-fours in the channel, Daniel asked, “Who set the forms?”

      “Me.” Quint pushed back his cap. “Why?”

      “The footings should be on the opposite side.” Daniel unrolled the blueprints and anchored them with chunks of wood. He hated screwing up.

      Taking a slug of water, Quint cursed. He joined Daniel at the makeshift table. “Sorry.”

      “Let’s get this corrected.”

      He worked side by side with Quint and another crew member, trenching out the correct footings to support the carriage house’s new second floor.

      Pop would insist the crew fix their own mistakes, but to get the job done, Daniel preferred staying in control.

      He would finish the carriage-house project ahead of schedule, because it was foreplay compared to Forester Construction’s bid on the main house. Restoring Carleton House would be the biggest and sweetest project Pop had ever tackled.

      Daniel swiped at the sweat trickling into his eyes and stripped off his T-shirt. It was a typical Savannah August morning. A sauna might be cooler. Even with the carriage doors open, no breeze stirred.

      While the crew compacted the dirt and laid rebar, he grabbed his own water jug. Opening his phone, Daniel checked today’s task list. He needed to order the lumber for this renovation, and help Pop and Mom finalize the Carleton House bid.

      Coppery fire flashed in the sunlight right outside the doors. In walked Bess Fitzgerald.

      He tensed, rubbing his nose. Bess was the one person who ten years ago had taken a hammer to his self-control and destroyed it.

      “Look at this.” Bess’s golden-red hair lit up the already sunny carriage house. “Taking out the hayloft opened up the space.”

      “I think you should live here, too,” said Bess’s sister Abby. “There’s plenty of room.”

      “I love my apartment.” Bess grinned. “Hey, Quint.”

      “How’s it going?” Quint called out.

      “I’m staying busy.” Bess’s laugh was sweet and high. “That’s always good.”

      Bess ignored Daniel. Nothing new there. Bending, she snapped open a folding table.

      Daniel tried not to, but his gaze darted to her gaping tank top. The shadow between her breasts called to him like the satin finish on a freshly varnished floor.

      “Daniel, when can I work on the gardens?” Bess still didn’t look him in the eye.

      When would he and Bess get over this—stiffness? After ten years they should have forgotten what had happened. One night among thousands. Why couldn’t Bess forgive or at least forget?

      “Give me a couple of weeks,” Daniel said.

      Abby set a tray of sandwiches and bars on the table. “I brought food.”

      Bess hefted a large thermos. The table rattled as she set it down. “And lemonade.”

      When Forester Construction crews worked for the Fitzgeralds, there were delicious fringe benefits.

      The crew headed to the table, but Daniel shook his head. “It’s not even ten thirty.” To the Fitzgeralds, he said, “Thanks.”

      Bess СКАЧАТЬ