Christmas Affair

by Ginny Frost

  “So… I’m not blaming Dad. You know how he is. Find a problem, fix it. Never considering the human side of things.”

  Brett said nothing. But his pulse quickened. Invoking Dad so quickly?

  Fuck.

  “He was mad at Ted,” Ryan continued, “about the fire in Stonewater, and how Ted reacted to everything. It turned out we weren’t at fault at all. But the damage was done, according to Dad.”

  Chin raised, Brett narrowed his gaze at his little brother. Again, the idiot hadn’t bothered to find out the complete story. “Cheryl dumped Ted hard—left him and disappeared. He hasn’t heard from her in a year. Keeps that damned engagement ring in his truck. Never had a chance to give it to her.”

  Ryan’s eyebrows lifted. “Cheryl Winston? He wanted to propose? I didn’t know…”

  Brett cut him off. “No, you don’t know, because you and Dad are so busy solving problems, you forget to actually talk to the humans involved. Like you arranging for my next job while I worked outside. Glad you and Stanley see fit to allow me to work at all.”

  An ugly well of anger built in his gut. Fuck this. He didn’t need Ryan’s recommendation or Stanley’s stupid mediocre job. He had savings, skills, and some reputation to fall back on. City people were always moving to Upstate and wanting to renovate the crap out of old barns, camps, and farmhouses. He’d begin again on his own, maybe with Ted.

  His shoulders dropped, and he released his death grip from the top of the chair. Everything seemed so clear.

  Start over on his own.

  He could do it.

  And some cute computer chick could help him set up a website and marketing plan, something Kramer and Sons did not have. He smiled at his little brother as the last of the anger abated.

  Ryan cocked his head, glancing sideways at his brother. “Brainstorm there?” He pushed on, not allowing Brett to answer. “Dad was wrong.” He met Brett’s gaze. “He never should’ve given me the company without talking to the three of us. It’s a family business. We’ve all done something to make it succeed. You and Ted especially. Ted and I have talked a bit since it happened. He seemed relieved he didn’t have to be in charge anymore. He wants more than installing water heaters and making man-caves.” Ryan shrugged.

  “He’s cool with you being the boss?” Brett let his words drip with skepticism. How could Ryan understand what Ted was going through right now? The man was a mess, and his work suffered. But once his broken heart mended, he’d be fine, ready to take charge and kick butt again.

  “For now, yes. But unfortunately, you weren’t there when it went down. And we haven’t talked.” Serious blame tainted his words, but Brett merely raised his chin. He was the injured party here. No way he’d apologize.

  No fucking way.

  “You left me out of the loop. Grabbed your share and mine and Ted’s.”

  Ryan stood, leaving the chairs between them. “It just… happened. You know Dad. I thought it best to let the heat die down. Talk to you and Ted without Dad. I called Stanley about the job here. He said you wanted to stay. Looks like the wires crossed…”

  Brett shook his head and stood. No way was he letting Ryan stand over him. “Seriously, you think I wouldn’t want to be in on the discussion of a company change?”

  Ryan sighed, his chin dipping to his chest. “I followed Dad’s lead. I shouldn’t have. He should’ve talked to you, but he didn’t.” He raised his gaze to meet Brett’s. “I was wrong, big bro.”

  Brett huffed, but a sense of relief filled him. Maybe Ryan wouldn’t be such a dick about it after all. The unoffered job from Stanley loomed over them. He didn’t want to screw his future. He'd built a good reputation with Kramer and Sons. Unsure how to proceed, he scrubbed his chin. Bills were still due, and independent contracting might not give him the income he needed.

  “So, uh,” Ryan hedged, rubbing the back of his neck. “You want to work for Stanley? Because honestly, he’s kind of a dick.”

  Brows furrowed, Brett said, “I’ll be working for one dick or another. You, him, me.” He threw his hands up. “I gotta work.”

  “Of course. What’s your best skill?”

  “You giving me a job interview?”

  Ryan chuckled. “I manage people and stuff well—organizing things, dealing with customers. I know the codes and more or less how much jobs should cost. But I’m not an expert electrician or carpenter. Ted’s amazing with wood, and…”

  The last comment forced a guffaw from Brett. “Good with wood? He gonna be the company porn star?”

