by Jane Porter
Cormac’s four brothers worked with the movers to get the moving truck from the California house unloaded. Whitney was able to use a lot of the furniture, although some of the couches should probably be replaced down the road.
Harley and Paige did a hard clean upstairs and down, then tackled unwrapping the dishes and giving all dishes and pots and pans a wash before putting them away. While Harley did a big grocery shop to fill the pantry and refrigerator with food, Paige washed the linens and made up the beds.
Taylor and McKenna concentrated on unpacking the big moving boxes filled with clothes, organizing dressers and bedroom closets.
With furniture in place, Troy and Dillon concentrated on hooking up the TVs and electronics while Brock and Trey hung mirrors and Cormac’s art. Cormac had an extensive collection but Whitney was only using select pieces because she also wanted to have room for Daisy’s artwork and space for family photos.
Her Christmas gift to Cormac was the collection of oversized framed photos that she and McKenna hung on the wall, facing the large open kitchen, so that Cormac and Daisy would see them every morning and night.
She’d taken some of the photos of Cormac and Daisy the night of the Marietta Stroll and then a few more on the afternoon they’d all gone skating at Miracle Lake. Using a little camera-editing wizardry, she’d cropped a half dozen images, turning them black and white, and then had them blown up, printed and framed.
In one shot Cormac was carrying Daisy at the end of the Stroll and she was snuggled against his chest, her arms around his neck. In another, they were laughing together as they struggled around the ice rink. Another one was of Cormac watching Daisy, looking fiercely proud and protective of her at the same time.
The photos were a testament to their bond and love and with the six big frames on the wall, the place felt like a home.
And now that everyone had gone and the house was empty, Whitney dimmed the lights and stood in the living room admiring the Christmas tree, and beyond the big living room window she could see lights twinkling low in the valley.
This was a beautiful place with a beautiful view. She hoped with all her heart that Cormac and Daisy would be happy here.
*
Whitney returned to Bramble House to discover an envelope under her door. After turning on the lights and heat, she opened the envelope. Inside was a check. A huge check. Made out to her and signed by Cormac Sheenan.
It was the check owed to her as part of her severance package. Cormac had cut the check himself and left it here for her. But why now, and why like this? It felt cold and awful, as if she was a mercenary.
She called him immediately. “Why? I don’t get it.”
“You were promised that amount. It’s for your six weeks here in Marietta.”
“But it’s only been five, not six.”
“I think you’ve held up your end. You’ve earned it.”
“But everything isn’t finished. There is more at the office and the house—”
“I don’t want you working for me anymore.”
“Why?”
“I don’t think this is good for us.”
She fell silent, stunned.
“You’ve done nothing wrong, Whitney. You’ve done everything right. But I don’t want to be your boss. I don’t think of you as a subordinate.”
“But I am!”
“Which is why I’m ending the business side of our relationship so we can do what we’ve never done: put us first.”
“There isn’t an ‘us’!”
“Not if you’re having to answer to me. So with business off the table, and you no longer on the payroll, we can focus on us and giving us a chance.”
Whitney couldn’t believe it. “You fired me.”
“You were going to be done next week and I thought it was time—”
“So, you did fire me.”
“Whitney, you resigned, remember? You were ready to leave Sheenan Inc. I had to force you to Marietta in the first place—”
She hung up on him.
She’d never hung up on him before but she had to. She couldn’t bear to hear him say another word.
He’d been tough before, and hard, and harsh, but firing her just before Christmas…letting her go before the big party at his house…
It was cruel. She’d worked so hard. She’d cared so much.
Her phone rang. It was Cormac calling back. But she didn’t answer. She turned her phone off and shoved the check back into the envelope and left it on the nightstand.
She’d known all along that he wasn’t a team player. His agenda was the one that mattered, not hers. But the check beneath the door, and his abrupt decision to let her go now, hurt badly. She’d been right not to trust him. Why had she ever dropped her guard?
*
It was a terrible night. Whitney barely slept. But it was morning now. Whitney rolled over, took the envelope from the nightstand, and pulled out the check again.
Once again she blinked at the figure. It was a staggering amount. It’d be enough for a down payment on a house. Maybe even a small house somewhere like Marietta.
She could finally be a homeowner. She could finally get out of her apartment into a place of her own.
This check represented a certain measure of financial security, as well as freedom. She’d never have to deal with Cormac or Sheenan anything again.
She’d be fine. She could even go months before she’d need to work again.
And then she tore the check in half, and continued tearing until it was in shreds. There was no way she could take his money. She couldn’t be bought, or sold. She didn’t want to be paid. She hadn’t come to Marietta to get rich. She’d come to Marietta for Daisy. She’d come here for him. She’d come to Montana because she loved them.
*
Whitney spent the morning getting organized, first booking a seat on tonight’s five o’clock flight to Denver and then called the rental car company and let them know she’d be returning the car ten days early.
Once the travel arrangements were made, she packed, and headed downstairs to settle her account with Bramble House. Eliza was sorry Whitney was leaving, commenting that Kris was checking out today, too.
“I’d like to say goodbye to him,” Whitney said.
