Page 4 of Romanced By the Silver Fox

GENIE

I have one pressing question:on a scale of one to ten, if I murder my big sister, just how badly will it ruin Christmas?

After leaving Grant in the hotel lobby, I check in and take the elevator upstairs.

Honestly, I cannot believe Finola asked him to pick me up. She knows how miserable I was when our relationship ended. Why would she ask my ex, of all people, to come get me?

Though I have to admit, I’m a tiny bit impressed that he and his assistant picked me up in a limo. It was overkill, but it was also flattering. It said I was a big deal to them, and that feels pretty darn good.

I sigh. If only Grant wasn’t involved in this job offer. Then I’d trust it more. Right now, I’m wondering if this isn’t an elaborate scheme to get me to move back home. Something to remind me of how much I love the Pacific Northwest, and how much I miss it when I’m gone.

Finola has made no secret of the fact that she wants me here. She and I have gotten closer in the last few years. It would be wonderful to be in the same town again. She even offered me a job with her company, Comfort Creek.

I refused. Not that I don’t want to come back. But it’s got to be for the right role. Finola’s offer was sweet, but impractical. My heart has always been in the nonprofit world. That’s where I’ve shined, and that’s where I feel like I’m making a real difference.

But my sister seldom takes no for an answer — and she’s not above using my ex-fiancé as bait. Finola is the only person who knows that I still have a thing for Grant, despite the way things ended between us. She would happily dangle him in front of me like a prize if it meant I returned to Portland. What I don’t understand is why Grant would go along with it.

I get off the elevator on the eighth floor and turn left. When I reach room 826, I snap a picture and send it to my mother. She’s always said it’s her lucky number. When she and Dad were house hunting all those years ago, she even made him find a property with that address. I bet she’ll be pleased.

As I let myself into the room, I hear the ding of a message being received. That’s funny. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear that my mother’s phone is right here —

“Surprise!” A chorus of voices shouts. I reel in shock. My mother and father, as well as my sister Finola and her boyfriend, Leo, are standing in my hotel room. Even my grandmother is here.

My parents instantly pull me into a suffocating hug.

“What about Mrs. Kambara’s bao?” I ask over Dad’s shoulder.

Mom laughs and holds out her hand in my sister’s direction. “I told you she’d believe it.”

Finola shrugs, handing over a five-dollar bill. Mom looks completely smug as she tucks it into the pocket of her dress.

“All right, Mother,” Finola says. “No need to brag. I admit, you know best.”

Mom’s smile gets even bigger as she turns to my dad. “Richard, please tell me you recorded that. I will need proof in the future when she denies she ever said any such thing.”

Our grandmother —our lao lao— loudly clears her throat.

“I mean second best, of course, lao lao,” Finola corrects, kissing her on the cheek.

“That’s what I thought,” Grandmother says with a wink.

“It’s so great to see you all,” I interrupt, “but why is everyone here in my hotel room? I was planning to come to the house.”

Suddenly, no one can meet my gaze. I look from one person to the next. Every one of them — even my lao lao — looks slightly guilty.

“I knew it!” I fold my arms across my chest. “You’ve all got plans! You’re ditching me. Why didn’t you say?”

“To be fair, we weren’t expecting you to come this year,” Finola argues. “As far as we knew, you were staying in New York.”

“There was a screaming deal on tickets to Indonesia back in March.” Leo’s face is almost as red as his hair. “Remember, we asked if you’d want to come along?”

His words jog my memory. I do remember him and Finola inviting me to travel with them. Jakarta sounded amazing, but I couldn’t think of anything I wanted less than to be a third wheel on a romantic trip with my sister and her man.

“When we got married, your mom and I promised to take your grandmother to Hawaii someday,” my dad pipes up. “We’ve been meaning to go ever since you graduated from college, but there was always something happening with the restaurant, or at my university… this is the first time we’ve been able to get away in I don’t know how many years.”

“You’re actually closing the restaurant?” I stare at my mother in shock. That has never happened in all the years of my life.

“No, of course not,” my mother scoffs. “I found some young culinary students who’re studying Cantonese cuisine, and my friend, Nico Serra, agreed to supervise them. Your Grant helped me sort out all the legalities and the red tape.”

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