The Winter Wedding Plan--An unforgettable story of love, betrayal, and sisterhood

by Olivia Miles

  “What about him?” she asked simply, but her chest had grown tight.

  “The deal was that you’d pretend to be my fiancée. How can you expect this to be convincing if another man is in the picture?”

  Charlotte looked him squarely in the eye. “You don’t need to worry about that. There’s no other man in my life. Or Audrey’s life, for that matter.”

  The furrow in Greg’s forehead deepened. “Don’t you have family you can stay with?”

  Charlotte saw no other choice. It was time to double down, go all in. “Do we have a deal or not, Mr. Frost?”

  “We shook on that deal last night, from what I recall.”

  “Fair enough.” Charlotte shrugged and started to turn away. “I guess I’ll see you on the thirteenth then. For the party. You can reach me by phone, of course, and I’ll be in touch about menus and flowers.” She waved her hand dismissively through the cold morning air. “Party details.”

  “Wait.” His voice was gruff, but there was resignation in his deep brown eyes.

  Charlotte bit back a smile. She knew she’d win him over. She’d never struggled to attract men. Keeping them was the issue, she thought bitterly. But in this case, she needn’t worry about that. Greg was a business deal, a paycheck. He was good for what he was offering, and he wasn’t offering anything real.

  He stepped back from the door after a heavy pause and made a grand sweeping gesture with his arm. “Come in, then. Both of you.”

  * * *

  A woman with chin-length gray hair stopped dusting a lamp base and blinked several times at Charlotte before shooting a discreet look at Greg.

  “Marlene, this is Charlotte, the, um, friend I was telling you about.”

  Marlene didn’t look fazed, Charlotte was quick to note. Clearly, she’d been let it on the ruse.

  “Marlene has been taking care of the house for years,” Greg explained. “She looks after the place and, well…she’s like family.”

  “A pleasure to meet you,” Charlotte said, thrusting out her left hand, given that her right hand was busy holding Audrey.

  Marlene’s smile was warm as she skirted her gaze to the baby. “All mine, of course.”

  “Charlotte is actually going to be staying here through the party. Would it be possible to have the carriage house ready by this evening?”

  To Charlotte’s disappointment, Marlene shook her head. “The furnace is out, and since I didn’t know you were coming back…I’ll make a call,” she said quickly. “But the room next to mine is made up.”

  Greg’s jaw set as he looked at Charlotte. “Would that suit you?”

  Not seeing much of a choice and comforted by the other woman’s presence, Charlotte nodded.

  “I’ll give Charlotte a quick tour before I leave for the office,” Greg told Marlene, who nodded silently, her gray eyes now so large Charlotte wondered if the poor woman would ever blink again.

  Dutifully, she followed Greg through the maze of halls, knowing that as soon as the tour was over, she would be completely lost. They made their way through formal rooms and narrow hallways and eventually up the stairs to where Charlotte and Audrey would be sleeping for at least one night.

  Greg paused outside the bedroom door. “I hope this will do,” he said, holding back as she went inside.

  Charlotte sucked in a breath as she wandered through the large bedroom, where a row of tall windows lent a beautiful view of the front garden, now covered in a blanket of glistening snow. The walls were painted a pale robin’s-egg blue, with silk drapes in a darker shade skimming the floorboards and extending all the way to the high ceiling. A white desk and armoire each anchored one wall, while a four-poster bed with the most pillow-soft duvet Charlotte had ever seen centered the far wall. A huge, all-white bathroom was tucked behind a door, with a tub that could fit at least two—not that she’d be inviting anyone to join her, thank you very much.

  “This is beautiful.” She shook her head, biting her lip to hide her grin so Greg wouldn’t catch on to just how much it all meant to her. She hadn’t been in a room this lovely since a family vacation to a ski resort when she was a teenager, and then she’d had to share with Kate, who was a restless sleeper and kept kicking her in the shins. In return, Charlotte had skimmed her ice-cold feet over Kate’s bare legs until her sister squealed.

