Christmas Affair

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Christmas Affair Page 9

by Ginny Frost


  Jo studied her mom as she stared at the floor. An air of enigma surrounded her. She was usually the queen of passive-aggressive, but tonight she seemed subdued. Did she still demand Jo attend, or was there something more?

  Sitting up straighter, she touched her mother’s hand. “Want to tell me what’s really going on?”

  Her mother stood, spinning away. “It’s the usual guest list, but you need to make connections. Your health is better, but I won’t always be here to ensure you meet the right people. If you connect with these families tonight, I’ll feel better about your situation when I’m gone.”

  “Situation?” Jo asked, exiting the tub. “You’re sixty-two. Is there something you’re not telling me?”

  “I’m fine,” she said, examining her chin in the mirror. “I’m merely concerned about you.”

  Jo snatched a towel from the rack. “I’m an adult. I can take care of myself.”

  “Oh, Josephine, we both know it isn’t true. Your dietary issues are overwhelming. I can’t tell you what I endured so you’d be safe at meals here. And the complications from your disease over time… Dr. Miller spoke about so many long-lasting problems. I…”

  “Celiac is not a death sentence. In fact, it’s a good time to have it because the general population is aware. So back off, Mom. Stop smothering me.”

  “Smothering, darling? I only want the best for you. You’ll come tonight? For me?” And she chose that moment to spin around again, her hand clutched to her pearls, her eyes brimming with tears.

  And the tears always got to Jo. The guilt, the pain, the you’re my only child nonsense.

  Jo sighed. “I didn’t bring anything fancy to wear.” She’d purposely brought basic clothing, hoping to opt out due to lack of formal wear.

  “I have the perfect dress for you,” Mom said.

  Of course she did.

  ***

  Brett glared at his phone. He didn’t need this today. He’d fixed the busted pipe, cleaned up the mess, and lost the woman of his dreams. Another call from his brother was not top on his list.

  Ted had left a cryptic voice mail, something about Ryan falling for the woman whose house burned down. Exactly what the Kramers needed, more suspicions their company was corrupt. First a sketchy fire, then Ryan being the inspector, next Ryan not being able to keep it in his pants. And he held the reins at Kramer and Sons.

  Brett fumed.

  Fucking Ryan.

  He always skated out of these situations with his ass perfectly clean, while leaving his brothers to pick up the mess.

  Like the mess in Albany. He didn’t think his little brother had anything to do with the bribes and false reports, not straight-laced Ry. And he got out it without a smidge of dirt on him. And now he was the building inspector for Stonewater.

  Brett never wanted such a job, but for Mayor Denise Anthony to not consider him or Ted was insulting. Two hometown boys who understood the business, who still lived there and added to the economy. Maybe he shouldn’t have chased the woman’s daughter.

  Not that Ted helped much these days. He’d had trouble focusing and got mad in a heartbeat since Cheryl left a year ago. Everyone assumed there’d be a wedding last fall, but the woman disappeared one day—just left his brother hanging. Her family refused to even speak to Ted.

  Brett sniffed around a bit, and the grandmother finally relented, saying Cheryl moved away to put her life in order. In other words, she dumped Ted so hard, she left the state.

  Resigned to the mess, Brett called his brother back.

  Ted answered in one ring. “Your fucking brother.” The three of them always seemed to begin conversations that way. It was funny, but sad.

  Brett saw their future as the old men at the general store, sitting together talking like best friends.

  Maybe someday.

  “Tell me the deal. Should I come home?” Brett cut to the chase, uninterested in listening to another recount of pompous Ryan, asshole Earl Porter, and stoic Dad. Brett knew it already.

  “Nah, probably not. We talked, Ryan and I.” Ted sounded resigned.

  “So, we aren’t at fault?” They’d installed the new lights, electrical, and a ventless fireplace. He also recalled how Earl did most of the renovations behind his wife (now ex-wife’s) back. And Earl fired them.

  Brett prayed the fire was accidental or had happened because Earl canned their butts in the middle of the job. Brett walked away. Ted fumed because he and Earl had kinda been friends. But some people never mature past their high school glory days. Earl certainly hadn’t. He’d left Stonewater after the separation, and the town seemed lighter with him gone.

