A Season of Miracles (15 page)

“Thanks,” she said. She had turned away from him. “I think he would have liked you, too.” She turned back to him, her eyes serious. “I don't care what that Madame Zena said to you, Robert. We're all a little eccentric, but I love my family.”

He decided not to tell her that it had been Douglas who first voiced fear regarding her safety. “It's just good to be near you—even if I am keeping my distance,” he said huskily.

“You're awfully good to be near, too,” she said, then cleared her throat. “Too good.” She laughed. “Well, I'm taking Jeeves Junior and heading on up. Early call tomorrow.”

She picked up the cat, which purred with pleasure.

I understand completely, fellow,
he thought.
Wish I were you.

Jillian started out, and he followed her. They walked up the stairs together.

“You're comfortable?” she asked him.

“Great room. I'm right next to you.”

She looked at him strangely.

“Do you mind?”

“No, I, uh…well, it was Milo's room.”

“Milo's room?”

“When we came here…he was very sick, you know. He—he died here. There's actually a connecting door between the rooms, but I think there's a wardrobe blocking it now.”

“Ah.”

They reached the landing.

“Well, good night,” she told him.

He thought there might be regret in her words. He hoped so.

“Good night,” he said. He turned away quickly, walked into his room and closed the door. The light from the bathroom still burned. He left it on, closing the door so the room wasn't pitch dark.

He crawled into the bed. The water had helped. His head wasn't spinning quite so badly. He hoped to hell he wasn't going to have a major headache come morning.

With the spinning stopped, the wine quickly went to work to make him doze off. But just when he had fallen asleep, he suddenly tensed, waking himself.

He was certain he had heard something.

He opened his eyes.

There was someone in the wing chair by the bed. He froze, blinking.

Yes, there was someone there. A man, just sitting, stroking a cat.

His surprise was so great that he let out a gasp.

At the sound, the man in the chair gasped back. “Damn!” his visitor exclaimed.

Robert blinked again, his eyesight improving in the murky light.

“You scared me to death,” the man continued.

“
I
scared
you?
Who the hell are you, and what are you doing in my room?”

“Oh, I think you know who I am. And actually, you're the one in my room, you know.”

He was dreaming. It was the wine. Definitely that damn mulled wine. Because the man seated in the chair facing him looked like none other than the deceased Milo Anderson.

Robert rubbed a hand over his face, groaning. “That stuff is wicked,” he muttered.

“Yes, it is. But you should follow me. To the library. That's where you'll find what you need to know.”

Robert looked into the darkness again.

The chair was empty.

He jumped up and turned on the light. There was no one in the room. He felt like an idiot. A cold idiot. The temperature in the room had dropped ten degrees at least, he was certain.

He looked at the bedside clock and groaned. Almost three a.m. He needed some sleep. Badly.

He crawled back into bed. Milo had appeared because they'd been talking about the man after imbibing killer wine. His dream apparition had told him to go to the library because Douglas had been suggesting he make sure to browse the library while they were there.

He punched his pillow, closed his eyes.

In a short while, he fell asleep again.

His imagined nocturnal visitor did not return.

At seven a.m., his alarm clock blared. Morning had come.

T
he old house was crawling with people.

Douglas had always loved to entertain, so through the years the house had often been full. But never as it was today. Brad was there, of course. And there were still photographers, videographers, lighting men, a director, a woman who was responsible for continuity, wardrobe and makeup people, and a set designer. Jillian had been to ad shoots before, but she'd never seen anything this complicated. Nor had she been the object of such attention before.

The gown for the first shoot was beautiful. A deep dark crimson with a brocade bodice, flowing sleeves and a silk skirt. She was posed on one of the old carved wood entry benches that might have come from any century, from medieval times to the present. She posed once with her hair done in braids, then free, with stockings and shoes, without shoes, even barefoot. They shot stills first, with just her. A young man continually dabbed powder on her nose and cheeks. Snow lay deeply on the ground outside, but beneath the lights, it was hot.

Brad, Daniel, Theo, Griff and Eileen stood in a little huddle, with Eileen directing the photographers, Brad directing her, and the group of them discussing every little movement. Douglas was there, the faithful Amelia by his side, but he kept his distance, letting the others take the bit for this campaign and run with it.

Robert wasn't there—not until he appeared in black, form-hugging leather pants and a puffed sleeve, V-necked shirt. He, like the carved wooden bench—and herself, she imagined—were suggestive of the magic of a distant past. He smiled at her awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable with his role but game to try it. She smiled, seeing him arrive.

Brad directed Robert into a position on his knees in front of Jillian. The photographer moved him. Eileen moved him. The photographer moved him again. Shots were taken, he was adjusted, she was adjusted. More powder was puffed on their faces, they were moved yet again, Jillian's hair was smoothed; the makeup woman fussed over Robert.

