Chapter Sixteen
LAYLA
I wake up Christmas Eve morning wishing for another few hours of sleep. I stayed up late knitting gifts. Spencer may have insisted I not make gifts for his family, and that they wouldn’t enjoy something homemade, but after getting to know some of them, I disagree.
I spent hours’ last night watching the 1995 Pride and Prejudice while knitting a horse for Sadie and mittens for Tori. It’s a Norwegian style pattern that I love and they rival anything she could find at Saks Fifth Avenue. I still need to make three scarves, one each for Owen, Brady, and Miles. I brought the last of the shawls Nana made a few years ago and that I couldn’t bear to sell. I’ll give one to Rheta and the other to Marianne. As for the rest of the family, I would have to agree with Spencer: they won’t appreciate anything handmade from me .
I blearily look at the time on my phone as I stretch. Nine o’clock. Breakfast time. I’ve been awake most of the last twelve hours since dinner, and my stomach is empty and unhappy about it. I better go before there’s a full-on revolt.
I told Owen I wouldn’t go running with him this morning. A wise decision since we’ve spent too much time alone together, but now I feel sluggish and a bit out of sorts. Seeing Owen before breakfast is like having a morning cup of coffee; it puts me in a good mood. Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad. I don’t need an Owen addiction in my life.
Since Rheta expects everyone who isn’t a lawyer to help decorate today, I pull on my favorite pair of jeans and a red University of Utah t-shirt I’ve spent years breaking in until it’s soft. It’s an outfit I didn’t send back with the rest of my clothes, knowing I’d want to wear them if I ended up spending all day knitting in my room. I braid my hair and wear minimal makeup. Today isn’t about looking sophisticated; it’s about decorating for Christmas. I can’t wait to transform the cabin into a Christmas wonderland.
I’m the last one down to breakfast. Everyone is involved in a heated discussion about Boxing Day and they don’t notice my entrance, except for Spencer and Owen. The two cousins both smile at me from different sides of the table, then when they notice the other’s attention, they glare at each other. I turn to the sideboard, fill my plate, and I pretend that didn’t just happen.
Tori and Sadie sit at the end of the table opposite Rheta this morning. It gives them more room to spread out. Theoretically, I could take Tori’s seat on the other side of Spencer and not have to sit across from Owen, but I don’t want to draw attention and have anyone ask me why I changed my assigned seat.
The moment I sit, Spencer takes my hand and kisses the back of it. For Owen’s benefit more than mine, I’d guess.
“Good morning,” he says quietly so only I can hear. “How did you sleep?”
“I stayed up knitting.” I cover my mouth as I yawn. “When I finally turned out the light, I slept well. How late did you stay up?”
He does a shrug-nod combo. “Only midnight. The documents Salt Lake sent were helpful.”
“I’m glad. Does that mean you’ll help decorate today?”
“I have a few things to do on the case, but yes, I will. Prepare yourself; I’ve never decorated before. I may be horrible at it.”
It’s sweet how the tips of his ears turn pink from the confession.
“It’s something you can’t really mess up.”
He looks me up and down. His nose wrinkles. “Where did you get the clothes? I’ve never seen you in a t-shirt before.”
Dorian calls out Spencer’s name “Spencer, don’t you agree?”
Spencer gets pulled into their conversation, and I get distracted by Sadie as she pushes her almost full plate away with a clatter and takes two of her animal ornaments out of her pocket. A pig and a cow.
“We put them on the tree last night before she went to bed,” Tori tells me. “When I woke her this morning, she had all fifteen in bed with her. She’s started naming them. The pig is BB because he’s her favorite animal.” She tilts her head and frowns. “I see many farm and zoo visits in my future.”
I grin. “I’m sorry, but it’s very cute.”
Tori rolls her eyes and leans close. “Just don’t tell her where bacon comes from. That’s one thing I’m not willing to sacrifice for my daughter.”
Sadie stops playing and looks at her mom. “Where does bacon come from?”
“The store,” Tori quickly answers before taking the cow ornament and prancing it around while neighing.
“That’s a horse sound!” Sadie says around her laughter. “A cow says, ‘moo!’ Only horses say ‘neigh!’”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes!”
“My bad.”
I laugh at how expertly Tori changed the subject.
The conversation on the other side of the table grows louder.
“It will be too noisy and distracting having the house full of people,” Gerald says.
