Page 11 of Ice Around the Edges

“Yes.” She nodded. “I couldn’t believe it, and Dixon was just completely shaken. Sweetheart, he went absolutely ashen, let me tell you.”

“I’ll bet.” I grinned at her, looking over at Dixon. “He broke up with me for no reason.”

“Yes, he did.”

He was standing at the window with his back to us, watching the rain come down outside.

It was funny… and sad… very sad.

“And may I tell you that his father gave him quite a lecture on eavesdropping and acting on impulse without the facts. He went on, quoting some line from Othello, but by that time, I know Dixon wasn’t even listening.”

“Well.” I sighed. “It’s nice to know that Mr. Bain had a good impression of me. We got along well that day, and so when Dixon told me what he said… I was confused. People normally like me or hate me right off, so it was weird. Good to know that I can actually read that stuff right.”

“You did,” she assured me. “I only ever wanted my children to be happy, and even though we come from what is construed as old money, that does not necessarily go hand in hand with racism, homophobia, or prejudice, as much as other people may presume. My father taught me that character was the true test of a man—or woman—and Mr. Bain’s family, my husband, gave him those same values. We instilled that same appreciation in our children.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I said softly.

“Lucinda,” she corrected me.

“Lucinda.”

We were silent, staring at each other. She had a great face.

“Where are your parents, Evan?”

“They’re on an Alaskan cruise for the holidays.”

She nodded as she let my hand go and stood up. “Well, I just came to see you, and now I have to get back to the airport as I have to be back in New York by tonight. Dixon’s father and I are going to the opera.”

“Sounds fun,” I offered lamely.

“It sounds hideous, but it’s for charity, so… but tomorrow I meet with the caterer about Christmas dinner and New Year’s, so… will you come?”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

“Your parents are on a cruise. What other plans did you have?”

“Oh no, Lucinda, I have friends here in town who––”

“Talk to Dixon and then let me know,” she said, leaning over to hug me.

She smelled like musk and spice, not girly, and I liked that. I got a kiss on the cheek after the hug, and she stood over me and smiled. “I think I finally understand why there’s never been anyone else serious in my son’s life.”

I smiled weakly at her.

“Let me know, sweetheart,” she said, turning to go.

“Thank you for coming,” I said, catching her hand, keeping her there. “It means a lot.”

Heavy sigh from her. “I’m late, but it’s genetic really.” She chuckled. “I got it from my mother, and I passed it along to Dixon.”

“Please give Mr. Bain my best.”

“Please come for Christmas and tell him yourself,” she pressed, crossing the room to her son and the mink he was holding up for her.

He helped her on with the coat and then spun her around and hugged her tight.

“Oh my,” she chuckled, patting his back. “I like being rewarded this way. What else can I do for you?”