Page 5 of Romanced By the Silver Fox

My stomach tightens when Mom mentions his name and calls him my Grant. The man is not ‘my’ anything. Not anymore.

Finola’s sharp eyes catch the look on my face. She claps her hands together briskly.

“Long story short,” she declares, “since we’ll all be gone, today is Carter Family Christmas!”

I look around the living area of the hotel suite. I was so excited to see my family I didn’t even notice the decor, but now, I’m realizing the entire place is beautifully decked out for the holiday. Creamy white poinsettias adorn the tables. A live tree dominates the living room. It’s covered with the hotel’s green, cream and gold ornaments, and accessorized with a cream garland. A pile of presents sits beneath it, including the packages I sent to my parents’ place.

Leo presses a few buttons on his phone, and a jazzy rendition of “My Favorite Things” pipes through the suite’s sound system. Dad bartends, serving up wine and cocktails for us, while Grandmother and Mom open the dishes in a miniature version of the restaurant’s buffet.

Just like at home, the food is a mix of American and Chinese dishes. Mom’s brought my favorite classics— bao stuffed with barbecued pork, crispy roast duck, spicy bok choy, candied sweet potatoes — as well as roasted turkey breast, garlicky green beans, and maple roasted carrots. In a nod to Dad’s midwestern roots, she’s even made chocolate peppermint pie. And while Leo doesn’t cook, his family traditions are represented, too. He’s brought along his mother’s Yorkshire puddings and a stunning selection of chocolate truffles made by his brother Jake, a chocolatier.

Even though we’re a few days early, it really does feel like we’ve magically fast forwarded to the 25th. We eat ourselves silly, watch a ridiculous Christmas movie, and FaceTime with our cousins in Beijing. Then it’s present opening time.

My family is thrilled with the coordinating Christmas sweaters I bought them. Cheesy, I know, but my mom is always after us to do a group photo. With us girls being long out of the house, and me living in a different state, we almost never manage to be in the same place at the same time wearing appropriate gear. Since we’re all together now, we make the most of it, taking a bunch of cheesy “us-sies.” We even re-create of one of Mom‘s favorite family photos. Finola and I stand on either side of our grandmother, making silly faces into the camera while she looks glamorous and unbothered.

The family’s gifts to me are suspiciously coordinated: a stunning red silk shawl from my grandmother, a black dress from my parents, and a gorgeous red clutch and heels from my sister and Leo. This is definitely my sister’s handiwork. I can’t complain. It’s fancier than I need in my day-to-day life as director of a children’s charity, but I will find some place to wear it.

While the rest of the family enjoys a second helping of pie, I steal my sister away on a tour of the hotel suite.

“Finnie, why do I feel like Cinderella getting ready for the ball?”

“Ooh! Do I get to be one of the little mice who helps her clean? And is lao lao your fairy godmother? She does look good in a cape.”

“Be serious, Finola.” I gave her my sternest glare. “What’s going on here?”

“Nothing.” My sister blinks about fifteen times in a row. It’s a sure sign she’s lying.

“Finola…”

“Okay, look. I know you have mixed feelings about Grant right now—”

“Stop. Stop right there. If you’re about to plead his case to me, don’t.”

“Gigi. Hear me out. Please.”

I fold my arms across my chest and take a seat on the enormous king-sized bed.

“Go for it. I’d love to hear how he managed to win you over.”

My sister pushes her bangs back. She slips out of her hoodie, revealing a sequined red crop top that says “naughty” across the front. When she notices me looking at it, she swipes her hand across the fabric. The sequins flip over to green and the top now reads “nice.” I laugh, but I’m still waiting for an explanation.

“Last year, my partners and I were fundraising for Comfort Creek. Looking for just the right investor to partner with. During that process, I ran into Grant. He immediately offered unrestricted funding.”

I stare at her in open-mouthed shock. While I work in the nonprofit world, even I know that unrestricted funding is a dream for small companies like hers.

“Was there a catch?”

“Nope.” Finola shrugs, flopping down beside me. “My partners and I went over the deal, top to bottom, and our lawyers scrutinized it with a fine-tooth comb. It was on the up and up. So the three of us met with him to discuss his interest in our company.”

“What was the angle?” I ask. “No attempt at a hostile takeover or anything like that?”

She shakes her head. “We thought of that. Lane asked him flat-out what his interest was. We sell housewares. Vibrators. Salt pigs. Not exactly the products a hedge fund guy dreams about.”

I get up and pace. Talking about Grant makes me nervous. Needing something to do with my hands, I visit the beverage station in one corner of the room. I make us both a cup of hot chocolate, tossing a generous handful of mini marshmallows into Finola’s drink. Those are her favorite.

“So what did he say?”

“That he was changing direction. He told us that one of the things he promised himself at the start of his career was that in this new direction, he would do something to level the playing field.”

---