“Where are your parents today, Hayley?” Angela’s question caught Hayley off guard, and she used the act of sipping from her water glass to collect herself.
“Um…my dad is traveling for work.” She wasn’t actually sure if that was true, but since it was more often than not, she went with it. “And my mom passed away a couple years ago.”
“Oh, no. I’m so sorry to hear that.” Angela gave Hayley’s upper arm a gentle rub.
“I didn’t know that. I’m sorry, too.”
Hayley turned her head to meet Olivia’s dark, dark gaze and found genuine sympathy there. “Yeah. Thanks.”
“You have other family?” Angela asked. “Siblings?”
“I do, yes.” Hayley nodded, reminding herself there was no reason to be nervous. She could tell the truth about her family without actually letting on who they were. “I have two older half brothers. My mother was my father’s second marriage.”
“Oh, I see. And, where are they today?”
“Mama. Can you stop with the inquisition?” Olivia’s voice was gentle but held a tone of firmness. She didn’t look at Hayley. “It’s Thanksgiving.”
A flash of shame zipped across Angela’s face super fast, but she recovered. “You’re right.” Turning to Hayley, she apologized. “I’m sorry. I’m just making conversation.”
Despite the slight edge of relief at having the focus taken off her, Hayley now felt bad, Angela’s regret was so apparent. “It’s absolutely okay. Really.” When it seemed like everything was good again, she asked, “What about you?” hoping to shift the focus. “What do you do?”
Dinner went on and Hayley, surprisingly, found herself enjoying it as long as she didn’t look at Olivia for more than a second or two. Olivia wasn’t thrilled to have her there. Her displeasure wasn’t overt, but there was just something in her demeanor that Hayley could see. She was pretty sure Angela could see it, too, though nobody addressed it. She didn’t really talk directly to Hayley at all, just added a line to the conversation here and there. Hayley let it roll off her as best she could. Maybe having Olivia’s family at the table buffered everything, Hayley wasn’t sure. All she knew was that sharing Thanksgiving dinner with the Santinis was mostly pretty okay, and as time passed, Olivia did seem to relax. Not a lot, but a little. The wine? Maybe. Initially, Hayley had thought being alone in her suite painting was the way she was going to spend the evening, and she was okay with that. But this was…nice. Nicer. Nicer than being alone.
And the food!
“My God, Tessa can cook, huh?” she said, as she wiped up every last trace of dinner from her plate with her final bite of bread.
“Is this your first meal here?” Tony asked, his plate as clean as Hayley’s.
Hayley nodded. “I only arrived last week. I mean, I’ve had room service, but nothing more than a burger. This.” She waved her hand over the table. “Listen, I’m from New York City. We have the best restaurants in the country there, on every street. But this was amazing.”
“You should tell her.” It was Olivia, and her voice was quiet. Matter-of-fact.
“Who?” Hayley furrowed her brow.
“Tessa. It’s always nice to hear you did a good job from the boss.”
So much for the wine relaxing her.
There was something about the way Olivia said the word “boss.” She didn’t sneer it. She wasn’t sarcastic. But her tone soured it just enough for Hayley to catch the dig. She let it sting for just a second before deciding maybe she’d stayed long enough. “You know what? That’s a great idea. I’ll do that.” She wiped her mouth with her linen napkin and tucked it under the side of her plate. “Thank you so much for letting me crash your holiday dinner, Mrs. Santini.” With a smile at Angela, then the others—carefully avoiding Olivia—she excused herself.
* * *
Angela glanced around the table. Tony and Priya were deep in conversation and Ann Marie was scrolling on her phone. Pointing to Hayley’s abandoned chair next to her, Angela gestured for Olivia to come sit next to her.
“Well, I hope you’re happy,” Angela said, when Olivia had scooted into the chair. She kept her voice low, but her eyes were narrowed and it was very clear to Olivia that she was not happy with her.
