Despite her resolution from only moments ago tonotopen the email at brunch, she couldn’t help herself.
Much less help the surprised gasp she let out when she saw the email’s contents.
“What?” Caleb had demanded. Both he and Dean leaned forward from where they sat across the table.
The message was short and simple:
Charlotte—
I’d like to reach out and extend the invitation to our New Year’s Eve party tomorrow.
I realize that it’s quite late notice, but I was reviewing our guest list and realized you weren’t on it.
I hope to see you tomorrow, though I certainly understand if we don’t.
Happy holidays,
Katherine
In the day since she’d received the email, she’d swiftly rejected Caleb’s excited offer to join her, gone home to deliberate her wardrobe, packed a bag, made a hotel reservation in Boston, and had driven in this morning.
The invitation, unfortunately, shed no light on whatever was going through Sutton’s mind.
Because Charlotte was certain that Sutton hadn’t been responsible for inviting her, given that if she’d wanted Charlotte there or believed Charlotte would be able to come, Sutton would have arranged for her to have been invited ahead of time or even invited her herself. Charlotte was doing her best not to obsess over this finer detail.
She definitely hadn’t been part of the planned guest list at all, which was fine, Charlotte didn’t take that personally. But she knew from years ago that Katherine and Jack didn’t send email invitations, but lovely, personalized ones on stationery, four to six weeks in advance. Even though it had been over a decade since she’d received one, she was pretty sure that hadn’t changed.
Sutton hadn’t called her last night either, so Charlotte felt that this was the perfect opportunity to see exactly what was going on with her.
She needed to.
Charlotte had never felt like this before. It was anxiety and anticipation and uncertainty and confusion all rolled into one, and she didn’t want that feeling at all, let alone with Sutton.
She wanted that feeling from Christmas back.
With that thought, she nodded to herself and stepped up to the immaculately, beautifully decorated porch and rang the doorbell.
Her heart pounded in her chest as she dropped her hand to her side. She only had to wait seconds before the door opened and she was greeted by Katherine herself.
Truly, déjà vu.
Charlotte bit back the bit of nerves that fluttered in her stomach under the observant look that was instantly trained on her.
“Charlotte,” Katherine greeted her a second later with a nod and a tilt of her head. “You came.”
“I was invited,” she answered some sort of unspoken question, arching an eyebrow even as she smiled. Truthfully, she felt more off-kilter atthisNew Year’s Eve party than she had years ago.
Which was saying a lot.
“So you were. Apologies for such a last-minute invite, and for the manner in which I contacted you.” Katherine’s voice seemed very measured, but Charlotte wasn’t really certain what she was looking for. “I was a bit surprised when you RSVP’d on such short notice; I’d expected—and would have understood—if you’d had other arrangements.”
She stepped back, gesturing for Charlotte to enter.
As she did, she took a quick glimpse around, noting the festive but tasteful décor, the updates that had been made to the home since the last time she’d seen it, and thought that even though it was quite a large manor, it still very much felt like ahome. Then she landed back on Katherine.
“I did. I cancelled them,” she answered honestly.
Maybe in the past she would have toed a line with Katherine, not wanting to give away quite how much she was invested in Sutton or wanting to even hint that she was nervous. To play this interaction off as professional and amiable, not overly personal.
