I should be infuriated. Disgusted. Angry. And Iam. But I would be lying if I said there wasn’t also a significant part of me that feels . . .
Satisfied. Flattered. And . . .elated.
Because for as long as I have known Brandon, I have never known him to chase after the same woman twice.
Chapter 23
Brandon
“Ilikewhatyou’vedonehere,” I say, my gaze roaming the lobby, which now boasts a healthy amount of holiday cheer. Christmas music emanates from the speakers above us, and garland and lights adorn nearly every surface. “Very cozy.” I point up at the speakers. “Change that to something with no lyrics, please.”
Without batting an eyelid, Evie flits behind the desk and does what she’s told—and with a little more pep in her step than this morning, I might add.
“How’s this?” she asks, grinning at me once she’s changed the playlist to something more jazzy. For a split second, as I stare at her, beaming at me in a way that makes me feel like I hung the stars, she’s my Spitfire again. The woman gazing at me right now is the same person who wrote that letter to me all those years ago—the one who saw the best in me.
I blink profusely, almost like I’m staring straight into the sun. That smile is the epitome of charm. My responding smile is automatic. What has caused this sudden shift in her mood? She’s acting . . . like herself. Maybe it’s the Christmas music? Or the fact that we’re about to decorate the tree together?
Glancing over the front desk, I search for clues. She’s organized the tree ornaments into piles by color and type. Not half of these are going to fit on the tree, though. All the best trees had been picked over when I visited the tree farm on Sunday. The only ones left resembled sprigs more than actual trees. But, knowing Evie, she would have picked the sickliest, most malnourished-lookingtree on the lot. That’s exactly why I picked the runt of the remaining trees—a Charlie Brown-reminiscent thing with more branches than pine needles.
Like I suspected she might, Evie dotes on the tree like it’s the biggest and branchiest in all the land as we wait on Gladys to join us. She fluffs its pathetic little limbs, clucking over it like a mother hen taking care of her prized chick. Not once has she looked at that lousy tree like it’s ugly or unworthy of calling itself a Christmas tree.
Thisis why I love her. She never overlooks anyone or anything. She is the sweetest person I have ever met.
When you treat her right, anyway.
“Evie,” I muse, picking up an ornament. I balance the bauble between my fingertips, twisting it this way and that as I gaze at her. “I take it you’re excited to decorate the tree?”
“So very excited,” she echoes, her voice holding that characteristic cheek I’ve missed. She even startshummingas she comes to collect a few ornaments. I follow her with a few of my own, and we dance around one another as we attempt to clothe the tree in Christmas grandeur. Gladys joins us a moment later, so I don’t get the chance to hound her about why she’s suddenly acting like she won the lottery.
I watch her as all three of us work in silence, smiling to myself. It’s hard to take my eyes off her when she’s like this. It feels like the sun has finally come out.
“Oh! I didn’t say thank you for helping me with Winnie this morning,” Gladys comments. Her gaze shifts between us. “She wanted me to be sure and thank you both.”
“Don’t thank me,” I say diplomatically, looking at Evie. “It was all Evie.” I wasn’t surprised when I found her crouched on the floor in front of Gladys’ patient, guiding her through her panic attack with the gentle, experienced hand of someone who has been in her exact shoes. Compassion comes by Evie naturally. It’s one of the many reasons she made such a wonderful caregiver.
Evie rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. That humble, bashful look on her face could bring a dead man back to life. It certainly makes my heart go pitter-patter. “I was just doing my job.”
“Well, you did it exceptionally well,” Gladys boasts, glancing down at her watch as it buzzes on her wrist. “Oh, I hate to run off like this.” She pauses. “Well, that’s a lie. But it’s three o’clock, and you know what that means. It’s time to call it a holiday wrap!”
Evie giggles almost girlishly at the lame joke, and I stare at her shamelessly, completely in awe. That carefree, almost childlike peal of laughter. I haven’t heard it in so long.
What has gotten into her?
Gladys scurries back to her office, emerging with her bag seconds later. She shrugs her coat on and fixes her hair. “I’ll see you two tomorrow! And then it’s only two more sleeps until Christmas! Yay!” She waves at us as she darts out of the building.
Silence ensues, but for once, it’s not tense or awkward. Evie seems oblivious to the way I’m watching her. She starts humming to herself again, as cheerful as Santa’s little helper.
“So,” I begin after a moment. I’ve stopped adding to the tree now, considering it’s wilting under the weight of its current load. “Do you mind explaining to me why you’re suddenly in such a good mood?”
She flits past me like she’s no longer in any kind of pain, and it makes me do a double take. Did she experience some kind of Christmas miracle while I was busy this afternoon?
“Oh, it’s nothing,” she says, grinning to herself as she packs up the remaining ornaments.
I follow her to the counter and lean against it. I’m still smiling like a fool. “Tell me.”
Her grin widens. “It’s nothing. Honest.”
“It doesn’t look like nothing. You’re acting like Christmas has come early this year.”
