Page 10 of A Crane Family New Year

Astronomical, she silently answered herself.

“Chloe Andrews, meet Zander Crane.” Isa gestured between them when it became obvious they hadn’t been officially acquainted.

Zander dipped his head in a subtle hello rather than speaking. Chloe took the opportunity to apologize. Again.

“Sorry I stole your drink. You don’t look like a waiter. I was wishing for a refill and then I turned around, and there they were! Two floating champagne flutes right in front of me. You’re lucky I didn’t take both of them.” She let out a loud, nervous squawk of a laugh she wished she could take back. “Anyway. I am truly sorry. I was in the wrong place at exactly the right time.”

Reese’s eyebrows were at the top of his forehead.

Zander narrowed his eyes.

So. This was going well.

“I, uh…will you excuse me? I’m going to find a ladies’ room. If one of you could point me toward…” She pointed around the room, past Zander and then Isa. She had no idea where the hell anything was in this gargantuan house, but she couldn’t stand here another second. “You know what? I’ll find it myself. I’m like a bloodhound. I can find anything.”

OMG. Shut. Up. Chloe.

Rachel opened her mouth, probably to help, but Chloe didn’t wait to hear her friend out before fleeing the scene. She couldn’t stand in front of Zander Crane any longer without dissolving, or worse. She might keep talking.

She scurried past the double doors and into the foyer, and then clipped past the kitchen as fast as her three-inch heels would carry her. She didn’t care if she found a bathroom or not. Any room with a locking door would suffice.

Chapter Four

I’ll go and find her,” Rachel said.

“Wait a sec, Dimples.” Tag stepped up behind her. “I want to introduce you to someone. Who needs finding?”

“I’ll find her.” Isa waved them off. “You two mingle.”

“You have to meet him too, Cap’n,” Tag told Isa. “Eli’s already over there. Who’s lost in the house?”

“Reese, when we first moved in.” Merina joined them, wrapping her arm around her husband’s. “This place is massive. Took me months to learn the layout.”

“I still don’t know it,” Reese muttered, earning a chuckle from everyone.

“Why don’t I look for her?” Zander offered.

Every pair of eyes landed on him with curious interest, and so he filled the empty air with a not-entirely-untrue excuse. “I’ve been wanting to look around since I arrived. I’m in the market for buying a house in the near future. A meandering tour might give me an idea of what to look for.” He offered an affable smile. “If I get lost, I’ll call you.”

“If you’re sure…” Reese said, obviously uncertain why Zander would offer.

“He’s sure.” Merina smiled, then added in a butchered British accent, “Do find her, won’t you?”

“You have my word.” Zander polished off his scotch in one burning swallow, relinquished the glass to the bar, and set out to find Chloe.

A few twists and turns later, he’d visited the kitchen, a library, an empty room that appeared to be an ode to antique furniture, and two guest bedrooms. Apart from the kitchen, each room he’d checked had been dark and silent.

Where had Chloe run off to? And she had run. Away from him, yes, but he suspected it was nerves that carried her to parts unknown rather than intimidation. She had no reason to be nervous around him. Her swiping his champagne had given him an excuse to meet the most captivating woman here tonight.

On the way to the staircase to check the second floor, he paused in front of a line of photographs hanging on the wall. Each in gilded frames, the black-and-white photos featured various parts of downtown Chicago. There were shots of the iconic Bean, the Crane, and the Van Heusen Hotel.

He leaned in and studied the composition, the light and dark shadows. Though he had no memory of seeing these before, each one was oddly familiar. Maybe because of their memorable subjects?

But then he spotted a photo he had seen before. This photo, he knew.

He pulled his cell phone from his jacket pocket and opened the app where he’d met a woman who took photos of Chicago—the same woman he’d invited out for New Year’s Eve. After several months of back-and-forth direct messages discussing art, photography, the city, and even more personal topics, she’d vanished.

He’d never received an answer to his invitation to her tonight, and that in and of itself had told him what he needed to know: Chatting on the app was fine with her, but a meetup was out of the question.

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