Chapter Eighteen
LAYLA
Christmas morning begins in the breakfast room with everyone dressed in their finest outfits. In this family, that means designer.
The men wear suit jackets and ties, but for Owen who wears slacks and a polo. Brady looks handsome in a red sweater, with his hair combed back in a man bun. Tori wasn’t wrong; give it a few years, and all the girls will be after him.
We women have dolled ourselves up as if we’re headed out to a night at the Oscars. Ginger, who I’ve only seen occasionally at meals, drips with diamonds. Rheta is in a burgundy silk cinched at her waist. Ellory’s midnight blue dress has a tulle skirt and embroidered bust. I’m so used to seeing her in business suits, it’s a shock to see her in anything else.
It’s good Spencer warned me about the dress code, or I’d have come down to breakfast in slacks and a blouse. I’m wearing my fanciest dress: black, sleeveless, and with silver beading along the top. I love any reason to dress up, but for nine o’clock on a Christmas morning spent at home, it feels excessive.
The exception to the dress code is Sadie, who comes to breakfast walking on her tip-toes and wearing a leotard, pink tights, and a tutu. When I give Tori a questioning glance, she raises her eyes to heaven. It seems to be a common thing where her daughter is concerned.
“Some things are not worth the argument,” she says under her breath.
Breakfast has always been delicious at the cabin, but today it’s warm crepes with a dozen different toppings and hazelnut coffee. Where has this coffee been hiding all week? It’s the pick-me-up I need after two nights of little sleep. It’s truly amazing.
Dorian, Marianne, and Ellory are chatty and linger over breakfast, which means we all do. Rheta sits at the head of the table with a huge grin, but when Sadie’s impatience to open presents reaches a crescendo, we move to the family room. The decorations in here are very pink. It seems pink is the trend this year. At least, that’s what we were told yesterday at the farm, but maybe the pink ornaments were all that remained so close to Christmas. Still, the pink is beautiful against the white of the room. Sadie loves it, and she dances around in circles.
Since yesterday, everyone has brought their gifts and placed them under the tree. There are at least fifty, and they’re all wrapped in gorgeous paper and big, colorful bows.
The items I knit are in my Boudron slung over my shoulder. I wrapped nothing, and am suddenly self-conscious to gift knitted items with everyone watching.
I don’t need to worry, because my expectation for a Christmas morning where we gather on the sofas and open gifts one at a time isn’t met.
Instead, everyone stands around in small groups talking and exchanges gifts one at a time. After Rheta gives gifts to Marianne and her sons, Spencer leads me to the tree so he can grab a large box wrapped in silver paper. He carries it in two hands as we walk to where Rheta sits in an armchair.
“Merry Christmas, Grandmother.” He places it on the end table next to her and kisses her cheek.
“Thank you, Spencer. And Layla.”
She’s careful with the ribbon and paper so that it doesn’t tear. Spencer taps his fingers against his thigh with impatience. She is taking excessive care, but I don’t want Rheta to feel rushed, so I take his hand in mine.
When the paper is off and the lid removed, the sides of the box open outward, revealing an elegant crystal vase with a fluted top. I gasp at its beauty and size.
“It’s gorgeous,” Rheta says. “Thank you.”
Spencer preens. “It’s Baccarat.”
Rheta smiles like she’s bestowing an award for giving an excellent gift. “It will look perfect in the dining room with roses or delphiniums.” She takes a small wrapped box from beside her. “Spencer, this is something your grandfather and I wanted you to have.”
“Thank you, Grandmother.” After accepting the gift, he turns to leave, but I stay where I am.
“I have something for you as well,” I say. From my Boudron I take out the folded shawl and place it in her waiting hands.
Rheta gasps as she unfolds it. “It’s like gossamer. Where did you purchase this?”
“My Nana made it.”
She runs her fingers over the soft, web-like stitches. “How lovely. My mother had something similar that she purchased in Europe.” She looks up at me, a genuine smile on her lips. “Thank you.”
“Merry Christmas, Rheta.”
She sandwiches my hand between hers. “I have something for you that you’ll receive on Friday morning.”
I don’t need anything in return, but it seems rude to say so. “Thank you.”
We take a few steps away so Dorian and Ginger can give their gift to Rheta. When she opens the box with diamond earrings, her face does not show the excitement that it did when she received my gift. Her fingers run absently over the shawl still in her lap as she speaks to them.
