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

by Olivia Miles

  Of course. Audrey. The flower girl. She knew she had needed to work that day, stay back at the office and help of course, but it stung that so much had been discussed in her absence. When Kate was planning her first wedding, she’d included Charlotte in all her plans. But then, that was before…

  Tears stung the back of her eyes and she knew it was time to leave. She had no one to be upset with but herself, but that didn’t make the pain any less. She glanced at her watch. It was half past four, and there was little reason to drive back to the office now. She’d pick up Audrey a few minutes early, even if she did have to pay the sitter for the full day.

  She gave a shaky smile. “Better get home.” Home. If they had any idea what home was to her these days…Well, she’d be in very big trouble. Again.

  * * *

  Greg was in his home office, catching up on emails, when he heard the crash.

  He jumped from his chair and hurried out of the room, his mind beginning to run through every worst-case scenario that might have happened, all of them involving Audrey.

  This house wasn’t baby-proofed. Wasn’t protected from small, curious hands. Christ, one of his grandmother’s antique Chinese vases alone could probably do lethal damage.

  Charlotte looked up at him with wide eyes as he darted into the living room, the Christmas tree at her feet.

  “Oh my God, is—” The child. He couldn’t even think about it.

  “I’m sorry. I was trying to get this ornament on a high branch and my sleeve caught something, and, well…” She cringed.

  “So no one was hurt?” he clarified. “You’re not hurt.”

  She shook her head, but a pleased smile seemed to pull at her mouth. “I’m afraid the only thing that suffered the fall were a few of the ornaments. She bent down and picked up the pieces of Star in the Sky, 2005’s ornament of the year. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” he said. “I’m just happy no one was hurt. When I heard the crash, I thought maybe something had happened to Audrey.” He ground his teeth, hating just how easy that scenario could play out. Tomorrow he’d ask Marlene to look for anything that might be a danger and place it elsewhere.

  “Audrey has been asleep for an hour,” Charlotte said. “I thought I’d use the time to make more headway on the party decorations, but given the noise…I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s awake up there, bawling her head off. “

  “Why don’t you go check on her while I get a broom?” Greg suggested. Shards of porcelain were far too close to Charlotte’s toes for his comfort. He reached out a hand to help guide her over the rubble, surprised at how small and light it felt in his own.

  “Thanks,” she said, her mouth quirking.

  Before he could reply, she’d released his hold on her and dashed out of the room. He watched her go, trailing the sound of her feet on the steps, and then went to fetch a broom from the closet in the kitchen.

  By the time Charlotte returned fifteen minutes later, he’d cleared up every last piece of broken ornament and righted the tree.

  “Oh no.” He could hear the dread in her voice before she’d even come into the room. “It’s worse than I thought!”

  Greg slid his gaze back to the tree, taking in the picture with amusement. At least half the ornaments had suffered from the fall, if not more.

  “I think I have some other ornaments somewhere,” he offered, recalling the boxes his grandparents had kept in the attic. “Some might even be original Frost ornaments.”

  Charlotte’s eyes lit up. “Really? Wow, that would be perfect. It would really underscore the tradition of the family company, which is exactly what you wanted, right?”

  Greg didn't like the sudden shift in topics. It was easy to get caught up in the fantasy, to forget that at the end of the day, this was all about the company. The family company.

  So why then, only now, did he suddenly feel like he was a part of a family for the first time?

  He left the room, went to the attic, and found a few boxes he recalled seeing up there. The room was full and dusty, and he made a promise to himself to revisit it again after the party, see what he might uncover under all the tarps and blankets that covered his grandparents’ belongings.

  When he returned to the living room, Charlotte was standing at the base of the tree, rubbing her hands together.

  “It’s chilly in here.”

  “This house always gets drafty,” he agreed. “It’s one of the reasons my mother hates coming here.”

  Charlotte lifted an eyebrow. “Then why have the party here?”

  “For show,” Greg told her. The entire party hinged on reputation, after all. “Why else?”

