Page 36 of One Night at Christmas

“Liar.” She laughed and handed over the keys. He had them at the restaurant in a half hour, and soon they were ordering their food. When the waitress left to put in their request, Bryson prepared to make his proposal, which he had been considering all morning. Charon beat him to the punch. “I’ve decided we’re going with you when you fly back. I don’t care if you’ve filed yet. I’m…yours.”

Chapter Fifteen

“Yup, definitely kept,” Charon muttered. Now she was in a new apartment, even before she had settled into the last one. Hopefully, this was the last move they would make for a while.

Bryson flew them to New York, and he arranged for a furnished two-bedroom apartment. New York city accommodated a lot more last minute plans than her home state.

A warm fire burned in the fireplace—something she never knew was possible in an apartment—and she had already hung some stockings from the mantel. She found another tree, and they decorated it. Naomi didn’t understand a do-over, but she was all for it.

The entire apartment smelled of cinnamon and nutmeg after Charon started a batch of cookies. Just outside the window was a snowy slushy view of New York City. Naomi knelt on the chair by the window staring out in fascination.

Charon prepared a dinner of orange glazed turkey, garlic mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, and buttermilk biscuits. She whipped up a pecan pie from an old recipe. A longing to see Bryson washed over her. Since they arrived in New York, she hadn’t seen him. He had dropped her and Naomi off at the apartment and said he had business to take care of. Part of her worried now that he was back in his element, he would change his mind about the two of them.

The doorbell rang, and Naomi sprang up off the chair. “I’ll get it.”

“No, you won’t. I don’t know what notions come to over you, Little Miss, but you stay right there. I’ll get the door.”

Her daughter pouted but stayed put. She watched with nosy curiosity as Charon headed to the door. A peek through the hole revealed a man Charon didn’t recognize. She hesitated.

“Yes?” she called through the door.

The man was thrust aside and a blonde stepped into view. She shouted in an uppity tone. “I’m doing you a courtesy. I could get the super to open the door. Now let us in right now!”

Charon had never seen Gretchen, but she knew in an instant this was her. She looked over her shoulder at Naomi. “Baby, go play in your room for a bit.”

“Awww,” her daughter whined.

“Go. We’ll have cookies soon.”

“Yay!” Her daughter ran off down the hall, and Charon turned back to the door. She opened it and stepped back just as the blonde burst in like she owned the place.

Just inside the door, the woman paused and surveyed the apartment. Her thin lips tightened as she settled on the pile of presents under the tree. The man cleared his throat, and Charon turned, recalling his presence. Another stiff one but not in the same way that Gretchen carried herself. This man was here on business, if Charon had to guess, and a chill raced down her spine.

“Ms. er…” He shuffled through the papers in his hand. She decided not to help him out, and he apparently found her name written in his information. “Ms. Cooper, you’re living in this apartment. Is that right?”

“Duh.” She bit the inside of her cheek to keep her rising temper in check.

The man flushed. “I’m Cornelius Gibbons, and this is Mrs. Bryson Scott. I’m here as her attorney.” He frowned as if he weren’t pleased that Gretchen had joined him on whatever he intended to do at Charon’s place.

While she had already figured out who they were, it irked Charon that he found it necessary to emphasize the Mrs. and to call Gretchen by Bryson’s name. But why were they there? For an instant, she wondered if Bryson had been lying all this time and that his wife would never accept him having an affair. No, they weren’t having an affair. He planned to file for a divorce. Didn’t he?

She straightened her back. This was no time to cower. Gretchen and Mr. Gibbons obviously thought they were better than her—at least Gretchen did. She radiated with superiority. “Why are you here?”

Gretchen whirled around to face her. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m evicting you.”

“Say what?”

Gretchen waved red-tipped fingers on an impossibly slender hand. Her stereotypical fur coat hung open, revealing a red dress that clung to her willowy figure. She wore high-heeled boots that couldn’t possibly keep her feet warm in New York winter, not to mention how she walked over snow and ice in them.

Regardless, it shocked Charon to find that Bryson’s wife wasn’t a supermodel. She might be attractive if she gained about twenty pounds. What she lacked in beauty, apparently she made up for in expensive clothes and accessories. The sparkling diamonds on her fingers, in her ears, and around her neck could blind a person.

Charon shook her head, clearing it of wandering unnecessary thoughts. She needed to focus on the crazy words coming out of the bitch’s mouth. “You must not know where you are because this is my apartment, and last time I checked, your name wasn’t on the contract.”

“Neither is yours,” she snapped.

Charon flinched, and Gretchen smirked in triumph.

The lawyer cut in. “My information says that the apartment was leased by Mr. Bryson Scott. Since both Mr. and Mrs. Scott own their assets jointly, Mrs. Scott has equal access to this apartment.”

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