  Ted broke through his thoughts. “Nope. Ryan and Dad had it all wrapped up in a few hours. Earl ‘finished’ the job and screwed up the electrical.”

  Brett sighed with relief. Ryan wouldn’t lie if they were at fault.

  When they were in school, Brett begged Ryan to do his homework so he, Brett, could still play football. Ryan refused, though he had great grades and tons of time to do extra work. Brett even offered to pay, but Ryan insisted it spelled cheating and refused.

  Brett gave him wedgies for a week when the coach removed him from the team. Dad finally intervened on Ryan’s side. But the pain of a super-wedge hadn’t gotten his bro to lie.

  Best/worst trait about his little bro, he was honest to a fault.

  Brett sighed, and Ted mirrored the sound.

  “I’m gonna help him fix up Ms. Porter’s house. Least I can do at Christmas. Ryan’s being all big man about it, too.”

  “Yeah, well, if she’s his girl now…” Brett played mediator most of the time between the two. Ted hated how Ryan outshone him in every venue. Ted needed to get over his penis envy and live his own life. Someday he might see Ry’s being a smart, arrogant boy scout wasn’t bad.

  “When you coming back?”

  Brett considered. Stanley hinted perhaps Brett should take a break from the repairs until the Lockwoods left the building. He’d head out, and Ted would finish the job and keep the company name good.

  “Guess I’ll be back tonight. I gotta pack up.”

  “That was quick,” Ted said. “I thought you were working on Stanley to have us to redo the entire wing.”

  “I was,” Brett admitted, “But I screwed up today, and I’m taking a break.”

  “Fuck, we don’t any more bad press, Brett. What did you do?”

  Brett hated when Ted pulled the big-brother act—which he did, frequently. Ted always forgot there were only twelve months between them. And in their thirties, a year didn’t account for shit.

  “I had a problem. I fixed it. But Stanley got mad at me. I’m gonna come home for a few days, then see what he wants to do. No press, big bro. A misunderstanding on my part.”

  Ted huffed. He knew Brett too well, and Brett knew he knew it. “Whadja do?”

  Brett chuckled. “Ripped a sink out of the wall.”

  “Isn’t he paying you to do that?” Ted laughed, too.

  “Yeah, not after I’d just fixed it and not with the water still hooked up.” Before Ted revved up further into big brother mode, Brett plowed on. “I cleaned up the mess, repaired the damage, and told Stanley I’d pay for parts and service. Yes, a loss for the day, but I was civil, and hopefully he understands the situation.”

  Ted scoffed. “Woman?”

  Rubbing his hand over his mouth, Brett admitted, “Yes, a woman, but not some random hookup like you’re thinking. A nice girl I like, but she pulled a fast one. I got pissed.”

  “And you ripped a sink out of a wall. Glad to see some things don’t change, bro.” Ted snickered. “Come home, we’ll grab a beer, then hunt down Ryan and give him a wedgie.”

  Brett didn’t bother to argue. Ted signaled the conversation was over. He said good night and grabbed his suitcase. Good thing he traveled light. He wanted out of here and into his own bed more than anything.

  After he finished packing, he glanced at his watch, wondering if he’d missed
the fireworks of Jo’s wedding.

  Wedding. Fuck me.

  Part of him wanted to stand at the door and wait for the Does anyone here object? part. He’d step forward and profess his undying love. When Jo looked confused and conflicted, he’d say, “Nah,” and leave.

  But he wasn’t that much of an asshole, to screw with her whole life—not like her mother. He almost felt sorry for her. Maybe if she hadn’t lied so well.

  ***

  Josephine stood before the full-length mirror in her suite. She hated to admit the dress looked stunning, but it did. Her mother, for all her faults, her fussiness, her helicopter parenting, had great taste.

  The simple, elegant, floor-length gown hugged every curve. And for once, Jo didn’t mind a form-fitting dress. She’d put on a few pounds since she’d gotten her diagnosis. She had curves rather than bones to show off. The dress being backless didn’t stop her from wearing it, either.

