Page 30 of The Rules We Broke
“Why didn’t you tell me Brady was the vice president there?”
Her eyes gleamed, a flicker of mischief peeking through the concern. “Did you see him?” She soundedalmostexcited. That was . . . concerning.
“Of course I saw him.”
“What happened?”
“What do you mean,what happened?” I arched a brow. “I signed the paperwork like you asked. Whatwassupposed to happen?”
“Well . . . it’s been a long time since you’ve seen each other.”
I hesitated, debating whether to tell her. But let’s be honest—Kaysville had eyes and ears everywhere. She’d hear about it eventually.
I sighed. “Honestly, he brought his niece over last night, unannounced. We had dinner. They helped me decorate the trees.”
I glanced over to gauge her reaction—expecting disapproval or even disgust, but neither ever came.
Before she could say anything, I threw in the disclaimer: “But don’t worry. I know the rules. We won’t be seeing each other again.”
She looked at me without saying a word, but I could practically hear the gears turning behind that polished stare.
She was definitely behaving oddly this morning.
“Did you know about Benjamin and his wife?”
Aunt Lu grinned—wickedly. That was confirmation enough.
“You know you should’ve warned me.”
“I recall someone once saying she never wanted to talk about Kaysville,” she said gently, with just enough Southern scolding to sting.
I shrugged. She wasn’t wrong.
“What are your plans for the day?” she asked too casually.
“My plan is to stay here. With you.” Why was that even up for discussion?
“Nonsense, child. It’s Christmas time, and things need doing. Your sitting here won’t help me one bit.”
That landed harder than expected. “You don’t want me here?”
“Ella Lu, I love you more than air,” she declared, as if issuing a royal decree, “but there are gifts to buy and preparations to be done. Oh—and I need you to go to the bank today and make a deposit for me.”
I stared at her dumbfounded. “Why didn’t you give this to me yesterday?”
“It slipped my mind,” she said breezily, reaching into her purse and pulling out a check that could probably cover a semester of college.
“Aunt Lu,” I muttered.
Whocarriesthat kind of money around in a handbag? And who writes checks anymore?
She just smiled—something dangerously close to gleeful. “You better hurry. The bank closes at one on Saturdays. And make sure to ask for twenty fresh hundred-dollar bills. For the Christmas cards.”
“Anything else?” I asked, unable to scrub the sass from my voice.
“You’re going to church tomorrow, right?”
“I wasn’t planning on it.”
