by Olivia Miles
Greg would never forget that last Christmas in the family home, or the fleeting sense of hope it gave him. It was a side of his mother he’d never seen before. And a side he hadn’t seen again. Until today.
“Cookie, gentlemen?” Rita gave her most generous smile and motioned to the tray in the middle of the conference room table. “They’re an old family recipe passed down from my mother, and her mother before that. I bake them every year. Just one of our many family traditions.”
Darren Burke helped himself to a large sugar cookie in the shape of a tree and inhaled it in three large bites before reaching for another. From the corner of his eye, Greg could sense his mother’s watchful gaze. They’re falling for it, Gregory, it said. He cleared his throat. Too much was on the line to get caught up in old family resentments. His mother was trying to make this deal work, and so he’d play along, too. He had too much riding on this.
“Oh, what can I say?” Greg said, sliding a rueful smile in his mother’s direction. “I never could resist one of your sugar cookies, Mom.” He popped one in his mouth. Soft, buttery, with just the right amount of sweetness. The bakery over on Hill Street never disappointed.
“These are almost as good as the ones my daughter makes,” Darren said, slurping his coffee. “She was up at the house over the weekend with her two little girls, baking dozens and dozens of cookies with my wife.” He smiled fondly. “What a sight that was.”
Darren Burke’s son and current chief marketing officer, Jimmy, took the opportunity to take two more cookies, which obviously pleased Rita to no end.
“Christmas traditions are such a wonderful gift we can pass down through the generations, don’t you think, gentlemen?” Not waiting for a response to her question, Rita pressed, “That’s really the message we like to send here at the company. It’s not about giving a card or hanging an ornament. It’s about creating a tradition. Making a memory.” She beamed.
Greg looked at Darren, who was sitting back in his chair, his two big hands splayed on the edge of the table. He was lapping this up, just as his mother knew he would. She proffered one more cookie in his direction before flashing Greg a stern message with her eyes. He opened his leather portfolio. It was time to get to business.
“As you’ll see from the numbers our research team has put together, Frost continues to be the leader in holiday goods. Our card sales have continued to rise over the years, and wrapping paper sales are at an all-time high.”
Greg showed them the mock-up for the display the marketing team had created, and examples of similar setups they had done over the years at other retailers. It was good work, just as good as Darling Cards—and better in his opinion—but it might not be enough in the end.
Darren Burke turned to him. “Will a portion of these proceeds go to any specific cause?”
Greg didn’t dare look at his mother. As with many large companies, they supported a variety of charitable organizations, but nothing in particular when it came to their holiday items. “Excuse me?”
“Darling Cards is giving a portion of their seasonal proceeds to help underprivileged children at Christmas. Children in foster care, group homes, even hospitals.” Darren looked at him expectantly.
“How lovely,” Rita crooned from the end of the table. Her eyes were unnaturally bright, her smile too large. Too frozen.
“It’s their way of making the holiday special for those who can’t be home to enjoy it.”
“Yes. I see. Of course. How special.” Rita was nodding her head now. Buying time, Greg observed. Even from the five-foot distance, he could see the wheels turning, the gleam in her expression as an idea took hold. “Family is the most important thing at the holidays, of course. No card or ornament or gift can match the simple pleasure of being home, surrounded by the ones you love the most.” She settled back in her chair, her expression turning wistful.
Greg’s mouth went dry as he waited for her to continue. He took a sip of water to curb his mounting anxiety. Rita could be ruthless when she thought an opportunity was slipping away.
“I’ll never forget when Gregory went away to college, and how hard that was for me. I just wanted him with me every day, you know?”
The Burke father and son exchanged a knowing glance, nodding in understanding. Greg didn’t bother to mention that he was the one who had stuck around the Boston area. His mother was the one who spent more and more time on the West Coast.
“I remember I sent him a box of my famous chocolate chip cookies and I scribbled a little card. A taste of home, that’s what I wrote. Well, Gregory would probably be embarrassed to admit it, but he kept that card. It wasn’t just about the cookies, and the hours I spent over that hot oven. After all, once they’re eaten, they’re gone. But a card, a card lasts forever. It captures a moment in time, a sentiment however brief. It keeps family together, even across the greatest distance.”
Greg managed not to roll his eyes as his mother sighed softly and gazed out the window for effect. The Burkes sat perfectly still in their seats, absorbing the story, before finally turning to each other with a nod.
“Well, unfortunately we’ve got to be in New York tonight for a dinner meeting. We’ve got someone driving in from Long Island.” Darren pushed his chair back from the table and stood, adjusting his tie.
For a moment, Rita looked stricken, but she quickly composed herself. There were a hundred different people Darren could be dining with tonight, but the Darlings were based on Long Island, and Rita knew it.
“We’ll see you in Misty Point next week, then?” she confirmed, standing to lead them out of the conference room. “We’re so thrilled you’ll be joining us in our family home for the holidays.”
“Looking forward to it,” Jimmy said. “We’ll be in touch sooner with any questions.”