  “Maybe there’s more to it,” Charlotte volunteered.

  Greg thought about the photos in the album, the memory of his mother sipping lemonade, laughing as he came up the lawn, his pant legs wet and sandy. “Maybe.” He paused, not wanting to think about his mother any more tonight. Already thoughts of the Burke’s campaign were swimming to the surface of his mind, settling in heavy, like a weight he couldn’t shrug. He shouldn’t have brought up his mother. “I can light a fire if you’d like.”

  She nodded and walked over to the tree as he crossed the room and set about tenting the logs. At his place in Boston he had a gas fireplace. A mere flick of the switch created an instant glow, but this old house had been modernized in pieces, and he liked that some of its charm remained untouched.

  “There,” he said after a few minutes. He rolled back on his heels and stood, admiring his handiwork.

  Charlotte stood beside him, a tired smile on her face as she stared into the hearth. He watched as the curling flames reflected in her eyes. She looked so pretty. Soft and sweet. He had a sudden urge to stand and kiss her.

  Instead he cleared his throat and looked sharply at the tree behind her. “You’ve done a nice job with this,” he said.

  “All these Frost ornaments are so beautiful,” she said, reaching into the box and holding up a small porcelain snowman he vaguely remembered from his childhood.

  She went on to talk about another, but Greg’s mind was already wandering, his attention on anything but the tree. His gaze followed the length of her hair, which hung loosely over her shoulders, cascading down her back. Her voice was soothing, a sound that he’d come to enjoy filling these rooms almost as much as the sound of that crackling baby monitor that was propped on an end table.

  He suddenly realized she was staring at him expectantly.

  “What was that?” he asked, realizing she’d said something to him.

  “I was just asking if you had a favorite ornament,” she said.

  Greg couldn’t care less about these ornaments, at least not the newer ones. Oh, he knew some people collected them, slapped down twenty bucks or more for each perfectly packaged parcel. It had been his grandfather who started the idea of creating a limited keepsake ornament each year, and Rita had kept up with the tradition. It was the best way to home in on the collectors, while the rest of the market just bought on whim or for gifts. The annual keepsake ornament was produced in limited quantities and usually sold out within a weekend before hitting the online auction boards for sometimes fifty times the price. Without fail, some poor fools who thought a trinket that cost fifty cents to produce was worth a few hundred bucks snatched them up. “It makes their Christmas feel complete,” Rita had told him briskly when he mentioned it. Greg had suspected that once or twice Rita herself had listed a keepsake ornament at online auction under an alias, just to see how much it would go for. It was all about the bottom line with her.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” he said, exhaling deeply as he scanned his eyes over the heavily decorated tree. Charlotte had added ribbon and lights and tiny little bells that made the entire thing jingle if touched. But he had to admit it was beautiful, and the guests for the party would be impressed.

  “I just love those little baby’s first Christmas ornaments,” Charlotte went on.

  It wasn’t the first time
she’d mentioned it. Greg considered this and shrugged, slightly perplexed that something like a baby’s first Christmas ornament actually meant something to people. But it did. To millions of people each year. Not that he would know. Their tree growing up only had the keepsake ornaments. The expensive stuff. Rita wouldn’t think of adding any personal touches to a tree that was in her home. It wouldn’t fit the Frost image.

  “This one is interesting,” he said, reaching out to touch a crystal icicle that reflected the light, but at the same moment, her hands shot up, touching his. He felt the spark, the intensity of her touch, however soft it might be. She gave an embarrassed laugh, but he didn’t find any of it funny. He found it…surprising, he supposed. Her lips were pulled into a pretty smile and the lights were twinkling behind her and he inched toward her, leaned in. Her lashes fluttered for one brief, startled second, and her lips parted and he could have kissed her. Then and there.

