Page 66 of The Christmas Eve Delivery

“One of our investors seems a little overly concerned that one of our projects isn’t underway.”

“The vacation resort you have planned for Upstate?” he asked.

I nodded. “Have you updated that search map?” I asked.

“I recently added a couple more potential sites and crossed off one town that we thought had looked very hopeful.”

“Email that over to me,” I said.

“I will do it as soon as I get back into my office,” he said.

“Was there anything else you needed?” I asked.

“No, I wanted to say, have a good holiday before I take off. I’m not back until after the New Year.”

“Oh, that’s right. Enjoy your time off,” I said before he left. I had practically forgotten it was Christmas. I had been focused onwork and ignoring the world around me in an attempt to keep from thinking about Lydia and the baby.

A few moments later, I opened the email and took a look at the map Harris sent over. With nothing better to do since no one would be at the office because of the holiday, I decided that taking a drive Upstate and checking out the towns marked on Diego and Harris’s map would be a good idea.

I rented a car and began touring the region. The weather was cold, and the days were short. Looking at small towns in the dark wasn’t doing me any good. I got a room in one of those characterless motels by the freeway. The building and the clerk both lacked the charm that Lydia and the Sweet Mountain Inn possessed.

What the hell was it with snowstorms and Brookdale? The weather was only getting worse as I drove toward my destination. I laughed to myself. Maybe Lydia would be feeling nostalgic when I showed up in the middle of another snowstorm. Or maybe she would curse my lack of common sense, being out in this weather. Because here I was, against my own better judgment and my lawyer’s advice, and I was driving to Brookdale.

That hadn’t exactly been my intention. I told myself that I was just going to take a drive out of the city, away from all the crazed shoppers and tourists, get out on my own, and drive around the small towns of Upstate New York.

But at some point during the morning, I made the unconscious decision to go to Brookdale. A couple of hours later, I had to admit to myself that I knew exactly what I was doing. And by then, the weather had rolled in.

I was closer to Brookdale than I was to going back. It would take less time to get to Brookdale and Lydia than it would have to turn around and try to go back. It would have been the smart thing to turn around and go back. But I needed to know, had Lydia had the child yet?

I no longer cared about the paternity. I knew it was mine. She had no reason to lie to me. I had every reason to project my guilt and distrust onto her. And that’s exactly what I was doing.

She deserved something better than my being an asshole. Maybe now, I could see Brookdale from her point of view, much clearer than she would ever see it from my point of view. And if I accepted that, I could accept that she was having my child too.

I needed to make amends. That wasn’t going to happen with a letter from my lawyer. She needed to hear that straight from my own mouth. If I was lucky, she’d be willing to listen.

The snow started to fall thicker. It wasn’t nearly as bad as that surprise spring snowstorm that had forced me to find refuge at her inn and thrown us together. It was still unseasonably early and was making this drive more treacherous than it needed to be.

It was a good thing I decided to rent an SUV instead of taking my own little sports car out. As much as I loved driving my McLaren 720S, there was no way I would drive it when there was the threat of snow or excessive rain. I liked that car entirely too much to risk it to hazardous road conditions and other unreliable drivers.

The snow was constant, blanketing all surfaces and covering the road. If it kept falling at this rate, I needed to be concerned with getting stuck on the road. At least the wind wasn’t blowing driftsof snow around. I needed to get to Brookdale before I got myself stuck out here.

33

LYDIA

“It is not supposed to be this cold,” I said through chattering teeth. I reached up and yanked down a festive garland.

“I blame everyone who ever sang that song, wanting snow at Christmas,” Evie complained.

“Snow at Christmas is pretty,” I said.

“Pretty, yes, but this is inconvenient and cold,” Evie said as she yanked and pulled on the decorations. A long paper garland unfurled and fell to the ground. “We’re almost done. Hurry up.”

I began gathering all the paper decorations into a mass of nothing more than garbage.

A car door slammed shut somewhere behind me, and then an all too familiar voice called out, “Lydia, what do you think you’re doing?”

I turned and stared. “Miles?”

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