A Season of Miracles (2 page)

Present day Manhattan

I
t all started with the tarot cards.

And then the dreams of burning.

And of course the cat.

But at two o'clock on that Halloween afternoon, those things were still in the future.

Jillian sat at her desk at Llewellyn Enterprises, tapping a pencil on the wood as she stared at her new design. She'd set out to create a contemporary cross, with clean, sleek lines, to be available in yellow and white gold, and platinum. Every year since she'd finished college and joined the company full-time, she'd done a special Christmas design, available in a very limited quantity. By tradition, the invitation to purchase went out November fifth, all orders had to be received by the twentieth, and the pieces were delivered by special courier one month later. She loved designing jewelry. There was something so permanent about it. Pieces could be handed down through generations. A beautiful piece could be timeless—or speak volumes about the decade of its creation.

This piece, however, wasn't saying what she had intended at all. It wasn't that she disliked the design—on the contrary, it was coming along beautifully. She simply hadn't envisioned it quite this way.

“Wow, that
is
pretty. I guess you're worth your paycheck.” The voice, masculine and amused and coming from over her shoulder, was so startling that she nearly bolted out of her chair. The speaker was her cousin, Griff, handsome and too charming at thirty. Tall and well built, with sandy hair and hazel eyes, he wore Armani with runway perfection.

She hadn't seen him enter her office. She had been so intent on the drawing that she'd been oblivious to everything else.

“Thanks.”

Griff stretched out playfully on her teak desk—à la 1930s Hollywood movie. “Excellent, sweetie. Excellent. It speaks ‘new millennium' loudly. Unfortunately, it appears that the new millennium you're planning on promoting is man's movement into the 1000s—Celtic-looking thing, isn't it?”

“Hmm,” she murmured.

He traced the pattern she had drawn, grinning away. “Oooh, the old boy is going to go ballistic over this one,” he said flippantly, referring to Douglas Alexander Llewellyn, her grandfather, his great-uncle, and CEO of Llewellyn Enterprises. “Could his angel have failed this time? He does think you're an angel, you know. He's unaware that you're half angel, half fire-breathing dragon.”

“He realizes it completely. He's just very fond of dragons. And, Griff, get your body off my desk. I have work to do, and I don't need your scrawny self getting in my way.”

“How dare you?” he asked, in a tone of genuine indignation. “My body isn't scrawny. It's practically perfect—in every way. In fact, it's too bad we're cousins and that we'd have horrible, two-headed-monster offspring, or I'd let you see just how perfect.”

Jillian wrinkled her nose and sat back, looking at him. “Thank God that the possibility of two-headed children is going to spare me. I shudder to think of it. You're just going to have to share all that perfection with someone else.”

“Actually, we're only second cousins. Maybe the kids would only be pathetically cross-eyed. Come to think of it…” he mused, “did you know that William of Orange married his first cousin, Mary Stuart, and they ruled together as William and Mary?”

“And they left no heirs,” she reminded him pleasantly.

“Half the royalty of Europe was closely related. Everyone out there was a descendant of Queen Victoria.”

“And half the royalty of Europe was—and is—very strange,” she said. “Griff—”

“C'mon, the old boy is kind of like a king, and he'd be so happy to think he was leaving his little kingdom to those of his own blood, don't you think?”

“No, I don't think, and I'm thanking God at this moment that surely you're not serious,” she said, shaking her head.

“You're just refusing to see the possibilities.”

“Griff, was there a point to this visit?” she asked pointedly, glancing at her watch. Griff liked to torture her—good-naturedly, of course, or so he claimed, as did the rest of her family members who were part of Llewellyn Enterprises—Daniel, Theo and Eileen. Jillian knew that she tended to be her grandfather's fair-haired child, despite the fact that she hadn't risen to the head of the family class on purpose, nor was she calling the shots at the company now. But she had grown up with her grandfather, she knew him best—and loved him best. Jewelry design was her favorite part of the work, while Theo was a crack marketer, and Eileen's expertise was public relations.

Daniel was the one with his hands on the reins, though—right behind her grandfather's. He knew the business, every aspect of it, and with the scope of their various concerns, she was glad. Perhaps her grandfather could control everything, but he was the only man who could. People tended to think of the company as one giant prize. It wasn't. It was a giant jumble of various enterprises, and it took a variety of talents to keep it in its current excellent shape.

Griff always told her that his expertise was looking good and pretending to be busy, whether he was or wasn't. And, of course, being charming. He had a point. She couldn't help but like Griff herself.

Eileen was her first cousin, an only child like herself. The boys were the grandsons of her grandfather's brother, who had perished in the ever precious “Old Country.” Douglas had outlived not only his brother, but also his two sons and his nephew, the boys' father, Steven. Jillian often thought of how it must have pained him to lose so many people he had loved so much. But he never faltered; he went on, giving his devotion to the remaining Llewellyns. No one had been forced into the business; they had come because of the same fierce sense of family pride and loyalty.

“You know,” Griff said, wagging a finger at her, “you could do a lot worse. I am handsome, witty, urbane and charming.”

“Of course I could do worse. But you're my cousin. So, Griff—”

“Don't you remember playing naked together on those fur rugs when we were babies?”

“Griff, we never played naked together on any fur rugs.”

“I guess not. If we had, you would have remembered.”

