Christmas at Holiday House - RaeAnne Thayne Page 0,4
okay, isn’t much, but I offer it freely.”
She smiled. Lucy had never been one to care about material possessions, which was one of the things Abby loved about her. Someone meeting her for the first time would probably have no idea her family owned an entire luxury hotel group.
“I will pay you that back in spades, I promise. Thank you. I’ll check in tomorrow to see how you’re settling in. Bye. Bye, Christopher.”
She turned around. “Lucy says bye,” she said, loudly enough for him to hear beneath the headphones.
He waved but didn’t look away from the screen.
Okay. She could do this. Abby turned to pull onto the driveway. Someone inside must have seen Abby’s SUV approach. The black iron gates slid open smoothly before she reached them.
Her stomach jumped with nerves as she continued up the long, winding drive and pulled up to the house.
When she climbed out to unbuckle Christopher from his car seat, her son gave her a winsome smile of thanks while their cat meowed from his carrier.
“Can we take Mr. Jingles?” Christopher asked.
Like the rest of them, the cat was tired of traveling, but she didn’t want to toss a rascal of a cat into what might be a volatile situation.
“We had better leave him here for a moment until we check things out. He’ll be okay in his carrier for a few more moments, since he has his sweater on and we won’t take very long.”
To be safe, she set a quick alarm on her watch to remind her about Jingles in twenty minutes.
The cat seemed content for now in his carrier. Abby left the dome light on as well so he wouldn’t be nervous, then walked up the big steps to the front door, Christopher’s hand held tightly in hers.
A few pine boughs decorated the window on one side of the front door but not the other, as if someone had started the job of decorating for the holidays and become sidetracked. Winnie must have been in the middle of it when she was injured.
Maybe Abby and Christopher could help her finish. It would be a fun activity for them, in between helping Winnie.
“Can I ring the bell?” Christopher asked eagerly.
“Go ahead.”
What child didn’t love ringing doorbells? she wondered as chimes sounded in the November air.
A moment later, warmth rushed out as the door was opened by a tall, dark-haired man in a white dress shirt and loosened tie. She had a quick impression of sculpted features and blue eyes much like Lucy’s. This could only be Ethan Lancaster and he wasn’t happy to see her, at least judging by his scowl.
“Hi. I’m Abby Powell. I’m a friend of Lucy’s. This is my son, Christopher.”
He didn’t smile a greeting. “I know who you are. Come in. Maybe you can talk some sense into my grandmother.”
He didn’t wait to see if they followed before heading back down the hall. After a moment, Abby walked into a grand foyer dominated by a sweeping staircase.
She didn’t know what else to do but close the door behind them and follow him, trying not to notice how his tailored shirt clung to a strong back and tapered to lean hips, or the way his hair curled just so at the nape of his neck.
She was exhausted. That was the only explanation she could find for the instant attraction curling through her.
She gripped Christopher’s hand as Ethan Lancaster led her down a hallway lined with artwork she would love to examine in closer detail at a later time.
After what felt like forever, he reached an open doorway where she could hear a game show playing on a television.
Ethan Lancaster led the way into a huge bedroom decorated like something out of a Victorian bordello, with flowered wallpaper, fringe-edged red satin curtains and large dark furniture pieces. Dominating the room was a giant four-poster bed with a canopy that matched the curtains.
In the middle of the bed rested a petite woman with wrinkled features and hair the pink color of cherry-flavored cotton candy.
Perched around her were three little corgis, who lifted their heads long enough to yip a quick greeting in unison, then promptly closed their eyes as if they couldn’t be bothered to care.
“Abby. Darling. So wonderful to see you. How long has it been?”
“At least a decade,” she answered, walking closer to kiss the woman’s cheek in greeting.
She had only met Winifred Lancaster a few times, when the woman came to visit Lucy.
Winnie was unforgettable. Though small in stature,