“What? What did I do?” Olivia feigned innocence, something that had never, ever in her life worked on her mother, so she had no idea why she continued to try it at thirty-two years old.
“You were rude, and you know it.”
Olivia opened her mouth to respond, but knew better.
“I raised you better than that.”
Her mother was right. “I know.” She grimaced and shook her head. “I’m sorry. I can’t seem to help it with her sometimes.” She nibbled on the inside of her cheek. “The whole thing just makes me so mad.” She reached back to her old seat to grab her almost-empty wineglass. “I don’t understand it, Mama.”
“Maybe it’s not for you to understand.”
They were words Angela Santini had learned to accept and live by, and Olivia knew that. But she was not ready to embrace them in this instance. All she wanted was for the evening to be over. And something stronger than wine.
“Maybe,” she said. Then she made a show of glancing over her shoulder toward the bar. “I’m going to go chat with Mike for a bit.”
Her mother nodded but said nothing more, and Olivia made her escape.
Mike was the head of the bar in Split Rail, so he delegated more often than he actually tended bar. Tonight was busy, though, and he jumped in every so often to mix up a drink or shake a martini to perfection. As all the waitstaff did, he wore black pants, a white oxford, a black vest, and a bow tie—which sounded really lame when described in those terms, but Mike looked nothing short of handsome, his dark hair combed back and his beard neatly trimmed again. Olivia found an empty stool at the far end and took a seat.
“Hey, Liv, happy Thanksgiving.” He leaned over the bar to kiss her on the cheek. “Been so busy today I haven’t had a chance to see you.”
Olivia didn’t need to order and Mike didn’t need to ask. In under a minute, he slid a gin and tonic her way. She grinned at him.
With a half shrug, he said, “I saw you had her at your dinner table and thought maybe the wine wasn’t doing the trick.” He craned his neck. “She’s gone?”
Olivia grit her teeth in an “oops” type of grimace. “I wasn’t exactly welcoming, I’m told by my mother.”
Mike’s thick brows met in a V above his nose. “But you invited her.”
“I did. Yeah.” She hoped the face she made conveyed to Mike what a dumb decision she thought that had been.
Mike scooted out of the way to let one of his bartenders pass. Then he put his forearms on the bar in front of Olivia and looked her in the eye. “Okay, I’m going to say something and you can’t get mad.”
Olivia arched a brow, but said nothing.
“Because I’m just stating a fact here.” His face was expectant and Olivia finally gave him one nod of permission to continue. “It’s not her fault that she got the job you wanted.”
Olivia looked down into the clear liquid of her drink, studied the lime, turned the glass in her hands. He was right. Mike was absolutely right. And Olivia wasn’t a stupid woman; she knew what he was saying. Had known from the beginning. She scratched her head and looked up at him as guests bustled around her. With a frustrated, resigned sigh, she admitted, “I want somebody to blame.”
It was the most honest thing she’d said in a long time.
“I know.” Mike twisted a piece of lemon rind over the glass he was working on. “Not her fault,” he repeated.
“Ugh. Okay. Fine.” She added a little extra-sarcastic snark so Mike would know she was okay with what he’d said. She sipped her drink and looked around the restaurant. Most tables had finished up their desserts, and there was less boisterous excitement and more of a hum of conversation. Things were settling down. “Tessa must be relieved,” she said, and as if on cue, Tessa a
ppeared, all white chef’s coat and respected authority. Olivia got up and offered her stool, which Tessa took immediately and with great relief, judging by her long exhalation of breath.
“I am officially off the clock, Mikey. Hit me.”
Again, Mike didn’t need to be told. He slid a clear shot glass in front of her and filled it with Absolut. Tessa downed it, indicated to Mike that she wanted a refill, then turned to Olivia.
“I hope that was okay.”
Olivia shrugged. “You’re off the clock. Dinner was spectacular, by the way. I thought you should hear it from your assistant manager.”
“Well, I heard it from my manager as well, so here’s to a kick-ass day of work for me.” Tessa held up her shot glass.
