We check out and head toward my car. The sun’s out, making the snow sparkle like diamonds. A minivan pulls up as we’re about to cross the parking lot, and the passenger window rolls down.
It’s Candace.
She smiles brightly. The man in the driver’s seat, who I assume is Sal, nods at Leo.
Candace pokes her head out the window like a middle-aged turtle. “I wanted to say thank you again! You made our daughter’s Christmas.”
I wave her off, but I can’t control the tremor in my hand. “Don’t mention it.” Like, please, donotmention it.
“I really hope you’re happy with the Vallerton. It’s a great set but not what we wanted. Thanks for trading.”
Feeling the weight of Leo’s stare, I scramble for a reply. “Uh, yeah. It’ll work wonderfully. Well, safe travels.”
Candace is not catching my hints. “Hope you have a Merry Christmas!”
Sal points at Leo. “Remember what I said.”
Huh? Sal never said anything, especially to Leo. Unless I zoned out for a second, which is entirely possible. Leo only dips his chin, and they drive off. I feel a gusty chill, and it has nothing to do with the December breeze.
“What was that about?”
“Oh, I met her last night in the bathroom at the Dough Ball.” I offer a quick smile and hustle toward the car. “Are you driving, or am I?”
He pulls out my keys and unlocks the doors. “I got it.” He opens the hatch and sets the tub in the back. In seconds, he’s behind the wheel and pulling off the Sugarvale Inn lot.
His frame’s rigid. “Why didn’t you tell me you got the Vallerton?”
“I was going to.” I force a bright tone. “It was supposed to be a surprise, but now that’s ruined.”
He softens somewhat. “She said you traded.”
I sink lower in my seat. “Yep.”
“What did you give her?”
“Oh, just an antique from that tub. It worked out that I brought it along.”
His brow lowers. “We were together the whole time. When did you do this?”
“When you were in the shower. I went to her room.” Now I feel icky and busted, like I was caught smoking behind the bleachers in junior high.
He nails me with a look. “What antique, Greta? Be more specific, please.”
Ugh. “The Garrick.”
Leo pulls to the side of the road and brakes. “Your inheritance?”
I suck in a quick breath. “Who told you?”
“Your Pap at Thanksgiving. He told me the Garrick was the first antique you and your gran found together. Said it sparked your love for antiques.”
“Yeah.”
He puts the car in reverse. “I’m turning around. We’re going back.”
“What? No.”
He keeps his foot on the brake and his heated gaze on my face. “Greta, I can’t let you give up that set.”