  The joke broke the tension in the room. Ryan slid into the chair, holding his gut. Once he caught his breath, he said, “It’s not a direction I thought the company would go. See, Brett? You’re the idea man. I need an idea man.” He held up a hand. “Though if we do get into porn, Ted might not be the best star. Just putting it out there.”

  Laughter erupted from his lips, and Brett fell into the other chair. “I don’t know. Kramer and Sons’ Porn might not work. I’ll have to look into the market, the laws in New York, and of course, an actual star for the movies. I might be willing if you give me a decent offer.”

  Joking with his brother felt good. The two of them used to have similar nonsense conversations when they were kids. They could go for hours, talking about absolutely nothing, and end up with belly aches from laughing so hard.

  He grinned at his little brother, more hopeful than he’d been a few minutes ago. Once the laughter settled, Ryan pointed at Brett. “Dad said you came up with everything for the job, spoke with Stanley, and illustrated how to repurpose the old rooms. Had the architect on speed dial and boom, you got a two-month job which made good money for us.”

  Brett shrugged. No disputing the truth. He’d brokered the deal and made it happened. He did it more often than the rest of his family realized. With a small town and other contractors in Albany and Utica, he used his charm to encourage customers with innovative ideas for renovations and additions.

  “Can you do that full time for us? A visionary could move the company forward. I need someone who can work with potential customers to drum up business.” He held his hand out toward Brett. “Know anyone like that?”

  Brett leaned against the chair, gobsmacked. Is that what Ryan thought? The bastard never said anything before. He narrowed his eyes. Same reason he never spoke to Ryan—stupid male stubbornness. But his little bro offered a job with more than nail-hammering and sheet-rocking? Oh, hell yeah.

  He studied Ryan. A serious pain in the ass, but usually genuine, though Dad spoiled him rotten as a kid. And he’d made a good point about Dad. The man turned over the company without a word. He left the baggage to Ryan to deal with. But that sounded exactly like Dad. Find a solution, set it in motion, no discussion, no second thoughts.

  Like when Earl fired them. Dad never argued for a second with that douche. Instead, he brought the terminated contract to a notary within the hour. He organized the paperwork, communication, billing, just in case. And hadn’t he been right to do so?

  “So what are you offering?”

  “Well, not a porn ring, if you were still hoping…”

  They both chuckled, finally seeing eye to eye.

  “I need you, Brett. I can’t run the company alone. Ted has no interest in management. And you are the heart of Kramer and Sons. What do you say?”

  There it was.

  The words he desperately wanted to hear—“I need you, Brett.”

  Tears stung in Brett’s eyes. Ryan wasn’t tossing him out. He wanted him in and as more than a grunt worker.

  “Well, you had a point about the name…” He paused.

  “No porn, man. Come on.”

  Brett chuckled. “Nah, too much work to get rid of body hair. How about we change the name to Kramer Brothers?”

  Ryan’s face split into an enormous grin. “Deal!” He rose from his chair, hand out to shake on the deal. Something in Brett’s chest quieted. For the first time in his life, he saw a settled future head.
Grinning to himself, he shook the offered hand.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Jo tapped at her laptop, checking her email again for a reply from the software company. The storm had played havoc with the power, and therefore the Wi-Fi. Even with a hotspot on her phone, she had little access.

  She closed the screen. They’d either like her game or not. If the answer from Ezgamez was no, she’d find another job in programming. Between all the online vendors, someone would be glad to have her on their team.

  She learned from the debacle with her mother to be independent. No more bowing or scraping. No more letting her gratitude for her mother’s help stop her from busting out and living her own life. She might not have much to her name, but she’d live on her own and do the work she loved. Maybe with Brett by her side or not. He was willing to sacrifice it all to be his own man. A perfect example for her to follow.

  She eyed the doorway, wondering about Brett and his brother. Keeping him company while he plowed the lot gave her the serious feels for him. They hardly said a word to each other, just enjoyed the quiet silence like some old married couple. Visions of spending time with him sent tingles all over her body. She hoped for more.

