by Olivia Miles
“No,” Charlotte said softly, knowing exactly what he meant. You couldn’t force anyone to care. “No, you can’t.”
“It’s his loss, I suppose,” he replied. “Whoever he is.” Greg shrugged and resumed his dinner, and after one last wrenching glance in the direction of that fateful reminder, Charlotte did, too.
* * *
The bell above the door of Tony’s Pizzeria chimed as Bree pushed inside, happy to be in the overly heated room. She brushed the snow from her shoulders and scooted to the right side of the reception vestibule, cursing to herself when she saw Sonny poke his head around the kitchen door.
“Ah, Miss Callahan! Here for your usual pickup!”
Bree winced. It wasn’t that usual. It was just something she did on the nights she watched Dancing with the Stars. And Bachelor in Paradise. And fine, The Real Housewives. “That’s right.”
Sonny studied the line of brown paper bags, neatly stacked and waiting, and pulled the receipt from one.
“Garden salad for one, extra chickpeas, no chicken.” Sonny started to laugh, as if this was a new joke, even though he said it every time she came in to get her dinner. Every. Single. Time.
“Ha-ha.” She smiled through gritted teeth. As she did. Every. Single. Time. “The life of a vegetarian.”
“I can’t tempt you with a delicious pepperoni calzone this evening?”
Bree wrinkled her nose. Last time it had been a sausage and peppers grinder. “Just the salad.”
Sonny gave her a rueful smile as he rang up her order, even though she knew what it cost, down to the penny. “Ah, Miss Callahan, you don’t know what you’re missing.”
A man to share dinner with, perhaps? The hope of a family of her own, dwindling by the day? The promise of something other than reality television at the end of a long day?
With her takeout bag in hand, Bree pushed through the door, vowing, as she did every time she had the same exchange with Sonny, that she would stop ordering from Tony’s. She just needed to get her kitchen back to functioning order and then she’d make her own damn salad.
Right. Tonight. She would get to work on that kitchen. She’d already given up on the bathroom tile…
She rounded the corner back toward flower the shop, where her car was parked in the alley, groaning when she considered the snow that had no doubt accumulated on its roof, when she saw a flash of green material just ahead. Charlotte’s scarf.
Brightening at the sight of her cousin, she raised an arm, grinning as she opened her mouth to call out, and then clamped it shut again when she saw the tall, masculine figure appear at her side.
She blinked, wondering for a moment if she should turn and walk back, feeling for some reason like she was stumbling upon something she wasn’t supposed to know. Something that Charlotte had clearly chosen to keep quiet about.
Charlotte was talking, her hands tucked into her pockets, no body contact being made. It could just be a friend…But she wouldn’t hide a friend. And since when did Charlotte hide anything?
They were coming closer now, and there was no avoiding it. “Charlotte?” Bree’s voice seemed to get lost in the icy wind, but Charlotte looked up, her expression turning from one of surprise to one that could only be labeled as guilt.
“Bree.” She flitted her eyes to the man beside her, who had stopped walking as they approached. “This is…This…”
The man thrust his palm out. Bree looked up, got a good long look at him. Definitely not a friend.
“I’m Greg.”
“I’m Bree,” she said.
“My cousin,” Charlotte offered.
My, she wasn’t being very forthcoming with words tonight, was she? Normally, Charlotte was chatty and impulsive, not one for measured or controlled conversation.
Interesting. Very interesting.
“Greg is a client,” Charlotte said quickly, lest there be any misunderstanding, no doubt.
Still, Bree wasn’t entirely convinced. A client. The client Charlotte had dressed up to meet, perhaps?
“I see the family resemblance,” Greg said, grinning. “It’s the eyes.”
Yes, the eyes. Charlotte and Bree had both inherited green eyes from their mothers. When they were younger, people had assumed they were sisters, and Bree had willingly gone along with that. Being stuck with a brother and a slew of male Callahan cousins was a burden on a deep level for a girl who loved making daisy chains and rearranging her dollhouse furniture. She loved nothing more than the holidays and outings she shared with the Daniels girls. Well, that and her time with Gran, of course.