  Such a dress meant the party was much more formal than Jo expected. The hairdresser arrived and put Jo’s awkward brown mop into a tasteful chignon. The woman brought a thousand hair accessories to add to the bun, but Jo waved her off. She wasn’t an ornamental girl. The dress said enough—long, classy, and white.

  Usually, Jo avoided white dresses. Her pale skin and hair, combined with the fabric, turned her into a washed-out zombie, but the cut worked, and the crazy day added color to her cheeks.

  She stepped away from the mirror, tired of playing dress-up. Ten minutes at the party to schmooze and be nice to Mom’s friends. Oh, and to placate Dexter, poor guy. But Jo didn’t think he’d be too disappointed in her turning him down. The man hadn’t shown a lick of interest in her, and compared to Brett…

  Jo let the thought pass. She’d blown it with Brett. Somehow, some way. Probably Mom pushed him away even more. But Jo had the idea she was to blame, and no idea why. He’d fumed over her dependence on her mother, and he was right. But to be so invested in it? They’d shared an intimate moment, yes, but…

  Anyway.

  She’d put herself out there to meet someone new. It almost worked.

  A quick scan around the room told her nothing was missing. Her packed bags lay in a pile with her computer satchel on the top. Part of her wanted to bring it to the party, not let it out of her sight. But she’d uploaded the game to the cloud and sent the contracts to the company’s lawyer. Now she must wait. The program was safe. She didn’t have to lug it with her. But…

  Once the party ended, she’d leave, head somewhere else for the rest of the weekend and leave Mom to her friends. Maybe she’d try the bed-and-breakfast Brett mentioned in Stonewater. She might see him, and…

  Ugh, get off that train of thought! It was over. Brett didn’t want her.

  She grabbed her little clutch with her phone, credit card, and key in it. The front desk assured her baggage would be downstairs waiting for her.

  Ten minutes.

  Ten minutes and her entire world would change.

  She’d be free of Mom. Her game was sold. She’d borrow money from the trust and finally start her life.

  Jo paused at the ballroom doors. No one was in sight. Had she gotten the time wrong? She glanced at her watch.

  Two pm.

  Mom had been very clear about it. For a second, she considered finding Ernie the handyman’s mancave, and playing a few rounds of an MMO.

  No, I can do this. Mom asked nicely. With a deep breath, she opened the double doors, and all thought screeched to a halt.

  Jo goggled at the scene. The room looked magnificent, decorated as a winter wonderland. Snowflakes sparkled from the ceiling. Dozens of tables were adorned with shimmering blue and white tablecloths, and pinecone centerpieces with white ribbons and roses.

  Jo’s hand went to her mouth. As a child, Mom never allowed her to play outside much. The cold and damp was always too much for her poor, sickly body. But the room personified the winter adventure she’d always wanted.

  She focused straight ahead, hoping to find Mom and thank her for the lovely—

  She stopped cold.

  In front of the wall of windows with the beautiful New York snowscape stood an altar. Mom waited there, dressing in an elegant light blue damask dress. Next to her, Dexter fussed over his white tux with tails, dusting away imaginary lint. The guests formed an arc from the door to the altar, where a robed minister waited.

  Jo’s jaw dropped.

  This looks like…

  Chapter Fourteen

  Music began to play. The first four notes of “Here Comes the Bride” were enough to shock Jo into reality. It was not a dinner party. Mom had planned a wedding.

  A surprise wedding.

  A wedding for Jo to a man she barely knew. How could… how did… why hadn’t anyone clued her in?

  She stepped back as the horror hit her, fighting back tears.

  A wedding. Her beautiful white dress, and the hotel staff being so weird…

  And Brett…

  No wonder everyone snickered at them. They assumed he was her last liaison…

  Guilt and anger flooded her veins. She swayed for a moment, staring daggers at the woman who gave birth to her, the woman who kept her hostage her entire life, the woman who humiliated her in front of these people.

  Dexter stepped forward, holding his hand out, inviting her to walk down the aisle. Beside her, a figure appeared out of nowhere and handed her a bouquet.

  Jo grasped the lovely bundle of roses and lilies. She glanced at it for a millisecond before hucking it as hard as possible at Dexter. The entire room froze as the flowers bounced off his chest and hit the floor.

