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Another chunk of ice fell away from Everett's heart as Callista's warmth enveloped his makeshift family.

Timens blushed and stammered as she threw her arms around his neck, but an indulgent smile softened the butler's oh-so-proper demeanor when he thought no one was looking.

The man adored Callista. They all did. And she adored them right back.

Mrs. Potter drew her deeper into the room, but Callista twisted to peer behind her at Everett as she moved toward the seating area.

"Come on." The genuine joy radiating from her smile shot such longing through him, it required significant effort not to stagger backward from the force of the blow.

"This is your doing," she teased. "There'll be no lurking in doorways for you, sir.

" She extended a hand and gestured for him to join the group, as if she considered his presence an enrichment and not a dutiful inclusion.

He caught Lightfoot and Mrs. Potter exchanging gleeful glances, but he ignored their romantic giddiness. This evening was about Callista and her happiness. Not his own. Although, he had to admit that, of late, his happiness tended to increase in proportion to hers.

"Here, dearie. You have the seat of honor.

" Mrs. Potter steered Callista to the upholstered armchair near the hearth where Everett often enjoyed sitting by the fire during the colder winter months.

The chair dwarfed her petite figure, but he rather enjoyed seeing her there, her eyes crinkled with excitement.

Mrs. Potter perched on the edge of the nearby sofa, taking the side closest to Callista while Lightfoot sat to the housekeeper's right.

He planted his foot on the rug and leaned forward to ensure he had an unobstructed view of Callista and the three packages waiting on the small table next to the arm of her chair.

Timens took the seat opposite Callista on the far side of the rug, leaving the chair nearest her vacant.

Everett lowered himself to the upholstered cushion, an attack of nerves suddenly drying his mouth.

Thankfully, Mrs. Potter had no trouble taking charge.

"Mr. Griffin told us about the lovely birthday tradition you share with your father," his housekeeper explained, "and since the two of you can't be together this week, we thought to help you celebrate."

Callista looked to him, appreciation and delight beaming from her expression, and his insides turned to complete mush. "What a thoughtful gesture. Thank you!"

Her attention left him to visit each of the others, but it darted back to him before moving to the gift Mrs. Potter was handing her.

A lovely pink hue tinted her cheeks as her lashes lowered, and his heart pounded with the vigor of a blacksmith's hammer.

He'd seen looks like that before, but not since the destruction of his face.

Looks of shy, feminine interest. Of attraction.

How was such a thing possible? Callista and he had formed a friendship, yes, and he knew her to be a woman of deep character who cared little for outward appearances.

But for her to actually desire him? He couldn't fathom it.

Being able to look past a disfigurement was one thing.

Quite another to exhibit actual attraction.

He had to be reading her wrong. Yet years of flirtation experience told him he wasn't. The dreams of love and family that he'd ruthlessly murdered years ago resurrected to dance within his chest—a dangerous dance of hope that logic insisted would only bring pain.

However, as he watched Callista's eyes light when she untied the string around her first package, he found he didn't care two figs for logic's opinion. Only hers.

"Griff told us about your rule of not spending any money on the gifts," Lightfoot said as she pulled away the brown paper from the gift that must have been from the valet, seeing as how the paper folds were as crisp as the creases in his trousers.

Callista unwrapped a slender box that had likely housed one of Lightfoot's neckties. She took her time opening it, savoring the experience. Her indrawn breath acted like a magnet, pulling Everett closer until he leaned almost as far forward as Lightfoot.

"It's beautiful!" She removed a lace-edged handkerchief of fine linen from the box and held it up for all to see. "I've never owned anything so delicate."

Timens raised a brow. "What are you doing with a lady's handkerchief in your collection, Ray?"

Lightfoot offered a cocky grin. "A well-trained valet must be prepared for any eventuality, my friend."

But as he looked back to Callista, his gaze softened with a sentimentality that roused Everett's suspicions that something more than practicality had caused Lightfoot to hold onto that handkerchief. Could it have belonged to his late wife?

Callista folded the cloth neatly and placed it carefully atop its box. "Thank you, Mr. Lightfoot. It's such a thoughtful gift."

"I'm glad you like it."

Mrs. Potter handed her the next present, this one wrapped in a small, drawstring bag. Callista untied the bow, loosened the string, and tipped the contents into her palm.