  “I’ll put fresh towels in the bathroom,” Marlene said as she appeared in the doorway. She seemed to hover next to Greg, unsure of what to do next.

  “The crib is in my car. I had to take it apart…” And very oddly positioned the mattress to fit in the backseat, Charlotte didn’t bother to mention.

  “I suppose I’ll need to assemble that, then.” Greg said it matter-of-factly, as if it were the obvious conclusion, but Charlotte couldn’t help but smile.

  “I’ll get it out of the car, then.” Charlotte looked around the room, wondering where to set Audrey, knowing there was no safe place now that she was crawling and curious. “I have a playpen I use during the day. It takes a while to set up the crib.”

  “Tonight then. But you’ll need help unpacking before I leave for the office. Marlene, can you assist Charlotte while she and I go to the car?” Greg said briskly.

  Marlene blinked up at him. “You mean…”

  “That’s right, Marlene. We need you to hold the baby.”

  * * *

  A baby! Greg gripped the steering wheel as he swerved into his reserved parking spot at Frost Greeting Cards and screeched to a halt. A baby had never been in the cards, never hinted at—what the hell was he going to do with a baby?

  He didn’t do babies. He didn’t hold them, didn’t coo to them, nothing. They weren’t in his nature. Babies were one thing to him and one thing only: a deal breaker.

  His mind reeled as Rebecca’s last words came back to him. If you love me…And then, the ultimatum. He’d seen it coming, sensed the change in her, ignored the not-so-subtle comments, hoping they would go away. Hoped that the woman who loved her career as much as he loved his, who rolled her eyes at the sound of a fussy child in a restaurant, who preferred to blow through her paycheck on designer clothes and spa treatments would come back to him. Because that’s the kind of woman he needed. A woman who looked after herself, while he took care of himself.

  And then Rebecca’s best friend, Amanda, had to go and have that baby. Suddenly, the cool, breezy woman at his side was talking about children—their children—and that’s when the night sweats had started. Children were never part of the deal. She knew it; she wanted it that way, too. They were a power couple, they valued their freedom, and neither one of them had any interest in that sort of thing. Until Rebecca suddenly changed her mind.

  He closed his eyes and drew a long breath, repeating the yoga exercises he had witnessed his mother practice on the rare occasions they saw one another outside of a business meeting. Calm. He needed to be calm. Six hundred employees in that glass tower were watching him, expecting him to lead them on the path, to show up with a confident stride and a friendly grin. To never sweat. He couldn’t fall apart now over a baby, of all things, especially not a temporary one, and certainly not one that wasn’t even his.

  He blew out of a breath and counted to ten.

  By the time he had counted to thirty, he knew he couldn’t give it any more time. He climbed out of the car and darted to the revolving doors of Frost Greeting Cards, deflation setting in when he saw the lobby’s transformation. Every year on December first it happened. A huge tree stood in the center of the atrium, wrapped in lights and garland, with hundreds of Frost Greeting Cards ornaments hanging from the spiky branches. The usual blue carpet runner that led to the reception area had been replaced with red, and the soft sound of carols came over the speaker system. Greg’s lip curled. It was December all right, and that meant they had a matter of weeks to land the biggest account of the year. Having the Burke’s department store spotlight on the books before year end would be a big boost to their revenue, but more so, it would ensure
his promotion to CEO upon his mother’s retirement. Fiancée or not, he was sure of it. Almost.

  Greg stepped into the private elevator that led to his top-floor offices, and when he arrived on his floor, he handed his coat to the assistant who stood to greet him.

  “Coffee?”

  He gave a tight nod, his stride long and determined as he moved to his office. He closed the glass doors behind him and flipped through his messages. Two already, from his mother. He glanced at his watch and gave a wry smile. Technically, being located on the East Coast gave him a three-hour head start, but somehow his mother still managed to start her day before him.

  Greg picked up the phone and dialed. “Good morning, Mother,” he said after her curt greeting.

