“He wouldn’t be joining a family. He’d be joining a corporation.” Of course, for the Winthrops, those were one and the same. And Colton was too good for both.
“Well, bring him out anyway. We’d all love to meet him.”
“I’ll think about it.”
A lull in the conversation turned what was already an awkward moment into a torturous one. Diane looked one way and Gretchen the other, anything to avoid looking at each other. It had always been like this with her mom. Or, at least, it had been for as long as Gretchen could remember. Usually, she was grateful for her mother’s aversion to all things confrontational. Keeping their conversations superficial ensured that Gretchen wouldn’t have to be reminded how small of a priority she was on her parents’ agendas. But today, frustration screamed too loudly to ignore. Colton’s interrogation last night about her family’s lack of Christmas traditions had exposed a deep well of resentment that she thought had long dried out, but he’d dropped a bucket into it and apparently found one last drop of rancid water.
“Did I ever make you handmade ornaments for Christmas?”
Her mother’s brows tugged together. “What do you mean?”
“Like at school. Paper Christmas trees or my handprint in glitter on a scrap of paper.”
“I’m sure you did when you were little.”
“Did you keep them?”
Her mother’s shrug was noncommittal. “They’re probably in storage somewhere.”
Right. Storage somewhere. “How come we never had a family Christmas tree?”
“What are you talking about? We had a dozen Christmas trees.”
“But not one that was just ours. Private.”
“Honey, where are these questions coming from?”
“Forget it,” Gretchen said. “It’s nothing.”
Alexis returned with their food just in time, because her mother’s face said she was gearing up for another stop being so dramatic speech.
“Everything look okay?” Alexis asked, but the way she said it, with her eyes pinched at the corners and her gaze squarely on Gretchen, said she wasn’t inquiring about the food.
“We’re good,” Gretchen answered.
“Glad to hear it. You’ll let me know if you need anything?” She squeezed Gretchen’s shoulder before she walked away.
“She’s certainly colorful, isn’t she? Very bohemian.”
“Alexis is one of the kindest human beings on the planet.”
“I wasn’t suggesting otherwise.” Her mother’s lips thinned as she snapped a napkin onto her lap. “Really, Gretchen. You always read the worst into everything I say and do.”
Of course. It was Gretchen’s misunderstanding that was the real problem. Her overreactions. Her dramatics.
Can’t you just ignore him?
Not now, Gretchen. We’re busy.
He’s just teasing you. Don’t be so sensitive.
She’d heard it all. Any excuse to ignore the truth about Evan because facing it would create a scandal. And Lord knew, there was nothing worse than that.
Her mother was right about one thing, though. Colton did need to know what he was getting into if he was seriously going to consider the endorsement. He needed to see the whole ugly truth. So when the interminably long lunch finally ended and she returned to the office, Gretchen texted him.
Tomorrow night. Seven p.m. It’s my turn for a surprise.
A Cold Winter’s Night
Simon Rye had met more than his fair share of stubborn people in his life.
As director of the historical commission for one of Michigan’s ritziest zip codes, he’d done battle with everyone from greedy homebuilders to cranky widows. But Chelsea Vanderboek was quickly rising to claim the number one spot on his list of People He’d Like to Throttle.
Not just because she’d sent his truck careening into a deep ditch during a snowstorm. And not even just because she was intent on selling one of the region’s most prized historic properties.
But at this moment, it was mainly because he’d made her some goddamned hot chocolate and she was eyeing it as if he’d poisoned it.
“What is this?” She squinted at the steaming mug.
“Cocoa.”
“Where did you find it?”
“If you don’t want it, just say so. I just thought you could use something to thaw that ice block around your heart.”
“I’d thaw a lot quicker if I knew how we were going to get out of here.” She took the cup anyway and settled back into the chair where she’d been sitting and stewing for an hour. She took a sip and gave him a side-eye. “Thank you.”