For the first time in months, Charlotte had a plan. Okay, so it wasn’t necessarily a great one, but it was better than nothing. With the first check from the Frost party, she would pay off November’s rent, her cell phone bill, and the minimum payments on both her credit cards, even though the one had been cruelly canceled this morning, right in the midst of the holidays. The second payment would go to January and February’s rent—wherever that would be—and by then, fingers crossed, the buzz from the Frost party would have opened more doors.
For now, she had a month without rent. And a month without a home, technically. Her stomach churned as it did every time she remembered that tidbit.
Still…it was a fresh start, Charlotte decided, forcing those optimistic feelings to push through. She smiled into the sunshine. Come the New Year, all would be right again. The mess of this past year would be behind her, soon a dark, distant memory. She’d find a new place—a better place—and she’d take control of things again. She was going to make smarter choices, starting today. All she had to do was get through December, and they’d be on their way.
First stop: the Frost mansion.
Snow had fallen overnight, covering the tree branches and sidewalks with a fresh blanket of dusty powder. With Audrey strapped into her car seat, snuggled in a soft pink flannel blanket, Charlotte finished scraping the windshield, wincing at the freezing wind that burned her cheeks.
She glanced up at the apartment house that had been her home for the last few months and set her jaw. No use dwelling on another failed attempt of getting her life in order.
She tossed the scraper into the trunk on top of Audrey’s disassembled crib, three trash bags of toys and clothes, and the half of the rest of her belongings that weren’t already packed into the passenger seats. The apartment had come mostly furnished, allowing for an easy exit. She let out a shaky sigh as she wrestled to shut the trunk. When she arrived at the Frost house, she had to maintain a sense of control; that was first and foremost. The last thing she needed was for Greg to think she was the desperate one, that she needed him more than he needed her. No, she knew what happened in that type of situation, and it usually didn’t work out in her favor. There was no greater disservice a woman could do to herself than to let a man think you needed him. Look how far and fast Audrey’s father had run when she’d turned to him for help.
Pressing her lips together, Charlotte banished all thoughts of Jake with a steely determination and climbed into the driver’s seat. There would be no thinking about him right now. She was getting her life back. She was setting an example for her daughter. And it was starting today.
“It’s the start of a new life, Audrey,” she called to the backseat, but of course, her words fell on uncomprehending ears. Charlotte flicked on the radio, aching for the sound of an adult voice. Lately she’d been talking to herself when she was at home. Oh, she’d start with talking to Audrey, but a baby could only give so much reaction, and eventually the need to fill the silence had transformed into conversations with herself in front of the mirror, in the shower, or even in front of the television. She threw hours of energy into trying to get Audrey to talk to her, even though she knew it was pointless. She was too young, of course. She started dreaming of the day her little girl was older, when they could walk hand in hand down the street, chatting and laughing. And oh, wouldn’t Jake be sorry then. Wouldn’t he have missed out.
She frowned at the road. That dream didn’t include coming back to a run-down one-bedroom apartment, and it sure as heck didn’t include maxed-out credit cards and the inability to independently provide Audrey with all the things she deserved in this world. Especially when her father was flitting between his eight-bedroom Misty Point “cottage” and his Beacon Hill brownstone.
She cranked the volume to drown out the thought, just as the radio announcer said, “It’s December second, folks, and you know what that means!”
“It means only twenty-three more days until Christmas!” Charlotte replied. She grinned at Audrey’s reflection in the rearview mirror.
“So tell me, what do you have planned for Christmas? Twenty-fifth caller wins a holiday compilation CD, and the lines are going wild. What’s your plan for the holiday? Will the Wake-Up Guy here. I’m listening.”
Charlotte gripped the steering wheel and pressed her foot on the gas, anticipation fueling her with sudden energy. “So here’s the plan, Will. I’m out of an apartment, and I won’t have cash for a new one until the start of the year. I could ask my sister for an advance on my paycheck, but for about a thousand reasons, the least of which is that I am tired of looking like a screwup in her eyes, I can’t do that. I can’t ask my parents, either, because they have done enough. So instead, I’m thinking of asking my fake fiancée to let me crash in his mansion. That’s right. My fake fiancée, Will. I mean, most of my high school friends are married and have moved away by now, and the best I can do is play house…” She blew out a breath and flicked off the radio as the twenty-fifth caller screamed with joy over their free CD.
