Page 36 of Meet Me on Christmas Eve

“I know you were.”

She shook her head. “You can be very charming. I’ve seen you in action. Many times. In some really challenging situations with very difficult people.”

I sighed, rolling my shoulders, which were getting a bit sore. “This is a lot different. He hates me. Resents me, for some reason … which makes no sense, since it should be the other way around. I mean, he’s the one—but whatever. Like I said, lost cause.”

She paused and then turned to finish hanging up this section of lights.

Ugh, I was oversharing. I needed to change the subject. “You’re not wearing that to the party, are you?”

She turned around and grinned. “I should, right? But no, don’t worry. I wouldn’t dream of breaking the dress code.”

I nodded, relieved.

“I mean, unless you changed it,” she said while opening up another box of lights.

I gasped. “What?”

“You could change it,” she said, looking at me directly for a moment before looking back down at the box she was prying open.

“I … it’s possible, yes. But that would just be …” I trailed off, unsure what word I was looking for. “Wrong?”

She set the box down for a moment and turned to face me fully. “Why would it be wrong, Mari?”

I opened my mouth to speak and then closed it a few times. “Be—because that’s how we do it. Formal. It’s—it makes sense. We cater to the wealthy. They like formal. And it’s … professional.” My eyes searched hers frantically looking for validation, unsure why I needed it. “And it’s always been done that way. It’s supposed to be—”

“Mari, Mari,” she said, her lips curling in a sympathetic smile. “Take a few breaths.”

I obeyed. Once my heart rate settled slightly, I resumed my reasoning. “Holiday parties are traditionally formal, especially when our guests are wealthy and accustomed to luxury. We always have a few guests who drop in every year, so it’s not just our staff. We have an image to maintain. We can’t have everyone showing up in jeans and flannels.”

Hazel looked irritated. “Mari, isn’t the party for your staff? Should we be trying to make them comfortable? I wonder if some of them even own formal wear.”

“I can say with absolute certainty,” came a deep voice from somewhere off to the side, “that many of them don’t.”

I turned to look at him, shocked. What was he doinghere? My shock and confusion quickly turned to indignation. “And how would you know?”

“Because I’m friends with many of them. And I know someone who works part-time at the formalwear rental place. Actually, I believe you met Cynthia before too.” Cynthia again. What was she to him? I wanted to probe, somehow, but one look at him stopped that line of thought. Though his posture was relaxed, his eyes were cold and cutting. “So, yeah. Your little party costs your staff a lot of money every year, just to attend.”

I felt sick to my stomach. Shame washed over me, and I wanted to disappear.

“I’m sorry,” I managed to say.

Hazel put her arm around my shoulders. “That was never her intention, Terry. Mariana has a good heart. She values people and takes care of them.” She looked at me for a moment as if deciding whether to say more and then turned back to him. “You don’t know her very well, do you?”

I saw his jaw muscles flex, and his eyes shifted from her to me. Finally, he just sighed. “It’s none of my business.”

“Indeed.” Hazel raised her eyebrows.

I finally found my voice and lifted my chin, attempting some authority in the place I owned. “So, what are you doing here?”

His eyes darted to the door and back, and he said gruffly, “I got the trees in the truck. Came in to ask where you want them first.”

“The trees?” Hazel peered at him and then me, obviously confused.

“I got a call that a big delivery was needed at the castle this morning,” he said, ignoring Hazel and looking at me.

My brows furrowed, I nodded slowly. “I did put in an order last night, yeah.” I turned to Hazel. “I always feel bad for the smaller, barer trees that no one wants, so I asked them for a dozen to be sent here this morning.” When her eyes widened, I added, “For tonight’s party.”

My best friend’s jaw hung open. “You feel bad … for thetrees?” Before I could reply, she added, “Wait, do we have to decorate all of these before tonight, Mari?”

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