  “No fucking way,” Jo screamed. She’d never spoken that word aloud before, but now…

  She spun and raced to the front desk. “I want my…” At the same moment, a bell boy parked the cart with her luggage. She grabbed her computer bag. “I need a car.” She told the clerk who looked at her bewildered.

  “But Miss Lockwood, the party…”

  Again, foul language took over. “Fuck that,” she said and rushed out the door.

  In the blowing snow, she turned left and right, unsure what to do. She spotted a truck parked near the portico, its back gate open. Jo hurried around to the passenger door.

  “I need a ride,” she called, hauling herself inside, dragging the tail of her dress in as she closed the door.

  A man slowly tipped his head down to view inside the truck.

  Brett.

  “Sure, Jo. Where we going?” His voice sounded funny, cryptic, but she didn’t care.

  “Anywhere, Brett. Take me anywhere.”

  ***

  Brett tried about four times to say something. But each time he opened his mouth, the image of her in the dress, her hair all fancy, stopped him. She wore a wedding dress on her wedding day, and she sat in his pickup, driving away from the event as fast as possible—which, considering the blowing snow, wasn’t so fast.

  Finally, he glanced at her. “Did you do it?” he asked. His voice sounded tight, anxious.

  Please say no.

  Jo sucked in a breath as she pressed against her door. “You knew?” Her words were incredulous, accusing.

  Oh, fuck. Maybe she didn’t know about the wedding. No, she couldn’t be that naïve.

  “Did you?”

  “No.” She slapped her forehead. “Why did you… you know… with me if you knew I was getting married?”

  Then again, maybe she was that naïve. “Sleep with you? Make love to you? Screw your brains out in the penthouse?”

  “Brett!” she screeched and whacked at his arms. One of the blows landed hard and ripped his hand from the wheel. The car skidded to the right.

  “Jo, be careful. I coulda crashed.” He glanced at her.

  Her hands curled against her chest, and she’d tucked herself into the corner of the seat, her knees to her chest, her eyes wide. A panic attack in the truck could be devastating.

  “Okay, just breathe,” he ordered, and their gazes met.
She pulled in a huge breath, her cheeks coloring pink. “Big slow breaths, in and out. Get yourself under control. I’ll drive slowly and keep us on the road. I do my job, you do yours.”

  She dipped her chin.

  Brett stared at the pavement. Rural New Yorkers knew how to deal with foul weather. But it didn’t mean the roads weren’t filled with ski bunnies and snowboarders who couldn’t drive in this weather. If he fixed his gaze on the way ahead, he didn’t have to focus on the scared woman next to him. He needed to figure this out.

  First, he wasn’t driving her back to the Excelsior. Not tonight, anyway. Not under these conditions, and not with Jo freaking out. Second, he had to understand the situation between them. Never mind, he had a pile of shit waiting for him when he returned home. Tonight, living away from town proved to be a godsend. If he drove through Stonewater, he’d be tempted to stop at Ted’s, or the shop, or grab a drink at the Brew House and shoot the shit, get the gossip. The business bullshit and the hysterical woman put a stop to the idea.

  Third… what was third? Deal with Ryan? Dad? Ted? No. He chanced a look at Jo. Third entailed finding out what had happened here.

  He still smarted from her lack of honesty, but seeing her reaction made him consider whether she'd lied at all. He glanced at her. She leaned on the door, her hand near her mouth. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Not the best time to demand the truth.

  “Jo, did you…?” He needed to know, even if the answer was yes.

  “No.” Her voice sounded strained, upset. Her gaze met his. “I need to process…”

  Brett nodded, his gaze on the road. Fifteen miles to home on backroads in snow. They’d be there in less than an hour. Time enough for soul searching.

  ~*~

  Brett pulled into his driveway a while later. More like plowed into it. The snow had come down hard and fast, filling the space with six or more inches. With a sigh, he rested his head on the steering wheel. Jo’d have to stay with him tonight. He’d decided on the road, knowing that detouring to any town to find a hotel meant the expense of two rooms. No way was he staying in a room with her in a wedding dress. Shivers ran down his spine.

  Women and weddings.

 

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