Satisfied, Rita flung open the door and led them in to the waiting area, just as Charlotte rounded the corner with Stacy. Greg stiffened at the sight of her, forgetting for a moment that he’d asked her to meet with the marketing and public relations department. Never one to miss a trick, Rita looked from Charlotte to Greg with a confused frown.
A dozen excuses ran through his mind, but it was useless. His mother had seen her. And she would see her again at the holiday party, just as Darren and Jimmy would, too. There was no opportunity to turn and run, no chance of pretending he didn’t know her.
As of this moment, Charlotte was officially his fiancée. Just for the holidays, that was.
* * *
Honestly, Charlotte didn’t know what the big deal was! From the look in Greg’s eyes, you would think she’d messed up or something, and this time she was sure: She had not. She was on top of her to-do list; she was getting things done. She was on time. Greg had told her to get in touch with Stacy about the decorations and she had done just that. And yet he had the nerve to look unhappy to see her.
“Stacy,” Greg said. “I’m glad to run into you. I need you to go over to the warehouse and check on our inventory of the new Build Your Own Christmas villages. We need to be sure the last shipment arrived.”
An older woman next to Greg said to the two men with them, “Our DIY line is very popular. It really gives an opportunity for a family to sit down and spend time together, the old-fashioned way.”
Charlotte knew for a fact that they had just seen this exact item in the warehouse only an hour earlier. Charlotte had thought they might make a nice centerpiece item for the dessert stand.
Greg waited until Stacy had left before turning to her, his smile wide. “Isn’t this a surprise?” She stiffened as he put a hand around her shoulder. “Mother, you remember Charlotte,” Greg said. He gave her arm another tight squeeze, but Charlotte didn’t need his less-than-subtle message. She got it now. This was his mother. Rita Frost. Who these other people were, she wasn’t sure, but one thing was clear. She was officially the blushing bride-to-be.
And she wasn’t wearing an engagement ring.
She pushed her left hand behind her back, an
d then, on second thought, around Greg’s waist. He felt solid and thick and warm beneath her arm. And good. Too good.
“It’s so nice to see you again,” Rita suddenly blurted, and catching on quick, Charlotte nodded her agreement. She yanked free of Greg’s death grip to give the petite woman in front of her a good hard hug. Instantly, she was engulfed with heavy perfume, the scent of expensive shampoo, the smooth fabric of clothes that did little to soften her stance.
Greg’s mother’s body stiffened on impact, and then Charlotte felt a light pat on her back, barely enough to be felt through her sweater. Despite the charade, Charlotte couldn’t help but indulge in a brief frown.
Rita quickly released her. “So wonderful to see you…” She glanced up at Greg, blinking rapidly. “Charlotte.” She gave a smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes, and from their close proximity Charlotte was able to discern a resemblance she hadn’t noticed initially. Both mother and son had the same shade of brown hair, the same dark, deep-set eyes.
“Charlotte, this is Darren and Jimmy Burke of Burke’s department stores.” Greg’s voice was tense. “I’d like to introduce you to my fiancée, gentlemen.”
At this, both men’s expressions transformed into large smiles, and handshakes were given all around. Amid the clatter of congratulations and questions about the wedding date, Charlotte felt Rita’s eyes boring through her. Charlotte smiled, but the gesture wasn’t reciprocated.
“We look forward to seeing you next week at the house,” Greg concluded. He draped his arm around her waist again. It had been a long time since she’d felt the warm reassurance of a body close to hers. It felt good to belong to someone. Even if it was just pretend. “Charlotte’s been working night and day to get it ready.”
“Christmas is my favorite holiday,” Charlotte admitted. “I suppose I’m getting a bit swept away this year with—”
Greg’s eyes blazed. “With the party! And the engagement, of course.” His smile tightened. “The party is a great excuse to go over the top this year.”
Charlotte nodded quickly. She’d almost slipped. “I love decorating my future home for Christmas.” She felt Greg exhale.
“We’re looking forward to it,” Darren said, pressing the elevator button. “And I have to say I’m impressed that you would host a company event in your family home.”
“Our company is family run,” Rita purred. “We try not to draw a line between home and office.”
The elevator doors slid open and the two men stepped inside, nodding their goodbyes. Only once the doors had quietly closed shut and the lights above the elevator bank indicated the car was moving toward the first floor did Rita turn to fix Greg with a look that sent a shiver down Charlotte’s spine.
“Well, the cat’s out of the bag now. So much for announcing your engagement at the party and really making a moment of it,” Rita said, giving a brittle laugh.
“My engagement isn’t a party trick, Mother,” Greg said firmly, and for a moment, Charlotte had to remind herself this engagement wasn’t even real. It was too easy to be swept up in the momentousness of a man actually standing up for her, defending their relationship.
Something Jake had never done.
Rita ran a dismissive hand through the air. “Ah, well. Maybe it was better to let them know now. It will give them something to think about tonight when they’re dining with old Edgar and his little chapeau.” She turned her sharp eyes on Charlotte, saying coolly, “Tell me, Charlotte, do you make it a habit of coming to Gregory’s office unannounced?”
“Today was my first time here, actually,” Charlotte said evenly. She looked up at Greg, who was looking straight ahead in the distance, frowning. “I just came to pick up a few last-minute items for the holiday party.”
