The Mills & Boon Christmas Wishes Collection. Maisey Yates
Читать онлайн книгу.
you glad I’m home?” I swallowed a lump in my throat. It hurt the way she froze me out. No wonder New York had been a haven for me; it was easier to ignore this strangeness when I was away.
“I’m glad you’re here.” She motioned to where I stood.
“Here? But not at Cedarwood?” I leaned casually against the counter, and tried to keep the conversation light despite the tense atmosphere.
She turned back to the chopping board. “Look, can we just make dinner and talk about other things?”
“Other than the lodge, you mean?” What was it about Cedarwood that upset her so? Outside, stars twinkled in the inky night, as if urging me on.
“Yes, other than the lodge. I’m tired of hearing about it.” Garlic skin coated her fingers as she peeled and chopped. “I know that sounds harsh, and I don’t mean it to be.”
“OK,” I said. “But I’m a little confused as to how you could be tired of hearing about it, when we haven’t really spoken.” God, sometimes I wanted to shake the woman. Why wouldn’t she want to hear about the biggest gamble of my life? The very place I’d always dreamed of owning. It didn’t make sense, but Mom’s moods had never been easy to translate.
“I hear about it in town. That’s enough. I want to talk to you, just not about that.”
I remained silent, and we prepped the dinner that way, both mired in our own thoughts. With the white noise of TV in the background, it was enough to pretend we were listening to that.
Sitting down at the table, I took the spatula and served Mom a generous slice, hoping she’d eat with gusto. “It’s good to have dinner together again. I’ve missed it.”
“Me too,” she said.
“We could make it a regular thing. Maybe Friday nights? And I can give you a rundown about what stage I’m at with the lodge?” I hadn’t meant to bring it up again, but really, it was all I had these days and it wasn’t like I was discussing something scandalous.
She sighed and placed her napkin on the table. “Clio, I’m just… confused. You were doing so well in New York. Why would you give it all up to come back here? That place…” She grimaced. “…It’s a money pit. What if you lose everything?”
With a deep breath I said, “It’s a risk, a big one. But to be honest, Mom…” I stalled. Would telling her the truth help or hinder? “I couldn’t stay there. I had an incident with a bride, and I got fired. It was a big misunderstanding, but the press got hold of the story and it gathered momentum, giving me no choice but to leave. I was basically blacklisted by every agency in and around New York. And then when Cedarwood came up for sale… it seemed like fate, a lifeline.”
Her face pinched. “I’m sorry to hear about your job. I know how much you loved it. It just seems like a step backwards coming home. There’s nothing here for you.”
I worked my jaw, fighting back tears. I felt so goddamn sorry for her, for myself. We were back to the same pattern of the past.
“Mom, you’re here.” When my dad died, part of her did too, but I’d always hoped it was just a phase, just part of the grieving process. Instead of pulling me close, she pushed me away. As the years passed she’d folded in on herself even more until all I had left was a shell of what she had been. Even Aunt Bessie hadn’t been able to pull her out of the funk she was in, though she never gave up trying.
She pushed her plate away. “What if you lose all that money, Clio? Your father’s money?”
Ah. “Is that what this… silence is about? You’re worried about my inheritance money?”
She had the grace to blush. “Well, it’s a lot of money.”
My shoulders drooped like I carried a lead weight. I’d never given much thought to her feelings about the legacy my father had left me. I presumed he’d left her a share too. It had been invested for me until I turned twenty-one and then I had reinvested it in a risky start-up and tripled the money. It was beginner’s luck and I knew it, but I’d done it out of spite – Mom had given me such a lecture about that money when I took charge of it so I did the exact opposite of what she advised. And luckily for me it had paid off; I took the money and ran, knowing it could have easily gone the other way. Much later I’d withdrawn the money to buy Cedarwood, and at the time it had felt right – like his legacy was always meant to bring me home.
“It is a lot of money. I’ve gambled, there’s no question about it. But if I host one large function a month, I can make it work. Then there’s the chalets, the chapel for weddings, and renting the rooms in the lodge. I want to market it as the holiday destination in New Hampshire. I can’t say for sure, but I think Dad would be proud.”
She sighed. “It’s too late now, Clio. It’s done, so you have to make the best of it. You could have gone anywhere in the world with that money, and you chose to come here. It’s mind-bending, that’s all.”
“I’ve always loved Cedarwood Lodge. You know that. And I guess I hoped we’d be closer, not just in terms of distance…” My voice trailed off.
I wished so much we could be the sitcom mother and daughter. The ones who knew each other inside out and didn’t have to guess at moods, or whims. The ones who met for coffee and cake and a shopping expedition; swapped novels we loved. But it would never happen. She was damaged somehow, and it was up to me to be there for her, no matter how hard it was. At the moment, though, it was hard to accept this was my lot.
“Eat,” she said. “It’s going cold.” But she didn’t lift her fork again.
“Micah!” I half-screamed, half-choked as I tried desperately to stop the water spurting from the kitchen faucet. “Micah!” He finally caught my eye, frowned, raced over and leap-frogged through the open window as I frantically threw my body in the way of the streaming water. “Shut the water off,” I shouted. He pulled a face and leaped back outside.
After a minute or two the water stopped and I sank to the floor with relief, soaked through and shivering, but not quite drowned – which I counted as a win. Micah’s quick footsteps sounded back through the hallway as he returned, towel in hand. “You’ll do anything for attention.”
“Right!” I said, swatting at him and reaching for the towel. “Give me that!”
As I began to wring myself out, he offered me a hand up and we slipped and slid over the wet floor like we were roller-skating, before sinking into the safety of the kitchen chairs and falling about laughing.
“It’s rusted through,” said Micah, who had managed to compose himself and was peering into the old spout. The kitchen was yet to be renovated, but must have last been replaced sometime in the fifties. It was lovely as it stood, with duck-egg-blue cabinetry and aubergine benchtops with chrome molding, but it was ratty around the edges, and needed to be updated with modern appliances. Still, it was like stepping back in time, and I half expected an apron-clad housewife from the fifties to appear brandishing a tray of prawn cocktails and devilled eggs.
Having to be budget-conscious, I hoped the rest of the plumbing was in better shape – already we’d had an issue with the main guest bathroom in the lobby and we’d be stretched for cash if we kept having nasty surprises like that. “Can you rig something up for now? When the new kitchen is installed we’ll have all new tapware so there’s no point getting anything fancy to replace it.”
“We’ve got a bunch of odds and ends in the storeroom. I’ll see what I can do.”
I surveyed him from the corner of my eye. Micah was always a ball of energy, the type of person who couldn’t sit still, but he was more jumpy than usual.
“You go clean