“Where are you two off to at this hour?” Not exactly subtle, but Bree was feeling bold. She liked Greg. He was tall and handsome and had a smile that put her at ease. There wasn’t a suspicious glint in his eye. Unlike Charlotte…Her cousin was practically twitching.
“We just came from dinner,” Greg said affably.
We? “Anywhere good?” Bree directed her question at Greg. It was obvious that Charlotte wasn’t going to be handing over any information.
“Bistro Rouge,” Greg offered, and Bree met Charlotte’s eye. Even in the dim lighting, she could see the flush spread across her cheeks.
“Fancy,” Bree said, shivering against the icy wind that cut through her coat. She held up her takeout bag. “Well, I suppose I should get this home before it gets cold.” They didn’t need to know that it was a salad. With extra chickpeas, no chicken.
“Well, have a good night,” Charlotte said, already inching away.
“Nice meeting you,” Greg added. His smile was warm and easy and just like that, an evening with a glass of wine in front the season finale of Dancing with the Stars felt lonelier than ever. And she’d been looking so forward to it…
Chapter Thirteen
Audrey was crying before the sun had even poked its light through the thick gray clouds. Charlotte sighed and flicked on the bedside light, blinking into the dim room as she tried to catch her bearings.
It amazed her how quickly she could be roused from slumber. Before Audrey, it would take more than an alarm to pull her awake, and usually several swats at the snooze button, too. Now she was up in a flash, feet on the floor, groggy mind growing quickly clear, on duty.
Still…it would be nice to have another set of hands once in a while. Someone would take shifts, offer to let her sleep in, or just help get a full six hours for once.
Or someone who would remember the special moments—the first smile, the first tooth, the first time Audrey learned to ride a bike.
Charlotte’s father had taught her to ride a bike. Her mother hid in the kitchen, biting her fist, apparently waiting for the sound of a crash, the wail that followed skinned knees. But her father had been patient, running behind at a quick pace, his hand clutching the back of her banana seat until he quietly let go. Charlotte could still remember the squeal of delight she’d given when she made it all the way to the end of the street, the pride in her father’s eyes when he gave her first a high five and then pulled her in for a long hug.
There would be no moment like that for Audrey. Oh, she’d learn to ride a bike of course, and Charlotte would be right there watching every moment. But it would have been nice to have someone else share in watching her grow.
It would have been nice for both of them, Charlotte thought, staring at the baby who was now smiling up at her.
She pulled Audrey from her crib and unrolled the changing mat on the floor. One glance at the clock on the desk confirmed her suspicions: It was only five o’clock. The house was quiet, most likely because it was built so soundly, but just to be sure, Charlotte was careful not to take any risks of waking anyone.
She popped Audrey’s pacifier in her mouth and unlocked her door, her eyes darting down the long hallway as they hurried to the stairs. The kitchen was at the back of the house, that much she could remember, but it seemed that she made several loops back through some living rooms before she finally found it.
“Oh.” Charlotte stopped
in surprise when she saw Marlene standing at the center island counter, already dressed, a sleek-looking coffee machine percolating behind her.
The older woman looked at her suspiciously, and then, with a smile that revealed two dimples, fixed her eyes on Audrey. “May I?” she asked, already coming around the counter with her arms extended.
Charlotte felt her shoulders relax. “Of course.” While she’d mastered the art of heating a bottle with one hand, she couldn’t deny how much easier it was with two.
She set her diaper bag on the counter—well, it was really just an old beach bag that she used for a new and practical purpose—and found the box of baby oatmeal and a container of formula.
“Looks like she’s getting some new teeth!” Marlene remarked, cooing at Audrey until the little girl squealed in delight.
Charlotte winced as she heated water in the microwave. “Quiet, sweetheart,” she whispered. She pulled an apologetic face at Marlene. “I don’t want to wake Greg.”
