Much had happened in her forty-four years, but a few memories remained as clear and vivid as the day they were formed, seared onto her very soul.One of them was the last conversation she ever had with her beloved father.
“Promise me, Amy,” he’d said just a day before he’d perished in the Great Fire of London.“You have a gift that cannot be wasted, an obligation in your blood.Promise me that Goldsmith & Sons won’t end with you.”
She hadn’t wanted to wed the man he’d chosen for her, hadn’t wanted to make this promise.But he’d worn her down.She’d had no choice.No escape from the path that defined her life, the road her ancestors had put her on.
“You have my promise.”
“I love you, poppet.”
“I love you too, Papa.”
As of yet, Goldsmith & Sons, her family’s centuries-old jewelry concern,hadended with her—and every fond remembrance of her Papa was tinged with guilt, knowing she had defied his wishes.But Aidan was destined to reestablish the business, to set her world to rights.
She continued stirring the brandy into her mixture with a little more vigor than was necessary.“You’re going to make such a marvelous jeweler.”
“I don’t want to be a jeweler,” Aidan forced through gritted teeth.His unusual eyes—amethyst, like Amy’s own—narrowed as he focused on her.“You should know that by now; I’ve certainly told you enough times.”
Years before he was born—before any of their children were born, in fact—Colin had promised Amy that their second son would fulfill her pledge to her father.It was the greatest gift Colin had ever given her, and she’d been waiting twenty-one years for that promise to come to fruition.
But her second son wasn’t cooperating.
And neither was his father.
In twenty-two years of marriage, Amy couldn’t remember ever having been quite this aggravated with Colin.
Aidan had turned fifteen half a year ago, at which point he should have been apprenticed to a jeweler to learn the trade—to acquire the skills he’d need to run a shop—in preparation for assuming his role.But he didn’t want to do that.And Colin was on his side.
“Our son should be able to go his own way,” Colin said now, for at least the tenth time.“Leave him alone.”
Trying her best to appear patient, Amy turned to her youngest for at least the tenth time as well.She decided to take a new tack.“What will you do instead?”she asked as reasonably as she could manage.“You’re a second son—you won’t inherit.Will you take up soldiering or preaching?”
Aidan’s jaw remained set.“I don’t know what I want to do.I only know what Idon’twant to do.”
Amy released a gusty sigh.“Of all the stubborn, foolish—”
“Amy.”Colin sidled up to her and gently removed the spoon from her hand, his expression equal parts sympathy and strain.“Come with me,” he coaxed, drawing her out into the corridor.
Once there, he moved close.Very close.Amy inhaled his spicy scent, and her senses began to spin in an entirely too familiar way.
“Can we let this go?”he asked.“It’s Stir-Up Sunday.One of your favorite days of the year.”Leaning closer still, he pressed a soft kiss to Amy’s lips—a soft kiss that turned into more, no matter that their offspring doubtless knew exactly what they were doing in the corridor outside the kitchen.
Amy’s heart raced, same as ever—Colin knew how to calm her down.Or maybe he knew how to stir her up, which was fitting for Stir-Up Sunday.Fitting and thrilling and annoying, all at the same time.But mostly thrilling, she couldn’t help thinking.Twenty-two years married, and her husband could still make her blood sing through her veins.In the thrall of such bliss, she had a hard time staying miffed with him.
Except for the small part of her that held back, the tiny voice that whispered in her head, reminding her he wasn’t taking her side.
It was easy to ignore that voice now, kissed and loved in Colin’s arms.Over the past few months, she’d become accustomed to ignoring it.
But it never quite went away.
“Very well,” she said, a mite breathless as she broke the kiss.“Let’s go back in and stir.”
When the two of them reentered the room, Jewel, Hugh, and Aidan all rolled their eyes—a habit they had picked up from their father.“It’s time to stir,” Colin said firmly.
Traditionally, every child gave the mixture a stir and made a wish while doing so.But Amy had changed the longstanding tradition years ago, to include everyone in her family, not just the children—who weren’t really children anymore, she realized with a little tug of her heart.
Her first Christmas as a Chase had been her first experience with tokens in the plum pudding as well—at that point, only a coin, a ring, and a thimble.But as Amy and Colin had Jewel and then Hugh and then Aidan, she had added more charms over the years, so each member of their family could stir and make a wish.
Aidan’s tokens were truly beautiful, more detailed every year.That told her his heart was in goldsmithing, even if his head hadn’t caught up yet.But she wouldn’t push him again today.“Aidan?”she asked.
