Who am I kidding?
I’vealreadymentally undressed her more times than I care to admit.
“You’ve seen for yourself how much people love it. The joy on their faces as they walk through the property and see all the twinkling lights. Or go for a horse-drawn carriage ride. Or ice skate.”
“That’s true. But I didn’t ask what makes it special for everyone else.” I lean toward her. “I want to know what makes it special foryou. And not just because it’s been in your family for generations. I could be wrong, but I sense this attachment goes deeper than that. It—”
“Here we are, sir,” our server interrupts yet again with the bottle of wine Parker recommended, something from one of the vineyards in Sycamore Falls. After the server pours a little into my glass, I taste it. I’m pleasantly surprised by the flavor of the Cabernet Sauvignon. It easily holds its own against many of the finer wines from Napa Valley.
“To impromptu business meetings.” I raise my glass toward Parker once we’re alone.
“To impromptu business meetings.”
We clink glasses and I watch as she sips on her wine, swirling it around her mouth.
I’ve never wanted to be an inanimate object as much as I’d give anything to be that glass.
“Tell me,” I press once she’s had a chance to enjoy her wine. “Why is Holley Ridge special to you? What’s one of your favorite memories?”
She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. Her uncertainty surprises me. I assumed she’d regale me with a list of memories of her childhood home.
She takes another long sip of her wine, as if needing the liquid courage for whatever she’s about to tell me. Then she lifts her gaze to mine. “My favorite memory is probably the first time I was there.”
“What do you mean by that?” I straighten, confused. “I thought it’s been in your family for generations.”
“It has been. But my first time at Holley Ridge was at the kid’s carnival, like the one you helped out at today.”
I blink, her statement not making any sense. I reviewed the deed on the property before making an offer on it to make sure the title was clear. Her parents owned it. It’s been in her family for generations. How could her first time on the property have been at the kid’s carnival?
And then it hits me.
“You were in the foster care system,” I exhale, the words leaving me before I can stop them.
It all makes sense now, especially after hearing the determination in her voice earlier today as she spoke about doing everything to make sure foster kids believe in the magic of Christmas.
“My birth parents died when I was young. Only three.” She gives me a tight-lipped smile, her eyes glossing over.
“Parker, I—“
“That first year, I remember looking forward to Christmas so damn much. My parents always made it so special. They didn’t have a lot of money, but unlike you tend to believe…” She levels me with a pointed glare. “It wasn’t about spoiling me with gifts. They still made it special without spending a fortune. We’d drive around to look at pretty holiday lights. Go to parks and play in the snow. Bake cookies together. I don’t have a lot of memories of my birth parents anymore, but I still remember how loving they were.”
She forces a smile, but I can tell it’s pained. That she’s not only remembering the happy times she spent with her parents but also the fact that she lost them. Something I can’t fathom, especially at such a young age.
“God, Parker.” I shake my head. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I…” I trail off, not sure what to say.
Anything Idosay is going to be grossly inadequate compared to this kind of loss. I may not have the best relationship with my family, especially my brother, but at least they’re still alive.
“Truce?” She extends her hand toward me.
“Is that going to be our thing whenever one of us says something we regret?”
She shrugs. “It’s better than holding a grudge. Don’t you think?”
I can’t help but admire her. Despite everything she endured as a young child, she’s still so damn optimistic. Never complaining. Always positive.
The world could use more people like Parker Holley.
“Truce.” The corners of my mouth tug up as I grasp her hand.