Marlene just ran a hand through the air. “No need to worry about that! Greg left at least an hour ago.”
The microwave beeped, and Charlotte didn’t even worry about the sound. “Really? And here I thought I was the only one up at this house.”
“He often goes to his gym before the office. A hard worker that one, and a nice young man, too.” She seemed to give Charlotte a coy look.
Unsure of what to make of that comment, Charlotte smiled politely and focused on mixing the bottle. Audrey might seem amused now, but if experience had taught her anything, it was only a matter of seconds before she would remember she was hungry again and start wailing.
Without asking for permission, Marlene took the bottle from Charlotte’s hand and expertly adjusted Audrey in her arms. “Greg told me about this arrangement you two have.”
Charlotte felt her cheeks heat. “I’m not—I mean, I don’t—” She stopped. What was there to even say? She wasn’t this type of girl? She didn’t normally go along with things like this?
But to her surprise, Marlene just started to laugh. “That Greg will do anything for that company.”
Would he? Charlotte wasn’t so sure she liked the sound of that. It sounded an awful lot like Jake. Jake, who was willing to break her sister’s heart and use her as bait in one fell swoop, all so he wouldn’t be cut out of his father’s commercial real estate business. Jake, who was too busy staying good with the family to acknowledge the other one he had right here…
“He’s just like his mother in that respect, but don’t go telling him that! At heart, he’s more like his grandfather.”
“You knew Greg’s grandfather?” Charlotte helped herself to a cup of coffee. It was rich and smooth and even more delicious since she was able to relax and enjoy it.
“Oh, he was a fine man. A warm, caring man. Now don’t get me wrong, he had an eye for business. He built that company from nothing. A hard worker. Much like Greg.”
Charlotte thought about this as she sipped her coffee. Warm. Caring. A side of Greg she’d seen more than once already. Maybe she’d misjudged him. Or maybe she just couldn’t believe that good men existed anymore.
“Greg is doing me a favor by letting me stay here,” she admitted, thinking of how rotten it would have felt to go begging to Kate, when she was in no position to be calling on favors. “It is unconventional, though.”
Marlene just laughed as she gave Audrey a little bounce. “A little unconventional, yes. The way I see it, what’s the harm?”
Charlotte smiled uneasily as she set down her coffee mug and began mixing the ingredients for Audrey’s oatmeal. Exactly. What was the harm indeed?
* * *
Charlotte had already been hard at work for over an hour when her sister’s figure appeared in the doorway. Kate set a hand to her chest and closed her eyes for a moment.
“My God, Charlotte!” she breathed. “I thought we had a break-in.”
There wasn’t a hint of sarcasm in her words, and it was true that Charlotte was never the first person in the office, even on the days she worked a full eight hours.
“I woke up early and thought I’d get some stuff done before I drop Audrey off with the sitter,” she said.
Kate hung her coat and handbag on a hook against the wall and walked over to Audrey, who was snuggled in her carrier, sound asleep. “Isn’t she a sweetheart.”
Charlotte felt a familiar twinge of anxiety. She told herself she was being ridiculous. Kate was Audrey’s aunt after all; of course her sister loved her daughter. It didn’t matter that Jake was her father and that Kate had once loved him. Once planned an entire life with him. Imagined children with him, no doubt. Children who would have looked an awful lot like Audrey.
Someday she’d find a way to make it up to her. For now, the best she could do was to show Kate how much it meant to her to have this job. She had to take it seriously and prove she could handle it. Kate had given her so much. What had she ever given in return?
“How did you even get in?” Kate asked.
Charlotte regarded her quizzically. “I have a key, Kate.” Her sister had given it to her the day she’d opened the business; Charlotte just hadn’t had the occasion to use it before.
“I suppose you do.” Kate shrugged off the statement and sat down at her desk, powering up her computer with a press of the button.
