Chapter 20
she’s ruining Christmas
Candy
“I think I’d like more lights, Gail,” I said to the event planner as I looked at the mockups she had put in front of me.
The sketches were all lovely, and she had obviously worked a great deal on them.
She definitely got points for understanding my vision.
But there was just one more thing. It was missing something, and it couldn’t be missing anything because I didn’t want our annual Christmas Eve party to be a travesty.
“I also envisioned a homey, warm, woodsy feel on the terrace, something to contrast the indoors.”
Just then, a bony finger rested on my shoulder, and I honestly couldn’t think of anything more terrifying.
I was sure having front row seats to a horror movie premier would rank, but I couldn’t be bothered with hypotheticals at the moment.
Certainly not when Nick’s dreadful mother had multiple fingers on my shoulder now.
I’d swear, her showing up here was far too reminiscent of being visited by the ghost of Christmas past.
“Good thinking, dear. Draw more attention to the fact that your home is neither homey nor warm.”
The groan I withheld. Wherever was my darling husband?
He should have been here when she arrived.
Misery wanted company when it came to having to spend even one waking second with Virginia Crane, so I certainly wanted him here.
I mean, shouldn’t he have had to suffer as much as I was being around her?
It had been his idea that she stay with us.
“We have more than enough room, and your sister is already staying here. How would it look if we sent my mother to a hotel?” he’d asked me, knowing that I wouldn’t have a leg to stand on to fight him.
If I had thought he’d wanted me to answer his question, I would have. And why shouldn’t she have stayed at a hotel? The accommodations would have been perfectly acceptable, if not more than she deserved with her constant disapproval and lack of respect for me.
“Mother Crane,” I greeted softly, striving for a loving tone that I was confident I’d never actually achieve around this woman.
It seemed more likely that designer handbags would start to grow on trees.
“Nick didn’t tell me I should expect you yet.
” And that fact alone only made fury ignite in my chest.
Really, sticking me with his mother was competing for first place in one of the worst things to ever happen to me. It was between that and I’m divorcing you. I loathed those three words more than I could imagine a playboy hated hearing I’m pregnant, and it’s yours.
She stood at my side, staring at me before ignoring me completely and studying the mockups like she’d have any say in my party.
“Don’t be obtuse, dear. I don’t have anywhere else to go, and my flight landed an hour ago.
Not that I’d expect you to know that. You weren’t at the airport to pick me up.
” When she spoke, especially when she was making her jabs, her voice was like velvet woven from pure silk.
If I didn’t appreciate velvet so much, I’d hold the memories of her against the distinctive fabric.
Virginia Crane was lithe for her age. Her platinum hair that was always coiffed to perfection was every bit as elegant as you’d imagine her to be.
She never left her house without her six-carat emerald ring or her antique four-carat oval ruby ring.
To say that her gems were important to her would be an understatement.
Part of me wondered if when Nick’s father had been alive, she’d cherished her husband of fifty years as much as she did her gemstones.
Most days, I was sure the scale might’ve tipped just a tad in their direction, but I never vocalized those thoughts.
Nick tended to see his mother as whittled to perfection at the hands of an artisan.
The sun rose and set with her. Likewise, the same was true for the way Virginia treated her son.
That was a kind of parental devotion I didn’t understand.
In fact, early on, when Nick had first taken me to Cape Elizabeth in Maine to meet his mother, I’d missed their greeting, but I had been sure as anything that when the time came to leave, the two would kiss on the lips.
It hadn’t happened, thank goodness, but the fear had been very real for a while.
Taking a deep breath, I glanced at her, silently demanding her to actually look at me when she spoke to me instead of away in the passive manner she chose.
And don’t even get me started on that rehearsed line about the airport.
She had made it sound like she had been left to find her own ride when I knew for a fact that was inaccurate.
Nick had told me he’d hired a driver to meet her at the airport. “Yes, well, I—”
“Have company?” Virginia asked, the warning in her voice as obvious as a sledgehammer. So, she wanted me to stop talking in front of Gail.
I swallowed hard, giving up any desire I had to defend myself. “Yes. Mother Crane, this is Gail. She’s the event planner who has been working with me on our annual Christmas Eve party.”
As if Gail knew when to excuse herself, she pushed back her chair. “Nice to meet you. Candy, I’d like to take a few measurements.” She gestured to the other room and took her phone with her.
“Don’t leave on my account. I’ll just be making myself a cup of coffee since Candy doesn’t have any made for company.
” She searched a few cupboards before finally finding a mug.
Our chef was at the store so I could utilize the kitchen for my meeting with Gail, but I knew when he got back, he wouldn’t be fond of her riffling through his domain like this.
Did I come into her home and treat it as a free-for-all?
No, I did not. But this was Nick’s mother, and whatever she wanted, she got.
Like mother, like son in that way. Honestly, though, Nick would have allowed his mother to get away with murder.
I wouldn’t put it past him to take the fall for the crime. Anything for mommy dearest.
“Perhaps you want a cup?” she asked Gail before she left.
I narrowed my lips, trying my hardest not to signal how upset I was by this exchange.
How dare she come in here and act like she was a better host than me?
Like she was a better person than me? The audacity.
If I thought Gail would have wanted coffee, then I would have made sure she got coffee.
But Gail had arrived with her own to-go cup of tea, something Virginia wasn’t aware of.
She acted like I didn’t know how to make someone feel welcome in my own home.
I just didn’t care enough to make Virginia feel that way because in my eyes, she wasn’t. Welcome, that was.
Gail waved a hand, slicing it through the smothering air. “No, but thank you.” Without delay, she was gone, leaving just me and…her.
Evil incarnate.