  “How’s the Burke’s proposal coming along?” Rita inquired, and Greg felt his temper stir. When he was a kid, he loved watching reruns of those cheesy family sitcoms, even the ones filmed in black and white. His nanny would sit and play solitaire on the coffee table while he sat on the rug, mesmerized. The shows were more or less the same, usually focusing on some problem one of the kids had at school or with a friend, but it was always made right at the end, by the time the mother pulled the roast out of the oven and the family gathered at the table, just after the father strolled in from work, dropped his briefcase, gave his wife a peck on the cheek, and collected the evening newspaper from the family dog’s mouth. His favorite episodes were the seasonal ones, where the families would gather around the tree they had decorated together, and eat cookies and sip cocoa and write up lists for Santa.

  One time Greg had made the mistake of asking his mother why their life couldn’t be more like the ones on television. His mother had offered to buy him a dog; the nanny claimed she was allergic. Eventually he had given up telling her about the shows, and not long after that, he gave up watching them altogether. Later he learned the people on television were actors, playing a part that wasn’t real. Their lives were just as fake as this Christmas sham the Frosts were selling to everyone.

  Greg accepted the coffee from his assistant and took a sip, leaning back in his chair. “I have a meeting in half an hour with the research department to go over some last-minute details about projected sales. Marketing is finishing the proposal today.”

  “Well, for damage control I went ahead and booked a lunch meeting with the Burke’s team for tomorrow at the office,” she continued. “It would be the perfect opportunity for us to lay the groundwork for the party.”

  “You’re flying in?” Greg asked.

  “Just for the meeting,” Rita cut in. Without pausing for breath, she asked, “How’s the party coming along?”

  Greg placed the mug on his desk, his fingers still wrapped around the handle. “I hired an event planner yesterday. A local company in Misty Point.”

  There was a pause at the other end of the line. “A local company? Are they any good? I was rather hoping you would have hired a big company in Boston, Gregory.” She tsked her disappointment.

  Greg lifted his eyes to the ceiling and took another measured breath. “Well, our usual company wasn’t willing to travel to Misty Point, and no one else was available on such short notice. She seems quite competent,” he said, realizing that he wasn’t so sure of that, actually. Charlotte had been bit…frazzled in their meeting, and he had been so distracted with this other silly matter that he hadn’t even bothered to ask for a portfolio or resume. He’d assumed the information on the website was representative and she would be able to handle the event. He cleared his throat. “Besides, there’s no time to hire anyone else. The party’s a week from Saturday. You should just be happy it’s happening at all given the sudden change of plan.”

  “Well, if you’re sure…”

  “I am,” he said.

  “And your fiancée will be there, right?”

  Greg picked up the mug, boasting a corporate logo in black ink, and took a long swig of coffee. He could tell her right now, call her bluff on yesterday’s threat. She’d never hand the company over to Drew. Family was important to her—or at least the image of it was—and as her only son, he knew that held more weight than any engagement. Deep down his mother couldn’t care less about his personal life. Some of his friends longed for the lack of intrusion, but they hadn’t grown up as a Frost. They took things like home-baked cookies and family meals for granted.

  “About that, Mother—”

  “Oh, don’t even tell me!” His mother’s voice was shrill. “Don’t even tell me she can’t make it, Gregory! My nerves are already shot, just thinking of this impending retirement. I’m already stepping down against my will; the last thing I need is to walk away without the Burke’s campaign. If I’m being forced to retire, I want to go out on a high note.”

  Greg tapped his finger on his desk. This wasn’t the first time his mother had made such a passionate proclamation when it came to her retirement. If it was up to Rita Frost, she’d continue on as CEO until the day she expired, but company policy mandated no CEO could serve for longer than thirty years—it was his grandfather’s way of keeping things “fresh.”

  “You know I think we can get that campaign regardless of our…family situation.” He waited as silence fell on the other end of the line. He’d unintentionally hit a nerve, reminding his mother of their less-than-conventional circumstances.

