Page 77 of The Lie That Stole Christmas

She squeezed his hand, and they continued through the vendors, his words echoing in her head.

She had no idea what was to come.In a few days' time, Christmas would be over.She had no idea if that meant everyone just went right back to their lives and wait until next December to gather again and fill their obligation.

But after everything that had happened since she’d arrived—seeing her cousins, learning the truth about her grandfather, falling into the rhythm of Winterridge, and finding Carter again—there was no way she could go back to the life she’d been living.

Christmas at Winterridge changed her.Or maybe it hadn’t changed her at all.Maybe it had simply reminded her of the woman she’d been before grief, pride, and heartbreak convinced her to become someone else.

Warmth spread through her as well as a calm she hadn’t felt in a very long time.

No matter what happened after Christmas, she was sure of one thing:

Winterridge was no longer a place she visited.It was home again.

Chapter twenty-four

Carter

Forthefirsttimein years, gifts wrapped in every imaginable color surrounded both ten-foot Christmas trees.Metallic bows caught the glow of thousands of white lights, reflecting flecks of gold, silver, and crimson across the polished hardwood floors.

Carter stood there for a moment, taking it all in.He never thought he would feel the spirit of Christmas at Winterridge again, and now it was bursting from the walls, filling his veins with a joy that was almost foreign to him.

When Bill came to him with his outlandish idea of playing dead to get the Wetherbys back to the estate, Carter thought he was nuts, but somehow, it worked.He didn’t know if the threat of being cut out of the will would be strong enough to assemble them all again next year, but for now, Carter was happy Bill had the Christmas he wanted.

He turned off the lights and headed for bed, but as he passed the stairs to the kitchen, he paused.Light seeped up the staircase, and the scent of spice was too strong to have been lingering from earlier.He detoured down the stairs.

Tiny stood behind the large table, an array of spices on the tabletop, flour on her cheeks and in her hair.Guilt settled low in his gut.He had been the one to give her the impossible task, and now here she was losing sleep over a mystery she would probably never solve.Though he respected her dedication to cracking the case.

“It’s late,” he said, and she startled.

Her hand slammed to her chest, and she took a deep breath.“You scared the living hell out of me.”

“Thought I was the ghost?”

Tiny had recently become convinced Winterridge was haunted after readingA Christmas Carol, but having lived at the estate most of his life, Carter never encountered anything that would make him think so.Unless you counted Marilyn stumbling drunk through the hallways at two a.m.looking for her bedroom.

“Yes, though I imagine a ghost would make more noise.Are you part cat or something?”

He laughed and ran a hand over his face.“Not to my knowledge.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“Why don’t you call it a night?”he said.

“Because it’s almost Christmas, and I feel like I’m so close.”

“It’s okay if you don’t get it exactly right.”

Tears pooled along her bottom lids, and she shook her head.“I have to.”

“I never should have put this responsibility on you.It’s just a cake.”

“No!”She slammed her hand on the table before composing herself.

“Hey.What’s going on?”

“He’s dying, Carter.Dying.It might not be today or tomorrow, or in a year, but he is dying.And all he wanted this Christmas was to taste his wife’s spice cake, and how could I look at myself in the mirror on Christmas morning if I can’t make that one thing happen for him.After everything he’s done for me.”

“I already told him how hard you’ve been working.He knows.”