Chapter 3
three
DANIEL PRESSED a gentle finger to his tender nose and straightened his glasses one more time as the clothes in his suitcase swam before his eyes. The frames felt crooked no matter how many times he adjusted them.
That’s what he got for thinking he could go into the kitchen unannounced. That’s what he got for wanting a glass of water.
Whitney had been more than apologetic before bundling the kids in their winter coats and bustling them out the door, saying something about pageant practice and Marie already being at the church.
He hadn’t followed most of what she’d said—probably because of the low-level throbbing behind his eyes. The glass of water he still hadn’t gotten might help. With about three ibuprofen.
After shaking out a shirt, he hung it up in the closet next to a row of matching blue button-ups. Lauren had said they matched his eyes and he should wear them more. So he’d gone out and bought five. It made picking his daily outfit easy.
She’d been gone three years, but the shirts remained.
Most days they didn’t remind him of her. Most days he put them on without even a flash of memory of her rolling eyes.
But seeing four matching shirts hanging in the closet—the fifth in the mirror’s reflection—suddenly intensified his headache. He should find that water and a painkiller. Jack had left him to unpack and said he’d bring Aretha by later. He hadn’t heard Whitney and the kids return with Marie. And Jack had said that Seth was working on a remodel about twenty minutes away. He’d told Daniel to make himself at home.
Daniel slipped the last of his neatly folded slacks into the drawer of the antique dresser that dominated the wall across from the king-size bed, zipped up his empty suitcase, and slid it onto the floor of the closet.
A quick check of the medicine cabinet in the adjoining bathroom proved fruitless. He was indeed going to have to make himself at home. Only at home, he knew where to find what he needed.
He stepped into the second-story hallway, then paused and listened. The house was silent save for the whistling wind outside, so he jogged down the stairs and made his way past the parlor, through the dining room, and into the kitchen.
The faint scent of burned sweets lingered, though Whitney had used a towel to wave the smoke out through the mudroom as soon as Jack had gotten the smoke alarm to turn off. Her eyes had been wild, nearly as uninhibited as her curly hair, as she’d held the guilty pastry at arm’s length. The bright floral oven mitts hadn’t made her look any less ridiculous.
As he looked around the white kitchen—clean, organized, spotless—it felt empty without Whitney.
He frowned. That couldn’t be the case.
The entirety of their interaction had been a bruised nose and an overflowing pie. And the shocked expression on her face that had made him want to chuckle. He hadn’t, of course. But sprawled out on the floor and staring up at her horrified face, he’d felt a humor bubbling in him that he hadn’t known in years.
He didn’t need that in his life.
Opening a top cupboard nearest to the sink, he peeked in to find stacks of white plates. He closed it and opened another. Matching bowls. And another. Spices.
Were they trying to hide the drinking glasses?
“Daniel?”
He slammed the spice cupboard closed like he’d been caught stealing from the cookie jar. Though he wasn’t sure he’d risk eating a cookie from Whitney’s kitchen. He’d seen no evidence that she wouldn’t confuse salt for sugar—or worse.
He spun toward the familiar voice and tried not to look guilty as his aunt sashayed across the tile floor. Her gait was a little off, and she favored her right foot, just as Jack had said. But the strength in her embrace hadn’t changed. She hugged him with her whole heart.
Her arms wrapped around his waist, and she rested her ear against his chest. He could literally feel her smile as her whole body vibrated with joy.
He tried to return the embrace with equal measure, but his heart wasn’t half as big as hers. So he settled for a gravelly “Hi, Aunt Aretha,” and a pat on her back.
“It’s been far too long, my dear. I’ve missed you.” She looked up at him, eyes glowing. “Promise you’ll stay through Christmas.”
Something in his stomach turned sour, but he swallowed against its rise in his throat.
“It won’t be the same without you.”
Right, because everyone knew the Grinch made Christmas special.
He forced half a smile for her anyway. “I’ll stay as long as you need me.”
Aretha sighed into him, giving him one more solid squeeze before letting go. “Oh, it is good to have you back on the island.”
Only when she stepped away did Daniel look over her head of gray hair to see the woman standing in the doorframe. She was poised and statuesque, long legs encased in sleek black pants that disappeared into knee-high black boots. The heels had to add another three inches to her, but she stood as relaxed as if she was barefoot on a beach, hands in the pockets of her leather jacket and an easy red-lipped smile in place. Every single one of her blond hairs had been slicked back into a ponytail, as though there was a penalty for misbehavior.