  The rumor Rita had started just over thirty-four years ago was that Greg’s father had died in a car crash, leaving her a widow who preferred to take back her maiden name, given its esteem and her active role in the company. The truth of the matter was that the man had bailed with no intention of ever getting down on one knee, much less being a father to her child. It was a sore spot in his mother’s past—something she never discussed, and something Greg had learned only by overhearing conversation between his grandparents when he was too young to fully understand. She busied herself in covering her feelings, he’d realized when he was older, looking back, but eventually she had given in to herself and hardened.

  Greg’s own holiday card from Darling Cards had arrived, presumably opened by his assistant yesterday when he’d been out of the office, and was now propped on the credenza near the window, taunting him. He leaned forward on his desk with sudden interest. He studied the image, noticing the way it stood out from the dozens on either side of it, and he knew it represented more to his mother than stiff competition. The Darling family sprawled the width of the letter-envelope-sized card. They were attractive, even if they were dressed in those ridiculous Christmas plaids, and their smiles were nothing short of smug. There were dozens of them, all brought together for one perfect photograph, indicating that such moments were a casual, common thing. Greg clamped a hand over his mouth when he spotted Edgar Darling wearing that jaunty little cap his mother was so put out by, but he knew she would have swapped places for a minute. Cap and all.

  He thought of their own family photo and what it would look like in comparison. Rita Frost. And her son. Gregory. Two people side by side, sitting in corporate attire in one of their bicoastal corner suites, or perhaps standing in front of the corporate tree down in the lobby, possibly trying to pass it off as their own. She’d probably be sitting in a chair. Maybe he’d be standing just behind her, slightly off to the side. Perhaps he’d rest a hand on her shoulder, while her hands were folded primly in her lap and her ankles were crossed. He sputtered out a mirthless chuckle at the thought and covered the receiver with his palm so his mother didn’t hear.

  There was nothing funny about it, though. For him, it was all he ever knew, and he was fine with it—most of the time. But his mother always felt a void, always longed for something—or someone, he supposed bitterly—who wasn’t there. It was the reason the company meant so much to her, the reason why the looming retirement sent her into a tailspin. There was too much time, too many days to be filled. With what? With whom?

  Greg tried to adjust how their family photo would look, knowing as well as his mother that it could never be deemed as impre
ssive as the Darling family from first glance. His mother’s cousin could join in, to fill things out, along with her husband; her son, Drew, and his wife; and of course Drew’s three strapping sons.

  Greg’s jaw began to ache. Drew wasn’t even a Frost. He was a Richardson. There was no way his mother could seriously entertain the possibility of letting Drew take over instead of her own son. Her only son. Her only true family other than her sister, who had never even worked at Frost Greeting Cards a day in her life.

  Disgusted, he looked away from the photo, making a mental note to toss it in the trash as soon as this phone conversation was over.

  “We’re a prestigious company, Mother. Our Christmas card sales have beat Darling for the last ten years running, as have our ornaments and the new holiday décor and craft lines. We produce goods that people buy. I think we have this in the bag.”

  “I’m not willing to take any risks,” his mother said evenly. “Now, what is it you have to tell me about your fiancée? Please don’t even think of telling me she isn’t coming.”

  Greg rubbed his index finger over his forehead, feeling the onset of a migraine. “She’s coming,” he said. “Charlotte is coming.” He winced, waiting for the inevitable pause.

  “Charlotte?” His mother sounded understandably confused. “I thought her name was Rebecca.”

  Damn. Though he rarely discussed his personal life with his mother, he’d overlooked her razor-sharp memory.

  “That’s the name of the woman I dated before Charlotte,” he said, hating himself.

  “Oh.” His mother paused. “Oh—another call coming in. Must run! Bye now!” And with that, without further question, she disconnected the call.

  Another call. A more important call was more like it.

  Greg held the phone for a moment before finally setting it down. He should be relieved, he knew. Not disappointed.

  Chapter Ten