Charlotte rolled her eyes. If only life could be that simple. If only her problems consisted of what to make for dinner that night, chicken or pasta again, or whether the Saturday night movie would be a romantic comedy or, sigh, another action flick. She longed for mundane. For a routine, dull, humdrum domestic life. Once she had wished for pomp and flash, for designer clothes and a lifestyle she only watched from afar. The sparkle that shimmered off the surface of the yachts down at the marina, the glitz that filled Main Street each summer season. Now she wished for someone to just sit across from her at the breakfast table. A manageable dream, but one nonetheless unfulfilled.
Instead, she was whipping through town in a car she’d had since she shared it with her sister in high school, her meager possessions packed into every nook of its interior, en route to a bona fide stranger’s house where she hoped to spend Christmas. She was living the life.
Audrey’s first Christmas. She hadn’t even bought her any presents yet. She had meant to, but then that credit card had unexpectedly reached its limit. She knew her parents would shower Audrey with gifts, but it wasn’t the same as something from her. Still…A first Christmas should be a special time, captured forever in the form of dozens of photographs, spent nestled around a tree with an ornament that said BABY’S FIRST CHRISTMAS. It should be spent in the comfort of home, not at the whim of whoever was willing to take them in for the month.
Next year would be better. She had a year to make sure of it.
With that promise made, she turned into the long driveway of the Frost house and pulled to a stop.
Perhaps sensing that the mood in the car had suddenly shifted, or perhaps just expressing her feelings over the fact that the car had stopped moving, Audrey began to wail. My sentiments exactly, Charlotte thought miserably as she stared up at the large stone house through the windshield. It felt just as intimidating today as it had yesterday.
She had half a mind to shift gears and floor it back onto the main road, but one proper glance back at that sweet little face and those eyes that held hers so earnestly made her pause. She closed her eyes, only for a second. She’d do anything for Audrey, and this had to be done.
“Here goes nothing,” she muttered, releasing her seat belt and pushing open the door.
She hesitated with the car seat, wondering if she should remove it from the base or carry Audrey on her own. It would be easier to make a quick getaway if she didn’t have to deal with that three-point harness. She stared at the contraption, one of so many large plastic items that had come into her life in the past seven months, and unhooked Audrey with a click.
She hurried up the winding path to the front door, sheltering Audrey’s face in her neck against the biting wind, and pressed the doorbell with a determined finger. It had seemed like such a good idea this morning. Now, however, her stomach rolled over as the latch clicked and the door swung open.
“Charlotte.” Greg stood in the open doorway, his feet bare and his hair wet. She could smell the fresh soap on his skin. He glanced from her to Audrey and back again, his expression crumbling with confusion. “I didn’t expect you so early.”
Charlotte gave her most confident smile and said, “I figured I’d get an early start on the project.”
Greg didn’t reply; his focus had drifted to Audrey, his eyes watchful, his expression alarmed.
Charlotte cleared her throat and continued. “I’ve had a bit of a problem with my apartment. There’s an issue with the heating system,” she repeated the story she’d created last night when she had rocked Audrey back to sleep, knowing she wouldn’t find any sleep and that the baby’s schedule for once had nothing to do with it. “I, um, had to move out for a bit. I figured it might make sense for me to stay here. It might lend some credibility to our…situation.”
Now she had his attention. Greg tilted his head toward her, his brow growing to a point. “Here?” he repeated. “You want to stay here?”
She hadn’t expected him to be overjoyed, but the bewilderment in his tone rattled her.
“Why not?” Charlotte shrugged. “You need a fiancée, and I need a place to crash.” She gave a breezy smile, but her heart was doing jumping jacks. Why had she ever thought he would agree to this?
Greg inhaled deeply, his brow drawing to a point.
“My stuff’s in the car,” Charlotte prompted when he said nothing more, realizing Greg was barely registering anything she was saying.
“Who’s that?” Greg interrupted abruptly, his stern gaze trained on Audrey.