They took a break while the video cameras were set up. They were both given a line, the same line, since it had been decided that the commercials, each thirty seconds, would be a bit different, but all with the same look, the same feel. The line was “Llewellyn jewels, as timeless as love itself.”

The first commercial had Robert walking into the room with a locket, saying the line as he approached Jillian, and slipped the locket around her neck. For the second spot, he set the locket around her neck, and she looked into the camera and said the line.

Simple.

It took most of the afternoon. First Robert gave a perfect reading, but something was wrong with the placement of a light and their faces wound up in shadow. The second take, he tripped over a wire as he entered. The next time, Jillian found herself blowing it, nearly sliding off the sofa as she leaned forward to receive the locket. She nearly landed on top of him. They looked at one another and laughed; Eileen sighed with impatience.

They started again.

Jillian didn't mind. It was tedious. Hot. Difficult to hold certain positions. But it was fun, as well. Fun to work with Robert. To see the light in his eyes as they patiently waited, while Griff and Eileen argued a point. Each time he fitted the locket around her neck, she felt the brush of his fingers, the warmth of being near him. At times the room seemed to fade away. She forgot what they were doing. It seemed to be something that had really happened, his eyes on hers, that touch around her neck. The sensation when he touched her….

Deeper than time.

“As timeless as love itself.”

It had been his turn. She frowned, certain he had said something else.

I will always be there for you.

“That's not it—” she began.

“Cut! Jillian,” Eileen said, aggravated, “he was perfect.”

“What?”

“He was perfect.”

He was looking at her, puzzled, as well, deep blue eyes studying her. So close. Apparently he hadn't said anything wrong, after all.

Suddenly she felt like drawing in. Getting away from him.

He had lied to her, made promises, failed her….

“Can we please start over?” Daniel called.

“What's wrong?” Robert asked her softly, while the makeup people performed yet another touch-up.

She shook her head. “Nothing. Sorry. Really.”

She felt again the deep tremor of his voice against her senses, the touch of his fingers on her flesh, and it was disturbing. She felt the fierce desire to be with him, that it was right to be with him, while also feeling that she should run. Far and fast.

The day wore on. She didn't imagine the wrong words coming from his lips. Once again she fell into the mood of the work, and her every movement with Robert seemed nearly perfect, as they willingly tried everything the director suggested.

At last they broke. A round of applause went around the room, started by Douglas himself.

“We're done?” Jillian enquired.

“For now,” Daniel said. “We've got some recording to do. And I'll need to take a look at the stills and see the film when it's been edited to make some final choices—but you're done.”

“Great,” Jillian murmured.

“Eileen, Griff, you're up now.”

There were to be two voiceovers, Jillian discovered. She watched as the sound men went to work. Eileen did the first. “This Christmas, make it a gift that lasts forever.” Griff did the second, so they could mix the male and female voices.

Jillian watched for a while, then murmured that she was going up to take a shower.

She ran the water very hot and scrubbed studiously. She had never felt her face more packed with makeup. The shower pulsed down on her deliciously, and she stood beneath the spray, wondering why she was trying to find something wrong when it felt as if everything should be so right.

“I need a psychologist,” she murmured. “Or a psychiatrist. I can just lie on a couch and say, ‘I've met the most perfect man, and it's the most wonderful, complete feeling in the world to be with him. He's the greatest Christmas gift ever, and still…he makes me feel as if I should run. Guilt feelings, you say? Because my husband has been dead only a year? No, I don't think so, you see, because he was my best friend and a truly generous person, and I know he would want me to be happy. No, that's not just something I'm saying to convince myself. But I do think I'm a bit crazy, totally losing my mind.'”

She turned off the water, really worried for a moment.
She could have sworn he'd said words he didn't say. A roomful of people had heard the line correctly, and she had heard something else entirely.

She dressed in comfortable jeans and a sweater, and headed downstairs. To her amazement, the parlor where they had been working was almost empty, except for Henry and piles of boxes. He was opening them, the look on his old face pleased and peaceful.

“Ah, there you are, Jillian. It's a good thing the water heaters here can supply an army.”

“Where is everyone? Was I that long?”

“You were. And, let's see…Agatha is seeing to the roast, your grandfather is resting, the camera crews have gone home, and the young folks, most of them, I believe, are out sledding.”

“Down Dead Horse Hill?” she asked. The hill behind the house was so named, they all assumed, because the climb was steep and might just kill horses trying to reach the top with a heavy load. Not that horses had been used to climb the hill in many years, although a few cars had been known to slide back down it when reckless drivers ventured out too quickly after an ice storm. It was a wonderful place for sledding; they had all gone there ever since they were little kids. Growing up hadn't changed the pleasure of sliding over the snow with the wind in their faces, freezing their noses.