“You did?” Olivia touched her glass to Tessa’s, who sipped the vodka this time.
“Yep. She came back into the kitchen—did a good job of staying out of the way this time—and congratulated the whole line on a job well done. I don’t think Roger ever bothered with that. Not once. It was nice.”
Olivia didn’t tell either of them that she’d assumed Hayley had used talking to Tessa simply as an excuse to leave…that she hadn’t thought Hayley would really compliment Tessa on dinner, let alone the entire line of cooks. Instead, she sat quietly.
“Hot date tonight?” Mike asked as Tessa sipped.
“Nope. You?”
Mike shook his head. “How’s that dating app been working for you?”
Tessa rolled her eyes with a groan. “It’s brutal. They’re all brutal.”
“Been there, done that. I completely hear you.”
Olivia nursed what remained of her gin and tonic, wanting another but knowing she had to drive home.
“I just feel like it’d be so much better to meet somebody in person, you know?” Tessa shrugged, looked from Mike to Olivia. “Like, then you know if there’s chemistry. You can’t really judge that by words on a screen. Or even a photo.”
Mike nodded as Tessa spoke, his eyes never leaving hers. Olivia hid a grin behind her now-empty glass.
“I’m going to go back to my table. I left my mom alone with the two lovebirds and the girl in love with her phone. She’s probably bored out of her skull by now.” She left her glass on the bar, bid good-bye to her friends—kissing each on the cheek—and went back to her family.
Her head was full and racing. So many thoughts and so many conflicting emotions. Not what she’d expected from her Thanksgiving a couple of days ago.
Her mother stood as she approached. “You ready? I think I’m going to head out.”
“Yeah, I’ll walk out with you.” Turning to her siblings, she said, “Mama’s ready to go, you guys.” They’d all driven together except for Olivia.
Tony jumped up as if poked with a cattle prod and offered to get the coats from the coat check. Priya watched him go. Ann Marie slid her phone into her purse and stood.
Hayley was nowhere to be seen, and part of Olivia was relieved by that. Another larger part felt guilty, as she knew she could’ve been a little warmer. She was quiet as she walked out with her family, knowing she had to make a shift in her attitude around Hayley and around her job.
She just wasn’t sure how.
Chapter Seven
It was the middle of her third week, and Hayley had never felt so stressed out in her life. The number of things she was in charge of as manager was flabbergasting. She’d done her research—okay, a small amount, but at least she’d done some—when her father had first dropped this ridiculous punishment on her. She had a business degree. She wasn’t completely clueless. But good God, there was so much.
It was going on eight on the Wednesday night after Thanksgiving, and Hayley was still in her office behind the front desk staring at things on her computer screen that she needed to deal with. The Evergreen was mostly quiet, though she could hear music coming from the bar at Split Rail through the side wall, which butted up to the restaurant.
Digging her knuckles into her eyelids, she rubbed hard, no longer concerned about smearing what was left of her makeup. That ship had sailed. She let go of a long, slow breath and took in the office. Olivia’s suggestion to bring in a few personal items had been a good one. The framed photo of Hayley and Serena made her smile. The one of Hayley and her mother warmed her heart. She turned to look at the painting she’d hung on the wall, the only one of hers she’d decided to display. It always made her smile, made her heart happy, took her back to some of the best days of her life.
Some of her stress slid off as she sat there with her memories, but her cell phone rang, yanking her rudely back to the present. She looked at the screen and the sliding-away stress reversed direction and slid right back on, settled itself firmly on her shoulders.
“Hi, Dad,” she said.
“Hayley.” Her father’s voice was deep. Authoritative. There was a beat of silence, something Hayley’d grown used to as a child. Benton Markham was always working on other things when on the phone. You never had his full attention. Hayley waited him out. “How are things?” he asked, after a moment.
“Things are great. Things are going really well.” No way was she going to tell him she was drowning. And prove him right? Not a chance.
