AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Yes. Is it just me, or does it look like…?”
“It does. Unfortunately, it really does.”
“Who sent us a phallic-shaped vase?”
She laughs, reaching for the packaging I discarded. “One of his business partners. Carter Kingsley. What are you going to do with that?”
I look around the sparse, modern hallway. There’s nothing on the console table except a round mirror, braced against the wall. It’s clearly a design mishap.
“Here,” I say, placing it on the table. “This spot is screaming for some love.”
Bonnie’s lips twitch. “Prime placement.”
“Yes. It’s the pride and joy of our home.”
“Where all guests can see it.”
“We should include that in our thank-you note,” I say. “Let them know we’re proudly displaying it.”
Bonnie laughs again. “I’m so glad he chose you to marry. I’d be doing this with anyone he picked, of course, but I don’t think I’d have this much fun with anyone else.”
My chest tightens. “Thank you. You’ve been so welcoming, you know. So helpful. Thank you for making this easier.”
She smiles. “Well, I can only imagine all of this is overwhelming. I’m not one to speak ill of anyone. But I think we both know where St. Clair’s flaws lie, and well... it can’t be easy.”
“That was a great way of putting it.” I reach for a box with a familiar logo on the side. It’s one I’ve seen in high-end catalogues all my life and never once come face-to-face with. “Have you noticed how many of these cards are addressed to the happy couple or to Mr. and Mrs. St. Clair? I don’t think they know my name.”
“I think many of them,” Bonnie says, “are shocked he married at all.”
“That was my reaction when he asked me. ‘You? Getting married?’”
She shakes her head. “That was probably his own as well.”
I unwrap the Hermès leather wallet, embossed with the designer label and the St. Clair name. The kind of money these things must cost…
“The Winthorpes sent this over,” I murmur. The family is legendary in this city.
Bonnie nods. “They were good friends with St. Clair’s parents.”
I turn the wallet over. Wondering if I should or shouldn’t pry, and knowing which instinct will win. Best to give in straight away. “His parents aren’t around, I’ve gathered.”
“They passed a long time ago.”
I nod. “Well, it’s awfully kind of them to send him this, then.”
“You,” Bonnie corrects. “These are all gifts to both of you. They’re hoping, I think, that he’ll become someone like his grandfather or his parents were. Social, affable. The St. Clair name used to be well-known in these circles.”
I glance at the notecard and the name Winthorpe. “He won’t like all this.”
“No, I don’t think he will.”
“Maybe seeing the phallic-shaped vase will cheer him up.”
Bonnie chuckles and hands me a baby-blue box to unbox. “Somehow, I doubt that too.”
I unwrap the Tiffany box with careful hands, but what’s waiting for me inside isn’t delicate in the least. It’s a saber. I grip the heavy handle and pull the gleaming blade out, brandishing it.
“Someone sent us a gazillion-dollar sword.”
