Page 473 of The Parkers' Handsome Holiday
“No,” I said a little too quickly. I shook my head and sighed. “Maybe. I don’t know. I sent her a dress this morning to wear this evening and never heard back from her. That’s out of character. We’ve talked every day since the beginning of the month, and we had a good time at the staff party last night. But she ducked out early without saying goodbye. I think something is wrong and I might have missed the signal.”
My father’s frown morphed into a sympathetic smile. “I missed almost all of your mother’s signals and she still always came back to me.”
I blinked.
He chuckled. “Tinsely is a professional woman, Chadwick. She made a commitment to be here. Therefore I am confident that she will show up. Moping in the kitchen won’t make her arrival happen any faster, however. Come join me. Let’s thank our guests and make tedious small talk.”
“My favorite,” I grumbled as I fell in line behind him.
Servers leapt out of our way as we passed out of the kitchen and through the grand hallway toward the back of the house, where the formal dining room opened into the formal living room, where a giant Christmas tree stood proudly near the split staircase that led up to the second level. On the stair landing, the stained-glass window, portraying an image of a red rose in the hand of a blonde woman (modeled after my mother), was trimmed in white Christmas lights. In my head, I wished my mother a Merry Christmas and told her I wished she were here.
She didn’t do small talk—not ever.
In a crowd as big as this, with over a hundred guests in her home, she’d be telling wild stories of her time as a twenty-year-old woman in Montreal, Canada. People were drawn to her. As a kid, I remembered playing with my new toys under the dining-room table with my little cousins and hearing her voice. I’d peek out from under the tablecloth, a red, gold, and green plaid thing with tassels on the end that my mother refused to get rid of. She’d be standing somewhere where everyone could see her: the landing of the stairs, the hearth of the fireplace, the steps leading up to the patio doors. She spoke animatedly with her hands while she told wild tales of throwing drinks in men’s faces who put moves on her at nightclubs.
The punchline?
One of those men was my father, and they’d lived happily ever after since.
Well, until she died, anyway.
With her voice in my memory, I followed my father to the Christmas tree, where he joined several of the men from his gentlemen’s lounge. I groaned internally when I spotted Armie, who was checking out a young woman in a silky gold dress who had her back to him. I had the impulse to stand between them and spare her from his prying eyes but decided to mind my own business and stand by my father.
Humphrey Bishop, Armie’s father, tipped his chin to my old man. “Congrats on your retirement, old friend. It’s well earned. Any plans on how you want to spend your time now that you won’t be in the office every day?”
“I’m going somewhere sunny and sandy in January,” my father said.
“There’s plenty of babes in Bali,” Armie said, finally tearing his eyes from the ass of the woman in gold. “Or you could just invite one of these delicious ladies to join you. Women do that, you know. Throw them some cash, show them some pictures of your luxurious suite, and you’ll have a travel companion.”
My father’s eyes betrayed his dislike for the suggestion, but he maintained his smile. “I think I’d prefer to meet a woman my own age the old-fashioned way, Armie.”
“Suit yourself.” Armie shrugged. His eyes returned to the behind of the woman in gold.
I sighed.
Armie’s eyes flicked to me, and he flashed a veneer smile. “Does it feel good to be out of all that fucking velvet?”
“Sure,” I said.
“And where’s that elf of yours?”
“Not here,” I said dryly.
“That’s too bad,” Armie said. “I was supposed to take her for dinner, but I think I intimidated her.”
I felt my right eyebrow arch. I’d been there when Armie messaged Tinsely, and she’d politely turned him down, telling him she was too busy to date. His brazen manipulation of the truth made my teeth itch.
“She must have been flustered by your charming personality,” I said through clenched teeth.
My father cleared his throat to diffuse the tension, which Armie didn’t seem to sense.
He threw his head back and laughed. “Maybe. I’d hoped to see her tonight in person so I could put her worries to rest and give her a taste of the genuine article.”
My gaze swept up and down his dark green suit. He’d dressed to play. His suit was perfectly tailored, probably custom made for him, and lined in black silk. “God speed, Armie.”
While my father chatted with Armie, Humphrey, and the other “gentlemen,” I checked my phone one last time to see if I had a message from Tinsely. Disappointment settled in my gut when I saw she’d read my messages but hadn’t responded.
What had I done wrong? Did I say something insensitive last night? Did I push her? Did I take too much last night? I played over how last night unfolded, but all I ended up with were pants that were too tight around my crotch and a sense of confusion. Everything felt right last night.