“It’s a nice shawl.” Spencer’s voice holds confusion. “But it cost next to nothing. That vase is one of a kind and cost me six thousand dollars. You have to agree that’s much more than what you spent.”
It bothers me how he acts as if gift giving is a competition. “The shawl is quality workmanship. It’s not about money. It’s about the thought that goes into it.”
Spencer snorts. “I put a lot of thought into that vase.” With a sigh, his shoulders relax. There’s disappointment in his eyes, but also respect. “I told you my family wouldn’t want anything handmade from you. It seems I was wrong.”
He is wrong, and I appreciate how he acknowledges it .
“Thank you, Spencer.”
Ellory and her husband advance with a gift for us and our conversation ends. For the next hour, I follow in Spencer’s wake, giving and accepting gifts from his family.
When Marianne approaches with Brady and Owen, my heart rate picks up. I’ve done my best not to allow my attention to land on Owen this morning, but now that he’s beside me, it’s hard to look away.
Owen holds out his hand to his cousin. “Merry Christmas, Spencer.”
Spencer frowns as he takes his cousin’s hand in a tight handshake. He doesn’t hold any anger toward me for last night, but it seems he has yet to forgive Owen. “Merry Christmas,” he mutters.
Brady hands Spencer a beautifully wrapped box. Spencer gives it to me to unwrap. It’s heavy and I place it on an end table so I can tear off the paper. Inside is a wooden chess board with hand carved pieces made of what looks like amber.
This is a thoughtful gift. Not only is it well made, and I imagine expensive, but also, Spencer loves chess. He collects chess sets. The only member of the Clark family who would know such a thing would be Owen. I can’t imagine he purchased this for Spencer himself when they haven’t spoken in years, but he must have told Marianne what Spencer would enjoy.
“Thank you,” I say. “It’s beautiful.”
Spencer remains silent. He has nothing to say to them, and it seems he has no gift to give either.
It’s a good thing I came prepared. I pull from my bag the scarf for Brady and the shawl for Marianne.
She gasps as she takes it reverently. “This is gorgeous. I noticed the one you gave my mother, and I am thrilled to have one of my own.”
She hugs it to her chest, and then she hugs me. It feels like a hug my mother would give me if she were alive, and I hold on to her for an extra second.
“Thanks for the scarf.” Brady already has it wrapped around his neck, although with the fire blazing, it’s hot in here.
“I haven’t forgotten about your cloak,” I tell him. “I’ll get it started as soon as I get home.”
He grins, then glances over at his brother. “You don’t have anything for Owen?”
Spencer stiffens beside me, and Marianne glances between us. I can’t read her expression. Disapproval maybe? Either she’s heard the gossip about us from her siblings or she’s come to her own conclusion.
Thanks for making this awkward, Brady.
“I made a scarf for Owen, and I gave it to him yesterday.”
Now it’s Brady’s turn to glance between me and Owen. “Oh.”
It’s time for us to part company.
“Thank you again,” I say, then Spencer and I head across the room to the two people we haven’t exchanged gifts with yet, Tori and Sadie.
After Spencer gives Tori a Boudron diaper bag, he gets a phone call and walks away to answer. Doesn’t anyone at the firm take time off for Christmas? It’s honestly depressing to look into my future and see holidays spent with Spencer talking on his phone. I thought meals were bad enough.
Tori watches him leave before turning her attention to the bag. “Does he think Sadie is a baby? She’s practically potty trained.” She runs a hand over the baby pink leather with the distinctive buttons.
“Either that or he doesn’t know it’s a diaper bag?” I say. “I don’t think most people do unless they follow the company. It just looks like a shoulder bag.”
“True.”
Sadie jumps up from the floor where there are mounds of art supplies, clothes, toys, and stuffed animals. She tugs on the diaper bag strap.
“Can I put my animals in it?”
Tori lets her take it but not before she warns, “Do not put your art kit in here. Animals only.”
I hand Sadie my gift to her, a knitted horse, stuffed with fluff I borrowed from my pillow. She gasps.
“He’s beautiful!” She gives me a hug around my hips. “I’ll name him BB.”
“You have a pig named BB,” Tori reminds her.
“My favorites are all named BB.”