Charlotte hesitated and then plastered on her biggest grin yet. “This is my daughter,” she said casually. She could feel her smile waver as Greg’s eyes widened. “Her name is Audrey. Isn’t that pretty?” she added quickly, hoisting the baby higher on her hip. “I have a thing for old movies, watched way too many of them when I was pregnant, and…” And she was blabbering. And bringing more attention to the fact that she had a child. A child that he didn’t seem very thrilled by.
If he turned them away, they’d be back where they started, only worse. She’d have to go live with Kate, make up an excuse for why she was out on the street, claim a pipe had burst at her apartment or some other temporary problem, until she figured out next steps. The thought of lying to Kate made her queasy—but the thought of telling her the truth…Having to drag her into yet another problem sparked by Jake, and right before her wedding nonetheless…So much worse.
“You never said you had a baby,” Greg finally said. Though he was speaking to her, his eyes never left Audrey, who, Charlotte noticed in a rush of relief, had decided to smile, proudly revealing all four of her tiny teeth.
“Well, we just met yesterday,” Charlotte said brightly, determined not to go down without a fight. “It didn’t come up.”
Charlotte clutched her daughter closer to her chest. The last thing she needed was another man who couldn’t handle her child, even if this was just a temporary situation. If Greg was going to have a problem with Audrey, she’d leave. No looking back. It had been hard the first time around, when Jake had made it clear where he stood, but it had become easier in time. Audrey needed Charlotte. She was her mother. And she didn’t have room in her life for anyone who couldn’t understand that. Client or not, she wasn’t going to let anything make Audrey’s first Christmas worse than it already was.
“Hmm.” Greg frowned and then looked at Charlotte with sudden curiosity. “What about her father?”
“What about him?” she asked simply, but her chest had grown tight.
“The deal was that you’d pretend to be my fiancée. How can you expect this to be convincing if another man is in the picture?”
Charlotte looked him squarely in the eye. “You don’t need to worry about that. There’s no other man in my life. Or Audrey’s life, for that matter.”
The furrow in Greg’s forehead deepened. “Don’t you have family you can stay with?”
Charlotte saw no other choice. It was time to double down, go all in. “Do we have a deal or not, Mr. Frost?”
“We shook on that deal last night, from what I recall.”
“Fair enough.” Charlotte shrugged and started to turn away. “I guess I’ll see you on the thirteenth then. For the party. You can reach me by phone, of course, and I’ll be in touch about menus and flowers.” She waved her hand dismissively through the cold morning air. “Party details.”
“Wait.” His voice was gruff, but there was resignation in his deep brown eyes.
Charlotte bit back a smile. She knew she’d win him over. She’d never struggled to attract men. Keeping them was the issue, she thought bitterly. But in this case, she needn’t worry about that. Greg was a business deal, a paycheck. He was good for what he was offering, and he wasn’t offering anything real.
He stepped back from the door after a heavy pause and made a grand sweeping gesture with his arm. “Come in, then. Both of you.”
* * *
A woman with chin-length gray hair stopped dusting a lamp base and blinked several times at Charlotte before shooting a discreet look at Greg.
“Marlene, this is Charlotte, the, um, friend I was telling you about.”
Marlene didn’t look fazed, Charlotte was quick to note. Clearly, she’d been let it on the ruse.
“Marlene has been taking care of the house for years,” Greg explained. “She looks after the place and, well…she’s like family.”
“A pleasure to meet you,” Charlotte said, thrusting out her left hand, given that her right hand was busy holding Audrey.
Marlene’s smile was warm as she skirted her gaze to the baby. “All mine, of course.”
“Charlotte is actually going to be staying here through the party. Would it be possible to have the carriage house ready by this evening?”
To Charlotte’s disappointment, Marlene shook her head. “The furnace is out, and since I didn’t know you were coming back…I’ll make a call,” she said quickly. “But the room next to mine is made up.”
Greg’s jaw set as he looked at Charlotte. “Would that suit you?”
Not seeing much of a choice and comforted by the other woman’s presence, Charlotte nodded.
“I’ll give Charlotte a quick tour before I leave for the office,” Greg told Marlene, who nodded silently, her gray eyes now so large Charlotte wondered if the poor woman would ever blink again.
Dutifully, she followed Greg through the maze of halls, knowing that as soon as the tour was over, she would be completely lost. They made their way through formal rooms and narrow hallways and eventually up the stairs to where Charlotte and Audrey would be sleeping for at least one night.
