Page 78 of Wrapped with a Beau

Ves’s throat constricts, taken aback at this unknown chapter of his great-aunt’s life. So Maeve’s supposed love affair wasn’t with Nathan, after all. He glances at Elisha to see how she’s taking it. Fascination, devastation, and fresh seams of grief rip over her face. “How do you know any of this?” he asks.

“Because she was my sweetheart. She was a few years older than me, but it didn’t matter to us,” Damian says simply. His gaze fastens on Elisha’s necklace, eyes growing misty. “Now will one of you please tell me how I can reach her?”

Their champagne sits untouched as Elisha breaks the news.

Damian stoically looks away, showing them his profile and the one solitary tear that he allows to escape. He doesn’t sob. Just makes this awful noise. It’s guttural and raw, an involuntary reaction to gut-wrenching news, even when delivered as gently as it can be.

“She left the house to you.” Damian states it as a fact, looking at Ves for the first time in minutes. His eyes are bleak, and the face that Ves thought handsome just a few minutes ago now looks ravaged. “I just assumed she was still—And then when I saw the signature on the paperwork, I wondered why it wasn’t her name. Whether she might have married, had a son... When I saw your name, I assumed you might have been that son.”

Damian’s laugh is forced and harsh as he tears his gaze away from Ves to crumple the cloth napkin in his fist. “So I decided to come down here for the pre-production shots myself, see Maeve. But now... Well, we’re here, anyway, and my team can wrap this quickly. We should be out of your hair in a couple of days, Ves. I’m sorry to have inconvenienced you.”

“That’s fine,” Ves replies, trying not to drum his foot on the floor. “Whatever you need.”

Damian’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Do you want to give dinner a rain check?” asks Elisha. “I can’t imagine how much of a shock this is after driving down here expecting to see her.”

“Teaches me to call first, huh?”

Ves forces his lips to form the facsimile of a smile.

Damian opens his menu, all business again with a stoic set to his face. “We’re here, may as well eat. There’s just one thing. Ves, do you plan to keep the house?”

“Well, I hadn’t intended to,” says Ves. “I live in New York.”

“But the two of you are together?”

Ves glances at Elisha, feeling horribly put on the spot.

“Only until he leaves,” she says finally.

“Sounds like me and Maeve. She couldn’t leave, I didn’t want to stay.” Damian loses himself in thought for a moment before coming back to himself. “The prerogative of youth, I suppose.” He gives Ves a speculative look. “So, it would appear you’re in need of a buyer. I’d like to make you an offer. Some of the best moments in my life were in that house, with Maeve, and I don’t think I could bear for new owners to move in and make changes. Not so soon.”

And then in the next breath Damian quotes a price so extraordinarily high, well over market value, that Ves is sure his eyes bug out. Elisha’s certainly do.

“I don’t know what to say,” says Ves.

“Say you’ll sell.”

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Ves

On Monday morning when Damian leaves, pre-production photography all wrapped, Ves goes back home. It’s strange, but until the moment he shook Damian’s hand and promised to sell it to him, the Christmas House didn’t feel like home.

As he crosses the threshold now, it does. The sense of belonging sinks into his bones as soon as he’s through the door and his overnight bag thumps to the hardwood floor. So does the hard pit in his stomach that makes him think he’s made a dreadful mistake in selling what’s become his to someone else.

“Hey, don’t dawdle!” Elisha scuttles through the door behind him. “Did you forget you promised to come to the Chocolate Mouse today for the cookie decorating workshop? This is one of my favorite Winter Festival activities!”

“I think we’ve established that I’m a hazard in the kitchen,” he says dryly.

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” She winks. “We achieved some pretty good results last time.”

He laughs and puts an arm around her. “I guess that’s true. Do we have time for some more of those ‘good results’ before the workshop? The one I don’t remember signing up for?”

She has the grace to look sheepish. “Grandpa Dave strikes again. You know he considers you family when he starts volunteering you to do things at the emporium.”

Like I’m another of the man’s grandkids, Ves thinks, pleasantly surprised at the fondness that sweeps through him. Maybe a few weeks ago the meddling would have bugged him. No, no maybe about it. The intrusion of a perfect stranger, however well intentioned, would have grated like sandpaper. But now, it just makes him feel a sense of belonging to this place, these people.

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