Page 41 of A Very Daddy Christmas

Eva notices the color draining from my face. “That bad, huh?”

“I can’t believe it. And they’re all lies, Eva. Lies!”

“I’m not surprised. They’re really pulling out all the stops to ruin us,” she says with a deep sigh.

“I can’t believe he’d stoop so low.”

“Yeah, and it’s nowhere near over. He’s gunning for us from every possible angle.” She points at me. “Those are his cronies bashing us, I’ll bet you.”

“They’re local,” I say, checking some of the profiles. I recognize a lot of them.

“They’re trying to crush us. I haven’t gone to church for the past couple of weeks, to be honest. I caught a bad vibe the last time I was there.”

“Eva, that’s not right. You love the Sunday sermon,” I say, my heart genuinely breaking.

Church used to be a safe haven for my sister, particularly during the more trying times. Our parents would take us every Sunday, and for several years, Eva kept that tradition going to keep us both connected to Mom and Dad. I know how much it means to her.

“It’s alright,” she says with a faint smile. “I carry the Lord in my heart always. Besides, I couldn’t stand being in the same room with Orson after what he did. And now that I see how his flying monkeys are behaving, I can’t say that I have any regrets.”

“Still. Maybe this isn’t worth it.”

Eva pauses and gives me a long look. “We’re keeping our bakery. It’s all that matters. When it’s all done and dusted, every single one of those hypocrites will come back like nothing happened.And they’ll keep eating our croissants, donuts, and pies. And Orson will find somebody else to terrorize. But we’ll be safe.”

I don’t know why her words do little to comfort me. “Our whole lives, we’ve known these people. How can they turn around and spew such garbage?” I say, focusing on another review. “This is pure evil.”

“Orson clearly has a hold on folks in this town. Those with eyes to see, they know what’s happening. They know to keep coming here, despite everything. The others are mindless fools. The world is full of them, Cora. We can’t control what they do or say. We can only—”

“Control our reaction to what they do or say.” I exhale sharply. “Yeah, I’ve heard that one too many times as of late.”

Eva goes back to boxing the leftovers while I get ready to leave. Outside, I see Sebastian’s black SUV pulling up.

“You go on, kiddo,” my sister says. “We’re going to survive this. Just keep checking those reviews and see if you can cook up a nice, polite response to any of them to show people we’re engaged in the conversation.”

It’s the glare she gives me that says more than her words. She doesn’t want me to pick online fights with the hecklers. Frankly, I’m tempted to do just that, but it would be social media suicide. Eva’s got a point—we can’t feed the trolls. We can only respond with grace and keep to who we are.

The drive home is relatively quiet. Sebastian looks tired. I know they’ve been working hard each day. The Urban Parkour campaign is halfway done, and they have several market surveys out. Once they get the results, they’ll be able to advance with the rest of the promotional materials. Meanwhile, I sink into thepassenger seat, letting my own mind become my worst enemy.

“What’s wrong?” Sebastian asks, almost instantly picking up on my mood.

I stare at his gorgeous profile for a bit, admiring the elegant line of his nose and the small dip above his upper lip. The specks of silver in his short, black beard, and the way his irises dilate when he glances my way, all of it makes my heart flutter.

“I think everything is wrong.”

He laughs lightly. “Wow, that’s a bit fatalistic, isn’t it?”

“Carl is still out of a job. We’re getting crappy reviews daily for the bakery on social media. Eva is being shunned at church, enough to put her off from going to Sunday service altogether. Meanwhile, we’re waiting for the escrow to expire, hearts in our throats and worried about other big-necked bullies coming in to scare us every damn day.”

“I know it can’t be easy,” Sebastian says. “But there’s only so much these people can do to you. This isn’t some third-world country where the guerilla forces run wild. I’ve seen that. It could be a lot worse.”

“Yeah, that’s not exactly the comfort you think it is,” I mutter. “Where are we going?” I ask, realizing we didn’t take our usual left turn after the farmer’s market.

Sebastian smiles. “It’s a surprise.”

“What about Dario?” I rest my head against the headrest, staring at the traffic ahead—a sea of taillights twinkling against the dark gray of a rainy evening downtown.

“Like I said, I know it’s not easy dealing with the fallout of an otherwise smart decision,” Sebastian reiterates. “But you’ll be better off when it’s all over.”

“I guess I just didn’t expect to see people who claimed they supported us turning against us the way they have. You haven’t read the reviews. They’re horrific.”

---