7. Ashley
Chapter seven
Ashley
“Ash, it’s a Christmas tree, not a marble statue.” Carter’s voice was gentle, but his eyes were weary.
She folded her arms across her chest. “It’s not just a tree. It’s ten feet tall. It blocks the afternoon light that hits the reading chair. The entire south wall will feel like a cave.”
He raised a brow. “So move the chair.”
“It’s a 1923 Chippendale. It can’t just… travel.”
“You can take the interior designer out of the city, but you can’t take the city out of the interior designer.” He laughed.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing. Besides, it’s not just the city. It’s my degree in Interior Architecture and Decorative Arts and Design History.”
Carter blinked. “Is that even a real degree?”
“It’s two,” she declared with maybe a little too much pride. “And I graduated top of my class.”
He held up his hands in surrender, amusement tugging at his lips, looking more handsome than necessary. “Okay, okay. Remind me never to insult the placement of antique furniture again.”
“You should’ve known better.” She stared at the tree, her arms folded tight as she reconfigured the room in her mind. What would Grandma Lily do?
Carter took a step closer, his intoxicating scent practically knocking her off balance. “You want the light to hit the reading chair?”
“Yes,” she said, chin lifting slightly.
“Then we’ll shift the placement. Move the tree a few feet to the right, angle it just enough. It’ll still be the centerpiece, but the chair won’t lose the sun.”
Ashley turned toward him slowly. “That might actually work.”
He grinned. “Guess my years at Winterridge finally paid off. You know, in case you ever want to tag-team design with the estate manager.”
She arched a brow. “Don’t push it.”
“I know when to take my victories,” he said, before nodding to Bobby and having him pull the tree slightly to the right.
Once in place, Carter held his hand up, and thanked Bobby. “What do you think?” he asked her as they both stepped back to evaluate the new position.
“It’s perfect.”
Carter clapped his hands together, the sound echoing through the large space. “Great, now let’s get this thing decorated before Christmas arrives.”
She tapped her chin, her eyes taking in the tree, the light, the surrounding furniture.
“Oh God, what?” Carter asked.
She tilted her head, examining the space as he waited, impatience flowing off him in strong waves. She shrugged. “Nothing. It’s perfect.”
He let out an audible sigh, his head shaking. “Very funny.”
“I thought so,” she lilted as she bent to select an ornament.
The old familiar feeling of decorating Winterridge grand trees bubbled beneath the surface.
For a fleeting second, she felt like a kid again.
If she closed her eyes, she could even sense Grandma Lily, hear her humming her favorite Christmas carols, smiling as she placed each ornament in the perfect spot.
Ashley held up a delicate glass snowflake that caught the light, casting a shimmer across the marble floor. “Do you remember when Grandma Lily used to let us each pick one ornament every year?” Even though Carter wasn’t a part of the family, Grandma Lily always included him.
Carter nodded, the corner of his mouth lifting. “I picked the same bluebird three years in a row.”
“Because you were obsessed with the family of bluebirds that made a nest in that old oak tree.”
He shook his head, reached into the box, and pulled out the bluebird ornament. He held it up, a slight smile tugging at his lips. His gaze met hers. “I picked it because it’s the same blue-gray as your eyes.”
“My eyes are more gray.”
“Not when you wear blue.”
Ashley inhaled as shock slammed through her, rattling her very core. “What?”
His lips parted, but before he could say anything, a door slammed somewhere down the hall, jolting them both.
Heavy footsteps echoed toward them. Carter placed the ornament on the table and turned toward the noise, probably ready to put out whatever fire that had been ignited.
Cole stormed into the room, his cheeks flushed red, jaw clenched tight. “Where is she?” he demanded.
Ashley straightened, placing the ornament on a branch before turning to her cousin. “Who?”
“My mother.” His voice cracked, loud, raw, and nothing like the levelheaded, golden boy she remembered.
“Uh…” Ashley glanced around. “I think she was in the solarium the last time I—”
“She commented on my newest video. Said I was a disappointment. A disgrace to the Wetherby name,” Cole barked.
“Why would she do that?” Ashley asked. Marilyn had touted Cole, bragged about him every chance she got. He could do something as simple as placing an ornament on the tree, and Aunt Marilyn would have applauded him.
Carter stepped forward, his posture calming. “Cole, maybe take a minute—”
“No!” Cole exploded. “I am sick of everyone in this family acting like they’re above it all. Like they’re better than me.”
Ashley’s brows knit. “Cole, no one said—”
“She called me a disappointment.” His voice was a low growl now. “You don’t get it. She named me Wetherby. Her name. Said I didn’t need my dad’s name to be worth something. Said I’d carry on the legacy.” His voice cracked again. “And now she says my career—my life—is an embarrassment.”
