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Book: A Christmas Miracle for Daisy (Taming of the Sheenans Book 5) by Jane Porter
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Authors: Jane Porter
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proposing for the counter tops in the bathrooms and kitchen.
“It’s not the most attractive granite,” Whitney said. “It reminds me too much of the 80s and 90s.”
“It’s durable though.”
“Maybe, but I can’t imagine Cormac would like to look at it for the next ten years. Do we have time to visit the stone yard in Bozeman?”
“Absolutely,” Josie answered. “Let’s go.”
Josie drove and they chatted as they headed towards Bozeman. Josie shared that she’d grown up in Clyde Park twenty-some minutes north of Livingston on the 89, but her family had moved to Bozeman when she was in high school so her younger brother could get the medical help he needed and she was glad she was able to work in Park County and Crawford County with the design firm. “I love it out here…Livingston, Marietta, Paradise Valley. My kind of place.”
“I grew up in Bozeman, too,” Whitney said. “But haven’t lived here for almost ten years.”
“You were in Denver, right?”
“It’s a great city. A very livable city.”
“Marietta must feel really small for you.”
“It does. But it’s okay. I’m only here through the end of the year. In January I’m moving on to something else.”
Josie shot Whitney a swift side glance. “You’re not staying?”
“No. This is just temporary.”
“Mr. Sheenan knows that?”
Whitney nodded, ignoring the bubble of regret, and asked Josie about her younger brother, the one who needed medical care, in an attempt to change the topic.
Josie’s smile faded. “He died when he was nineteen. We thought we’d have another ten years with him if we were lucky, but….” Her shoulders lifted and fell. She glanced at Whitney. “He had Duchenne muscular dystrophy.”
“I don’t know much about muscular dystrophy.”
“It’s awful.” Her voice dropped, thickening. “Muscular dystrophy is never good, but Duchenne is the worst. Because the gene mutation is in the X chromosome it affects primarily boys. And it’s always fatal.”
They didn’t talk much more until they reached the stone yard, and then they were totally focused on the slabs of granite and marble.
Whitney selected a stunning chocolate-veined Brazilian granite that looked like polished mahogany for the bathroom and kitchen counters. “I think this would look excellent with white subway titles in the kitchen and paired with travertine in the bathrooms,” Whitney said. “What do you think?”
“I like the idea of a Tuscany travertine. The tumbled stone look would suit the building.”
With the selections made, they stopped for lunch in downtown Bozeman and then headed back to Marietta. Josie pulled up in front of the Graff to drop Whitney off, but Whitney hesitated before getting out of the car.
“I’m sorry,” she said, searching for the right words. “Sorry about your brother. That must have been so devastating for everyone.”
“Michael taught us a lot about love and life,” Josie answered. “I wouldn’t be who I am without him, and I wouldn’t have become a designer if it weren’t for him. He made me interested in design, making things accessible for him. So in a way, he’s still with me every day.”
“I like that,” Whitney said.
Josie smiled. “Me, too.”
Whitney got out of the car and waved goodbye, then quickly climbed the steps to the Graff’s entrance. She nodded at the doorman as he opened one of the glass doors for her and was immediately struck by the smell of Christmas.
It didn’t take her long to spot the source of the wonderful fragrance as a massive fir tree filled the center of the lobby floor.
The Graff’s handsome lobby was already striking with its impressive columns, dark gleaming wood walls, and polished marble floor, but it was even more wonderful with the addition of the tree.
A team of three was in the middle of decorating it, too, hanging glittering glass ornaments between the yards of dark red velvet ribbon.
There was something truly magical about
“It’s not the most attractive granite,” Whitney said. “It reminds me too much of the 80s and 90s.”
“It’s durable though.”
“Maybe, but I can’t imagine Cormac would like to look at it for the next ten years. Do we have time to visit the stone yard in Bozeman?”
“Absolutely,” Josie answered. “Let’s go.”
Josie drove and they chatted as they headed towards Bozeman. Josie shared that she’d grown up in Clyde Park twenty-some minutes north of Livingston on the 89, but her family had moved to Bozeman when she was in high school so her younger brother could get the medical help he needed and she was glad she was able to work in Park County and Crawford County with the design firm. “I love it out here…Livingston, Marietta, Paradise Valley. My kind of place.”
“I grew up in Bozeman, too,” Whitney said. “But haven’t lived here for almost ten years.”
“You were in Denver, right?”
“It’s a great city. A very livable city.”
“Marietta must feel really small for you.”
“It does. But it’s okay. I’m only here through the end of the year. In January I’m moving on to something else.”
Josie shot Whitney a swift side glance. “You’re not staying?”
“No. This is just temporary.”
“Mr. Sheenan knows that?”
Whitney nodded, ignoring the bubble of regret, and asked Josie about her younger brother, the one who needed medical care, in an attempt to change the topic.
Josie’s smile faded. “He died when he was nineteen. We thought we’d have another ten years with him if we were lucky, but….” Her shoulders lifted and fell. She glanced at Whitney. “He had Duchenne muscular dystrophy.”
“I don’t know much about muscular dystrophy.”
“It’s awful.” Her voice dropped, thickening. “Muscular dystrophy is never good, but Duchenne is the worst. Because the gene mutation is in the X chromosome it affects primarily boys. And it’s always fatal.”
They didn’t talk much more until they reached the stone yard, and then they were totally focused on the slabs of granite and marble.
Whitney selected a stunning chocolate-veined Brazilian granite that looked like polished mahogany for the bathroom and kitchen counters. “I think this would look excellent with white subway titles in the kitchen and paired with travertine in the bathrooms,” Whitney said. “What do you think?”
“I like the idea of a Tuscany travertine. The tumbled stone look would suit the building.”
With the selections made, they stopped for lunch in downtown Bozeman and then headed back to Marietta. Josie pulled up in front of the Graff to drop Whitney off, but Whitney hesitated before getting out of the car.
“I’m sorry,” she said, searching for the right words. “Sorry about your brother. That must have been so devastating for everyone.”
“Michael taught us a lot about love and life,” Josie answered. “I wouldn’t be who I am without him, and I wouldn’t have become a designer if it weren’t for him. He made me interested in design, making things accessible for him. So in a way, he’s still with me every day.”
“I like that,” Whitney said.
Josie smiled. “Me, too.”
Whitney got out of the car and waved goodbye, then quickly climbed the steps to the Graff’s entrance. She nodded at the doorman as he opened one of the glass doors for her and was immediately struck by the smell of Christmas.
It didn’t take her long to spot the source of the wonderful fragrance as a massive fir tree filled the center of the lobby floor.
The Graff’s handsome lobby was already striking with its impressive columns, dark gleaming wood walls, and polished marble floor, but it was even more wonderful with the addition of the tree.
A team of three was in the middle of decorating it, too, hanging glittering glass ornaments between the yards of dark red velvet ribbon.
There was something truly magical about
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