5. Ashley
Chapter five
Ashley
Ashley faced her brother, whose chest was puffed out like some bouncer who thought he had more authority than he actually did. “What the hell was that about?”
“Don’t think I don’t know what went on between you two. Or that he fucking broke you. I won’t let the bastard use you again.”
“I’m more than capable of handling myself, thank you very much.”
“Are you?”
This was the Gabe she knew all too well. Her big brother was always convinced he needed to take charge, whether or not anyone asked him to. Once upon a time, she’d let him. He’d been the first person she called when life fell apart. Until he stopped answering.
“Oh, fuck off, Gabe. I’ve barely heard from you over the last few years, and now you’re going to barge into my life and act like you give a shit?”
“Of course I give a shit. You’re my sister.”
“Then where have you been? Grandma died. Mom and Dad’s marriage fell apart. Aunt Marilyn went over the deep end. Grandpa pushed everyone away. Where were you?”
Gabe’s jaw ticked. “I was dealing with my own shit.”
Ash threw her hands in the air. “We are all dealing with our own shit. Alone. Now you’re ready to play big brother like the last few years never fucking happened?”
Gabe’s shoulders sagged a fraction before he lifted his chin, his expression hardening. “I know he hurt you. And I don’t trust him not to do it again.”
Ash narrowed her gaze at her brother, who constantly tried to fix everyone else’s problems and ignore his own. “This isn’t about trust. This is about you deciding what’s best for me.”
“I’m trying to protect you.”
A bitter laugh escaped her. “From what? The only man who ever made this place feel like home?”
Gabe flinched, his eyes darkening. “He was never supposed to be a part of your life. He was the help’s kid, for fuck's sake.”
“I see even after all these years, you’re still judging people based on where they come from. It’s not his fault he wasn’t born into money. Besides”—Ash spread her arms out—“every one of us was, and we are all fucking train wrecks.”
“He’ll break you again. That’s who he is.”
Tears built in Ash’s eyes, but she fought them off. She was done crying. “You don’t know him the way I did.” The words left her mouth before she could stop them. Why was she defending him? Carter had shattered her heart.
But every accusation Gabe hurled at Carter felt like an accusation against her. Like falling in love with him had been some childish mistake.
Flashes of her and Carter’s last night together flickered in her mind. The way he looked at her. The way he touched her as if she were the most precious thing in his world.
Then a flip switched, and the Carter she knew vanished. She held onto that version of him, but being back at Winterridge, coming face-to-face with the man she once loved with every ounce of her being, she knew without a doubt that wasn’t her Carter.
“Do what you want, Ash. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Gabe stormed off, leaving her rooted to the spot. Confusion churned inside her, tangled with anger and annoyance. The last person she needed advice from was Gabe, whose idea of commitment rarely lasted beyond a few dates.
She needed a damn cookie. She spun toward the stairs and hurried down, letting the scent of gingerbread warm her blackened soul.
Ashley made her way to the familiar kitchen.
Not much had changed in the time she’d been gone.
The cream cabinetry reflected the early afternoon light, the worn butcher-block counters carried decades of family meals, and the faded floral wallpaper she’d begged Grandma Lily to replace when she was fifteen somehow felt perfect now.
A woman she didn’t recognize examined spice bottles, shaking her head and sighing as she picked them up one by one before discarding them in a stacked pile.
“Ms. Porter,” Ashley said, and they both lifted their arms awkwardly, then dropped them. Ashley was done with propriety. She stepped toward the older woman, who had always been kind to her, and wrapped her in a big hug. Ms. Porter let out a surprised “Oh!” before returning her hug.
“It’s so good to see you,” Ash said.
“You as well, dear. And so great to have you home at Winterridge. Your grandfather has missed you. Heck, the whole staff has.” They pulled back. “Plus, your grandfather is much more tolerable when family is around.”
Ashley let out a sarcastic laugh. “I’ll remember that the next time he tries to fake his own death.”
Ms. Porter wiped a hand over her apron. “Lord help us all. That man and his dramatics. You’d think he would have had a career in the theater.”
“Amen,” the woman who had been examining spices said.
Ash turned to her, noticing the dusting of flour on her cheeks, the dark curls that were piled on her head, and the frustrated gleam in her brown eyes.
“Are you Tiny?” Ash asked.
“The one and only. I assume you must be Miss Ashley.”
“What gave that away?”
“I’ve seen pictures, and you still have the bangs.”
“They’re kind of my signature. Just can’t seem to let them go.”