She had a heart of coal. Nick had suggested I had icicles on my heart, but what about his mother? Hmm? Coal trumped ice any day.
Standing up, I took the mug from her and smiled. “Allow me.” I moved about, making her a cup of coffee. “How was your flight?” Insufferable, I hope.
Taking a seat, she placed a hand on the edge of the sketches on the table and quirked a brow. Now what? What exactly was her problem, besides the giant chip on her shoulder? “Don’t be contrite,” she answered, her voice flat and bored as she pursed her injected lips. “It’s not a good look on you.”
Would I ever win with this woman? Truthfully, as much as it pained me, I seriously doubted it.
Decidedly letting silence fill the air, because that was better than any alternative where she was concerned, I turned around and picked up my phone. It wasn’t like there was anything more I could do anyway. A fresh cup of coffee was dripping into her mug as I typed a message to Nick.
Candy: You better be stuck in a ditch somewhere.
Nick: It’s always nice hearing from you.
Candy: If you want nice, then send your mother to a hotel.
Nick: No can do.
Of course not because that would have been too easy, and it would have made me too happy. Blissfully so, in fact. What did it matter about that, though? So long as his precious mother was happy.
“What are you doing over there, grinding the beans yourself, dear?” Virginia asked, her impatience coming through loud and clear.
I glanced upward and left my phone face down on the counter.
Don’t rip her head off. Don’t do it. Finally, grinding my teeth, I spun on my heel.
“Just making sure you get the perfect cup.” She was allergic to cinnamon, and we wouldn’t have wanted any of that to wind up in there.
“Tell me, do you still take your coffee with cream and sugar?” Or have you changed it to a simple black cup to match your heart?
She nudged her chin up, hardly looking at me as she responded. “Do you still serve sludge?”
Sludge? We had only the best coffee imported from Peru. It was mold-free, low acid, and organic. Equal parts sweet and full-bodied, its bean varietals originated as a mutation of bourbon, giving it a rich sensation with hints of praline and chocolate.
I leaned against the counter, bracing my hands behind me as I tapped my acrylics on the edge. “I didn’t realize you didn’t like our coffee.”
Her face scrunched, and her eyes narrowed. “That’s because you don’t listen, dear.”
I inhaled.
She grinned, but it wasn’t in the least bit sincere. “Not to worry. You shouldn’t strain yourself thinking back. It’s been quite a while since I’ve been here. I would have come more, but it seems my invitations all got lost in the mail.”
What, so now she needed an invitation to stop by? Did that mean Nick had actually invited this viper into our home? On our last Christmas together? “I didn’t—”
Shaking her head, she placed a hand up. “Never mind that. Why don’t you check the coffee? I can’t attest to your multitasking abilities.”
Oh, that woman had my veins burning as heat ran through them.
I.
Hated.
Her.
She was worse than a hangnail.
Worse than a knockoff masquerading as an original.
I turned around, pretending to check the coffee, and shut my eyes.
Maybe if I ignored her, she’d go away. It sounded juvenile, but honestly, short of a temper tantrum, I would have tried almost anything.
On an inhale, I opened my eyes and watched the last bits drip down and pulled the dripper from the carafe before she could say that grounds escaped and were floating in her cup.
“This is a new pot, so perhaps it’ll change the experience for you,” I explained, my face feeling like an egg about to crack with the intensity of my smile. I was forcing it, but I didn’t think I had any other choice.
“It seems like you’re too good for filters, so I doubt that very much.”
Groaning inwardly, I bit down on my tongue so hard, in fact, I feared I’d make myself bleed.
“The glass has a filter built in,” I tried to explain, but didn’t go into it further because I truly believed it would’ve been nothing more than a waste of my energy.
Energy I needed to start reserving if she was going to be with us until after the holiday.
I resisted banging the mug down on the table in front of her, instead setting it down far more gently. “Here you go.” I feared my heart would thump right out of my chest with how worked up she was getting me. I’d go into cardiac arrest before Nick returned home.
That was it. I picked up my phone and angrily pecked at the screen, responding to Nick’s insistence on not putting her up in a hotel.
Candy: Then get a shovel and start digging because if you’re not stuck in a ditch, I’m going to put you in one myself.
Nick: What does that mean?
Candy: It means she’s ruining Christmas.
Until Virginia Crane waltzed into the picture, I had feared my sister would be the one to ruin Christmas. Now I was confident nothing my sister could do or say would compare.
When I looked back at Virginia, she wasn’t drinking her coffee. “Something wrong?”
She jutted a finger out and pushed the mug away from her. “I’ve lost my desire for it.” She heaved a sigh. “I’m surprised you don’t want to treat my son better than this.”
When I didn’t respond to her fast enough, she blinked, staring up at me with hollow eyes. “You can’t even make a simple cup of coffee, dear. My husband never wanted for anything, that’s all I’m saying,” she elaborated by way of explanation.
I spun on my heel and considered my options. Thankfully, Nick texted before I could say something I’d regret.
Nick: Because our Christmases are usually so magical?
Candy: Don’t make me out to be a grinch. You know I cherish the season.
Nick: You cherish the sales.
Same thing.
Candy: We’re done here. Get yourself home and deal with your mother. And, no, I don’t care what you’re doing.
“Good news. Nick just texted me.” I sat down opposite of her and laid my hands on the table. “He’s on his way home, and he cannot wait to see you.” Alone. Because I’d be finding anywhere else in the world to be.
She threaded her fingers together as she kept her hands on the table. “That’s not any sort of news. He was bound to come home sooner or later, and I don’t doubt he wants to see me.”
I licked my lips and nodded. I couldn’t win from losing with her. The only silver lining to our divorce might be that I would never have to interact with Virginia Crane again after this Christmas.