Page 58 of Something Borrowed

Can it. I’m not in the mood.

“It’s a tradition Gwen and I started. A new year kickoff, after the Christmas rush is done. We chat our faces off, eat good food, drink bubbly, and talk about our dreams for the next year. It’s very small—just me, her, and now you.” Madeline sounded, of all things, momentarily shy. “Is that okay?”

It was better than okay. It sounded perfect.

“I’m . . . it’s . . . yes. That sounds amazing. I’m honored.”

Ugh, you’re so desperate.

But Madeline and Gwen were smiling at her as if her response made them happy too.

“To Vic!” Gwen raised her teacup.

“To Vic!” Madeline agreed. “And to what I have the feeling is only the first of many commissions.”

“Um,” Vic raised her teacup.

Chat moved on, much to Vic’s relief. Any attention focussed too directly on her, even positive, even complimentary, was too scary, too uncomfortable.

“Oh, before I forget,” Madeline exclaimed when the teapot was empty, and their second cups were nearly the same. “Our staff party’s not until the New Year, but Grant and I have a little open house on Boxing Day. It’s also kind of become an annual event. We’d love for you to join us, Vic.”

“It’s always so fun and not scary at all,” Gwen added, deftly stacking their cups and saucers on top of a bare plate that had been filled with cookies. “You should definitely come.”

Vic smiled noncommittally.

“And feel free to bring your mom,” Madeline encouraged.

Vic was afraid that she grimaced visibly. Her fear was confirmed when Gwen and Madeline both chuckled, and Gwen said, “Or not.”

“You’re welcome on your own, of course,” Madeline assured her, then her eyes twinkled. “Or how about bring—a date? A painting-worthy bearded man, perhaps?”

“Er, no. Definitely not.” Vic shook her head with a quick, decisive jerk.

Gwen, who’d stood, probably to take the dishes to the staffroom for washing up, plunked back into her chair. “Oooo, this sounds very intriguing. Fess up. Who is this bearded man you painted, but adamantly can’t, or won’t, bring to Madeline’s?”

Vic’s cheeks flamed.

Both Madeline and Vic laughed.

“His name’s Cal,” she said miserably.

“Cal Anderson?” Gwen asked.

Right. She’d forgotten Gwen and Cal knew each other. Of course, they did. They were both born-and-bred Greenridgers, who’d never left.

Vic nodded.

“Well, he’s lovely,” Gwen declared. “Why don’t you bring him? He’ll fit right in.”

It was kind of Gwen to imply with that comment that Vic also fit in, but Vic knew better.

She shook her head again and fiddled with the gold handle of her delicate pink teacup.

“He is great, yeah. He’s been helping me with some much-needed maintenance and repairs.”

Madeline looked confused. “You seem into him from the way you turn such a pretty pink whenever I bring him up, and there’s no way he isn’t into you.”

Vic’s head snapped up. “How do you figure that?”