Greg paused outside the bedroom door. “I hope this will do,” he said, holding back as she went inside.
Charlotte sucked in a breath as she wandered through the large bedroom, where a row of tall windows lent a beautiful view of the front garden, now covered in a blanket of glistening snow. The walls were painted a pale robin’s-egg blue, with silk drapes in a darker shade skimming the floorboards and extending all the way to the high ceiling. A white desk and armoire each anchored one wall, while a four-poster bed with the most pillow-soft duvet Charlotte had ever seen centered the far wall. A huge, all-white bathroom was tucked behind a door, with a tub that could fit at least two—not that she’d be inviting anyone to join her, thank you very much.
“This is beautiful.” She shook her head, biting her lip to hide her grin so Greg wouldn’t catch on to just how much it all meant to her. She hadn’t been in a room this lovely since a family vacation to a ski resort when she was a teenager, and then she’d had to share with Kate, who was a restless sleeper and kept kicking her in the shins. In return, Charlotte had skimmed her ice-cold feet over Kate’s bare legs until her sister squealed.
“I’ll put fresh towels in the bathroom,” Marlene said as she appeared in the doorway. She seemed to hover next to Greg, unsure of what to do next.
“The crib is in my car. I had to take it apart…” And very oddly positioned the mattress to fit in the backseat, Charlotte didn’t bother to mention.
“I suppose I’ll need to assemble that, then.” Greg said it matter-of-factly, as if it were the obvious conclusion, but Charlotte couldn’t help but smile.
“I’ll get it out of the car, then.” Charlotte looked around the room, wondering where to set Audrey, knowing there was no safe place now that she was crawling and curious. “I have a playpen I use during the day. It takes a while to set up the crib.”
“Tonight then. But you’ll need help unpacking before I leave for the office. Marlene, can you assist Charlotte while she and I go to the car?” Greg said briskly.
Marlene blinked up at him. “You mean…”
“That’s right, Marlene. We need you to hold the baby.”
* * *
A baby! Greg gripped the steering wheel as he swerved into his reserved parking spot at Frost Greeting Cards and screeched to a halt. A baby had never been in the cards, never hinted at—what the hell was he going to do with a baby?
He didn’t do babies. He didn’t hold them, didn’t coo to them, nothing. They weren’t in his nature. Babies were one thing to him and one thing only: a deal breaker.
His mind reeled as Rebecca’s last words came back to him. If you love me…And then, the ultimatum. He’d seen it coming, sensed the change in her, ignored the not-so-subtle comments, hoping they would go away. Hoped that the woman who loved her career as much as he loved his, who rolled her eyes at the sound of a fussy child in a restaurant, who preferred to blow through her paycheck on designer clothes and spa treatments would come back to him. Because that’s the kind of woman he needed. A woman who looked after herself, while he took care of himself.
And then Rebecca’s best friend, Amanda, had to go and have that baby. Suddenly, the cool, breezy woman at his side was talking about children—their children—and that’s when the night sweats had started. Children were never part of the deal. She knew it; she wanted it that way, too. They were a power couple, they valued their freedom, and neither one of them had any interest in that sort of thing. Until Rebecca suddenly changed her mind.
He closed his eyes and drew a long breath, repeating the yoga exercises he had witnessed his mother practice on the rare occasions they saw one another outside of a business meeting. Calm. He needed to be calm. Six hundred employees in that glass tower were watching him, expecting him to lead them on the path, to show up with a confident stride and a friendly grin. To never sweat. He couldn’t fall apart now over a baby, of all things, especially not a temporary one, and certainly not one that wasn’t even his.
He blew out of a breath and counted to ten.
By the time he had counted to thirty, he knew he couldn’t give it any more time. He climbed out of the car and darted to the revolving doors of Frost Greeting Cards, deflation setting in when he saw the lobby’s transformation. Every year on December first it happened. A huge tree stood in the center of the atrium, wrapped in lights and garland, with hundreds of Frost Greeting Cards ornaments hanging from the spiky branches. The usual blue carpet runner that led to the reception area had been replaced with red, and the soft sound of carols came over the speaker system. Greg’s lip curled. It was December all right, and that meant they had a matter of weeks to land the biggest account of the year. Having the Burke’s department store spotlight on the books before year end would be a big boost to their revenue, but more so, it would ensure his promotion to CEO upon his mother’s retirement. Fiancée or not, he was sure of it. Almost.