Rita’s brow pinched tight. “The party! That’s what the event planner is for.” She pinched her lips and stared at Greg with naked disappointment. “But then, I suppose that’s what you get when you insist on hiring someone from Misty Point.”
Charlotte stood rooted to the floor as Rita stormed into a nearby office. Her own temper was starting to prickle. The old Charlotte would have said something snappy, acted on emotion and said that she was out of here. No fake engagement, no party. Nothing. But the new Charlotte…She drew a long breath. She’d come too far to have someone like Rita Frost put her in her place again, belittle her as a person, judge her on social rank. She knew the type all too well. Greg’s mother was no different than Jake’s, and just like the Lamberts, Rita Frost clearly thought someone like Charlotte could never be good enough for her son.
But then she didn’t know the real Charlotte. She had no idea that Charlotte was a single, unwed mother. A townie from Misty Point. An event planner.
Charlotte frowned. A woman like Rita would never welcome her with open arms. And a man like Greg probably couldn’t, either.
Greg gave Charlotte an apologetic smile, one that lifted the right corner of his mouth into a lopsided grin. His eyes looked sad and resigned, and Charlotte felt herself waver.
It was just for the holidays, she reminded herself, even though the reminder suddenly disappointed her a bit.
Greg tipped his head in the direction of the office—a silent invitation she begrudgingly accepted with a lift of her chin. After a sigh so heavy she could see it roll through his shoulders, he followed his mother into the room, with Charlotte close behind.
This was Greg’s office, she realized at once. She recognized his navy wool scarf hanging on the back of his leather chair. It was a small thing, of little significance really, but somehow the observation made her feel connected to him.
“Well, that was a success,” Greg was saying as he swiveled his chair and sank into it. Charlotte hovered at the edge of the room, sweeping her gaze around the minimal décor, trying her best to avoid direct eye contact with Rita.
Rita gave a noncommittal sound and plucked a dead leaf from a plant at the corner of Greg’s desk. “The holiday party will have to be an even bigger success. Tell me, what’s going on with the event planner you hired?”
Greg hesitated. “The usual party planning, Mother. I hired her, and I’m staying out of it.”
Charlotte managed not to roll her eyes. She’d spent the better part of the early afternoon trolling the Frost warehouse with Stacy, picking out wrapping paper for the fake gifts that would circle the base of the tree, garland and ornaments from their latest line, and even the latest compilation of Christmas music they put out each year, branded with the Frost logo, redesigned for the holidays in a shimmery white font, overlaying a perfect snowflake.
She’d hoped Greg could give her a little more insight into his vision, into what he really wanted the party to look like, the feeling he hoped to convey. Well, she’d have to strap him down tonight. At the very least, she needed his thoughts on the menu.
“I just hope this event planner knows how much is riding on this party,” Rita said, then thinned her lips. Turning to Charlotte, she gave a tight smile. “I’m being rude, please forgive me. As you can see, we are under quite a bit of pressure today.”
“I’m sure that Charlotte understands,” Greg said mildly. “You two can talk more at the party.”
Charlotte noticed how carefully he’d worded this suggestion. He didn’t offer anything that would imply the two women getting to know each other better. For a brief moment Charlotte remembered that to Rita, at least, she was truly Greg’s fiancée, the woman her son was going to marry.
Pity the girl who ever really fell into that role.
“Nonsense,” Rita huffed. “If there’s one thing I don’t like, Gregory, it’s being caught by surprise, with my guard down. No, we can’t risk any more awkward situations in front of the Burke’s team.” She smiled at Charlotte. “Charlotte and I will just have to have a nice little tête-á-tête beforehand. Tonight.”
“But your flight—”
Rita tutted away his concern. “I took the company jet. I’m sure the flight can be pushed back for a few
hours. And I can think of nothing more wonderful than a cozy winter dinner with my wonderful son and his…charming fiancée. Besides, I want to see how the house is coming along for the party.”
Chapter Sixteen
The winter sky was already turning to dusk as Greg, his mother, and his fiancée approached the revolving glass doors in the lobby.
“Am I driving with you?” Rita inquired, pausing at the sidewalk just before the reserved parking section, where Greg’s black sedan was seated in its usual spot.
Greg hesitated. He needed time with Charlotte: time to prepare her, time to get facts straight. “If you wouldn’t mind taking my car, I’d like to ride with Charlotte.”
Rita frowned. “Why don’t I just call a driver?”
“Because I need my car back at the house tonight, and Charlotte and I took separate cars here,” Greg explained. “If I had known you were going to change your travel plans, I would have personally picked you up from the airport this morning.”
Rita smiled and patted his arm, and for a moment, Greg felt shaken. When she wanted to be, his mother could be sweet, even a little nurturing. But those moments were sporadic, usually leaving him unnerved when she reverted back to her hard self so quickly.
“Give me the keys.” Rita sighed as Greg handed them over. “I suppose I should let you two lovebirds have some time alone,” she added, but something in her tone seemed forced, reminding him his mother didn’t really care if he was engaged or not. All she cared about was appearance. And Greg being engaged was convenient for her.