Page 196 of The Holiday Clause
“And anything elseChristmas-ythat you find!” Wren called after them.
Across the room, Soren and Jocelyn huddled at the wet bar, their whispered conversation punctuated by sharp gestures. Rather than referee whatever battle brewed between them, Wren approached Magnus.
“Do you need anything, Mr. Hawthorne?”
His unimpressed, somewhat bothered disposition hadn’t lightened much since morning, yet she believed he was secretly enjoying the chaos. He lowered the oxygen mask with trembling fingers. “There hasn’t been a tree in this house since Sable was alive.”
She followed his gaze to the wrapped pine. “Maybe it’s time to bring the magic of Christmas back.”
His sharp eyes dissected her as he drew a long pull of oxygen. “How long have you been dating my son?”
Heat crept up her neck. They hadn’t bothered to hide their affection, so she’d expected him to notice, but his directness made her feel as if she were doing something…inappropriate. She suddenly felt like she was being called into the principal’s office. “It’s fairly new. But we’ve had feelings for each other for years.”
“I assume you know about the will.”
“Mr. Hawthorne, this isn’t about…”
“Money?” His laughter crackled like dead leaves. “Everything’s about money, Haven.”
She stiffened. “I’m Wren. Haven was my mother.”
“Right.” Confusion clouded his features. “You look like her.”
Despite his open dislike for her mom, Wren smiled. “Thanks.”
Greyson reappeared, carrying their holiday haul of boxes and bags from the local shops. Logan followed with a tattered attic box that looked one sneeze away from disintegration.
“Where should we put them?”
“Over there.” She gestured to the floor. “Did you find a stand?”
“We found something. I don’t know how good it’ll work, but I’m sure I can rig it.”
Jocelyn wandered over, cocktail in hand. “Oooh, someone went shopping. What’d you get?”
Wren sorted through the various boxes, revealing the new dinner plates they bought. “This one goes to the kitchen. Soren?”
He retrieved the box of dishes and carried it off.
“That’s a good pup,” Jocelyn praised, and Wren rolled her eyes.
“You love to pick on him.”
“Meh,low hanging fruit. He makes it so easy.”
“You know, he took care of you a couple weeks ago when you were drunk. He could have left you there.”
“I’m aware of what he did. I have cameras.”
It wasn’t like Jocelyn to cut her off so concisely, but the look on her face told Wren she didn’t want to talk about her embarrassing episode at The Chowder House. It must have ended pretty rough for her not to make light of what happened.
Letting the topic drop, she revealed their treasures from town. “Look how cute these are.” Wren unwrapped the collection of ceramic Santas, handblown stars, and tiny porcelain boats with meticulously stitched Hideaway Harbor flags. “Aren’t they adorable?”
“There are more decorations in the attic,” Greyson said, delivering the last of the boxes from the truck.
Logan was digging through the ratty box he’d found upstairs and Soren was speaking to his dad. She didn’t want to disturb them, so she stood and brushed the glitter off her jeans. “I’ll help you bring them down.”
The attic smelled of cedar and forgotten decades. Wren shivered in the dry cold as dust motes danced in the pale light streaming through a single window.
