Page 92 of Babies for the Christmas Grump
“No!” I shout, but it’s too late.
Tinsel leaps, claws extended, directly into the tree.
The whole thing wobbles, shaking, on the verge of collapse. I swear I can hear a few ornaments shaking in fear.
“Tinsel!” I yell again, as the poor tree teeters dangerously.
Marjorie darts forward, but she’s not fast enough. One of the lower branches snaps off, sending a flurry of decorations crashing to the floor.
And then, of course, the camera crew starts rolling.
I feel my face flush with embarrassment as Tinsel makes a perfect exit, leaping off the tree and darting toward the back lobby with a victorious look on her furry little face.
“Well,” I say, trying to recover from the disaster that just occurred, “that’s one way to make an entrance.”
Marjorie rubs her temples. “This day is going to belong.”
I hear Ryder’s voice cutting through the noise with that no-nonsense tone of his.
“Mother! This needs to stop! Now!”
I glance toward the front desk, where Ryder is standing, his posture rigid, his jaw set. His fists are clenched at his sides, and his whole body is practically vibrating with barely contained frustration.
He looks about to lose it, and honestly, I don’t blame him.
The cameras are in his face, and Elaine is waving her arms like a conductor leading an orchestra that’s totally offbeat.
“I said, we need to stop this now!” he repeats. “You know I don’t want to do this. I told you when you first brought it up. I don’t even know why you’re back in the hotel.”
But Elaine doesn’t even flinch. Instead, she looks over at him with that insufferable smile of hers. It seems he’s just some background noise to her show.
“Oh, Ryder, darling, you can’t be serious,” she says, dripping with sweetness that I can practically feel down to my bones. “We’re just getting the final establishing shots. Just a few more and it will all be wrapped up… no harm, no foul!”
I swear, if I weren’t so horrified, I’d almost feel bad for Ryder. He’s trying to rein in a whole herd of wild horses, but she’s just not having it.
“Mom,” he growls. “This isnothappening. You’re completely disregarding my wishes. You want me to be the star of this, but it will not happen.”
She just waves him off like he’s some stray dog barking at her heels.
“Sweetheart, relax. It’s television! You love this,” Elaine practically purrs, her hands flying up in exaggerated gestures. “The drama’s what sells. Trust me. You’re going to love the results!”
I can’t believe my eyes. How is she this… oblivious? Ryder’s trying to be patient, but it’s obvious he’s on the verge of losing it. I don’t think anyone’s ever told her no in her entire life. Not that she’s heard, anyway.
“Oh, hell no.”
I don’t know who that voice belongs to, but she must be the most composed woman I’ve ever seen in my life.
She stands tall, posture straight as a ruler, with the kind of grace that makes it look effortless. Her dark hair is pulled back in a sleek, no-nonsense ponytail, every strand in place, as if she doesn’t have a single careless hair on her head.
Her eyes are the color of a cold, clear sky. Sharp, calculating, and unblinking, as though she’s already three steps ahead of everyone in the room.
“Mom, youhaveto end this.” She shakes her head. “You tried it with me and my business, and it didn’t work. Please don’t do it here. No one wants this. Who even are these people? Camera operators you picked up off the street?”
Mom?
Is this Ryder’s sister?
Wow, she looks intimidatingly cool.