“No one will go into your office,” Rheta answers. “That hallway will be off limits.”
“Noise travels,” Dorian huffs.
“Wear earplugs,” is Rheta’s unsympathetic reply.
“Mother,” Dorian booms, his voice filling the room. I flinch. He speaks extra slowly, as if it’s Rheta’s hearing that makes her not understand his opinion. “It’s a bad idea inviting strangers into your home. They’ll … rob you.”
That’s a far-fetched accusation, and honestly insulting to the town of York. It makes me think he’s grasping at straws since his earlier arguments against holding Boxing Day at the cabin have failed.
Rheta doesn’t respond to his words or his tone. She sits placidly, her hands on her lap.
“Son, I respect your choice to work through the holiday. I’m not stopping you from doing what you choose, but now you need to respect my choice. I decide how to fill my time and who I invite into my home. These are my neighbors. If you don’t like it, fly back to Salt Lake City.”
Everyone at the table stills. I’m filled with dread. If Spencer leaves with Dorian, then I have to go with him. It would be weird if I stayed on my own, and I’m looking forward to spending Christmas with Tori, Sadie, Owen and his family. As well as the Boxing Day gift-exchange-and-eat-leftovers party.
“No, Mother,” Dorian says, this time quietly. “We want to stay, of course we do.”
Gerald, Ellory, and Spencer nod in agreement.
“Then stop trying to convince me I’m wrong,” Rheta tells her children. “If you can’t work in the house during the party, then go to the public library. I’m sure it will be empty since everyone will be here.”
I stifle my laugh over Dorian’s shocked expression. As if he’s never walked through the doors of any public building, especially not a library.
“I only want what is best for you,” he says meekly. “I’m your son. Can’t I be concerned about your welfare? Preparing for a party at such short notice can be stressful.”
“Oh, for goodness’ sakes, Dorian. I’m old, I’m not dying.”
Miles’ parents Susan and Malcolm arrive at ten o’clock to lead the decorating committee. Twelve people from town arrive soon after, and they bring along a few children to play with Sadie.
Susan posts a printed schedule on the back of the front door. When I look for my name, I see it listed next to two women from town. We’re going to work decorating the dining room. But first, we need to unpack all the decorations and lay them out on tables set up in the foyer, so they’re easier to organize.
Susan and Malcolm are in their seventies, but that doesn’t slow them down. They’re unpacking with the rest of us, and when they come across mistletoe, they don’t let the opportunity to kiss pass them by.
Sadie becomes the ringleader of the children. They maraud around the house with empty wrapping paper rolls and ribbons tied around their heads to cover one eye, pretending they’re pirates. Sadie tapes the chicken ornament onto her shoulder like it’s a parrot.
When I have most of the decorations for the dining room gathered, I take an armload in to get started. Owen is at the dining table untangling a string of brand-new lights. How they got tangled isn’t the most important question.
“Why are you here?” I ask.
He glances up, then back down at the lights. “There’s been a change in decorating partners. Do you think you can help with this? The kids got to it before I did.”
I notice how he changed the subject, but for reasons I’d rather not think about, I don’t dig into the why behind the change. With a smile, I pull up Christmas music on my phone and help him untangle the string of lights .
The theme for this room is silver and gold. We have ribbons and ornaments in all shapes and sizes. Even the tree skirt is gold with silver stars. I’m not sure how Miles and Rheta found all of this in two days, but it will be a beautiful room.
I climb the ladder to weave the ribbon through the branches, starting at the top and working toward the bottom. As we work, Owen whistles along with the music. I sing the words. It’s companionable and kind of perfect.
“I have contraband.” Owen pulls out a candy cane from his shirt pocket. “I thought we could hide it in the tree and see if anyone notices. It’ll be like your pickle game, but since the candy cane is red and white striped, more of a Christmas-themed ‘Where’s Waldo.’”
I clap my hands and laugh. “I love it. Even better, we can hide one on every tree. After Boxing Day, we’ll see if any of them are still there.
“Perfect. You hide this one. I’ll hide the next.”
As he hands it to me, my fingers brush his. My body shivers at the contact. I pull away, but my eyes stay glued to his. I didn’t think decorating a Christmas tree could get better, but having Owen here has improved the process. We get stuck staring at each other.
“What’s this?”
