Page 31 of A Cozy Kind of Christmas
“Guinness is on tap, just for you,” Lucinda said, flickering her fingers at Owen. “Matt gave me a crash course on each of you, and I took notes!”
Owen gave her an Irish drinking salute. “Cheers to that.”
“I don’t know if Mattie has mentioned it yet,” she continued, glancing at Matt and letting her eyes linger comfortably for a minute. “But my dad is taking care of all the arrangements for the weekend. Just put everything on my tab. We’ll take care of it. Consider it a tiny part of your birthday present.”
Every time she called him Mattie, Meg cringed.
Maybe this was a mistake.
Matt started to protest. “Really, Luce, you don’t have to go to any extra trouble. I just want a chill weekend with my friends. We’ll grab some beers. Go snowshoeing. Soak up the winter vibes. That’s it.”
She scoffed. “Please. As Blazen’s newest and, might I add, youngest VP, you are getting the works for your birthday. I don’t make the rules. Talk to my dad. My orders are clear—spare no expense. This weekend, we’re rolling out the red carpet to celebrate you.” She twisted her hand with a flourish as if she were actually rolling out a velvet carpet.
When Matt had decided to leave print journalism to take a high-tech writing job at a startup, Meg thought it would be a good match for his geeky tendencies. He had covered the tech beat forTheO. It seemed like a dream gig. But he ended up frustrated with the paper’s lack of foresight about the changing media landscape. They had met at the J-school, where they were eager to venture into the real world of journalism and leave their mark on the world. Only a lot of their glassy-eyed visions of working for a newspaper hadn’t turned out the way either of them imagined.
Matt had been smart to make the move. Obviously, it had been a financial boon for him. And a VP at thirty was impressive, but looking at him with Lucinda made her wonder if he’d sold his reporter’s soul in the process.
“Pints up, friends.” Matt gave Meg a sheepish grin. “You’ll learn there’s no arguing with Lucinda Hinton. The Hintons are used to getting their way.”
Meg wanted to believe that his voice contained an undercurrent of irritation, but the way he sat on the chair next to Lucinda and casually threw his arm over her shoulder made her realize it was nothing more than wishful thinking.
The waiter returned with a hot buttered rum for Lucinda. “What can I get for the rest of you?”
“I’m checking out the IPAs you have on tap,” Matt said, giving the beer menu a quick once over. “It’s a good list.”
The waiter nodded with approval. “Yep, we have three in your honor; we’re calling them the Hinton holiday rotation—a winter warmer, a hazy, and a hoppy pine.”
“I’ll try the hazy,” Matt said, offering Jill the menu.
Jill pushed it away. “Can I just get a hot tea?”
Owen massaged her shoulder. “You feeling okay, love?”
“Yeah, I’m tired,” she said, rubbing her eyes. Then she shot him a murderous look. “Only one of us slept on the flight.”
“Uh-oh!” Owen winced and threw up his hand. “Guilty as charged. Maybe I should get in on this IPA action.”
“Hell, just bring the whole keg then,” Matt teased. “A round of IPAs sounds great right now.”
Lucinda bit her bottom lip, flashing everyone a conspiratorial grin as she raised her glass in a salute. “Okay, okay, now I’m really excited about this weekend. This is on my dad’s dime, so let’s live it up, you all.”
“I don’t know, though.” Matt scowled. “I don’t want to go overboard.”
“Are you kidding me? Dad thinks you’re a god.” Lucinda threw her head back and laughed. “Why do you think we’re having this party?” There was something beneath her tone that flagged Meg’s attention.
“There’s nothing better than beer, period. Good beer anyway,” Meg bantered back, trying to break the tension filling the empty space. “Cheap beer is another story.”
“You heard it from our residentNYTwriter,” Matt said with a touch of pride. “What do you say, Luce, you want to jump on the beer train?”
Lucinda shook her head and raised her mug higher, intentionally holding her pinkie like a queen. “No, thank you. You peasants, stick with your beer. I much prefer something a bit more sophisticated.” She winked and giggled.
“So back to theTimes, Megs, that is incredible. I can’t believe you actually did it. I mean, I don’t mean that I didn’t think you could do it, I just—uh…” Matt stopped, bumping the side of his face like he was upset with himself. “What I mean is, of course, you did it. It’s just so amazing that you followed through on a dream. You made it happen. I remember you talking about writing for theNYTbasically every day in our undergrad. Everyone else got real jobs. Not you. You pursued your passion.”
This time, Meg was sure there was a hint of envy in his tone.
She wasn’t the only one who had lofty goals. Matt had wanted to write forWiredor win a Pulitzer. He had revered Pops’s work, maybe even more than Meg, if that was even possible.
They could have been a dynamic writing duo but instead took two very different and divergent paths.