Greg stepped into the private elevator that led to his top-floor offices, and when he arrived on his floor, he handed his coat to the assistant who stood to greet him.
“Coffee?”
He gave a tight nod, his stride long and determined as he moved to his office. He closed the glass doors behind him and flipped through his messages. Two already, from his mother. He glanced at his watch and gave a wry smile. Technically, being located on the East Coast gave him a three-hour head start, but somehow his mother still managed to start her day before him.
Greg picked up the phone and dialed. “Good morning, Mother,” he said after her curt greeting.
“How’s the Burke’s proposal coming along?” Rita inquired, and Greg felt his temper stir. When he was a kid, he loved watching reruns of those cheesy family sitcoms, even the ones filmed in black and white. His nanny would sit and play solitaire on the coffee table while he sat on the rug, mesmerized. The shows were more or less the same, usually focusing on some problem one of the kids had at school or with a friend, but it was always made right at the end, by the time the mother pulled the roast out of the oven and the family gathered at the table, just after the father strolled in from work, dropped his briefcase, gave his wife a peck on the cheek, and collected the evening newspaper from the family dog’s mouth. His favorite episodes were the seasonal ones, where the families would gather around the tree they had decorated together, and eat cookies and sip cocoa and write up lists for Santa.
One time Greg had made the mistake of asking his mother why their life couldn’t be more like the ones on television. His mother had offered to buy him a dog; the nanny claimed she was allergic. Eventually he had given up telling her about the shows, and not long after that, he gave up watching them altogether. Later he learned the people on television were actors, playing a part that wasn’t real. Their lives were just as fake as this Christmas sham the Frosts were selling to everyone.
Greg accepted the coffee from his assistant and took a sip, leaning back in his chair. “I have a meeting in half an hour with the research department to go over some last-minute details about projected sales. Marketing is finishing the proposal today.”
“Well, for damage control I went ahead and booked a lunch meeting with the Burke’s team for tomorrow at the office,” she continued. “It would be the perfect opportunity for us to lay the groundwork for the party.”
“You’re flying in?” Greg asked.
“Just for the meeting,” Rita cut in. Without pausing for breath, she asked, “How’s the party coming along?”
Greg placed the mug on his desk, his fingers still wrapped around the handle. “I hired an event planner yesterday. A local company in Misty Point.”
There was a pause at the other end of the line. “A local company? Are they any good? I was rather hoping you would have hired a big company in Boston, Gregory.” She tsked her disappointment.
Greg lifted his eyes to the ceiling and took another measured breath. “Well, our usual company wasn’t willing to travel to Misty Point, and no one else was available on such short notice. She seems quite competent,” he said, realizing that he wasn’t so sure of that, actually. Charlotte had been bit…frazzled in their meeting, and he had been so distracted with this other silly matter that he hadn’t even bothered to ask for a portfolio or resume. He’d assumed the information on the website was representative and she would be able to handle the event. He cleared his throat. “Besides, there’s no time to hire anyone else. The party’s a week from Saturday. You should just be happy it’s happening at all given the sudden change of plan.”
“Well, if you’re sure…”
“I am,” he said.
“And your fiancée will be there, right?”
Greg picked up the mug, boasting a corporate logo in black ink, and took a long swig of coffee. He could tell her right now, call her bluff on yesterday’s threat. She’d never hand the company over to Drew. Family was important to her—or at least the image of it was—and as her only son, he knew that held more weight than any engagement. Deep down his mother couldn’t care less about his personal life. Some of his friends longed for the lack of intrusion, but they hadn’t grown up as a Frost. They took things like home-baked cookies and family meals for granted.
“About that, Mother—”
“Oh, don’t even tell me!” His mother’s voice was shrill. “Don’t even tell me she can’t make it, Gregory! My nerves are already shot, just thinking of this impending retirement. I’m already stepping down against my will; the last thing I need is to walk away without the Burke’s campaign. If I’m being forced to retire, I want to go out on a high note.”
