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Her parents exchanged worried glances. “You look as though you’re spending too much time studying, Libby,” her mother remarked softly. “Are you having any fun?”
Libby chewed slowly while she searched for a believable answer. “Partying gets old after a while. I’m concentrating on finishing my classes and getting a good job.”
“That’s wise, of course,” her father agreed. “It’s also important to have a balance in your life. Maybe we can all go skiing after the Christmas holidays, the way we used to.”
“That would be so much fun!” Patricia replied. “Would you mind if Fox came along?”
Her father dropped his fork into his mashed potatoes, quickly picked it up and wiped the handle on his napkin. “We’re a long way from London, sweetheart. Does he even know how to ski?”
“He learned to ski in Switzerland, and he can afford to come. His school has a long winter break, and he’d rather come here than Barcelona. Please. He won’t be any trouble.”
“You sound like you’re begging for a puppy,” Libby offered.
“He’s not a pet,” Patricia argued. “But he can ski, and he’s a lot of fun, and why can’t I invite a friend to come with us? We used to bring friends.”
“When we were ten,” Libby reminded her.
“Let’s just savor this marvelous dinner and discuss Christmas later,” her mother suggested. “Although I’m going to miss Maggie.”
“Maybe we should all go to Spain,” Patricia suggested. “Why don’t we do that? Then we could see Maggie and Rafael and Fox and Santos.”
Libby’s heart skipped a beat. “I’ll need to stay here for interviews.”
“No one will be doing interviews over Christmas,” Patricia argued. “Please think about taking us all to Spain, Daddy. It would be so much fun.”
“I’ll think about it, but two trips to Spain in one year might not fit into our budget.”
“Take on a few more clients,” Patricia quipped. “Preferably wealthy clients in big trouble.”
“Then I’d be too busy to go,” her father replied.
Libby made a real effort to eat. She speared a piece of turkey breast and lifted her fork to her mouth, but swallowing was the difficult part. She took a sip of wine, one of her father’s favorites, but it wasn’t one she’d had with Santos. She couldn’t think of anything worse than seeing Fox and Patricia fawning over each other while she remained so incredibly alone. She rested her fork on her plate.
“Libby, aren’t you going to have more?” her mother asked fretfully.
Libby found a faint smile. “I’m saving room for the mince pie.”
Santos called Fox every Sunday afternoon. He had to look for subjects all week to find something in the news or sports Fox might possibly want to discuss. He’d met with little success with that strategy
, but he kept calling. After Fox’s usual hesitant greeting, he surprised Santos by taking the lead in the conversation.
“I want to go to Minneapolis for Christmas. I know I’ve got my mother’s money somewhere. Could you move some into my school account so I can go?”
Santos had celebrated Thanksgiving with Maggie and Rafael, even if the day wasn’t a holiday in Spain. He’d promised to host Christmas dinner, but he’d thought Fox would be with them. “Did the Gundersons invite you to come?”
“Patricia did, and she said it was okay. If you’ll add some money to my account, I’ll make all the arrangements myself. It won’t be any trouble for you.”
“I need to talk with the Gundersons first. Patricia might be a lot more excited about having you visit than they are.”
“Why?” Fox asked.
Santos grabbed for the first reasonable reply that occurred to him. “That’s just the way parents are.”
“I suppose. Hurry up, because most people already have their holiday reservations made.”
“I will,” Santos promised, but when he said good-bye, he sat there unable to even calculate the time difference for Minneapolis, let alone make the call.
Chapter Twenty
