Page 27

Callista deserved to be showered with more blessings than she could fathom.

Birthdays, Christmases, random Tuesdays.

Anniversaries . The tempting notion caught him unaware, nearly causing him to stumble as he strode across the room to where he'd hidden his first gift in a shadowed recess along the side wall.

Thankfully, the stumble didn't turn into a full topple.

However, it did serve the purpose of focusing his mind back on the matter at hand.

Collecting the easel, and taking care not to disturb the blue velvet cloth draped over the canvas, he carried it back to where the others waited. Callista had scooted forward to perch on the edge of her seat, her hands braced on the chair arms.

Her indrawn breath sent his pulse into an erratic rhythm.

"Oh." The word emerged like a sacred whisper. "Is this what I think it is?"

Not trusting his throat to open enough to let words pass through, Everett answered by removing the draped cloth with a flourish.

Callista gasped slightly, then rose to her feet and moved toward the portrait as if drawn by an unseen force. The others stood as well and approached, seeking a closer view.

Lightfoot broke the silence first. "Well done, Griff." He slapped Everett's back with his good arm. "You captured her essence perfectly."

"I agree, sir," Timens said. "Excellent work."

Everett nodded to the men, appreciative of their praise, yet waiting for the one who mattered most to render a verdict.

He'd spent hours on the details, desperate to get everything just right. An impossible task. For the more time he spent in her company, the more beautiful she became to him. A beauty too deep for paint to capture.

"I don't know what to say." Her voice trembled slightly, and he prayed it wasn't from disappointment.

She turned to him. Her mist-filled eyes glimmered in the lamplight.

"It's extraordinary." She wiped at one eye even as a smile arrived to brighten Everett's heart.

"Though I still think you painted your model in much more flattering terms than she deserved. "

Everett shook his head, her genuine humility as rare as her beauty. "I simply paint what I see."

"I don't know about that," she teased. "I own no yellow dress, yet somehow I'm wearing an elegant gown of sunshine."

"Well, that leads me to the second gift.

" And a gut full of tangled knots. He tipped his head toward Mrs. Potter, who had retrieved the large box from beneath the sofa while everyone had been looking at the painting.

"I'm afraid we broke the rules on this one, but only a little.

Everyone contributed something unique to bring it together. "

Callista looked to the box then back up at him. "What did you do?" she whispered.

He shrugged, hoping she'd not guess how much of his heart resided in that box. "Only one way to find out."

Mrs. Potter laid the long box on the sofa cushions then motioned for Callista to seat herself next to it.

She moved slowly, almost as if she were afraid the gift would vanish if she didn't sneak up on it.

After gingerly lowering herself to the sofa, she took the package upon her lap and reached for the bow made of golden ribbon that stretched across its middle.

She cast a tentative glance his way, as if unsure it was appropriate for her to accept whatever was inside.

It probably wasn't, but he prayed she'd accept it anyway. Out of friendship if nothing else.

As she untied the bow, everyone crowded around. The lid came off next, and then she pulled apart the paper inside. He could tell the moment she saw it. Her eyes widened, her mouth trembled, and her breath caught.

"Everett . . . I mean, Mr. Griffin . . . I can't . . . It's too much . . . I . . ."

Mrs. Potter, who had moved behind the sofa, placed her hands on Callista's shoulders and gave her a reassuring rub.

"This is from all of us, Miss Rosenfeld.

Nothing improper about accepting a gift from a group of friends, now, is there?

Mr. Griffin gave us the idea, and he covered most of the cost, but we all contributed.

Mr. Lightfoot selected the style. Mr. Timens placed the order and retrieved it from the dressmaker.

And I made a few alterations once I was able to compare it to your Sunday dress.

Let's pop upstairs and try it on, shall we?

It's only right for a lady to look her best for her birthday dinner. "

Callista looked to him again, her eyes full of questions.

"Only if you want to," he said. "Dinner will taste just as delicious no matter what color you are wearing."

He offered a casual grin, one designed to hide how much he truly cared about the outcome, but he suspected he was out of practice.

Either that or she could see the hope beating in his chest. For she beamed a smile at him as she finally lifted the confection of yellow chiffon out of the box and draped it across her lap.

"How could I not want to wear the most beautiful gown I've ever seen?" She turned to smile at Lightfoot and Timens as well. "Especially when all the gentlemen in attendance are decked out in their finery."

Timens sketched a bow. "You do us a great honor, miss."

"You are the ones who have done me the honor." Her gaze moved about the room, halting on Everett for a long moment before moving on to land safely on Mrs. Potter. "All of you. Truly. This is the most magical birthday I've ever had."

"It's far from over, Miss Rosenfeld." Everett waited for her attention to return to him. "There's at least one more planned surprise."

"Something else? Gracious. Any more delightful surprises, and I just might expire from the excitement."

He certainly hoped not. He'd been plotting for a week about how to let her know some of what he felt for her. A lot was riding on how this evening turned out. Possibly his entire future.