  Instead he pulled back, cleared his throat. She was a single mother. And he was…well, a Frost. And all he should be thinking about right now was this party that could transition him to his birthright as head of the company. He reached over to adjust an ornament that didn’t even need adjusting, but the ringing of his phone in his pocket interrupted his task. It was probably something to do with work. Some last-minute crisis with the Burke’s pitch. Some latest hiccup with the party.

  He gave Charlotte an apologetic smile and slid his hand into his pocket to retrieve the device, his brow immediately furrowing when he looked down at the screen.

  It was Rebecca.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Charlotte made a stop by Rose in Bloom on her lunch break, hoping to catch Bree and not one of her seasonal employees, who, while friendly enough, didn’t lend the same personal touch she was looking for right now.

  Bree had impeccable taste—she’d know exactly what to choose for the event. Even if she did lecture Charlotte for waiting a matter of days before the event to place her order.

  “This Saturday?” Bree said, as expected, when Charlotte timidly—and quickly—mentioned the date. “Why are you just coming in now?”

  Charlotte opened her mouth to explain that she had stopped by last week, and then decided not to mention it.

  “I’m sorry,” she said instead, wincing. “I’ve had less than two weeks to pull this entire event off myself, and well…this was one detail that fell through the cracks.”

  Bree pursed her lips. “Let’s see what I can do. Luckily this is a holiday party and I have plenty of items in stock. Run through your ideas and we’ll figure it out.”

  “Oh, thank you,” Charlotte gushed, still not completely recovered from the reality that she had come dangerously close to not having any professional flowers for the event at all. She was all too aware that any other florist would have turned her away. But Bree, being a cousin, wouldn’t do that.

  “I was going to bring it up yesterday at the café, but I didn’t want to upset Kate. You know how twitchy she gets about these things. She’d have my head if she knew I didn’t already place the order.”

  “And rightfully so!” Bree gave her a wink. “Let’s see what we can do.”

  Within a few minutes, the women decided on winter greenery with berries and Sahara roses for the arrangements. “Red is tradition for this season, but between you and me, I’m sick of it. And I’ll be seeing enough of that color through Valentine’s Day. Not that I wouldn’t mind if a handsome man decided to bring me red roses for the occasion.”

  A handsome man like Simon, no doubt.

  Bree jotted down the order and asked for the address. “These are for your client Greg?”

  Charlotte nodded. “Yep.”

  “The cute one.” Bree grinned.

  “Stop.”

  “Well, if you’re not interested…Is he single?”

  Charlotte knew Bree was only joking, at least she thought she was, but she didn’t like the thought of Greg with another woman. It was a good thing Colleen hadn’t seen him yet, or she’d be asking the same question.

  “Not at the moment,” she replied. Greg was otherwise engaged until this Saturday night.

  This Saturday night. She put a hand to her stomach when she thought of how important this night was.

  “Charlotte?” Bree was staring at her.

  Charlotte gave an embarrassed smile. “Sorry. I was just starting to think of everything I have to do for this party. I want to get it just right. It’s the first time that Kate has entrusted me with a project of my own. I don’t want to let her down.”

  Bree patted her hand. “You two will work through this. It might not seem like it just yet, but everything will work out the way it’s supposed to. In the end.”

  Will it? Charlotte thought of Audrey, her sweet little baby whose own father couldn’t even deign to look into her eyes, and felt her chest tighten.

  “I don’t know if you’ve heard that Kate isn’t the only one planning a wedding,” she said.

  Bree set down her pen and sighed. “I’ve heard about Jake. His poor fiancée came in here to get a quote for the flowers one day when I was on break. The man has some nerve coming in here, if you ask me.”

  “He sure does,” Charlotte agreed. She didn’t see the reason to explain that she had also been in the store at the time.

  “Well, at least he’s helping you out with child support,” Bree commented. “And you’ll find someone better. Maybe you already have.”

  “Is it so bad for Audrey to be stuck with just me?” she asked, her emotions getting the better of her.

  “What?” Bree looked so surprised by Charlotte’s question that Charlotte immediately felt guilty. “That’s not what I’m saying at all. You’re a wonderful mother, Charlotte!”

