Page 3 of The Lie That Stole Christmas

“Mr.Hawthorne,” Gabe said, clapping the older man gently on his shoulder.“Good to see you haven’t aged a day.”

Mr.Hawthorne’s lip twitched.“The family is gathering in the parlor.Shall I take your coats?”The man had always been so formal.As kids, they would take bets to see who could get him to crack first.Whenever he did, it was an instant celebration, though as she got older, Ashley wondered if he only did so because he liked to see them happy.

Ashley hesitated on the threshold, the scent of fresh pine and cinnamon reminding her of Christmas.If she closed her eyes, she could hear her laughter bouncing off the walls.Hear Gabe and their cousins, Nate and Cole, sliding down the stairs on their new sleds against Aunt Eleanor’s wishes.She could see their other cousins, Tori and Taylor, playing with the dollhouse Grandpa had built them and Grandma Lily had decorated.Ashley had helped, and it was probably the moment she realized she wanted to be an interior designer.

She relished the memory for a moment, warmth spreading through her chest until another face appeared.

Carter.

Twelve years old then, lanky and quiet, but with eyes so blue she could never find a color swatch that compared.He had helped her hang tiny curtains in the dollhouse windows.He’d been so careful and focused as if he understood how important every detail was to her.He never teased her for obsessing over paint swatches or fabrics the way everyone else did.

She blinked hard, forcing the memory away.He was her past, and that chapter had long since ended.She shrugged off her coat and handed it to Mr.Hawthorne.

“Thank you,” she said as he took her and Gabe’s coats and folded them over his arm.

“Shall we?”Gabe motioned toward the parlor, but before they even took a step, the door opened, and Ashley’s eyes darted to the newcomer.Her eyes widened at the figure draped in black.

“Mom?You’re supposed to be in St.Bart’s.What are you doing here?”

“Seriously, what are you doing here?”Gabe asked, coming to stand beside Ashley.

Camille Wetherby—who had refused to remove her name after the divorce—lifted the black veil over her head, revealing a face that was now plucked, tucked, and pinned tighter than a Thanksgiving turkey.Her lips were two obnoxious and painfully stretched balloons.She was nearing sixty, but in her mind, she was still thirty-five.

“Darling,” she said, air-kissing both of Ashley’s cheeks.“You didn’t think I’d miss your grandfather’s funeral, did you?”

“You hated Grandpa,” Ashley stated.

Camille Wetherby and Bill Wetherby had barely tolerated each other.The last time they’d been in the same room, Grandpa had called the sheriff to escort her off the Winterridge grounds.

Mom waved a manicured hand in the air, jangling gold bangles.“Our relationship was… complicated, but that doesn’t mean I’m not part of the family.”Her dramatic smoky eyes drifted past Ashley and Gabe, a heartfelt smile curving her lips upward.“Henry.”

Ashley spun around to find her dad staring awkwardly at his ex-wife.

“Camille.”He tugged at his collar, eyes dropping.She cheated.The divorce was messy.It had been years since they’d all been under the same roof.

“Hi Dad.”Ashley waved awkwardly, and Dad hesitantly moved toward her, holding his arm out as she stepped into a side hug.He patted her shoulder before she pulled away.

She didn’t see either of her parents nearly as much as she should, but after the divorce, things were… uncomfortable.Instead of dealing with it, they all seemed to avoid each other.It might not have been the right thing to do, but it was the easy thing to do.

“How you doing, kiddo?”Her heart ached at the familiar nickname.Dad had called herkiddofor as long as she could remember.Hearing it brought her back to this very vestibule, perched on his shoulders as he galloped around pretending to be one of the Clydesdales she was too young to ride.

“Hanging in there.How about you?”

“Same.”He pressed his lips together, a tinge of sadness flashing across his once strong features.Wrinkles lined the edges of his eyes, and deep creases cut into his forehead.His hair, once the color of onyx, was now going gray all over.He was handsome, though, just older.

“Look what the wind blew in,” Aunt Marilyn said as she stepped out of the parlor and joined them in the vestibule.She appeared sober, which was a pleasant surprise.Her blonde hair, parted down the middle, was tousled, giving it nice volume and a subtle wave.Her eyes were red, and if Ashley hadn’t heard her speak, she would have assumed it was from alcohol, but now she guessed it was from tears.

“Aunt Marilyn, long time no see,” Ashley said, attempting to picture the fun-loving aunt she adored instead of the woman who’d hurled a bottle of whiskey against the wall at Grandma Lily’s funeral.

“Ain’t that the damn truth?”

“Where’s Cole?”Ashley asked, scanning the room for her cousin.

Cole was still Aunt Marilyn’s golden boy.While Ashley had a deep affection for her cousin, he had been a bit of a wild child who developed a reputation as they grew older as a charming playboy.

“He and Nate went out to the stables to say hi to Clint.”

“Probably raiding his fridge,” Gabe said in her ear before smiling at Aunt Marilyn.