Greg tapped his finger on his desk. This wasn’t the first time his mother had made such a passionate proclamation when it came to her retirement. If it was up to Rita Frost, she’d continue on as CEO until the day she expired, but company policy mandated no CEO could serve for longer than thirty years—it was his grandfather’s way of keeping things “fresh.”
“You know I think we can get that campaign regardless of our…family situation.” He waited as silence fell on the other end of the line. He’d unintentionally hit a nerve, reminding his mother of their less-than-conventional circumstances.
The rumor Rita had started just over thirty-four years ago was that Greg’s father had died in a car crash, leaving her a widow who preferred to take back her maiden name, given its esteem and her active role in the company. The truth of the matter was that the man had bailed with no intention of ever getting down on one knee, much less being a father to her child. It was a sore spot in his mother’s past—something she never discussed, and something Greg had learned only by overhearing conversation between his grandparents when he was too young to fully understand. She busied herself in covering her feelings, he’d realized when he was older, looking back, but eventually she had given in to herself and hardened.
Greg’s own holiday card from Darling Cards had arrived, presumably opened by his assistant yesterday when he’d been out of the office, and was now propped on the credenza near the window, taunting him. He leaned forward on his desk with sudden interest. He studied the image, noticing the way it stood out from the dozens on either side of it, and he knew it represented more to his mother than stiff competition. The Darling family sprawled the width of the letter-envelope-sized card. They were attractive, even if they were dressed in those ridiculous Christmas plaids, and their smiles were nothing short of smug. There were dozens of them, all brought together for one perfect photograph, indicating that such moments were a casual, common thing. Greg clamped a hand over his mouth when he spotted Edgar Darling wearing that jaunty little cap his mother was so put out by, but he knew she would have swapped places for a minute. Cap and all.
He thought of their own family photo and what it would look like in comparison. Rita Frost. And her son. Gregory. Two people side by side, sitting in corporate attire in one of their bicoastal corner suites, or perhaps standing in front of the corporate tree down in the lobby, possibly trying to pass it off as their own. She’d probably be sitting in a chair. Maybe he’d be standing just behind her, slightly off to the side. Perhaps he’d rest a hand on her shoulder, while her hands were folded primly in her lap and her ankles were crossed. He sputtered out a mirthless chuckle at the thought and covered the receiver with his palm so his mother didn’t hear.
There was nothing funny about it, though. For him, it was all he ever knew, and he was fine with it—most of the time. But his mother always felt a void, always longed for something—or someone, he supposed bitterly—who wasn’t there. It was the reason the company meant so much to her, the reason why the looming retirement sent her into a tailspin. There was too much time, too many days to be filled. With what? With whom?
Greg tried to adjust how their family photo would look, knowing as well as his mother that it could never be deemed as impressive as the Darling family from first glance. His mother’s cousin could join in, to fill things out, along with her husband; her son, Drew, and his wife; and of course Drew’s three strapping sons.
Greg’s jaw began to ache. Drew wasn’t even a Frost. He was a Richardson. There was no way his mother could seriously entertain the possibility of letting Drew take over instead of her own son. Her only son. Her only true family other than her sister, who had never even worked at Frost Greeting Cards a day in her life.
Disgusted, he looked away from the photo, making a mental note to toss it in the trash as soon as this phone conversation was over.
“We’re a prestigious company, Mother. Our Christmas card sales have beat Darling for the last ten years running, as have our ornaments and the new holiday décor and craft lines. We produce goods that people buy. I think we have this in the bag.”
“I’m not willing to take any risks,” his mother said evenly. “Now, what is it you have to tell me about your fiancée? Please don’t even think of telling me she isn’t coming.”
Greg rubbed his index finger over his forehead, feeling the onset of a migraine. “She’s coming,” he said. “Charlotte is coming.” He winced, waiting for the inevitable pause.
“Charlotte?” His mother sounded understandably confused. “I thought her name was Rebecca.”
Damn. Though he rarely discussed his personal life with his mother, he’d overlooked her razor-sharp memory.
“That’s the name of the woman I dated before Charlotte,” he said, hating himself.
“Oh.” His mother paused. “Oh—another call coming in. Must run! Bye now!” And with that, without further question, she disconnected the call.
Another call. A more important call was more like it.
Greg held the phone for a moment before finally setting it down. He should be relieved, he knew. Not disappointed.