polite.
Ruthie arrived with a scowl but didn’t say a word. She served dinner and disappeared to most likely sulk in the kitchen.
As Lauren savored the tender meat, covered with cracked peppercorns, juicy and flavorful, she silently thanked Ruthie for doing her part to make the proper presentation.
The merlot was tangy and dark, the asparagus colorful and firm, slick with butter and sprinkled with glittery crushed kosher salt.
Holiday music played softly in the background, while the dining room was cast in a golden glow from flickering candles. The few other guests ate at a cluster of tables not far off, but it seemed to Lauren as if they weren’t there at all. Her attention was fixed on her present company, Max and his father, his grandmother, and her nurse, Jane.
Poor Ethel sat in her wheelchair, staring straight ahead, barely moving the entire meal.
Max occasionally turned to speak to her as if she could answer like there was nothing wrong.
After one remark, he turned to catch Lauren’s eyes. There was a glint of sadness and resignation as if he knew the futility of his loving little gestures.
Lauren had already heard about Jane, the nurse assigned to care for both elderly Hunters, but in drastically different ways. Lauren had never thought of doing such a thing herself and found the very idea of gold digging distasteful. But watching the woman sitting at her table as a guest, quietly respectful of Eaton and Max, and even Lauren, made her admit that there was something altogether too human about her to condemn.
Eaton was powerful and wealthy and handsome, and Lauren could too easily understand how a woman would be attracted to him.
Lauren only had eyes for Max. Their love was of heart and mind, and not money, but it was fairly obvious why Jane had become entranced with Max’s father.
She wanted to be angry with her for trying to manipulate Max, but she also knew how prone some people were to such things. She was a good deal shy of perfect herself. However, she was grateful to have them in her house and even excited at the prospect of having them all together as a family.
She envisioned Max as the new father, and she the new mother of a new generation of the Matthews-Hunter family.
If Jane was to be a part of that family, Lauren resolved to accept her with an open heart, as her parents would have, and as she received Eaton and Ethel, and Max. The time for old judgments, and perceptions, and feuds to be put aside had come.
“Well, I must say,” Eaton said, “I’m very intrigued with this Holiday Village.”
“We’ve decided to call it a Yule Village,” Lauren said. “This way, we can preserve the rustic approach but still appeal to everybody’s festive spirit.”
“Very clever,” Eaton said. “Have you arranged for advertising?”
Max nodded. “We’re finishing construction as soon as we can so we can shoot a commercial for the lodge’s website. Costumes are just about ready, and I’ve started casting a few locals.”
“Maybe Mayor Shipley would like to be Father Christmas, at least for the big opening. That could draw attention.”
Eaton broke out in a little chuckle. “He might be better served making a speech and introducing the place.” After a moment to consider, he said, “What if I played Father Christmas?”
Lauren glanced immediately at Max, whose mouth had dropped open, eyes wide. “Pop?”
Eaton shrugged. “Well, why not? It’s a position of respect and authority. I think that would be fitting.”
Max seemed dumbstruck, eyes shifting to Jane, and to Lauren, and to his grandmother, expecting somebody to explain. It took the old man himself to shrug and say, “Look, Max, the way things are, and the way they’ve been, isn’t good.” Eaton wrestled with his words, uncharacteristic for the normally forthright businessmen. “Your way of doing things makes some sense, I’ll admit. Maybe putting out a different image for myself and for Hunter Properties would be good. I’ll do it in the spirit of the season.”
Lauren felt like she wanted to break out in a relieved sob. Her attention drew back to Max as his own heart seemed to swell.
He said, “That sounds great, Pop.” He turned to Lauren. “It’s your decision.”
Lauren couldn’t help but smile. She nodded. “I think it’s a wonderful idea, Max. Thank you, sir.”
He repeated, “Sir? Sir was my father’s name.” They all shared a little chuckle while Lauren enjoyed another sip of wine.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Max
“You, Father Christmas?”
His father laughed, the robust sound filling the room with warmth.
“Why