Ashley’s heart sank at the undercurrent of sadness in his tone. “Cole…”
“Posting photos and little videos on the internet doesn’t build legacy,” a voice drawled from the doorway.
They all turned. Aunt Marilyn stood with a fresh drink in hand, one hip propped against the doorway, hair disheveled in that effortlessly glamorous way only Marilyn could pull off. Her eyes were glassy, but her voice was sharper than ever.
“Don’t be so dramatic, Cole. Everyone in this house has disappointed someone. You’re not special.”
“Are you drunk already?” Cole snapped.
“Define already,” she said, popping the olive from her martini into her mouth.
Ashley blinked, trying to wrap her head around the three-ring circus she had somehow been thrust into. “What is happening right now?”
“Mom,” Cole said dangerously low. “Shut. Up.”
She sipped her drink. “Or what, darling? You’ll pout in your overpriced sneakers and make a sad-boy TikTok about it?”
Carter took a step forward, placing himself between Cole and Marilyn.
This was ridiculous. Carter was the estate manager, not a referee in a family brawl. “Enough,” Ashley said firmly, stepping in too.
“Stay out of this, Ash,” Cole snapped, his chest rising and falling. “You don’t know what she’s like when everyone’s gone.”
“Don’t start,” Marilyn warned, her voice slurring slightly. “You think you’ve got it so hard? Try being left with a mortgage, a baby, and a reputation shredded by gossip while your husband drinks rum in Aruba with some waitress half your age.”
“Oh my fucking god. Get over it! It was years ago. Nobody gives a shit.”
“This isn’t helping anyone,” Ashley said, holding her hands out like a ringmaster controlling her lions.
“Ashley’s right,” Carter agreed and exhaled slowly. “Cole, you don’t have to prove anything to anyone—”
Cole’s fiery gaze landed on Carter. His lip curled up. “You think because Grandpa gave you a job and a key to the damn estate, you’re part of this family? You’re not. You never were. You’re just the help who stuck around long enough to get a promotion.”
Carter didn’t flinch, but Ashley watched his hands clenched at his sides.
“Cole,” she said, stepping between them. “What the hell is really going on?” There was more to this. This was years of unchecked resentment.
Cole’s bloodshot eyes filled with a wild desperation, locked on hers. “You really don’t know?”
Her heart thudded in her chest. “Know what?”
“Ask her.”
Ashley glanced at Marilyn, who was already tipping back her drink like nothing had happened. Ashley stared at her aunt, who was once her favorite person in the world, the fun aunt, the wild aunt, and didn’t recognize her at all.
“Aunt Marilyn, what is this all about? You two were so close.”
“Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”
“He’s your son,” Ashley said on an exhale, her brain barely able to comprehend her aunt's words.
“Which makes the betrayal that much worse.” A wave of disgust contorted Marilyn’s face as she glared at Cole. She lost her balance, but caught herself, her drink sloshing over the top and splattering onto the floor.
Cole let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “And I’m the one embarrassing the family?”
“Damn right you are,” Marilyn shot back, the liquid in her glass sloshing even more as she gestured wildly. “You’re a Wetherby in name only. You think your grandfather built this legacy so you could prance around on the internet taking selfies with champagne bottles? You don’t work. You perform.”
Cole’s face fell, red blossomed on his cheeks, and for a moment, Ashley thought he might actually cry or break something. She placed herself between him and the ornaments.
“You don’t know anything about what I do.”
“I know enough,” Marilyn said coldly. “You waste every opportunity you’ve ever been given. You’re nothing like your grandfather.”
“Good,” he spat. “Because I’d rather be nothing than a miserable drunk clinging to the family name like it’s a damn life raft.”
“Cole!” Ashley’s voice snapped through the room.
Marilyn froze, eyes flashing wide before she let out a hollow, broken laugh. “You really think you’ve got it all figured out, don’t you?” She took a slow sip of what was left of her drink. “Keep living in your make-believe world, darling. It’s the only place you’ll ever be successful.”
“I’m done,” Cole said, his voice eerily calm. “I’m not staying here and playing pretend for Grandpa’s twisted little reunion.”
“Abandoning ship like always,” Marilyn said. “I can’t believe I raised such a pussy.” She spun on her heel and stumbled out of sight.
Ashley stood rooted in place, her head swinging back and forth between the two doorways.
While she hadn’t kept in regular touch with either Cole or Aunt Marilyn, she thought she knew enough to believe they were doing okay.
Clearly, they were not okay at all. She turned toward Carter, confusion tugging tight at the bridge of her nose.
“What the hell is going on with this family?”
Carter’s eyes were still on the doorway. “The cracks are starting to show.”