“Oh, how rude of me.” Aretha stepped toward the other woman, waving her closer. “Daniel, this is Ruby Lavoie—she’s in acquisitions with Rogen & Reynolds. Ruby, my nephew Daniel Franklin.”
He stepped forward, sticking out his hand out of habit more than greeting.
Ruby’s smile brightened, and she shook his hand with a firm grasp. Professional and practiced.
“Ruby’s from Toronto too,” Aretha said with a little giggle.
He wasn’t sure what the giggle meant, but he pushed on instead of asking. “Oh? I’m in Milton.” Technically not in Toronto, but close enough for his aunt.
Ruby’s smile dimmed slightly. “Yorkville.”
That tracked. The woman was classy and sophisticated just like the affluent neighborhood near the University of Toronto. He couldn’t afford to look at homes in that neighborhood even on his new CFO salary. Rogen & Reynolds paid well, apparently. Or she’d come from old money. Or both.
The throbbing behind his eyes picked up its pace, and he swallowed against his dry throat.
Aretha’s gaze shifted back and forth between them. “Daniel just took a job as the CFO of All Terrain.”
“The retail chain?”
He nodded. Chain was a strong word for the fourteen stores, but they wanted to expand, and he was going to help them do it.
“Oh, they’re great. I have a friend there. Tunston Shaw?”
Daniel shook his head. “Haven’t met him yet. I don’t officially start until the New Year.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll meet him soon. We went to undergrad and grad school together. He’s a sharp guy. And he says great things about the culture over there. I’m sure it’ll be a good experience for you.”
He nodded again, not sure how to respond. He never would have taken the job if he’d thought it might be a bad fit. The people he’d met seemed fine. But he wasn’t taking the job to hang out with them. He was eager to do the work.
After a long pause, Aretha came to his rescue, offering a few facts about Ruby and her years at Rogen & Reynolds. Ruby was maybe a few years older than him, but her résumé sounded like she’d been in acquisitions and mergers since diapers. She didn’t blush under Aretha’s praise of her keen skills either. She just flashed her straight white teeth, all confidence and grace.
He was going to need to bring his A game when they started talking details.
Aretha had told him she’d received the deal points, but he had yet to see them. And he wasn’t going to let Aretha get the short end of the arrangement.
He just had to figure out how to read what wasn’t presented on the page. Ruby was all polish. Just like Lauren had been. And he’d never been able to read what she wanted—or what she needed.
He wasn’t going to fall into that pit again. He’d find a way to figure it out. He had to.
Whitney had never felt so exposed as she did wearing jeans, an oversized cable-knit sweater, and one of Caden’s aprons. Of course, her feelings had much more to do with the plated breakfast on the counter before her than what she wore.
She eyed the personal-size quiches, shaking the edges of the plates one more time to make sure the center didn’t jiggle. Golden crusts. No sign of the overflow that had forced her to clean the oven the day before. The scent still lingered in the kitchen rafters, a cruel reminder of a stupid mistake and Jack’s booming laughter. The kids had giggled too. But not Daniel. She hadn’t been able to read the expression that had replaced his scowl.
Maybe she was so insignificant that he couldn’t be bothered to notice her mistakes.
Scooping up the plates before her, she held her breath. If she’d messed up his breakfast, he’d certainly care about that.
By the time she made it to the swinging door, her hands trembled enough to send a ripe raspberry rolling from the sim ple dish of mixed berries, but it was too late to go back now. “Coming through,” she called as she toed the door open an inch or two. When she was sure she wouldn’t have a repeat of the day before, she pushed it far enough to slide through and was greeted by two grinning faces. And a third face displaying complete indifference, marred by the hint of a black eye.
Aretha’s smile grew two sizes as Whitney slid the plates in front of Daniel and their other guest, a beautiful woman with sleek blond hair and the whitest teeth she’d ever seen.
Aretha sighed. “This smells divine.”
Whitney pressed a hand to her stomach as it twisted into a hard knot. Marie had said she only needed to make breakfast for two. She could whip up another quiche, but it would take at least an hour. And by then, the other two would be long done.
“If Jack hadn’t made my favorite ham and eggs this morning, you’d be going hungry.” Aretha winked at her nephew, and if she noticed that Whitney let out a sigh of relief, she didn’t let on.
