What have I gotten myself into?
I take a closer look at the house. Tasteful Christmas decorations adorn the front yard, and white lights are strung along the eaves and frame all the windows. A single electric candle sits in each windowsill, casting a welcoming glow from inside. It looks picture-perfect, like out of a movie or painting or magazine, and I swallow.
“Ready?” John asks.
No, but it’s too late to say that now. Telling him he should’ve warned me about coming from money sounds tacky, something Rachel would say. I lift my chin with a confidence I don’t have. We’re already faking a relationship, but now I’ll have to fake belonging where I don’t. I should’ve just stayed at my parents’ house, where at least I know my way around. “Of course.”
I’ve perfected my grace-under-pressure voice and use it if the stock market tanks and clients call me in a panic about their retirement accounts. I get the feeling that voice will come in handy today.
As we approach the front door, faint laughter and music sound from inside. Whoever is here seems to be having a good time. I’ll take that as a good sign and hope I can disappear into the background and not be noticed much. That thought settles my nerves a little.
The door swings open before John rings the bell. An older white-haired woman wearing an apron smiles big. Her blue eyes twinkle, and I wonder if this is what Mrs. Claus might look like. Though I doubt Santa’s wife wears designer clothes. Even with the apron covering the front, I can tell from the quality that her blouse and her skirt aren’t from a local box store.
“You made it, Johnny.” Affection fills her voice, and she hugs him. “You feel thinner. Are you eating enough?”
John laughs. “Yes, Grandma. I’ve been eating too much with all the holiday treats people brought into work.”
“As long as you aren’t working through mealtimes.” His grandmother’s gaze lands on me, and her face lights up. “Now who is this lovely young lady?”
“Grandma, this is Abby.” John touches the small of my back. Even though I’m wearing a coat, I feel the warmth of his hand at the spot of contact and draw comfort from it. “Abby, this is my grandmother, Maggie.”
Before I can I extend my arm, Maggie hugs me. She smells like cinnamon and vanilla, or maybe that’s the apron. “Welcome to the family.”
Her greeting surprises me, but I don’t have much time to think, because I’m entering the house with Maggie leading the way and John bringing up the rear.
Inside, Christmas carols play, and the sharp scent of fresh pine hangs in the air. A tall Christmas tree sits in the foyer, and an even taller tree dominates the large living room. I’m certain the trees are real. A few pine needles on the hardwood floor provide additional proof.
“Wow.” It’s all I can do to keep my mouth from dropping open. The interior is lovely but not the kind of décor you’re afraid to touch. It’s warm and welcoming. “Your home and Christmas decorations are gorgeous.”
“Thanks. I had lots of help with adding all the holiday touches.”
No one seems to notice us entering, which is a relief, and there are a lot of people. More than twenty if I’ve counted right.
Maggie claps her hands. “Johnny’s here, and he’s brought a girl with him.”
She sounds almost giddy, more like one of the younger guests who are jumping to their feet.
So much for not being noticed.
People—adults, teens, and children—swarm around us. I’m shaking hands, being hugged, and being told names, one after another without so much as a break. Maybe I should ask if people would wear name tags, because I can’t remember anyone’s name except for Maggie and John.
An older man with a beard shakes my hand. He’s tall and fit in a pair of black pants and a Christmas sweater. “I’m George. Johnny’s grandfather. We’re happy to have you spend Christmas with us. I hope you don’t mind the noise, or you brought earplugs.”
I laugh, feeling more at ease. He looks vaguely familiar to me, but John is the only Barrington I know, and I’ve rarely gotten out this way, even when I was growing up. “I don’t mind. I hope I’m not intruding on your family celebration.”
George waves his hand. “The more, the merrier. Do you play chess?”
Maggie swoops in before I can answer. As she leads me away, she glances over her shoulder. “There’s plenty of time for games later. I need to make sure Abby’s not hungry.”
“Of course,” George says. “I’m sure you’ve already given John something to eat.”
“No, but he’s in the kitchen and misses Abby already.”
That tells me where I’m headed, but… “I’m sure John’s happy to be home and see all his family.”
“Yes.” Maggie winks. “But that doesn’t mean he can’t miss being with you, too.”
The kitchen is bigger than my apartment and a chef’s dream with multiple ovens and enough counter space for several people to nap on at the same time. Good thing since it’s full of people, each working on a different task. A man who I think is one of John’s cousins, but I blank on his name, stirs something in a pot. One of his other cousins—Libby or Lizzy—chops vegetables.