“I believe he’s still in the breakfast room.”
Kris was at the table reading the paper and drinking coffee, dressed in cargo khaki trousers and a thick red thermal shirt, topped by his favorite pair of suspenders. He looked up at her, over his wire-rimmed spectacles. “Happy almost Christmas.”
She poured herself a cup of tea and joined him at the table. “Happy almost Christmas to you, too.”
“How is the house? Is it ready for the party tonight?”
“Everything’s done, and Daisy’s room is my favorite.” Whitney struggled to sound cheerful. “I debated giving her a delicate princess room with pink tulle and sparkly tiaras but in the end I gave her a room suited for a warrior princess. On one side, she has a gold canopy bed topped by a crown plus a royal writing desk and chair, because even princesses will have homework, and then on the opposite side of the room, there is a mural of a castle, with a real climbing wall, and at the top, a thick sturdy rope so she can swing across her room to reach the bed and fight off the bad guys with one of her trusty swords.” Whitney smiled. “Of course the swords are plastic and foam, but I couldn’t give her all dolls. A girl needs to know how to fight, especially if she’s planning on ruling a kingdom.”
“It sounds wonderful,” Kris said.
“I painted all the murals myself. I do hope she’ll love it.”
“You’ll find out tonight.”
“I’m not going tonight,” she said lowly. “I’m heading back to Denver. I’m booked on a five o’clock flight.”
“Doesn’t that make you happy? I thought you loved Denver.”
“I do, or I did. It’s just hard leaving. I don’t want to say goodbye.”
“Then don’t go.”
“You ma
ke that sound easy.”
“It is. Stay here.”
“And do what? I don’t work for Cormac anymore.”
“Cormac owns Sheenan Inc., not Marietta.” He chuckled at his own joke, but when he looked at Whitney, his expression gentled. “If you have faith, things will work out the way they are meant to work out.”
“You know, I love him, Kris. I’ve loved Cormac since the day I met him.”
“He loves you, too. He just hasn’t convinced you yet.”
“I don’t think he can,” she said under her breath.
“Well, then, there’s your answer.”
She lifted her head, looked at him. “What do you mean?”
“If he can’t, then this will never be home. You’re smart to figure this out now, before either of you gets hurt. And if you’re not right for each other, then do the sensible thing and let each other go.” He stood up. “I’m going to be busy later so let me give you a hug and say goodbye, and wish you a very Merry Christmas.”
She stood up, too, and gave him a hug. “Thank you for everything. You were so wonderful, in so many ways. I can’t tell you how happy you made Daisy—”
“And you?” he said, tipping her chin up. “Are you happy? You should be. You’re getting what you wanted. Soon you’ll be home for Christmas.”
*
Whitney couldn’t get Kris’ words, home for Christmas, out of her head. They repeated over and over as she carried her bags down to her car and then checked out of Bramble House.
She still had a couple hours before she had to be at the Bozeman airport, so she ran some errands in Marietta, stopped by Copper Mountain Chocolates to say goodbye to Sage, and then went into the florist to get a pretty holiday arrangement for Eliza and Mable at the B&B. The florist assured Whitney they could still deliver today, and Whitney scribbled a note of thanks on the tiny florist card letting the Brambles know how much she appreciated the last few weeks in their beautiful home.
And then she had time for one last coffee from Java Café, and with her coffee in hand, she took a last stroll down Main Street, trying to take it all in, wanting to remember everything. The parade. The lights. The carolers. The roasted chestnuts. The fun.
It had been a great month. It had. She’d hang on to those memories.
Whitney walked to the Crookshank Building which was still humming with noise and activity. She’d heard that the first of the Sheenan Media team had arrived at the end of last week and the rest would be here soon. She’d done what she could. She’d given everything she could. She had no regrets, either.
Not one hundred percent true, she thought, heading back to her car. She would miss being at Cormac and Daisy’s tonight. She would miss seeing Daisy’s face as she entered her new home for the first time. She would have loved to be there when Daisy stepped into her bedroom and saw the canopy bed and the castle climbing wall and the little reading corner reached by the wooden drawbridge. Whitney had even painted a dragon peeking around the closet door because every good princess needed her own dragon.
Just like Mulan.
Every little girl should grow up strong and confident, creative and independent.
And every girl should be encouraged to take risks, too. It was okay to fail. One just had to try.
*
Cormac knew he’d promised Whitney that he’d stay away from the house until the big party Christmas Eve, but he wanted to slip a gift for Daisy under the tree. It was a custom dollhouse he’d commissioned one of Heath’s carpenters to make for Daisy. It looked like their new house and it was filled with furniture and a set of dolls. He hoped she’d like it. He wanted to give her something special just in case he couldn’t deliver on the promise Santa had made her.
But entering his new house, Cormac was blown away. It was beautiful. It was everything he’d thought it could be. Elegant, stylish, yet comfortable. She’d mixed sturdy antiques with his modern pieces from the California beach house. Rich jeweled Persian carpets covered the stone and wood floors. Crimson and copper pillows softened the severe lines of his couch.
