Page 3 of My XOXO Holidate

“I hope you have a safe trip home and a quick sale on the house.”

I haven’t been back to Cedar Springs since Dad’s funeral a year ago. My older brother Steve has been sorting through Dad’s things and preparing the house to put on the market.

“Thanks. Hopefully, it’ll be a quick trip.”

“No worries here. I’ve got everything under control.”

The elevator climbsto the top floor and reaches the penthouse. My home. When I step inside, my eyes automatically drift to the space once occupied by her desk. She enjoyed the massive window overlooking Central Park.

When am I going to stop seeing Ruby every time I come in here?

Ruby Sullivan and I parted ways a year ago. When I’d first laid eyes on her at a fundraiser for the Children’s Hospital, I couldn’t stop myself from staring. Beautiful black hair, dark eyes, and legs that went on for miles, I was captivated. Dinner dates and a long weekend in the mountains and Ruby and I were inseparable. In love.

Ruby’s father, Paul Sullivan, was a real estate tycoon in Los Angeles. He and Ruby had recently moved to New York to open a new office. Or so she said.

Although Ruby’s father had legitimate sales, he also had a side gig with small real estate investors for shopping centers, movie theaters, and apartment buildings. He misappropriated millions of dollars from these small investors and his case is currently pending trial.

Ruby’s interest in me was all about the money. If she could get her sticky fingers into my bank account, she could help her father continue his charade.

I shake my head at my carelessness. I’ve always taken care of the business— made sound investments and going only on knowledge and a tiny bit of luck. Never endangering the company, the investors, or my personal —and well-respected— business reputation.

Ruby fooled me— brought me down to a level that I haven’t quite recovered from.

“We’ve spentthe last three days doing nothing but going through boxes.” My brother Steve puts packing tape on the cardboard box that holds my father’s books. “I’m ready for a little fun.”

My brother shoots me one of his goofy grins that reminds me of our years growing up together in this modest house at 315 Elm Street. “How ‘bout going out for some pizza and beer?”

“That sounds great actually.” I wipe the sweat from my forehead.

“The Valentine Masquerade Ball is this weekend. I better make sure my suit still fits.” My brother chuckles as he patshis firm stomach. “I haven’t been spending enough time in the gym.”

“I think we could count all this work on the house as our gym time.” I stack the last box on the pile to be loaded in the pickup.

“You’ve got that right.”

I plop down on the couch and take a long drink from my water bottle. “I’m not sure how much I’m in the mood for the Valentine Masquerade Ball, but it’s a tradition and I don’t want to miss it.”

“The ball is about the only thing that brings you home.” My brother tosses a dust rag at my head, and I duck.

“I feel like if I don’t go, somehow the folks will be disappointed, you know?” I shrug.

Our parents met at the Valentine’s Masquerade Ball over thirty years ago. They fell in love and, as the saying goes, the rest is history.

Being invited out for pizza and beer by my brother is a nice change of pace for me. I get tired of the stuffy dinners and boring meetings with clients. As a matter of fact, I can’t remember the last time I grabbed pizza and beer.

Steve takes me on a tour of the hometown— past our elementary school, through the park we used to play in, and by the improved community swimming pool on Howe Street.

I let out a whistle. “Wow. They did a nice job on the swimming pool. When did they add on to the concessions?”

Steve slows down, practically coming to a stop as we admire the improvements.

“The work on the pool itself was two years ago. This past summer, they removed the old concession area and replaced it with that,” he says as he points to the new structure.

I crane my neck. “Remember the summers we practicallylivedat this place?”

“Yeah,” Steve says with a smile. “Mom said we were going to turn into fish.”

“Those were great times.”

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