Page 35 of The Lie That Stole Christmas

“I’ve learned my lesson.”He stepped around Celia, who was rushing off with fresh bed linens.

“Don’t forget to tuck tight, dear.”Ms.Porter said from her perch at the end of the counter, a needle and thread in one hand and a pair of pants in the other.

Tiny stood at the other end, rolling sheets of gingerbread with aggressive movements.

“Tiny,” Carter said as he approached.She didn’t seem to hear him, just kept rolling out the same spot over and over.

“She’s been like this for the last twenty minutes,” Ms.Porter offered.“I’m guessing trouble with the cake.”

The rolling pin came to a stop, then clattered on the counter as Tiny let it drop from her grasp.“I don’t know how the hell I’m supposed to make an exact replica of a cake I have never tasted.”

“Do you have more samples for me?”Carter asked.

“Clint already tried them.He told me to get back to the drawing board.I’m out of ideas.I called my cousin.She works at a bakery in New Hampshire.They specialize in cupcakes, but her boss is a master with flavor.I’m hoping she might be able to help me.”

“Keep me posted.In the meantime, since you’re taking refuge in your gingerbread, can you whip some up for the family to make gingerbread houses?”

Tiny’s eyebrow arched.“They want to make gingerbread houses?”

“I haven’t exactly run it past them yet, but I told Mr.Wetherby it would be a great Christmas activity for the family to do together.”

“They’re not children anymore,” Clint said.

“Everyone is a child at the holidays,” Ms.Porter said.“I think it is a wonderful idea.”She placed the needle and thread, along with the pants, on the counter.“I’ll get together all the fixings for decorating.”

“Top shelf,” Tiny said.“You’ll find all the sprinkles and candy.”

“Thank you, dear.”Ms.Porter disappeared into the pantry, and Carter slid onto a stool.These people were the only family he had, and with Mr.Wetherby sick… he didn’t know what that meant for them.What would happen to Ms.Porter, Hawthorne, Clint, Luca, Wendell, Tiny, and all the other employees of Winterridge?

The conversation with Bill couldn’t wait.When Carter’s father died, he’d been terribly unprepared, and he never wanted to feel as clueless and helpless again.As estate manager, preparing for the worst was part of the job.What happened at Lily’s funeral would not happen again when Bill’s time came.

Ms.Porter returned, holding the two corners of her apron, which was filled with bags and bottles of icing and treats.“This should be enough.Celia can bring everything upstairs when she finishes changing the sheets in Eleanor’s room.”She lifted a hand toward Carter.“They weren’t Egyptian cotton.”She let her hand fall with a dramatic sigh.“Bobby can handle the dining room table.”

“I can help,” Carter said.

“If you help, then who is informing the family of this activity you suggested?”

He let out a low groan and pushed from the stool.“I guess I’ll go spread the word.”

“Tiny, how long do you think until the gingerbread is ready?”Carter asked.

Her nose wrinkled on the bridge as she tilted her head back and forth.“I have to roll out a few more batches, cut the shapes, bake, and cool.Two hours minimum.”

“Perfect.Why don’t we aim for after dinner?They’ll already be gathered at the table.We just need to keep them there.”

“Good luck with that,” Wendell said with a laugh.

Chapter twelve

Ashley

OfallthewaysAshley imagined spending her evening, sitting around the Winterridge dining room table with her family, gingerbread walls waiting to be assembled in front of each of them hadn’t even made the list.Whoever’s idea it was to set up the gingerbread spread right after dinner but before dessert was smart.She glanced at Carter, who was helping Tiny and Ms.Porter to set trays of sprinkles, frosting, and God knew what else on the table.

Ashley couldn’t even recall the last time she assembled a gingerbread house.She had a vivid memory that involved Grandma Lily, Gabe, and Cole, but the memory was so deep in the recesses of her mind, she couldn’t fully grasp it.

Her eyes landed on a candy cane, and the memory slammed into her.Gabe had reached for the red icing and accidentally knocked one of the candy canes off Cole’s roof.Cole burst into tears, and Grandpa studied the lopsided house and suggested they start over, which only made Cole cry harder.

Grandma Lily had laughed, picked up a gumdrop and pressed it over the broken spot.“Perfect,” she’d said.“Every house has its imperfections.Just like Winterridge.”She’d raised an eyebrow to Grandpa, who muttered something about letting her paint the guesthouse that god-awful color.