Charlotte sent a document to the printer and rose to collect it, crossing the open-floor-plan office with a confident stride. As nonchalantly as she could, she plucked the papers from the tray and skimmed through them, aware of Kate’s watchful gaze on her the entire time.
“What are those?” Kate asked, and Charlotte smiled at the hint of curiosity in her tone.
“Oh,” she said. She pinched her lips to keep from smiling. “Just some menu options for the Frost party.”
Oh, had the wait been worth it! Kate’s lips parted on the statement, and her blue eyes turned to wide circles. “So you got the account? Well done, Charlotte!”
Charlotte beamed. “But that’s not all.”
Kate looked at her with interest. “Oh?”
“This is the Frost. Frost Greeting Cards. It’s their corporate holiday party.”
Kate’s mouth fell open. After a beat, she said, “When is it? How many people?”
“On the thirteenth. Two hundred guests.”
“Two hundred!” Kate’s smile faded quickly. “But that’s less than a week and a half from now!”
Charlotte felt her heart sink. She knew what was coming next. Kate would want to take over, drop everything, work herself to the bone. She shouldn’t have made it sound like such a big deal. But she’d wanted that approval. So badly. “I have it under control, Kate.”
Kate didn’t look convinced. “Yes, but, Charlotte, come on. I’ve been doing this for years, and no offense, but you’ve only assisted me for a matter of months. On a part-time basis.”
“I can do this, Kate!” Charlotte cried, coming around to sit in the chair opposite Kate’s desk. “You told me you wanted me to take over more responsibilities so you could focus on your wedding, remember?”
Kate sighed. “That’s true, I did. But I thought this was some small house party. Not a corporate event.”
“I’ve already hired a caterer and the client and I have really…connected.” She swallowed. That was all Kate needed to know about that.
Kate hesitated. Charlotte could almost see the wheels turning in her head. No doubt she was calculating her risks, deciding if she could even take on the workload now, and what would happen if she didn’t.
“Do you promise to keep me updated on everything?”
“Yes!” Charlotte leaned forward eagerly, biting back her smile.
“I mean it, Charlotte. If you run into something that you aren’t sure about, you’ll come to me right away?” Kate eyed her warily.
“Cross my heart.” Charlotte went through the motion of swiping her hands across her chest and crossing her fingers, the way they used to do when th
ey were little and still shared secrets, not hid them. She stared at her sister imploringly, holding her gaze, willing her to give her a fighting chance again.
Trust me, Kate, she thought pleadingly. Trust me again.
“Okay, then.” Kate shrugged. “You landed the business; you can see it through. But remember what’s at stake here, Charlotte.”
The company’s reputation was what Kate meant, but Charlotte just nodded her head. She knew what was at stake, all right. And it was a hell of a lot more than the bottom line.
Chapter Fourteen
Bree adjusted a stem of amaryllis and slid the round vase toward her, ready to begin the last of the arrangements for the annual Ladies League luncheon at Misty Point Marina, an event that Rose in Bloom had been part of since its inauguration seventeen years ago. Back then, her grandmother had been a member of the Ladies League, no doubt as eager for the company as she was the business, and the annual holiday lunch was one she looked forward to. She never made the same arrangements twice, and each year she challenged herself to outshine the last.
Last year had been Bree’s first year handling the order on her own. This year she intended to follow in Gran’s footsteps and outdo herself.
With the last flower tucked into place, she wasted no time in grabbing her coat, fluffing her hair from the collar, and quickly loading each vase into the trunk of her car. They were packed in cardboard, so they wouldn’t slide around, but Bree was still extra careful as she rounded the curvy and often bumpy roads toward the marina.
She was wearing her best black wool coat and her favorite scarf—a winter-white wool that was dotted with gold sparkles—and just the right touch of matte red lipstick that was acceptable for both daytime and a formal event such as this.
Not like she was invited. No, the Ladies League was a bit…How could she put it? Stuffy? Old? Antiquated?
