Page 8 of Once Upon a Frosty Winter

“Come on. Show me around. Better yet, show me the signed papers.”

She mouths, “Come on”and opens the door wider for me to pass.

The White Estate is every bit of luxury that one would imagine. This place reminds me of every other rich person’s home, mine and my family’s included. It’s a huge house with a grand entryway. Double-height space with marble and dark wood accents. There’s a gaudy sparkling chandelier that hangs to signify elegance and wealth. While tastefully decorated, it lacks any warmth or personal touches. Anyone could live here. There’s nothing to allude to the owners. Over to one side, there’s an impressive Christmas tree. It’s magazine-worthy, but there are no homemade ornaments. In fact, all the ornaments are perfectly placed and in mint condition.

What I’m really interested in is discovering the main resident. My eyes keep scanning for the stepmother, a photo of the she-devil herself. But there’s no sign of her anywhere. Quite frankly, there’s no sign that Eira ever lived here, either.

We come to a sitting area. I control myself from leaping over the couch and grabbing the papers on the coffee table with H.C. Anderson Law Offices in bold letters as the heading. Instead, I calmly circle the couch and take a seat. Eira chooses to sit practically on top of me rather than have the other couch or chair to herself.

“Jax.”

I do not like the tone of her voice. It’s lower and husky.

I keep my eyes straight ahead and feign boredom. “Yes? Are those the papers?”

“That’s what I want to discuss with you. I’m going to be graduating in a couple of years. Have you thought about taking on a business partner?”

They never listen.

I level her with a glare. “No. I will never have a partner ofanykind.”

Her luscious pink lips pucker together. With a tiny humph, she leans forward, snatches the stack of papers, and then shoves them at my chest. Eira is now the furthest thing from my mind, despite her breathing down my neck. I scan the signatures on the paper. The page for Queen’s Orchard is blank. I look expectantly at Eira.

“She lost it when I asked her if she’d sell. But the attorney says I could maybe fight her in court for it.”

Going to court will cost both time and finances. I was hoping to have this wrapped up and tied in a bow by the end of the year. A voice interrupts my thoughts.

“You!” Hilda calls from the foyer. Her eyes are fixed on me. She marches across to join us in the sitting room. Her long, slender fingers are on her hips, and her green eyes are blazing with rage. “You set this up. You’re the one after my orchard!”

What? Her orchard? But her name isn’t White.

Eira stands and takes a step to the left to shield me from Hilda’s line of sight. “I’m sorry, Jax, for her rude outburst. This is my stepmother, Hilda Queen.”

Hilda almost laughs. “Shows what you know, Eira dearest. Your boyfriend had me tied up in the orchard ten minutes ago.”

“You’re a liar. You’ve always spewed lies. Don’t you have anything better to do?” Eira sounds like a spoiled child.How young and naïve she truly is.

Hilda doesn’t argue. She simply arches a single brow and crosses her arms. Despite her being in dirty jeans and an oversized sweater, she manages to look regal.

“Sign over the orchard,” Eira begins calmly, “or we take this to court. You don’t deserve anything from my father. This is my legacy. You barely knew him, much less loved him.”

“How long are you going to carry this hatred toward me? This misdirected anger?”

Eira charges toward Hilda, but her stepmother remains composed. Her chin slightly raised, she looks down at Eira, patiently waiting for her to get her tantrum over with.

“Until you’re wiped from my family’s history.”

“May I, once again, explain something to you? I need you to listen, to hear me. For both our sakes.” Hilda watches Eira to see if she’s going to cooperate or have another outburst. “I didn’t seek out your father. I did not pursue him. Do you understand? I didn’t want to marry him. I never asked for or even hinted that I wanted the marriage. My mother and your father arranged it. He wanted a young bride he could mold and to be a mother to his daughter. My mother was ill and worried about my future. I was younger than you are when I got married to a man twice my age and became amotherto someone I have a six-year age difference with.”

Eira’s eyes become glassy. “If you didn’t love him, then why did you marry him?”

For the first time, Hilda’s composure slips. Her pristine mask isn’t in place. The tragedy behind her eyes is enough to make even me pause. “Because my mother was dying, and it was her final request. It was the only and last thing she ever asked of me. She needed to know I would be well provided for after she left.” Her bottom lip trembles, but she stands with her back straight and head held high. “I’ll not explain myself again.”

Hilda turns on her heels and walks briskly to the grand, dark wooden staircase. Eira wipes underneath her eyes. This is a painfully tense moment. Unnecessarily uncomfortable for me.

“I’m going to go.”

“You don’t want to witness any more family drama?” Eira asks. As I stand, she spins around and shoves a dainty finger against my chest. “What were you doing with her out in the orchard?”

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