  Her email notification chimed, and Jo clicked the icon before even realizing it was from Ezgamez. The message was short and sweet. “Welcome to the team! Exceptional game. Final paperwork attached. We’ll call on Monday with the official startup stuff.”

  Jo sighed, relief flooding through her.

  New energy in her heart, she gazed at the falling snow outside the lounge window. Life started now. She daydreamed about a life of waking up next to her blond hunk. She sighed. Yeah, she could get used to that. No matter what happened with the brother, she’d tell him how she felt. Tell him she wanted him, even if his stupid brother kicked him to the curb.

  The sound of someone clearing their throat brought her gaze to the doorway of the lounge. Mom stood there, dressed in a velour tracksuit. Jo resisted rolling her eyes. When did Mom get old enough for that outfit?

  She stared hard at her mother, saying nothing. What could she say to a woman who planned a surprise wedding? Mom walked into the room, her chin low but her gaze steady on Jo. Thankfully, Dexter did not follow in her wake.

  Jo settled into her chair, tipping the laptop’s screen to block her work. Thank God she finally took the plunge and applied for the job.

  She lifted her chin, defiant and angry. She’d never hate her mother outright, but the whole planning-her-life-without-her- permission thing—hell, without her knowledge. A bolt of irritation drove up her spine, and she clenched her teeth.

  “Josephine.” Mom’s tone sounded relaxed, indifferent, but behind the word, annoyance loomed. “I heard you returned to the hotel. With that man.” Her gaze rolled toward the lounge door. “I didn’t think you’d be back.”

  She ran her hand along the back of the chair opposite. Her eyes never met Jo’s. “I called several times. Your safety, my chief concern. There’s a snowstorm out there.” She waved a hand at the window where the snow continued to rain down.

  Unable to help herself, Jo snorted. “You realize Brett is the guy the hotel called to fix their problems? The snow and the electricity?” She shook her head. Mom would never understand. No use to explain he wasn’t a predator.

  Mom pulled the chair out and took her time sitting down. She ended up perching on the end of the seat as if the thing might bite her if she sat back and relaxed.

  Jo repressed another snort.

  “I understand my call brought him here. Had you answered your cell phone…”

  Jo held up a hand. “Don’t play martyr here, Mom. You tricked me. You treated me like a child. And like a child, I ran. But I came back, to help Brett, but also to talk to you. Face to face.” She closed the laptop.

  Mom opened her mouth, but Jo jumped in before she began.

  “You ambushed me.”

  “You said that.” Mom’s tone sounded snotty, hurt.

  Jo didn’t care.

  “A wedding, Mother. An entire wedding without so much as a word to me about it. What woman in her right mind would want a surprise wedding? A shower? A birthday party? Yes. But a wedding isn’t something you toss at the bride.”

  Mom crossed her arms. “Jo, let’s not quibble here. We both know you require a caretaker.” She let her gaze meet Jo’s for a split second. “Dexter is fully qualified as a husband. He has money, stability, good health. If the carpenter had an accident, you’d be in a world of trouble.”

  “Okay. You’ve missed something. Did you understand what Dr. Miller said? I have celiac.”

  Mother spun from her chair and marched dramatically to the window. “I know.” Her voice spoke of forlorn women, desperate mothers, woe-laden lives. “Why do you think I put the wedding together? Celiac.” She clucked her tongue. “A life sentence.” She dabbed under her eye with her sleeve.

  Jo laughed so hard she fell on the floor.

  “Josephine!” Her mother dashed to her side. “My God. Are you all right?”

  Through hiccups and guffaws, Jo swatted her mother away.

  “Let me help you.”

  Her tone quelled Jo’s laughter. “I’m laughing at you, Mom. Because you are hysterical. A true hypochondriac. Do you understand what celiac is? Did you listen at all? I have to stay away from gluten. That’s all.”

