Page 22 of Her Counterfeit Christmas
I don’t want to knit another baby blanket. I stare at my needles for a long time as I try to decide what I do want to knit.
A hot pad. The first thing Nana taught me how to make and I haven’t made one since I was a kid. The sweet feeling the memory brings has me smiling. I have wool in my suitcase. When I’m finished knitting the hot pad, I’ll felt it to make it thick and durable.
I put the blanket away as we prepare for take-off. By the time the pilot comes on and says we’re at cruising altitude, I’m half asleep. While Spencer types away at his laptop, I slip on the eye mask. With the seat reclined, this is more comfortable than my bed.
I sleep for the full four-hour flight. Without the worry over money, it’s the best sleep I’ve had in over a year.
It’sdark by the time we leave Boston to drive the hour to York. The moment we enter the rental, Spencer hooks his phone into the Bluetooth and talks to his colleague back in Salt Lake.
I don’t mind at all. We spent all afternoon shopping together, and it was surprisingly fun. He has an eye for fashion that I’ve never witnessed before. He took a few calls and answered some texts, but mostly, I had his attention as we went from store to store and picked out clothing for me to try on. Since I was a teenager, I’ve loved high fashion, but I’ve never been able to afford any designer clothing exceptpieces I find at consignment stores. Marrying into wealth has its perks.
In the trunk next to Spencer’s luggage lie two new teal suitcases. I allowed Spencer to donate my old ones, but we mailed my clothes home. Those items took me years to curate. They’re quality, even if they aren’t the highest fashion and are a few years out of date.
My phone buzzes with another text from Meg asking how things are going. It’s the seventh one she’s sent since this morning. Surprisingly, Livy hasn’t joined in—I’m grateful for small favors. I need to put a stop to their worry, or they’ll text me nonstop for the next week wanting details.
LAYLA:We’ve arrived in Maine. I won’t have a lot of time to keep you updated, but know that everything is wonderful. Please stop worrying. I’m very happy.
It’s the truth; I am happy. I smile at the memory of all the compliments Spencer showered on me when I came out of the dressing rooms in outfits with heart-stopping price tags. He really is a sweet man.
Meg responds almost immediately.
MEG:If this is a hostage situation, send a frowny face emoji.
I roll my eyes and send a smiley face instead.
LAYLA:Don’t worry about me. I’ll see you next week.
I silence our group chat. They’ll just have to believe me because I can only tell them so many times.
Spencer’s call ends, and the car is silent. He doesn’t enjoy listening to the radio. I catch myself humming and stop. He hates my humming. Talking it is.
“Tell me about your family?” I ask. “I’ve only heard you mention your grandpa and dad.” And his dad’s girlfriend Ginger, but he isn’t a fan, so I don’t mention her. For all Iknow, his dad and Ginger have broken up since the last time Spencer and I dated.
“Besides Grandmother, Father, andGinger,” there’s a small lip curl at her name, “My aunt Ellory and her husband Gerald will be at the cabin. They work in the New York office. Ellory’s daughter Tori recently got divorced, and she has her daughter, who I think is around four years old. I’ve never met my aunt Marianne, but she’ll be there too. She married someone of little consequence and Grandfather disowned her. The husband died years ago, but their son came out every summer to Maine and spent a few months with me and Tori. He has a younger brother.”
My mouth falls open. “You’ve never met your aunt? Doesn’t that bother you?”
“No. My cousin fell out of favor with Grandfather when he quit the firm. I figure the whole family is the same. No big loss.”
His attitude toward his Aunt Marianne and cousins is unbelievably callous.
“I can’t imagine not knowing my aunt if I had one,” I say with a lightness and humor I don’t feel. “If I had any family outside of Nana, I’d hold on to them like a barnacle. They’d never be able to pry me off.”
Spencer glances over for a second before turning his attention back to the road. “I think it would depend on whether your aunt was worth knowing.”
“True, but you’ve never met her, so how do you know she’s not worth knowing?”
He shrugs. “I trust Grandfather. If he were still alive, she wouldn’t be spending Christmas with us, and that’s enough for me.”
His words sound final. Time to drop the subject.
Including me and Spencer, I count twelve people staying for Christmas. That must be some cabin to fit us all.
“That’s everyone who will be there at Christmas?”
“Grandfather keeps a caretaker on staff at all times, and there are locals who work in the kitchen and clean the house while we’re visiting.”
Ah, to live like the wealthy and never have to cook or clean up after yourself. It takes a second, but I realize that will be my life as soon as Spencer and I marry. Not such a bad thing.