  Don’t cry, Charlotte warned herself. Do not cry. She pushed back the lump in her throat. “I’m trying to give her a full life. I know she’ll never have a house with a picket fence, or a dad who holds her on his shoulders, or a sister…”

  “Hey, I never had a sister, either,” Bree pointed out, grinning. “But you’re young, Charlotte. You have a whole life ahead of you yet to live. That’s all I’m saying. And Greg…” She wiggled her eyebrows.

  Charlotte shook her head. These comments about Greg weren’t going to stop unless she put an end to them and she didn’t need her cousin filling her with hope she shouldn’t have, or desire for something that would only lead to disappointment. “Greg is a client, Bree. I promise you that.” A client who had almost kissed her, she was sure of it, not that she would be admitting as much.

  “Uh-huh. Sure he is.” Bree laughed under her breath as she began typing the order into her computer.

  “He is,” Charlotte insisted. “And if it looks like more is going on it’s because…it’s because that’s part of the deal.”

  Bree stopped typing. She slid Charlotte a long, hard look. “Part of the deal.”

  Charlotte huffed out a breath and leaned over the counter. “The only way he let me have the gig was if I agreed to pose as his date for the event.” Really, when you said it like that, it wasn’t such a big deal at all. “Just please don’t tell Kate. Something tells me she wouldn’t understand.”

  “Wait a minute. You mean to tell me that you are pretending to date that man? A man who is, in fact, your client.”

  Well, when you put it like that…“Yes.” Charlotte hesitated. “Look. This is a big client. And this is a big opportunity for me!”

  “And how often are you seeing this man?”

  Charlotte couldn’t lie now. The truth was out, at least to Bree, and she may as well tell her everything. “I’m sort of staying with him.”

  Bree’s eyes bulged. “At his house?”

  Charlotte shifted on her feet. She muttered something that sounded affirmative.

  “Well.” Bree sighed. “I guess he doesn’t seem like a serial killer.”

  Charlotte grinned. “Of course—”

  Bree tipped her head. “Although, serial killers are
notoriously charming. And often attractive.”

  Charlotte narrowed her eyes. “Says who?

  Bree bristled. “You know I love watching Dateline.”

  Charlotte shook her head. “Look, if he kills me, don’t you think he’d be the first suspect on the list? You know my arrangement with him.” She stopped. What was she even saying? Of course Greg wasn’t going to kill her. He wasn’t a serial killer or axe murderer. He was…well, he was sort of perfect really.

  Perfect on paper, she reminded herself. So many men were perfect on paper. Like Jake.

  Except Jake was cold and calculating and self-serving. And Greg was warm and sweet and thoughtful.

  And she was officially going to stop reminding herself of all his wonderful qualities. He was her client. And as she’d just told Bree, this was nothing more than an arrangement.

  “And there’s nothing else going on between the two of you?” Bree didn’t sound convinced.

  “He’s a nice guy,” Charlotte said. “And he’s smart. But he wouldn’t be doing this if he didn’t have to.”

  She frowned at that thought, wondering just how true that really was anymore.

  “Promise you won’t tell Kate?” she asked.

  Bree nodded. “It’s not my place to tell her. But who said she isn’t going to find out on her own?”

  * * *

  Charlotte rolled to a stop in her sister’s driveway and indulged in a long, heavy sigh. It felt good coming clean with Bree, but she couldn’t overlook the suspicion in her cousin’s eyes. Bree wasn’t buying this arrangement, not completely at least.

  Was it that obvious her own judgment was becoming cloudy?

  Greg had almost kissed her last night. And she’d almost let him! And what if he had? What then?

  She released her seat belt. No use thinking about that right now. She had to put together a parking plan for the party and finalize the catering menu since Greg still hadn’t given any thoughts on the matter. Something told her that he’d be fine with whatever she decided on. Still, she’d run it all by Kate, just to be sure.