She grabbed her sister by the shoulders and pulled her between them. “You and I need to review the rules of private conversation, poppet.”
Stella grinned up at them.
“I’d be happy to drive you and Stella to see your mom. I haven’t been out to this part of California before. And I hadn’t planned on seeing much of it while I was here.”
“It’s a ninety-minute drive,” Calliope said. “And I’m not sure how long we’ll be staying—”
“Aren’t we supposed to accept offers of kindness?” Stella’s brows knitted together in confusion. “Otherwise we would be rude, wouldn’t we?”
“Yes, you would.” Xander nodded with exaggerated solemnity. “And it would be a mortal wound to my pride should you refuse.”
“Calliope!” Stella practically whined. “We can’t say no. Not if we’re going to see Mama before Christmas and we promised we’d bring her the presents we made. And we have Holly’s pie.”
Calliope sighed. As much as she didn’t look forward to spending an extended period of time locked in a car with Xander Costas, the idea of disappointing Stella—who had been working for weeks on the handmade-mosaic picture frame and clay-butterfly wind chimes for Emmaline—overrode her reservations. “Thank you, Xander. I—we—happily accept your offer to drive us to visit our mother.”
“Excellent.” Did he have to look so smug about her surrender? “Let me go back to the hotel and change and I’ll be here in about a half hour to pick you up.”
“We’ll meet you at the Flutterby.” Calliope wasn’t about to give in completely. “I have some treats for Lori and Willa for the holidays and now is as good a time as any to deliver.”
“Sounds like a plan. I’ll see you down there.” He chucked a finger under Stella’s chin and headed out of the gate, something akin to a hop in his step.
“I like Xander.” Stella reached up and grabbed hold of Calliope’s hands, which were still resting on her shoulders. “He doesn’t talk down to me because I’m a kid.”
“People don’t talk down to you because they know you’re special.” Calliope pressed her lips to the top of her sister’s head. “And because they probably know what I know. That you’re smarter than all of us put together.”
Stella rolled her eyes and let out an audible snort. “You have to say that because you love me.”
“I only speak the truth, poppet. Now let’s grab one of the wagons and empty out the car. But first go change your shoes for a pair suitable for walking, please.” She pushed Stella toward the house. “And bring me one of the last scones!”
* * *
FOR SOME REASON Xander expected a care facility to look like something out of a gothic novel. A massive three-story stone estate surrounded by lush gardens and walking paths, and patients being pushed about in antique wheelchairs by starched and pressed uniformed nurses. Why he seemed to be stuck in a 1940s film noir was beyond him, but as he pulled his rental car into a parking space in front of a rather innocuous-looking Tudor-style home decked out in holiday finery, he frowned.
“It doesn’t look like much, I know.” Calliope’s soft voice broke through his thoughts. “But it’s quiet and Mama’s their only patient.”
“Specialized care?”
“Mmm.”
Had he not been looking at her he would have missed the almost imperceptible flinch. He might not be as tuned in to people’s emotions as she was, but even he could see she was uncomfortable. No, make that uneasy.
“What, exactly—”
“Stella, let’s get Mama’s presents out of the trunk.” Calliope shook her head once even as she cast him an apologetic glance before she climbed out of the car.
“Do you keep everyone you know supplied with garden goodies?” He hefted one of the wooden crates filled with jars of honey, tomatoes and what looked like a scrumptious homemade strawberry jam.
“It’s our calling,” Stella told him before Calliope could. “And it’s part of Mama’s rent.”