Page 82 of Her Holiday Arrangement
At one point, Jenny, one of Elizabeth’s old friends, asked Riley about her new job, and Riley sat a little taller, pride flickering in her eyes.
“It’s not glamorous,” Riley said, “but it’s good. Community outreach at the fire department, they let me help organize programs for kids, fundraisers, safety workshops. And they actuallylistenwhen I have ideas.”
Her voice wobbled slightly, as if she still couldn’t quite believe she belonged there. Elizabeth pressed her knee against Riley’s under the table, a quiet reminder:You do. You always did.
She didn’t say it aloud, though. Riley knew.
What Riley didn’t know was how many strings Elizabeth had pulled quietly in the background to make sure the position was funded, to keep Riley shielded from the bureaucratic nonsense. Elizabeth hadn’t done it to be owed gratitude, she had done it because she wanted Riley to have something she could own for herself. She was too good to be someone’s assistant.
Later, after plates were cleared and people drifted toward the living room, Riley tugged Elizabeth aside, into the quieter corner by the tree.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Riley said softly.
Elizabeth stilled. “Do what?”
“The job. Jenny told me. She said you leaned on the city council for funding.”
Elizabeth’s mouth pressed into a line. She hadn’t wanted Riley to know. But Riley’s hand was warm on hers, her eyes shining, not with irritation, but with something that looked suspiciously like love.
“I wanted you to have what you deserve,” Elizabeth said finally, voice low. “Responsibility. Respect.”
Riley smiled crookedly. “What I deserve is you. But thank you.”
Elizabeth looked away, overwhelmed by the weight of it, by how easily Riley accepted the parts of her she’d once been terrified to reveal.
As the night went on, Riley’s energy pulled everyone together. She announced, to Elizabeth’s surprise, that she’d invited some of the estate staff from Vermont for New Year’s Eve.
“They practically raised her,” Riley explained to the table, gesturing toward Elizabeth. “And they deserve a holiday where they don’t have to serve champagne and duck canapés in heels.”
Elizabeth felt her throat close, caught between embarrassment and something dangerously close to tears. No one had ever done that for her before, looked back at her past and decided the people in it mattered, too.
The room buzzed with approval. Riley just leaned back, smug, sipping her wine as if she hadn’t just dismantled Elizabeth’s walls with one effortless act of loyalty.
When the conversation turned to the toy drive, Elizabeth was prepared to discuss logistics, but Riley beat her to it.
“This year’s was bigger than ever,” Riley announced, eyes sparkling. “Over three hundred kids got gifts. Next year, I’m aiming for five hundred.”
She spoke with such conviction, such fire, that Elizabeth found herself simply watching her, marveling. A year ago, Riley had been her assistant, competent but in the shadows. Now she was running charity drives, commanding rooms, pulling Elizabeth into a world she’d never realized she needed.
And yet, when Riley caught her staring, she flushed, ducking her head. “What?”
Elizabeth reached over, brushing her thumb against Riley’s knuckles. “Nothing. Just… you.”
It was everything, and Riley seemed to understand.
By the time the night wound down, laughter still echoing through the halls, Elizabeth stood at the window with her arm around Riley’s waist. Snow fell thick outside, muting the city into something magical.
Inside, their home glowed, stockings, tree, friends sprawled on the couch, the remnants of dinner still perfuming the air.
Elizabeth thought of her family’s estate, how hollow it had felt, how heavy. This was different. This was theirs.
Riley leaned against her, head on her shoulder. “You know,” she murmured, “you’re really good at this.”
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. “At what?”
“Christmas. Family. Love.” Riley tilted her head, grinning. “All the things you said you were terrible at.”
Elizabeth let out a breath that felt suspiciously like a laugh. “I had a good teacher.”