"A pocket watch?" She looked up from the odd-looking timepiece—the front casing a different color than the back—shaking her head. "Oh, this is far too costly. I couldn't possibly accept."

Timens held up a hand. "I insist. Besides, it wasn't costly at all. I'm a bit of a tinkerer, you see. I enjoy taking clocks apart and putting them back together. I keep a box or two of spare parts on hand for when repairs are needed."

"A box or two?" Lightfoot scoffed. "You have an entire dresser drawer filled with cogs and gears."

Timens raised a haughty brow at his friend. "Not all of us are clotheshorses. I don't need a drawer for my extensive collection of cravats and neckties. Hence, I have space available to dedicate to more practical pursuits."

"Oh, yes. Keeping a drawer full of broken clocks is much more practical than storing gentlemen's fashion accessories."

Callista hid a smile behind her hand as Mrs. Potter shot a disapproving glare at the bickering pair.

Timens cleared his throat. "Anyway." He nodded at the gift in Callista's hand. "I can assure you there was no cost involved in the procurement of that watch. I pieced it together from remnants already in my collection. It's well within the rules."

"You built this watch?" Callista's awe brought a touch of red to the butler's neck. "My goodness! You're a man of hidden talents, Mr. Timens. I'm thoroughly impressed."

"Yes, well . . . one must have a hobby of some sort to pass the time."

"And here you are . . . passing the time . . . on to our dear Miss Rosenfeld." Lightfoot pantomimed the giving of a gift between the butler and Callista, earning a moan from Timens.

"I didn't think it possible, but your jokes have actually worsened since your injury."

"Perhaps my timing is off. Or maybe I'm too wound up . I'll try to put a better face on things in the future."

Timens rolled his eyes. "Must you torture us with your dull wit? This is supposed to be a party."

Lightfoot, eyes dancing, turned to Callista and winked at her. "I guess I need to watch what I say."

Timens groaned and Callista giggled, the sound so joyful and light even Everett found himself smiling.

Callista swallowed her laughter, though, and beamed a grateful smile toward Timens. "I will use this every day. Such a handsome and practical gift. I'll think of you every time I check the time." She shifted her skirt, placed the watch inside her pocket, then gave it a little pat.

"This one's from me," Mrs. Potter said as she passed a square box to Callista.

Callista lifted it up to her face and gave it a sniff. "Hmm. It doesn't smell like teacakes."

Mrs. Potter laughed. "Don't worry. I made plenty of your favorites for our dessert tonight."

"You mean I get teacakes and whatever is in this box?"

Mrs. Potter laughed softly. "Of course!"

Callista tore away the paper and lifted the lid. She glanced over at the housekeeper, her eyes wide. "Mrs. Potter . . ." Her words failed and she blinked several times as if fighting off tears.

"Go on, dearie. I know how much you admire it."

"But . . . your grandmother's teacup? This is a family heirloom. I couldn't possibly . . ."

His housekeeper squeezed Callista's hand.

"You can, and you will. I have no children of my own to pass it on to, so when I'm gone it will likely just get lost in the back of a china cabinet somewhere, or worse yet, be thrown away because of its imperfections.

But in your care, I know it will be treasured and appreciated. "

Everett tried to peer into the box to see the object that had produced such sentiment.

Callista must have noted his curiosity for she lifted the teacup and held it up for him to see.

A delicate white cup rimmed in gold. Rather plain except for the gold wreath painted around the inside of the brim and the gold band around the foot.

A small chip marred the top edge of the cup, making it impractical for drinking purposes, yet Mrs. Potter had deemed it important enough to cart all the way to Texas with her.

Callista wrapped it in the small towel that had been placed in the box for padding and replaced the lid. "I will take excellent care of it. I promise." She reached for her new handkerchief and began dabbing her eyes.

Everett slapped his palms onto his thighs and ran them down toward his knees. "I suppose I'm next."

Callista turned bright eyes to him, and his stomach twisted. He prayed she wouldn't be disappointed.

"I'm not sure I can compete with heirlooms and mechanical wizardry, but I have a couple humble offerings to present."

"More than one?" Callista raised her brows. "Goodness. I've already received such an abundance of blessings. You all are far too generous."