Page 43 of His Gift
But then Walt made it my business, too, just by saying, “I know all about Enzo.”
“You do?” Mr. Wythe asked, narrowing his eyes and probably staring at me, trying to figure me out through a video conference image alone.
My first instinct was to think it wasn’t a big deal that he knew me. He did. But then I worried he somehow knewallabout me. And to top things off, Shawn went incredibly tense and twitchy, like maybe he thought he’d be in trouble if his parents knew the truth about us?
That didn’t make any sense to me. Then again, as far as I knew, Walt still hadn’t told their parents that he was pregnant.
I drew in a breath and sat a little straighter. Okay, so that’s how it was. The Wythes were a family that kept secrets from each other, even good secrets. Things were starting to fit together for me.
“Yeah,” I answered with as casual a smile as I could manage. “Walt and I met at the Pullman Center, when I came up with my initial idea for the job and training fair that could be part of your amazing Christmas Eve supper,” I said. Amazing might have been stretching things, but there was no harm in buttering the bread a little. “Nice to see you again, Walt. You’re looking great.”
Walt was, in fact, not looking great. He looked tired and puffy, and I was willing to bet he’d set up his camera for the conference deliberately to hide his pregnant appearance.
“Thanks,” Walt said slowly, suspicion clear in his expression. No one spoke for a moment, so he went on with, “I assume we’re here to talk about Enzo’s ideas for the Christmas Eve supper?”
That was it. Maybe it was a pregnant omega to pregnant omega thing, but I was certain Walt wouldn’t push things when it came to how he knew me. He wouldn’t blurt to the Wythes that I was Shawn’s boyfriend—which was more or less real now, even though it hadn’t been when we’d met—and neither Shawn nor I would spill Walt’s beans and let their parents know they were far closer to being grandparents than they suspected. Twice over.
“Yes,” Mr. Wythe said, looking at something on his desk and evidently moving past the introductions without diving into suspicions. “While I applaud the concept of a job and training fair to aid the indigent—” Mr. Wythe and I were going to have words over that characterization, “—I hardly feel it’s appropriate during a Christmas celebration.”
“Christmas is a time for families and togetherness,” the omega Mr. Wythe went on with only a slightly softer manner. “It’s a time for generosity and collective thanks.”
That made me wince, too. I worried Shawn’s parents were the sort who thought it was the duty of people who struggled in life to be thankful for the scraps that the wealthy gave them.
“I agree,” I went along with him to start. “It’s so important to create a feeling of community and support, especially during the darkest time of the year. And I’ve no doubt that the gifts your foundation and the people associated with it give to the attendees of this supper are desperately needed.”
“They are,” Mr. Wythe nodded, his alpha command palpable even through the video meeting. “That’s why we’ve always done things the way we were supposed to do them this year.”
“I think what Enzo means is that there’s more we could be doing,” Shawn said.
I appreciated his support, but a whole different part of me just wanted to speak for myself, since I was the only one currently staring at a screen who had actual experience being poor.
“That is what I mean,” I cut Shawn off before he could go on answering for me. “Material gifts are always appreciated when someone has nothing. Believe me, I know. But even more important and lasting are the skills to improve one’s lot in life and the opportunities to find a job that will provide more than living paycheck-to-paycheck.”
I didn’t think my explanation was all that revolutionary, but the four Wythes seemed stunned into silence.
I started to get an idea why when the omega Mr. Wythe said, “Shawn, is that what you think?”
To his credit, Shawn jumped right in with, “Yes, it is. If Enzo says people need jobs and skills more than coats and toys, then I trust him.”
“Even though he’s an omega you just met?” Mr. Wythe asked. Before Shawn could answer, he blasted on with, “And what do you think of your brother’s new hire’s idea, Walt?”
Walt flinched like he’d been put on the spot. “I think it’s an idea with merit,” he said carefully.
“Then why didn’t you think of it first?” Mr. Wythe asked.
“I…it didn’t occur to me,” Walt said, the wind taken out of his sails.
“You think it’s good to be taking ideas from strange omegas you’ve just met?” Mr. Wythe asked Shawn.
“Enzo knows more about the subject than I do,” Shawn stumbled, red-faced.
“If you were going to ask an omega for advice, why not ask your brother? He’s definitely an omega,” Mr. Wythe went on.
Ohhhh. I saw what he was doing. The issue wasn’t actually that important. I would have been willing to bet that Mr. Wythe, or the omega Mr. Wythe, didn’t actually care one way or another what happened at the Christmas Eve supper. He had both of his sons completely off-balance. That last question felt designed to pit the two of them against each other. The bastard! He was worse than I thought.
I wasn’t about to let a good idea what would help people fall victim to a manipulative narcissist’s games to keep his sons in line. “More important than where the idea came from is how it might be executed,” I said. “Walt did a great job of finding a venue large enough to accommodate not only the meal but potential booths for the job fair as well. And I’m sure with Shawn’s philanthropic contacts—” I assumed he had a bunch, even though everything I was saying was a wild guess and a gamble, “—we should be able to get a great turnout from employers, even on short notice. Teamwork makes the dream work, right?”
All four Wythes stared at me like I’d spit on sacred ground.