“That’s good to hear. I assume you’ll have a budget for us before long? I see four resorts still haven’t turned theirs in, and the Evergreen is one.”
“I’m working on it.” Not a lie. “But…” She racked her brain to remember what Olivia had said. “It’s not due until the end of the year, correct?”
“That’s correct. I’ve just found that with December being so busy for folks and the holidays taking up so much time, most of my people tend to get their budgets in early.”
“I see. Okay. Well, I’m on it.”
“Good. Thanksgiving went well, I assume? The numbers are decent, which is a nice change.”
Hayley’s brain was scrambling to speak the same language as her father. For a split second, she thought he was asking about her Thanksgiving. But no, he was all business. She shook her head, wondering why she’d even allow herself to think otherwise. “It did. We were completely booked. And dinner was fabulous.”
“Good news. Anything else?” He was ready to move on to the next thing on his list, Hayley knew, ready to check her off.
“Actually…” She let it dangle in the air while she gathered her words. “Can you take the freeze off my credit card? I need some things.”
The silence on the other end of the phone was nearly deafening. Finally, her father said, “What is it you need?”
Hayley could lie. She could make up something necessary. God knew she’d done it before. But she knew she was already on thin ice with her father, and he did not take it lightly when he was misled. She cleared her throat. “There are a few art supplies I’m low on. Canvases. Green paint. A couple brushes.”
More silence.
Just when Hayley was about to say, “never mind,” her father spoke.
“Fine. I’ll take the hold off. But, I’ll be watching, Hayley. If I see any charges that are exorbitant, I’ll shut it right back down. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.” Hayley hoped the relief she felt wasn’t noticeable. “Thank you.”
“I’ll check in with you in a few days. Get me your budget.”
“I will.”
“Good.” The call ended.
Hayley pushed the red button to disconnect. “Bye, Dad,” she whispered. She set the phone down and picked up the photo of her and her mother. They’d been sitting on their favorite bench in Central Park, looking at the trees and also people-watching. Making up stories about the folks who passed by. It sounded silly, but it was her favorite thing to do with her mother. With a sad sigh, she set the frame back down. “I miss you, Mom,” she whispered into the empty office.
Her father was certain she’d fail at this job; Hayley could feel it. In fact, he’d kind of stacked the deck against her from the beginning, throwing her in the way he had. She was pretty su
re he’d already written the Evergreen off as a loss, and installing her as manager was just a way to prove his point about what a screwup she was.
“Well, fuck that,” she whispered, turning to her computer. She called up a few things she’d seen earlier and began typing.
* * *
Benton Markham hung up the phone and slowly let out a breath. He suddenly felt deflated, exhausted, a hundred years old.
It only took a slight turn of his head to see the incredible view from his corner office on the forty-seventh floor. Manhattan in December was stunning. Nothing compared. It was stunning when it wasn’t December as well, but the addition of multicolored Christmas lights and holiday decorations just made everything that much more impressive.
Benton used to love the holidays. All of them: Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter, the Fourth of July, even Halloween. He loved them all because Kerry loved them all. She’d been a huge decorator, decking their house out for any and all occasions, and he would just shake his head and smile, enjoying how much she enjoyed it.
Now, boxes upon boxes of decorations for various holidays remained untouched in the attic, not having seen the light of day in the two years since Kerry had been gone. Christmas was only a few weeks away, but the idea of putting up a tree crippled him into inaction.
Kerry had been the love of his life, which had understandably surprised his friends at first. She was everything he was not: playful, artistic, approachable, bighearted. Yes, he’d been married once before, and he wouldn’t change that for the world, because Ellen had given him his two sons, good boys that he was exceedingly proud of. But Kerry…she opened up parts of him he didn’t know were there. She dug and dug until she found his inner child and tugged him by the hand out into the light to play. She saw the good in everything and everybody, something Benton struggled with to this day. She was his heart, his light.
One Walk in Winter Page 7