She runs away, galloping him around the room.
“Thank you,” Tori says. “That was kind of you to remember Sadie.”
I hand her the mittens. “I made these for you.”
Tori’s eyes soften as she takes them from my hands. For a moment she doesn’t speak as she runs her fingers over the Scandinavian star design. “You made these?”
“I stayed up late the other night to get them finished by today.”
“You made these for me .” Her voice rises in pitch as she speaks. “I’ve never had anyone make me something that I didn’t pay for.” She swallows thickly as she looks back up. “I know I’m not the easiest person to get along with, but thanks for giving me a chance.”
She pulls me into a tight hug and doesn’t let me go until Sadie plows into our legs.
“Can I get a pig?” she asks as she looks up at me. “In pink.”
“Sure, but it won’t be today.”
She frowns for a second, but nothing keeps her down for long. She runs off to show Brady her horse.
Spencer finishes his call and comes to stand beside me. We continue to mingle with his family, but I’m distracted. Any second now, he’s going to propose. My palms sweat. I catch myself chewing on my thumbnail.
Spencer meets my eyes. This is the moment. I pull up as much enthusiasm as possible … but he doesn’t kneel on one knee. He tugs me from the room and down the hall to the office. Once the door shuts behind us, he turns to face me, a regretful expression on his face.
“Layla, I had a speech prepared to give in front of everyone, but I know I can’t pull it off. I would rather give you the ring here and announce our engagement to the family.”
My shoulders relax. I wasn’t ready to give the performance of the year. “That is a great idea.”
From his inside jacket pocket, he pulls out the now familiar ring box and pops it open. The diamonds are larger and more sparkly than I remember. My hand is only moderately shaking when I hold it out, and Spencer slips the ring on for the second time in less than a week. I feel a heaviness that comes from more than the weight of the diamonds .
He holds my hand in his and studies the ring. The fingers of his free hand tap against his leg. Why is he nervous? This is his idea.
“Are we ready to do this?” he asks.
“Are you having any doubts?”
He lets go of my hand and loosens his tie. “No doubt. Some nerves, maybe. Getting married isn’t something to take lightly, and I’m trying to wrap my head around how our lives are about to change.”
I’ve been so focused on getting the money for Grandmother, I have thought little about what happens after we’re engaged, but he’s right. Things will change. Wedding planning will take up my time. We’ll move in together. I’ll leave my roommates, and that’s a hard thing to contemplate. Meg, Livy, and I have been together for four years, and I’ll be replacing them with a workaholic who doesn’t have the same taste in movies that I do.
This feels real in a way it didn’t before. My stomach is queasy, but there is absolutely no turning back.
“Ready?” he asks.
“Yes.”
We head back into the family room, hands clasped together tightly as we draw support from each other.
Owen is talking with Tori and is the first to notice our return. The smile on his face slips away the second he notices the huge rock on my finger.
I turn and face Spencer, so Owen is behind me. I don’t want to see him right now. It’s too late for doubts and second-guessing. It has been since the moment I said yes at L’oie Bleue.
“Attention please,” Spencer says, and the room quiets as everyone turns in our direction. “We have an announcement to make. I have asked for Layla’s hand in marriage, and she has accepted.”
I must have heightened awareness because I take in everyone’s response at once. Dorian claps, a gleeful smile on his face. Ginger raises an eyebrow and yawns. Ellory and Gerald give half-hearted applause. Rheta smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. Where is her happiness in me joining her family like I expected after speaking with her a few nights ago?
Marianne and Brady clap, but their attention is behind me. On Owen. I can’t resist peeking at him. Owen’s shoulders fold inward. Devastation hollows out his eyes.
I feel his disappointment in my chest. A defense rises inside my head. I’m Spencer’s girlfriend; you knew that the moment you showed up at the cabin. Just because we have fun together doesn’t mean we’re meant to end up together. It isn’t my fault you set yourself up for heartache.
It’s a weak defense that would never stand up in court. Our time together meant more to me than a way to wile away the week while in Maine. It was special. He made it special. He isn’t the only one who’s disappointed.
Tori is the first to offer us congratulations. At least one person in this room is thrilled about our engagement. If it can’t be me, then I’m glad it’s Tori.
Everyone else follows her lead and comes forward until we’re surrounded by Ecclestons and Clarks.
Except for one.