“They fit your face. I wouldn’t let them go either.”
“Thanks.” Heat blossomed in her cheeks at the compliment. “I was told you make the best cookies in the state.”
“Who said that?” Tiny asked, head tilting.
“Carter.”
Tiny raised an eyebrow. “I’d hope he’d give me more credit than that.
I’d say the best cookie on the East Coast.” The playful confidence in her voice caught Ashley off guard.
After the tension she’d left simmering in the hallway, it was a welcome change, and a genuine smile curved her lips for what felt like the first time all afternoon.
“Don’t sell yourself short, dear,” Ms. Porter said. “Best in the country, hands down.”
A grin brightened Tiny’s already glowing complexion.
“In that case, what will it take for you to make me some?” Ash asked.
Tiny was already pulling out a container of flour and a bag of chocolate chips. “Lucky for you, baking cookies is one of my favorite activities. I will get right on it, then I can have Hawthorne or Ms. Porter bring them to you.”
Ash grabbed a stool and brought it to her. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to watch the master in action.”
A smile spread across Tiny’s face. “It would be a pleasure to have your company.”
A feeling of acceptance filled Ash as she took a seat. “How long have you worked here?”
“Going on four years now. Your grandfather came into a bakery I was working at, had one of my cookies, and demanded to meet the person who made them. He offered me a job right there.”
“And you accepted?”
“Of course.”
“Why?” Ashley knew her grandfather could come across as a bit cunning and crazy, but to think this seemingly normal woman immediately accepted a job offer from him intrigued her.
“I grew up not far from here. This house… especially at Christmas time… there was just something about it. I always wondered about the family behind the big, black iron gates. What life was like on the inside. Your grandfather invited me in, and the little girl who stared at this house out the window of her parents’ backseat couldn’t say no. ”
Ashley glanced at the counter, her smile fading. “Then you got inside and realized there was no family.”
“That’s not true. Your grandfather, while a bit eccentric at times and a pain in the rear at others, treats all of us as family. I am closer to the people here than I am to some of my own family, and honestly, I wouldn’t trade that for the world.”
Ashley’s eyes dropped to the granite countertop, her finger tracing invisible patterns on the surface. Tiny’s words poked at something deep inside her. “I’m glad you feel that way.” She looked up at Tiny and smiled softly. “I used to feel like that, too.”
Tiny’s eyebrows drew together. “Not anymore?”
“Sadly, no.” She was sure Tiny knew all about the Wetherby family drama; if the staff at Winterridge were known for anything, it was their love of gossip.
Ms. Porter placed a cup of cocoa and a bottle of cinnamon whiskey in front of her. “You always loved hot chocolate and figured the whiskey couldn’t hurt.”
“Thanks.” Ash added a healthy pour of whiskey into the mug and took it between her hands. She glanced at Tiny, who was mixing dough. “Do you ever wish you had stayed outside those gates?”
It was a scenario Ashley never could have had. She was born into the family, and Winterridge was as much a part of her as her last name.
An amused grin pulled at Tiny’s lips. “Only when your Aunt Marilyn drinks all my bourbon and tries to taste-test my batters.”
Ash laughed. “That sounds like her.” Though Ash was surprised Aunt Marilyn had frequented the house at all. She thought everyone had stayed away. “I’m surprised she came by the house at all.”
Ms. Porter sat on a stool next to Ash with her own cup of hot chocolate. “With Cole traveling the world for his career, she’s had a lot of time on her hands.” Ms. Porter leaned in. “Between us, I think she likes the free booze. We both know your grandfather only buys the best.”
Ash shook her head and laughed. “Not even top-shelf is good enough for him.”
Ms. Porter nodded. “While I enjoy gossiping, I have a long list to get through.” Ms. Porter took a sip from her mug, then disappeared into another offshoot of the kitchen.
She bustled back in with an armful of linens.
She dumped them onto a table and got to folding.
Mr. Hawthorne came in and stopped next to Ms. Porter.
“Carter said Mr. Wetherby would like the Grand Hall decorated first. I’ve assigned the parlor maid to begin untangling the garland.”
“She won’t be able to drape the garland across the staircase alone,” Ashley said, making no attempt to hide that she’d been listening.
“I was going to help her when she was finished or ask Bobby, the stable master's assistant, to assist when he finished adding firewood to all the rooms.”
“Not necessary.” Ashley pushed off the stool. “I’ll help.”
“Miss Ashley, you are a guest,” Mr. Hawthorne said, sounding almost insulted at the mere thought of her assisting.