Daniel responded to his aunt with a requisite grunt of acknowledgment but didn’t move to eat his breakfast. Neither did his companion.
Maybe he’d warned the woman about the minor disaster the day before.
Nodding toward the blond, Aretha said to Whitney, “This is Ruby Lavoie. She works for the conglomerate in Toronto that’s interested in buying the antiques store. Ruby, this is Whitney Garrett. She’s filling in as the inn’s chef.”
With all the poise of a beauty queen, Ruby nodded her greeting. “Lovely to meet you. It looks delicious.” But her hands stayed folded in her lap as wisps of steam dissipated before her.
“You too,” Whitney said. “Enjoy your breakfast.”
Daniel frowned—not angry but certainly perplexed. “A fork would help.”
“A fork?” she echoed as her heart pounded in her ears.
Right. Utensils. A necessary part of eating most meals. She rushed to the kitchen to grab the rolled sets she’d left on the counter, delivered them, and returned to her haven without a word, praying the whole time that her cheeks hadn’t turned as red as the ribbons on the tree in the parlor.
Her dad had raised her on Blue Jays baseball, and by her count she already had one strike at the inn. And it was only her second day.
Marie hadn’t said anything to her that morning about the smoke alarm or the near-fire. But the kids weren’t likely to keep it to themselves. She’d been surprised they hadn’t announced it to their mom the moment they arrived at the church for rehearsal.
Forgetting utensils was more a ball than a strike, but they all added up. And she needed a home run to maintain her relationship with the stainless-steel wonders tucked into the wall beside the gas stovetop.
Running her hands over her unruly curls, she took a deep breath and set to cleaning up the breakfast dishes. She was halfway through peeling a batch of apples for a round of pies she would not let force her to clean the oven again when Aretha slipped through the swinging door, her limp lessened but still noticeable after all these months.
Whitney looked up from her task but refused to let her hands stop moving. “Can I get you anything?”
Aretha’s eyes flickered with joy. “Not at all. I just wanted to give them a little alone time.” She strolled to the adjacent counter and leaned a hip against it. “They’d make the most beautiful couple, don’t you think?”
Choking back a cough of surprise, Whitney nodded. “Yes.” Though she leaned toward the idea that with Daniel in it, any couple would look good. But that was information she had no business sharing with anyone, let alone his aunt.
“And they have so much in common.” Aretha stole an apple slice from the growing pile in the big silver bowl and idly popped it into her mouth as she pulled a wooden stool around the island and gingerly lowered herself to it. “She graduated with honors in finance like him. And she lives in the city too.”
Aretha’s voice trailed off as though she was waiting for her to continue the conversation. Whitney split an apple in half, studying it more carefully than necessary. “Maybe they have mutual friends.”
The older woman froze, a second slice halfway to her mouth. “Yes. Maybe they do. That would be perfect, don’t you think?”
Unsure exactly what she was agreeing with, Whitney nodded.
“Imagine their life together. He’s been so lonely, you know.”
She knew no such thing, but Aretha didn’t seem to notice.
“Lauren did—well, as Jack would say, she did a real number on his heart. He never let on about it. Kept it to himself and never even talked about it with his mom, but he must be lonely. I know I was. All those years before Jack came along. I don’t want Daniel to have to wait as long as I did for happiness. And if anyone could make him smile again, it’s certainly Ruby.”
Aretha clapped her hands beneath her chin, her gaze darting toward the swinging door. When she spoke again, her voice was softer. “We’ll have to work quickly.”
We? Whitney could only mouth the word in Aretha’s general direction as she sprinkled cinnamon and sugar and a dash of ginger over the bowl of apples.
“Of course, we. I can’t possibly do it alone, and you’re going to be here. They’re both going to be here. But we only have four weeks left until Christmas.” Aretha’s voice rose with excitement until she covered her lips with her fingers and giggled. She shot a cautious glance at the door as though to make sure she hadn’t been overheard.
Well, Whitney had heard everything Aretha had said, and she still wasn’t sure what they were supposed to be doing.
Carefully stirring the pie filling until every apple was coated in a fine sheen, she waited for Aretha to continue. But the other woman was lost in her own musings, her eyes focused on the ceiling and a dreamy smile filling her face.
She wasn’t sure she wanted to know Aretha’s plan, but it was probably better to ask since Aretha had basically roped her into it. “What—exactly—do we need to do?”
“Why, get them to fall in love, my dear.”