Sylvie looked at me with eyes that were bright with love and determination, like she was ready to take on my father and the entire Bancroft empire if necessary. For the first time since I made that phone call, I felt like I could breathe again.
“Yeah, you might be right,” I said, my voice stronger than it had been in the past hour. “I think I am already home.”
We threw ourselves back into party preparation. Losing my father’s approval and my inheritance wasn’t the tragedy I always thought it would be.
It was freedom.
Freedom to choose love over obligations. I was choosing connection over control.
Looking around at the family that had claimed me as their own, I knew I had made the right choice. I was going to be okay. It would definitely be an adjustment, but I would be okay.
CHAPTER 67
SYLVIE
The Christmas Eve party was in full swing by the time Kent left to pick up Mr. Withers. I couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride at how magical everything looked. The lodge had been transformed into a party that would have made Martha Stewart weep with envy.
Yes, it was a little overdone, but that’s what made it so pretty. It was extra. People liked extra. Every surface had something that looked Christmasy. The music and drinks and the smells coming from the kitchen were making everyone hungry. My mouth was watering, anyway. I couldn’t wait to eat. Stacy and Emmy had put out an assortment of appetizers which were holding off the hunger pangs for now.
Everyone was eating, drinking, and being very merry.
It was perfect.
The festivities had naturally spilled out onto the front porch where we’d set up outdoor heaters to keep the cold at bay. It was a great way to get a view of the trees decked out in all the lights. They were twinkling brighter than ever. Not just the ones we’d traditionally decorated around the lodge, but all the trees on the farm that Kent had transformed into his magical light display.
I should have been bummed that we had so many trees leftover. That was not a good sign for business, but I wasn’t worried any longer. Next year would be better. For now, I was happy to have the trees and all their pretty lights.
Guests were mingling between the main room and the porch, their faces flushed with wine and laughter. I could hear children’s excited chatter mixing with adult conversation and the occasional burst of delighted laughter from someone discovering a particularly clever decoration detail.
Some of the kids were enjoying the craft table we had set up to keep them occupied. We would deal with the glitter later. For now, the mess was worth them being busy and allowing their parents to mingle.
Definitely going to be a mess in the morning, though.
“Sylvie!” Brom called from across the room. He was waving his phone.
My stomach dropped. Had something happened? Did Kent slide off the road? Get in a wreck on his way to get Phineas?
I rushed over. “What’s wrong? What happened? Is he okay?”
Brom frowned at me. “What?”
“Is someone on the phone, Brom?”
He frowned. “What? No. We should take some pictures! For next year’s marketing materials. Or maybe we could finally get that website built? Imagine if we could make that happen?”
I sighed with relief while contemplating kicking him for freaking me out like that. “Pictures?” I asked, still trying to get my heart to slow and my brain to relax.
“Pictures! Think ahead for next year. This is perfect. Look around!”
We were surrounded by the perfect chaos of our Christmas Eve celebration. He was absolutely right. This was exactly the kind of atmosphere that would make people want to book a vacation with us.
“Yes!” I said with a bright smile. “Let’s do it!”
Within minutes, Brom had recruited Aspen and Alder as willing photo subjects. We trooped outside into the cold to capture the magic of the light display. The kids were being complete hooligans, making ridiculous faces and staging dramatic poses that had nothing to do with showcasing the lodge’s festive atmosphere and everything to do with the fact that they were practically vibrating with excitement about Santa’s impending arrival.
“Stand still for two seconds!” Brom pleaded, trying to get a shot of the kids in front of the lit-up trees. “I need at least one photo where you don’t look like deranged elves!”
“Wearederanged elves!” Aspen declared, throwing her arms wide and nearly knocking over Alder in the process.
