Page 31 of The Holiday Dilemma

“Brooke, can I see you for a moment?” Tristan asked.

I looked over to him and nodded, getting up off the chair I was sitting in and moving over to him with my scooter.

“What’s up?” I questioned, looking into his blue eyes.

“You look exhausted. Why don’t you and the girls take off, and I’ll get this place cleaned up. Then I’ll cook you dinner.”

I did my best not to look at him skeptically, and looked over to the two girls who’d both been working their asses off to help me in my time of need. It was the beginning of December, and I was sure they both had shopping to do. I nodded my head in silent agreement.

“Okay, if you’re sure you can…”

“I can handle it,” he said, placing his large hands on my shoulders. “Trust me.”

I had no choice but to trust him at this point. He’d proven himself today, and I felt that if I didn’t give him the benefit of the doubt now, then it would be like I was saying he hadn’t tried, which he had, and he’d succeeded. I was actually proud of him.

I yelled out to the girls, giving them both the word that they could leave early. They looked at me, grinning, and before I knew what had flown past me, they were out the door on the way to do some shopping together. I waited until they’d both gone out of sight to head back home and leave Tristan to prove himself to me once again.

Tristan

I stood at the stove stirring my signature pasta sauce, while the meatballs I’d made roasted in the oven. Brooke sat at the small kitchen table, a glass of wine in front of her, flipping through a holiday magazine.

“I’m not going to lie, I’m starving,” Brooke said as I grated the cheese I needed for the garlic bread I was making.

I’d gone to the small grocery store once I’d been finished cleaning and had gotten all the ingredients for dinner.

“I think you’re going to love this, honestly.”

I stirred the sauce and checked the meatballs to find that they were finished, so I pulled them from the oven, setting them over on a cooling rack, before salting the pasta water and dumping in the pasta I’d bought, giving it a quick stir.

“So, I bet you miss not owning a restaurant?” Brooke asked.

I froze at her question. I couldn’t fabricate a story this time. Instead, I shook my head. “I never ended up making it happen.” I swallowed hard, concentrating on making sure the garlic bread was perfectly seasoned.

“Oh? I figured that was why you didn’t return to school.”

I thought back to that time, to how horrible it had been for me. “Unfortunately not.”

“What happened?” she questioned.

I thought back to that time, remembering exactly how things had gone.

* * *

I opened the door to the house and stepped inside. It was quiet as I placed my bags down on the floor just inside the door. Both of my parents’ cars were outside in the driveway so I knew they were home. I poked my head into the sitting room to find it empty. I moved to the kitchen, but both the butler and cook were nowhere to be found. I frowned.

“Hello,” I called.

When no one answered, I made my way down the hall toward my father’s office. The closer I got, I could hear voices, and so I just stood outside the open door, listening.

“I don’t see how much longer we can go on paying for them, Lenore,” my father said in a comforting tone. “The company is almost bankrupt, and—”

“Oh my God, Frank, what are we going to do? How are we going to pay for this house and our lifestyles?” my mother cried.

“Well, thankfully, the house is paid for. The rest of it, well, I am sure I can rebuild. I should have made sufficient changes when things turned. Instead, I tried to keep my employees happy by giving them raises. I kept spending, thinking it would change things. It never should have happened. I should have been smarter, especially when I knew we were in the negative.”

“What about our staff?” she cried.

“Well, for now, we will only need them during special occasions, until things turn around, then we will call them all back.”

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