She groaned and laid her head on the desk. “Griff, what's your problem? You're cute, you're—”

“Cute? I want to be sexy and devastating.”

“Okay, you're sexy and devastating.”

“That's better.”

“And I'm really trying to finish up and get out of here today.”

“I'm really here on an errand of mercy.”

“Oh?” she queried carefully.

“It's Halloween. I didn't want you going home alone. You know, poor little rich girl, all alone in the family mansion. That big old place where none of the rest of us are invited to live.”

She leaned back, grinning. “You are such a pathetic liar.”

“Well, in a way, but not really. I don't want to live in the family mansion. I like my privacy. And believe it or not, the family fortune isn't my bag, though I do like to live with a certain style.”

“Griff, I have no fear of you ever changing.”

He grinned. “I'm worthless, totally. And happy. And smart enough to be grateful.”

“You pretend to be worthless, but you know you're not. Anyway, I need to get out of here.”

“So you can sit by the fire like a little old lady and hand out candy to the kiddies? No. Ever since Milo died, you don't do anything or go anywhere. It's time for you to start doing things again. You're not a mole. Not to mention, you're far too young and…yes, good-looking. Why, Jillian, some people might even call you beautiful. Thanks to good family genes, of course. And right now all that beauty is just being wasted. You need to get out again.”

She felt a rush of air escape her. It was odd how life went on, but that, at strange moments, grief would come sailing back and, like a blanket, wrap itself around her. She had known what she was doing when she got married. She had always known she would lose Milo.

And she knew that Griff really was here to help her.

So she smiled. “For your information, I
am
going out.”

“A date?” he queried.

“Maybe.”

“With Robert Marston?” he asked carefully.

“Robert Marston?” she repeated impatiently.

Robert Marston had just started working for the company. He wore Armani just as well as Griff did, but he came with sharp, very dark eyes and, in Jillian's opinion, a sharper—possibly darker—mind. He was handsome, intelligent, deep-voiced and very articulate. He had gone to school with Theo, and spent the past five years with one of the fastest-growing computer companies in the world. He was the type of man who walked into a room and drew attention. By his physical nature he seemed to exude authority.

She had felt wary of him from the moment she had first seen him—and that had actually been from quite a distance. She didn't even know the color of those dark eyes of his. There had been far too many rumors flying about for her to willingly meet the man her grandfather had brought into the business.

Was he stepping on her cousins' toes? Or were her cousins in agreement with the situation, content for Marston to be the one with the power? Somehow, she doubted it.

“Why on earth would you assume I'm going out with
him?
” she asked too sharply. She had wanted to convey courteous impatience. She was afraid that her tone had given away concern.

His grin told her that he had, indeed, heard far more than impatience in her voice. “Well, are you going out with him?”

“No, I haven't even met him yet. I saw him across a room. And I don't believe in going out with business associates.”

“So?”

“I'm going out with Connie.”

“With Connie?” he repeated. Was that relief she heard in his voice? Connie had been one of her best friends forever, way back to grade school. Connie was also her administrative assistant. And since it was such a family enterprise, Connie's husband, Joe, also worked for the company. He was on Daniel's staff.

“Yes, Connie and I are going out. As we do every Halloween,” she reminded him.

He dropped his teasing manner for a moment and looked at her seriously. “You're really going to go—”

“Christmas shopping, yes.”

“As everyone does on Halloween,” he responded with a fine line of sarcasm.

“It's a personal tradition,” she said with feigned indignation. It was a strange tradition, she knew, and it had started when they were little kids who went trick-or-treating together. Now Connie had two daughters, a dog, a cat, a bird and in-laws coming out the kazoo, so she traditionally started her Christmas shopping on October thirty-first, convinced that the best Christmas sales came on Halloween, when everyone was doing last-minute scrambling for a costume. They had a great time shopping, then going trick-or-treating with the girls, and then, usually, just spending the evening together checking out the acquired candy.

“All right,” Griff said. “Just so long as you're really going out.”

“I really am.”

“Not to baby-sit or hand out candy.”

“No.” Her voice was steady. She wasn't baby-sitting, and she wasn't handing out candy.

“And you're really going to have a good time.”

“Really.”

“Because if you came with me, I'd show you a good time, you know.”

“I'm sure you would.”

He slid off her desk at last, brushing her cheek with his fingertips. “I'd show you off to all my friends. You are gorgeous, you know.”

She caught his hand and squeezed it. “Thanks, Griff.”

“Oh, by the way, Daniel asked to see you. His office.”

“When?”

Griff looked at his watch. “Hmm…a while ago, I guess.”

“Griff, why didn't you tell me?”

“I'm sure it's nothing.” He placed his hands on her desk and leaned toward her again. “Why don't you defy him? Just go home!”

“Because it might be important,” she said impatiently. She stood and walked past him.

“Hey, Jillian?”

She turned back.

“Happy Halloween. And merry Christmas shopping.”

 

Eileen Llewellyn paced in front of the storyboards set up in her office, looking at the newest sketches for the catalog campaign. Of medium height, with coal-dark hair that was expertly styled to flatter her heart-shaped face, she was elegant, efficient and a picture of total sophistication. She liked business suits with tailored jackets, short skirts and high heels. She walked with an aura of confidence and authority. One look from her cool blue eyes could silence a room. She had been born to soar in the business world.