  Mother shook her head. “The doctor dismissed your past with the new diagnosis. It can’t be that simple. I tended you through your horrible childhood. You were so sickly, thin. Your bones broke, and you threw up all the time. You wasted away before me.” She sobbed, throwing herself into the chair again, her forearm covering her eyes. “How we both suffered.”

  “Yes, Mom. It was tough. We both struggled because we didn’t realize the cause of my sickness. But now we do. And yes, it’s that simple. I became malnourished because I can’t process wheat. It made me sick. All those crackers, bread, and cookies made it worse.”

  Mom lay her head down on the table, her sobs palpable. “I did the best I could for you.”

  Jo rubbed her mother’s shoulder. “Yeah, you did. You took great care of me. But now I know what’s wrong. I can live with the condition easily.”

  Mom’s head popped up, and she shoved Jo’s hand away. “You have a lifelong sentence with this disease. That’s why I spoke with Dexter. We agreed your marrying him would provide you with the health care you require.”

  Mom was still not listening. The drama and whining got them nowhere. Jo buried her anger once again. After a cleansing breath, she stared hard at her mom.

  “One, the world is quite aware of gluten allergies now, so my diet will be easy to manage. Two, you and Dexter, who isn’t even my boyfriend, don’t get to decide what’s best for me. I need you as a parent and a friend, but not a caregiver. I can take care of myself.”

  “You don’t need me anymore.” Her mother dropped her head back on the table, the sobs louder. “After all I’ve done for you.”

  “Jesus, Mom.” The core of molten anger in her gut exploded. The years of bowing and scraping only to have to show gratitude to someone who kept her prisoner. Uh, no. Mom didn’t see and might never. Jo let the anger roar through her and out her mouth.

  “I’m an adult, and I deserve an actual life outside your care. It’s a manageable allergy. I’m not waiting anymore, Mom. Be happy I’m better. I have a job, met a nice guy, and I’m moving out. You can’t stop me.”

  Anger spent, the warmth of her emotions still played over her skin. She’d never spoken to her mother like that in her lifetime. It was great to unload on her—to tell her the truth she’d wanted to say for so long. They’d been so co-dependent for so many years.

  But the chains were broken. Dammit, Jo wouldn’t cow or wait for the woman to understand times had changed.

  Mom straightened in her chair, her head up but not looking at Jo. No tear tracks marred her makeup. Either it was quality stuff or the crocodile tears failed to leave their mark. />
  “I don’t know how you’ll survive. If you’re on your own… You understand what it means?”

  Jo smirked. “Just say it, Mom.”

  She’d known from the day of the diagnosis this conversation would happen. She’d planned for it. That’s why she’d agreed to the party at the hotel. It gave her time to put her ducks in a row and support herself once her mother dropped the ax. And the woman was swinging.

  “Can this Brett support you with the health care you require? The lifestyle you are used to? Can he give you what you need?” She threw her words like darts, and Jo dodged every one.

  Crossing her arms, she leaned against the wall. “I’ve got this.”

  “Not if I refuse to…”

  There it was. The “I’ll cut you off” sentence Jo waited for.

  “I don’t need your money, Mom. I have some in trust from Dad. Not much. But I have a new job, and I’m good at it. I sent a sample project into Ezgamez, and they offered me a fantastic position on their team. Good-bye.”

  Her computer back in the case, she tossed the bag over her shoulder with enough chutzpah for Mom to receive the message. Jo strolled to the door.

  Mother called after. “Position? When did you get a job?”

  Jo smiled at her and kicked the lounge door closed behind her.

  ~*~

  Jo practically ran into Brett in the lobby, his head tipped down, one hand rifling his hair.

  Damn. Maybe the meeting with his brother didn’t go well.

  She had a cure for that. They never finished the “being trapped in a snowstorm together” adventure. Even though he had a plow and a woodstove.

  “Hey,” she whispered, lightly touching his arm. “Wanna get out of here?”

  His head popped up. A foolish grin spread across his face. “Hey, yourself.”

  “You must be exhausted after all that work, and…” She waved at the closed office door.

  “Actually,” Brett said, scooping her up in his arms. “I’m good. You still have the key for the suite?” His grin was infectious. A handsome man standing so close muddled her thoughts.