Spencer’s voice comes from behind us and we both turn. I expected Spencer to show up to help, but not so soon. It’s only noon. For a second day in a row, Spencer has caught me sharing a moment with Owen.
“You’re done earlier than I thought.” I walk over on stiff legs and kiss him on the cheek.
Spencer’s nostrils flare and his lips flatten. He takes my hand in a tight grip and stares at his cousin, even as he speaks to me. “I didn’t want to disappoint you. I have the rest of the day off. Father and Gerald are taking care of everything that needs to be done until after Christmas.”
He took time off for me. If he were only concerned for himself, he’d work over Christmas. He’s trying to make me happy, which makes my guilt over enjoying my time with Owen heavier. As we decorated, I didn’t think about Spencer once.
“That’s wonderful.” My voice sounds fake. I try again. “Thank you, Spencer.”
“I did it for you.” He plants a big kiss on my lips with no warning.
It’s a territorial and possessive kiss. I know why; it’s our audience. His arm wraps behind my back and pulls me closer like a vise. When he ends the kiss, I’m able to take a step back. My heart beat pounds in my head.
Owen stands next to the tree with his hands fisted at his sides. With a deep breath, his fingers loosen and he walks toward the door.
“Well, if you’re here now, Spencer, I guess I’ll go see if anyone else needs help.”
I watch his back until he disappears through the door. I try to push him from my mind and enjoy Spencer being here with me, but after that kiss, it’s hard. Harder still when Spencer turns off my music and looks at the tree like it’s a piece of abstract art he can’t understand.
“I didn’t like the way you kissed me,” I say. “I’m not your possession. Don’t do that again.”
The muscle in Spencer’s jaw ticks. “I’m sorry if I made you feel that way. I don’t think of you as a possession. However, you are my fiancée. I don’t want you to spend any more time with Owen, ever, but especially not alone.”
His demand does not land well. I do as Owen did earlier and take a deep breath to calm myself.
“Again, I am not your possession. I can spend time with whomever I choose.”
He paces along the table and runs his hands through his hair. “Owen’s puppy-dog crush isn’t so little anymore. It’s the way he looks at you. Even Father has noticed, and it’s humiliating. Ellory had the gall to insinuate that you return his infatuation. I won’t have my family gossiping about us like this. It’s unacceptable.”
It’s good that this conversation is happening now instead of later. Like after we’re married.
“Spencer, if you think that our marriage is the type where you tell me what to do and I follow your direction without complaint, then you are wrong.”
His head snaps back like I’ve slapped him, and his feet stop moving. Maybe the shock will help him listen, and we won’t have this conversation again.
“Our marriage will be a democracy, not a monarchy,” I continue, keeping my voice even. “We discuss things and make decisions together. Yes, I understand your concern about me and Owen. We’re friends. I like him. I liked him before you proposed to me. But you have to trust me, just like I have to trust you. You’ll be spending a lot of late nights at the office, but I won’t be questioning your fidelity, so don’t question mine.”
His lip curls. “I would never have an affair. Especially not with someone at the firm. ”
“I trust you that you won’t. Do you trust me the same way?”
“I trust you. I don’t trust him. And what about the gossip? My father and aunt have noticed your friendship with Owen, and they only see you together at meals. They haven’t had the misfortune of catching you staring into each other’s eyes.”
I’m suddenly exhausted and collapse into one of the dining chairs. It sounds terrible when he puts it like that and my anger drains away. “I can’t control gossip, Spencer, and it’s unfair of you to put that responsibility on my shoulders.”
After a moment, he nods, the movement sharp. “That’s true. But I still don’t like you spending time alone with Owen.”
Understandable. I may not like how Spencer treated me when he came into the room, but I understand why he did what he did. He isn’t blind. He can see how much I enjoy my time with Owen. I would be upset if Spencer was behaving similarly with another woman. This is horrible. I’m horrible.
I’ve chosen Spencer for practical reasons, survival even, and my heart needs to get with the program. My growing feelings for Owen are dangerous. I can’t sabotage my future and Nana’s because Spencer doesn’t make me feel the way Owen does.
“Spencer, I can promise you that once we’re back in Salt Lake City, I won’t see Owen, at least not on purpose. We might run into each other at Brock Pine Home occasionally, but it’s not like we’re going to spend time together like we have this week.”
