Page 5 of The Thief Who Saved Christmas

“I never stay at hotels,” I lied, lifting my hot chocolate for a sip. “Bed and breakfasts all the way.”

She gave me a measured look. “You’re a good liar, you know. And what are you doing here, all alone,Ryan Reynolds?”

She obviously knew the name was bullshit, and I didn’t have it in me to try to convince her otherwise. “The only person I care about wants nothing to do with me, that’s why. I figured why not come here? They say it’s nice during the holidays. I could be anywhere, though, and it would be all the same to me.”

Before checking in, I’d walked around Williamsburg some. Seen the big Christmas tree they’d hoisted up in Market Square and strolled around the college campus and the colonial area. Checked out the jokers walking around in their tri-cornered hats and stockings, pretending it was colonial times. Everything seemed to have a red bow on it, like the place itself thought it was a gift. And you know what? It was kind of nice. It felt like Christmas here in a way it hadn’t at my apartment.

Still hadn’t made me merry.

“Why does this person want nothing to do with you?” Edith asked, studying me with sharp eyes.

The question felt like a punch to the gut, but I was still half-heartedly planning on stealing Edith’s prized possession. The least I could do was answer her truthfully.

“Because I ruined his life.”

That was the conclusion I’d drawn from what little Jake had told me. I was the one who’d pulled him into our arrangement with Roark. If I hadn’t tried to pickpocket the jerk, we never would have met him in the first place. We’d be…well, I wouldn’t have made it as an accountant or a store manager or anything like that, but my brother might have.

“And is your lover the one who drew the genitals on your face?” Edith asked, giving my cheek a glance. Maybe a ghost of the dick was still there, outlined on my skin.

I snorted. “Jake’s not my lover. He’s my brother. I’m straight. But I haven’t found a woman who’s willing to put up with my bullshit either.”

“Huh. You’re a late bloomer, maybe,” Edith said, turning away. I followed her gaze to the tree, and a red-and-white sunburst caught my eye. The damn sweetgum ornament.

Something strange happened in my chest as I watched it refract light from the white bulbs strung on the tree, but Edith didn’t seem to notice anything was up with me.

After a moment’s silence, she released a gust of air and said, “One thing’s for sure. You’ve got time to change things. I envy you that.”

I glanced at her sharply. There was something about the way she’d said it…

She nodded in acknowledgment, her bun grazing the top of the couch. “They gave me two years. Maybe three. I only hope I have time to convince Anabelle not to marry that fool. He’d never accept her for who she really is. I was in a marriage like that for half a century, Ryan, and I wouldn’t wish it for her.”

I felt the news more deeply than I would have thought possible, given that Edith was a complete stranger I’d known for an hour.

“Shit, I’m really sorry,” I said.

She huffed and leaned back. “Try not to do anything you’ll have to feel sorry for later. That’s one thing I’ve learned.”

“Then I’m definitely fucked,” I said, and instantly apologized again, getting an amused look.

“I’m old enough to have heard it all, you know.”

“You’re not so old,” I lied.

“I am, but I’m nothing compared to this house. You know, some of the things in here go back to the very start of this country. You wouldn’t think it to look at them.” She pointed directly at the sweetgum ball. “That ornament has been passed down in my family for years. My son brought it to thatAntiques Roadshowthing this past fall. Didn’t even ask me, of course. They told him it was worth hundreds of thousands of dollars.”

Surprise kicked me in the balls. Hundreds of thousands for that puny little bit of glass. Some people had too much money to spare, money spilling out of their pockets and bank accounts. Money they didn’t know what to do with. It was the only explanation I could think of for why a person would blow a wadof cash on something that was going to hang, barely noticed, on a Christmas tree.

Maybe this brings us back to my point about being an asshole, but I wouldn’t feel so bad about taking money from a person like that. I would feel like shit on the bottom of Satan’s horse foot if I took something fromher.

“Who’d pony up that much for an ornament?” I asked.

“Someone stupid,” she said, hoisting her mug. I tapped it with mine yet again, sensing a deep thrum of understanding between us. It had been a while since I’d gotten along with someone like this. Other than Jake, most of my friendships and relationships were transactional and brief. Getting drinks. Having a laugh. Hooking up. Getting into trouble together.

“Someone stupid,” I agreed after a moment. “You made him give it back?”

“I did. He wanted to sell it and share the profits. I told him I’d turn him in for theft if he didn’t bring it home to the inn, where it belongs.”

“Which is why you’re not spending Christmas with your son and his wife,” I said with a half-smile.

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