"Yes, but—"
"Ssh." She spotted her mother coming down the hallway, wheeling a cart laden with hot chocolate. "We don't want to spoil tonight. We'll talk later."
Ann Sullivan's brow furrowed as she studied her daughter. "Margo, I thought that dress was for Christmas Day."
"I'm in a holiday mood," Margo said breezily. "Let me take that, Mum."
Far from satisfied, Ann watched her daughter roll the cart into the parlor before she turned to Kate. "Miss Kate, you've been overworking your eyes again. They're bloodshot. I want you to rest them later with cucumber slices. And where are your slippers?"
"In my closet." Understanding the housekeeper's need to scold, Kate hooked her arm through Ann's. "Come on now, Annie, don't fuss. It's tree-trimming time. Remember the angels you helped us make when we were ten?''
"How could I fo
rget the mess the three of you made? And Mr. Josh teasing the lot of you and biting the heads off Mrs. Williamson's gingerbread men." She lifted a hand to touch Kate's cheek. "You've grown up since. Times like this I miss my little girls."
"We'll always be your little girls, Annie." They paused in the parlor doorway to survey the scene.
It made Kate grin, just the look of everything. The tree, already shining with lights, soared a good ten feet. It stood in front of the tall windows that faced the front. Boxes of ornaments brought out of storage sat ready to be opened.
In the lapis hearth decked with candles and fresh greenery a sedate fire flickered. Scents of apple wood and pine and perfume filled the room.
How she loved this house, she thought. Before the decorating was done, every room would have just the right touches of holiday cheer. A bowl of Georgian silver filled with pine-cones would be flanked by candles. Banks of poinsettias in gilt-trimmed pots would crowd all the window seats. Delicate porcelain angels would be placed just so on glossy mahogany tables in the foyer. The old Victorian Santa would claim his place of honor on the baby grand.
She could remember her first Christmas at Templeton House. How the grandeur of it had dazzled her eyes and the constant warmth had soothed that ache just under her heart.
Now half of her life had been lived here, and the traditions had become her own.
She wanted to freeze this moment in her mind, make it forever and unchangeable. There, she thought, the way the firelight dances over Aunt Susie's face as she laughs at Uncle Tommy—and the way he takes her hand and holds it. How perfect they look, she thought, the delicate-framed woman and the tall, distinguished man.
Christmas hymns played quietly as she took it all in. Laura knelt by the boxes, lifting out a red glass ball that caught the light and tossed it back. Margo poured steaming chocolate from a silver pot and practiced her flirting skills on Josh.
He stood on a ladder with the lights from the tree glinting in his bronze hair. They played over his face as he grinned down at Margo.
In this room filled with shining silver, sparkling glass, pol ished old wood and soft fabrics, they were perfect. And they were hers.
"Aren't they beautiful, Annie?"
"That they are. And so are you."
Not like them, Kate thought, as she stepped into the room.
"There's my Katie girl." Thomas beamed at her. "Put the books away for a while, did you?"
"If you can stop answering the phone for an evening, I can stop studying."
"No business on tree-trimming night." He winked at her. "I think the hotels can run without me for one night."
"Never as well as they run with you and Aunt Susie."
Margo lifted a brow as she passed Kate a cup of hot chocolate. "Somebody's bucking for another present. I hope you've got something in mind other than that stupid computer you've been drooling over."
"Computers have become necessary tools in any business. Right, Uncle Tommy?"
"Can't live without them. I'm glad your generation's going to be taking over, though. I hate the blasted things."
"You're going to have to upgrade the system in Sales, across the board," Josh put in as he climbed down the ladder. "No reason to do all that work when a machine can do it for you."
"Spoken like a true hedonist." Margo smirked at him. "Be careful, Josh, you might actually have to learn how to type. Imagine, Joshua Conway Templeton, heir apparent to Templeton Hotels, with a useful skill."