“Dead Horse Hill,” he agreed. “Ah, here's the box with the singing ducks.”

She gave a little cry of delight, diving in to help Henry. They carefully took out the ducks. Carved of wood and dressed in Dickens fashion, they had songbooks held in their little duck hands. There were ten ducks, and they stretched across the mantel. When wound, they played ten different Christmas carols, with a different duck taking the solo each time. It was one of her favorite pieces.

“Let's set these guys up first,” she said.

“You should join the others and do some sledding before dinner,” Henry advised. “Have some fun.”

“I love to decorate for Christmas with you, Henry. You know that.”

“You'd have more fun with people your own age,” he told her gravely.

She smiled. “We'll do the ducks, then I'll head on out.”

Henry helped her, and they arranged the duck band on the mantel. They looked lonely, so she took a few minutes to put one of the beautifully crafted silver wreaths above them on the mirror.

“It's beginning to look like Christmas,” she said, pleased. She loved Christmas. She had loved it all her life. As it came closer each year, she felt anxious. Especially when she was a child, she'd been afraid that Christmas would come but she wouldn't…make it.

Last year Milo had been the one who hadn't made it, she thought. She bit her lower lip. They'd been here last year at this time. First, just her and Milo, Agatha and Jimmy, the groundskeeper and all-around manager of the house and the stables they kept for Tangerine, Blossom, Cream, Igloo and Crystal. Douglas had purchased the horses years ago when he had determined that his young progeny should all learn to ride.

Then her grandfather had joined them.

Milo had loved the horses. The weather hadn't been so bad last year; in fact, November had been mild. He had watched the horses from his window when he became too ill to leave his bed. “Strange, isn't it?” he asked her once. “I never rode, but I feel that I know how, that I could leap on old Blossom and ride off into the sunset.”

“You wouldn't run very fast,” she had tried to joke. “Blossom is pretty old now. And very slow.”

He'd curled his fingers around hers. And she had known that he was smiling.

And then…

It hadn't been that much longer, and he had died.

They had all come then. Her family. And Connie and Joe. Even Amelia and Gracie Janner.

“It's nearly dark,” Henry warned. “We can do more Christmas tonight. Agatha can make hot chocolate, we'll make popcorn, play Christmas carols…you go on out now. Play. Be young.”

“Henry, you're not so old.”

“I'm young at heart, like Douglas, but my old bones are beginning to creak, and that's a fact. Go on now.”

She kissed him on the cheek and went into the large hall closet for a good snow jacket and pair of boots. Gloved, booted and decked out for the cold, she left the house.

 

For half an hour Robert had gone sledding with the others. It had been fun. The snow was perfect, fresh and clean. Here, far from the city, it didn't turn to slush so fast. There were plenty of sleds, small and large, but the Llewellyns tended to like to take individual runs. Even Eileen was shrieking like a kid, going for a running start and taking the hill at top speed.

She loved to try to beat Gary, but her fiancé seemed to take it in stride and hold his own.

At the foot of the hill was a small white wooden fence. Daniel mentioned that Douglas had had the fence constructed when he heard of an accident on a similar hill in which sleds had shot out into the road and people had been killed. “This way, if we get too rambunctious, we only break a few bones,” Daniel said with a grin.

Both Connie and Gracie Janner seemed more hesitant than the others. Naturally. They hadn't grown up here and didn't know the hill so well. Not like the Llewellyns, who competed avidly with one another.

Gracie rode with Daniel the first time, and Robert wondered idly if Daniel was aware of the terrible crush his secretary had on him. None of his business. Joe had disappeared, so Daniel offered to take Connie down until she got used to the feel of the hill. Gracie watched like a first-grader sent to the corner on a time-out, but Connie was oblivious, shrieking with delight all the way down.

After a few runs, Robert asked about the stables. Daniel told him that there were plenty of horses, all good riding except for Blossom, who was in retirement.

“If you feel like taking a ride, I'd go for Crystal. He's well mannered, an Arab-quarter-horse mix, with beautiful gaits and sure feet in the snow. If you need help with anything, Jimmy handles the horses and the grounds. His apartment is at the far end of the stables. He'll be watching his soaps—he tapes the shows during the week and watches them all on Saturdays. He'll be happy to give you a hand, though.”

“I'll try not to bother Jimmy,” Robert told him. “But I may just go for a ride.”

“Head across from the house. There are miles of hills and fields, and nothing to worry about under the snow.”

“Thanks.”

Jillian still hadn't come out. He thought about going back to the house to see if she wanted to join him, but he had still more or less promised to keep a distance, so it might be better if he just went out alone.