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“Guess what?” Hannah asked excitedly. She went on without waiting for a response. “I met this girl at the store. Her name’s Jolie. Isn’t that a great name? And she’s my age. We’ll be in the same class at school. She says the teacher is really great. Her name’s Mrs. Peterson. She’s been here, like, forever, but everyone loves her because she’s so nice.”
“Really?” Savannah said, since Hannah didn’t seem to expect much of a response. She was already rushing on.
“And guess what else?” she said. “Jolie says there’s going to be caroling in town tonight and that everyone will be there, so we should come, too.” She regarded Savannah hopefully. “Can we, please?”
Savannah instinctively thought of how uncomfortable Trace had been when she’d asked him to sing carols at the house the night before. She glanced at him.
“I think it sounds like a wonderful idea,” he said with apparent sincerity.
Hannah grinned at him. “Jolie says they give out song sheets, so you’ll know all the words.”
“Then I definitely say we do it,” Trace said. “Savannah?”
Being out on a cold, snowy evening two days before Christmas singing carols with her daughter and Trace? Savannah couldn’t imagine anything more romantic. That probably meant she ought to say no, but of course she wouldn’t. Not if it meant disappointing Hannah.
Sure, as if that were the real reason, she mentally scolded herself. She was going to do it because there was no place on earth she’d rather be tonight.
“Yes,” she said, noting the smile that spread across Hannah’s face. It was almost as bright as the warmth stealing through her.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Savannah had the radio blasting as she got into a rhythm of applying paint to the walls of the first guest room. The beautiful deep shade of green brought the color of the evergreens in the surrounding forest inside. When the white trim was added, it would be reminiscent of the way the scenery looked right now with snow clinging to the trees’ branches. She envisioned a thick, warm comforter in shades of green and burgundy on the queen-size bed, with aromatic candles to match on the dresser.
Glancing out the window, she caught a glimpse of Hannah building her first snowman and chattering happily, no doubt to Trace, though Savannah couldn’t figure out exactly where he was. He’d been up to something, though for the life of her she couldn’t figure out what it was. The instant they’d arrived home after lunch, he’d disappeared into Mae’s den. She hadn’t seen him since.
Despite her declaration that she intended to handle the painting task on her own, a part of her had been counting on his defiance of that. She’d expected him to show up by now, if only to critique her work, maybe try to coax a laugh out of her in his ongoing attempt to win that bet with Hannah. Instead, much as her ex-husband would have done, Trace had retreated to whatever work he considered more important.
Oh, well, this was her job, not his, she thought with a sigh. And a man she barely knew was hardly in a position to disappoint her.
Besides, the painting was going very well, she decided, as she stood back and surveyed the room. There was an elegance and warmth to the result. Once the finishing touches were in place—probably after she could hit the January white sales at the Boston department stores—it would be perfect.
Satisfied, she snapped the lid back on the can of paint and prepared to move on to another room, the one she thought of as the blue room, though at the moment it had faded wallpaper that needed to be stripped. It was already late afternoon, so she probably wouldn’t get much of the stripping completed before they left for the caroling in town, but any progress on the messy task was better than none.
She was about to peel off her first chunk of paper when something that sounded a lot like a big-time power tool kicked on downstairs, followed by a muttered curse, then giggles and deep, booming laughter. Savannah went to the top of the stairs and looked down just in time to see Hannah and Trace cast a furtive look in her direction.
“Uh-oh, we’re busted,” Trace said.
“If she heard you cussing, she’ll probably send us to our rooms,” Hannah said, looking downcast.
Hands on hips, Savannah scowled at them. “What are you two doing?”
“Nothing bad, Mom. Honest.” Hannah’s expression was filled with sincerity.
“Trace?”
“She’s right. It’s just a little surprise,” he said.
Savannah remained skeptical. “, or a shock?”
Hannah giggled. “Mom’s not real good with surprises.”
“Maybe because I’ve had so many bad ones,” Savannah said. “By the way, I’m not hearing any reassuring explanations. Do I need to come down there?”
“No,” they both said at once.
The quick chorus only roused her suspicions further. She started down the steps, only to have Trace take the bottom steps two at a time and meet her when she was less than halfway down. Putting both hands on her shoulders, he gazed into her eyes.
“Do you trust me?” he asked.