“Really?” He sounds hopeful. “We all live in Salt Lake City. While I’m at the office, you won’t invite him over to watch a horrendous Christmas movie or learn a dance or something?”
That sounds fun, and I have to swallow down my disappointment that it will never happen. I wish I’d never met Owen. It would make this decision so much easier if my heart wasn’t pulling me in the opposite direction of my head.
“Unless we get together with your extended family, I won’t make plans to see him.”
He snorts. “Getting together with the Clarks won’t happen again unless Grandmother stipulates it.” He pulls out the chair next to mine and sits, then takes my hands in his. “I’ll be patient this week with Owen because I know I get to keep you forever.”
My breath catches at the idea. Forever. Yep. Exactly. “See, it’s not so hard to have a discussion instead of making demands.”
“I’ll remember that for next time.”
“We’re almost finished with the tree,” I say as I stand. “But if we grab the last few decorations from the table in the foyer, we can begin decorating the rest of the room.”
I take a step toward the door, but he doesn’t let go of my hand and I stop.
He looks up at me with regret in his eyes. “I’m sorry for the way I behaved earlier, Layla. I never want to make you feel uncomfortable.”
He kisses the back of my hand.
I wish I felt something, anything, at his touch.
My wish remains unanswered.
After a quick dinner, everyone is exhausted, and we all go up to bed early. Every muscle in my body aches from all the lifting and climbing ladders I did today. It was worth the effort. The cabin looks amazing. I feel as if I’ve walked into a Hallmark movie set.
As much as I enjoyed today, there’s a twinge in my chest from missing Nana. Decorating the house was our thing. I thought about calling her on the phone, but it might confuse her, so I resisted. In three days, I’ll be home with fifty-thousand dollars. The sacrifice now will pay off later.
I want to burrow into bed and sleep, but I have another night of marathon knitting. I pull up While You Were Sleeping on the TV and start a green scarf for Owen. I’ve always been a fast knitter, but my speed increased once Nana’s livelihood depended on how much money I brought in each month. It only takes me a few hours to finish.
My phone buzzes with a text.
OWEN: I have something for you. Will you meet me in the breakfast room?
It was easy to avoid Owen this afternoon, since Rheta had him running errands. It’s best if I don’t spend time with him for the rest of the week. It isn’t fair to Spencer, and the gossip among the older generation bothers me, too, even if I didn’t admit it earlier.
I type out a message telling Owen I’m already in bed and can’t come down, but my thumb won’t move to the send button. After Saturday, I won’t see him again unless it’s at Brock Pine Home by accident. This might be my last time I ever have time with him.
My thumb suddenly receives the strength to delete my original message and write a new one .
LAYLA: Be there in a minute.
I grab the teal sweater Nana knit because it’s within reach, not because Owen complimented my eyes when I wore it last. Just before I leave my room, I grab the scarf I knit for him. He said he had something for me and I can’t show up empty-handed.
Besides, Christmas Eve is the appropriate time to exchange gifts.
When I open my bedroom door, I gasp. On the floor is a bouquet of white carnations, red roses, pinecones, sprigs of pine and fir, and candy canes in a beautiful glass vase.
Spencer didn’t do this.
I can’t encourage whatever it is Owen thinks he’s doing, but my heart and not my head leads my feet as I pick up the vase and carry it down the hallway with me. The house is quiet as I creep downstairs. Even dark, the shadows of our efforts earlier today are visible.
It was easy to convince Rheta to hang some of Sadie’s artwork in the foyer: crayon pictures of a tree, a family portrait, and BB the pig. Not that anyone would know what they are without the small plaques Miles made to put by each one. I don’t think any of us would dream of turning down Sadie’s requests.
When I get to the breakfast room, I expect the overhead lights to be on, but the only light comes from a string of lights along the middle of the table and the Christmas tree in the corner, giving the room a holiday glow.
The sewn ornaments from the Nubble Lighthouse and red glass balls adorn the tree. Under its boughs are four badly wrapped gifts. They must be another of Sadie’s contributions to the decorations .
The space feels bigger than it is because the curtains over the windows and glass door are open, with the moon perfectly framed in the space.
On the table are two place settings across from each other. I drop the scarf and flowers on the end of the table and draw closer. Fine silverware. Glass goblets. Placemats with embroidered holly and berries around the edges.
I take in everything and ask myself, what is going on?