Cormac positioned the dollhouse at the back of the Christmas tree and then walked around, visiting each room. He’d be happy here. Daisy would be delighted by her incredible bedroom. But there was something off, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.
He walked around once, and then twice, returning to the family room with the soaring ceiling and the beautiful pine tree. His gaze swept the wood angels on the table, the Nativity scene on the built in bookshelf, the dark ruby candles on the mantle and then his eye was caught by the stockings hanging at the fireplace.
Two knit stockings. Two hanging together.
Pain shot through his chest. The pain was as physical as if he’d been punched in his heart.
There shouldn’t be two stockings.
There should be three.
Whitney needed a stocking. She belonged here with them. Whitney was the part missing. Without her, the family was incomplete. Daisy didn’t need a princess castle room. She didn’t need a dollhouse. She didn’t need the toys he’d ordered and wrapped. What she needed was Whitney. And he needed Whitney, too.
Cormac left the house quickly and drove into town. He needed to find Whitney immediately and make her understand that no, he wasn’t good with fighting, and no, he didn’t enjoy the back and forth—he’d always found conflict excruciating—but he wasn’t his dad, and Whitney wasn’t his mom, and they didn’t have to become those people who couldn’t work things out.
They didn’t have to be angry and resentful. They could move forward. It was a choice. Forgive, forget. Let go.
He needed to convince her that all they had to do now was let go of the old. Let go and start fresh.
It was possible. With a little work, and a lot of love, anything was possible.
*
Whitney listened to the latest announcement at the airport gate in Bozeman. Due to weather in Denver, the flight was being delayed yet again. It was the second delay. First, it was thirty minutes, and now, an hour.
There was no guarantee that the flight would make it out tonight, either. The airline had already offered to re-route people to another airport, or reschedule them for a flight tomorrow so that folks didn’t have to spend their Christmas Eve sitting at the Bozeman gate.
Passengers lined up at the counter, asking for changes. Whitney remained in her seat, waiting to hear the next update. The flight might still go out…
No one had said the flight wasn’t going tonight…
And if it was, Whitney definitely wasn’t going to be rerouted to another airport. There was no point in that.
No, she’d overnight at one of the hotels near the airport and return in the morning. She’d reach her apartment eventually. It’s not as if the apartment would be warm and welcoming. She hadn’t been there in over a month. There were no decorations or presents or festive anything.
Denver was not home.
Marietta wasn’t home.
No, home was Cormac and Daisy.
Her eyes burned. She felt heartsick. This was an awfully terrible way to spend Christmas Eve.
One of the uniformed airline agents walked past.
“Excuse me,” Whitney said, rising. “Do you think the plane for Denver will make it out tonight?”
“They say it’s snowing so hard in Denver that not even Santa is going to make it in this year.”
“But Santa isn’t flying Montana Air. He has his own sled and eight magic reindeer.”
The agent gave her an odd look. “Right. Love that Christmas spirit,” he said, walking on.
Whitney sat back down.
Some Christmas spirit. She was here at the airport trying to catch a flight out on Christmas Eve instead of celebrating with Cormac and Daisy at their house.
This was not how it was supposed to go.
This was not how she’d wanted Christmas to be.
Whitney put her head down into her hands, so sad she couldn’t stand it.
> She didn’t want to be here. She wanted to be at the house on Copper Mountain Lane. But she was angry with Cormac, and angry with herself.
She wanted so much more from him than he was ever willing to give and yet there was this little tiny part of her that had quietly kept hoping…
Maybe he’d one day love her…
Maybe he’d one day want her…
Maybe…
Her phone rang. She took it from her purse and looked at the number. Cormac. Disgusted, she sent the call to voice mail.
The phone rang again.
And again she sent the call to voice mail.
It rang again and for some idiotic reason she answered.
“Yes?” she said sharply.
“So where are you? Daisy is asking for you. Are you on your way?”
She was so mad at him, blisteringly angry. “You fired me, remember? You paid me off and told me to scram—”
“I didn’t fire you,” he interrupted. “You’d already quit. You were putting in your time and so I just gave you your check.”
“But I don’t want your money!”
“Yes, you do.”
“I do not. I tore it up.” And then she hung up on him.
He called back.
She stared at the phone, letting it ring five times and then she grabbed it just before it went to voice mail. “Yes?”
“You’re being really difficult.”
“I’m not difficult—”
“Oh, you’re being incredibly difficult. I was doing something nice for you…for us…creating a level playing field—”
“Stop talking. It’s annoying.”
He stopped talking and she didn’t hang up. In the background she could hear voices and laughter. He must have quite a party going at his house now but it was difficult to imagine enjoying a party when her life felt like it’d been turned inside out. She could pretend she didn’t want more from him, but it was a lie. She’d hoped for more. Deep down she’d hoped for a miracle. She’d wanted Daisy to have one, too. “I thought this was going to turn our differently,” she whispered after an interminable silence. “Or, I’d hoped it’d be different.”
“Is it too late to say I’ve been an ass, and selfish, and brutally hard, and that I am sorry, Whitney? I’m sorry I don’t…do…emotions better. I’m sorry I haven’t…been there…for you.”