Page 27 of That Time We Kissed Under the Mistletoe
“That all sounds lovely, Sara.” She peers at me, then leans in closer to the screen, her eyes roaming my face. “Are you sureyou’reall right, though?”
Whoa. My mother must know me a little better than I thought she did. “I’m great,” I chirp. “Which you’ll see for yourself. At the gala.”
“Ah, yes.” Her expression brightens. “And another birthday for you, too. I can’t believe my perfect little angel’s going to be twenty-nine.”
“I sure am.” Something twinges in my abdomen. “But I’m not so perfect, Mom.”
“Well, you’re there handling the evaluation so we could stay in the city,” she says. “Daddy and I are just so grateful.”
“Of course.” I press on a weak smile. “I know how important the fundraiser is to you.”
“Not as important as you are.” My mother straightens on the sofa. “Did I tell you we went to Rockefeller Center last night to see the tree?”
“You didn’t, but I’m glad.” My parents may have their issues, but they sure do love each other. Any shred of faith I have in love is a result of their almost-forty-year marriage. “So where is Dad, anyway?” I ask. “I have a new idea for Hathaway Cooke’s scholarship program. I could run it by him now.”
My mom shakes her head, simultaneouslytsking. “He went into the office about an hour ago.”
“On a Sunday?”
“You know your father. He has trouble relaxing.”
I smirk. “Trouble relaxing is an understatement.” My dad’s a founding partner who values his firm almost as much as his family. Hopefully, once I’ve worked there for a while, he’ll feel better about taking a back seat, and trust me to continue the Hathaway legacy.
“Truth be told,” my mom says, “your father probably went to work to escape me.”
“Why?” I snort. “You’re a complete delight.”
She waves my comment away. “Andyou’rebeing sarcastic.”
“Absolutely not.” My lip twitches. “So what’s going on?”
“We decided to include a two-week stay atthe lake house in the gala’s silent auction, and we’ve set our highest fundraising goal ever.”
“That’s great, Mom.” I offer her a reassuring nod. “This place will be a perfect addition to the fundraising."
“That’s what I’m hoping, but the gala’s only a few days away,” she points out, like I don’t already feel the burden of responsibility. “And if we can’t promote the property as a Platinum Stays home, the bids won’t go nearly as high.”
“Ah.” I glance across the kitchen into the living room and dining room. “Well, everything here is gorgeous. The perfect blend of upscale and rustic. So try not to worry too much.”
“Not worrying isn’t my strong suit.” Her face pinches. “Did you confirm the appointment with the evaluator?”
I nod. “His name is Ryan Detweiler. He’s coming today at eleven.”
“And don’t forget, you’re not allowed to be on the premises while he’s there.”
“Yes, Mom. I remember. He’s going to let himself in when he arrives.”
“He has access to the lockbox?”
“I texted the code to him and I sent a backup email too.” I take a beat, meeting my mother’s gaze. “Like I told you, I’ve got this handled, Mom.”
She lets out a long sigh. “I’m sorry to be so … particular. I’ll try to relax and trust the process from now on.”
“Trustme,” I say.
“Right.” She folds her hands primly. “Thank you again for taking the lead on this, Sara. Your father and I are very proud of you.”
“You are?” I swallow against the lump in my throat.
