Violet giggles as she pulls away, her smile turning sheepish as she looks at Henry. “So? I know it’s not like your Hartley private school plays, but hopefully, it wasn’t too painful?”
She’s feigning indifference to Henry’s opinion, but I know better. No matter where she was on the stage, she was checking the front row, as if monitoring his reactions.
Henry sighs heavily—he’s too smart and perceptive to not have noticed this too. “You don’t belong on that stage, Violet.”
Her face falls instantly.
He settles his free hand on her shoulder. “You’re too good. You made the entire show. There was no one else on stage when you were there.” With one arm, he pulls her into his chest and whispers something in her ear that I don’t catch but that makes my heart stutter all the same.
The moment is over as quickly as it starts, Violet breaking free first. She takes a deep, shaky breath.
“These are for you.” Henry holds out the roses for her to collect.
“Thanks.” She grins. “For the flowers, Abbi.”
“Are you suggesting I can’t be thoughtful?” Henry’s face is a mixture of amusement and annoyance. “Abbi, tell her how thoughtful I can be.”
“He once rush-ordered a replacement vest for me when a grizzly bear tore mine apart.”
Violet’s expression twists with horror, making us both laugh.
“Excuse me.” The drama teacher who stood on the stage at the start of the play appears next to Violet, her thick blond braid draped over her shoulder. “I’m Ms. Draper. I wanted to introduce myself and extend my condolences.” She has a soft, almost airy voice. I can’t picture her onstage, but Violet said she was on Broadway once, long ago. “I taught with Audrey at the elementary school for years before I moved here. It’s a very sad thing, what happened to her.”
Gayle and Howard offer their standard thank-yous.
“You two are cousins, is it?” Ms. Draper asks.
Word travels fast. As I expected. There isn’t a room Henry can step into without garnering notice.
She frowns at him. “You look so familiar. I can’t place it.”
He smiles easily. “I guess I have one of those faces.”
I stifle my snort. Yes, one of those stunning, enigmatic faces that makes people stumble on the sidewalk as they catch a long look. My insides are tightening as I hold my breath and wait for it to click in her head.
But it never seems to, and she dismisses it quickly, much to my relief. “Well! I’m sure you’re all so impressed by the way Violet dominated the stage.” She wraps an arm around Violet’s shoulders. “I see big things in this one’s future.”
Henry gives her an arched brow with a “See? Told you so” look.
Genuine pride explodes inside me, not only for Violet but also for Henry, the father he’s becoming before my eyes.
I nestle against Henry’s chest as streetlights fly past on our ride home from Philly. “Mama called. She wants us there for Christmas.”
“Didn’t we already tell her we would come? Even though my vote was for the Maldives,” he adds dryly.
“She wants us there, for Christmas. As in, waking up in the house, and staying the following night too.” She and my father called earlier today to complain that they never get to see me. Well, Mama complained. Daddy stayed quiet, which is as good as an agreement from him.
“No. I am a thirty-two-year-old man, and I will not be told who I can and cannot share a bed with.” He huffs a sigh. “However, to keep the peace, I will agree to stay at the bed-and-breakfast.”
“There aren’t any rooms available.” I already called and checked, because the idea of Henry and my mother under the same roof makes my anxiety bubble.
“That weird place with all the cat themes?” His face pinches with doubt. “Did Bernadette book up all the rooms so we couldn’t stay there?”
I laugh. “It’s the only place to stay in Greenbank. And it’s okay. Mama said she’s willing to accept us staying together in my room since we’re already ‘living in sin,’ and she knows it’s the only way I’ll agree to this idea.” Apparently, she and the reverend have had long discussions and prayed deeply over the matter, asking the Lord for forgiveness. I could practically hear her teeth gnashing when she forced out those words. “The bed’s small, but they said they can get an air mattress?” I press my lips together to keep from giggling as Henry glares. “She’s trying. And it’s our first Christmas together.”
“And probably our last. I’m sorry, but that woman has pulled so many one-eighties, I would expect to wake up with her standing over me with a claw hammer.”
“That wouldn’t be very Christian of her. She does, however, have a special edition hardback Bible, and that would hurt.” I rest my chin on his shoulder. “Please, Henry? She is trying.”
He groans. “Fine. We’ll drive there on Christmas Eve.”
“Drive? Really?” I ask. Henry avoids long car rides at all costs.
“I gave everyone time off. Jack’s got a toddler at home.” He hesitates. “And this way we can stop in Philly on the way.”
“Right.” I should have known there was another motivation. “Are you sure you don’t want to go there on Christmas morning, though? I can tell Mama you have family you need to see.” She won’t like it, but she’ll have to accept it.
“Howard said they have cousins coming. Real cousins. It’s best we stay clear of there on that day, to avoid questions. But it’s the first Christmas without Audrey. I thought it’d be good to visit.”
And the first Christmas Henry will spend without his father and brother, I must remind myself. So much has happened, it’s easy to forget. The latter, Henry won’t miss, but regardless of how complicated and confrontational his relationship was with his father—especially now that we’ve learned about Violet—I’m sure he will feel his absence.
“I think that’s a great idea.” I stretch up to kiss Henry’s neck, reveling in the taste of his skin. A great idea that he came up with all on his own.
CHAPTER 21
“This really is a cute neighborhood.” Plump snowflakes float down, melting the second they land on the windshield of Henry’s Porsche Cayenne—a vehicle I had no clue he owned until we walked up to it in the underground garage.
“Which is why that real estate agent tried to help her sister get it, and for a steal.” Henry navigates the side street with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the console. It’s midafternoon on Christmas Eve, and the drive here was hectic, with all the last-minute holiday shopping. “Alex and Tony got them eighty thousand more.”
My mouth gapes. Barbara should go to prison for that. “So, it’s officially sold?”
“All the conditions passed yesterday. They close in early January.”
And then Violet and Audrey’s home, only three blocks away, will be someone else’s. How hard must that be for Violet when she’s already seen so much? I can’t imagine the day my family farm no longer belongs to a Mitchell.
I reach over to squeeze his hand. “That was good of you to step in like that.”
Own Me (The Wolf Hotel, #5)
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