The Snow Prince - Raleigh Ruebins Page 0,25

I’d told him. “And maybe some copper fixtures.”

“And how exactly do you think I could pay for that kind of thing?”

He shrugged. “We have plenty of payment options. One of ‘em is a ten-year plan.”

“Ten years to pay off a countertop?” I asked.

“We have a twenty-year, too,” he said.

“All right,” I told him. “I have some things to take care of for the rest of the day, but thank you for stopping in, Norm.”

He nodded, picking up his duffel bag and heading to the front door. He looked all around the frame, clicking his tongue. “Going to need some better wood around the door frames, too. We’ll talk.”

“Maybe,” I said, opening the door to usher him out.

“Well, look at that,” Norm said, stopping before walking out. “Some special lady out there loves you.”

I glanced down at the ground outside and groaned.

“Another basket out there? Seriously?”

It was one of the biggest, most lavish floral arrangements I’d ever seen. The only flowers I recognized were the peonies, lush and peachy colored, but there were dozens of different types of beautiful ones.

I’d been getting gifts at my doorstep every single day since I’d left Frostmonte Castle. Today, the vase was sitting on top of a small box, wrapped with a simple blue ribbon.

“Lady must love you,” Norm said, chuckling.

“It’s no lady,” I said, picking up the weighty vase. “It’s from a friend. A… former friend. Yesterday he sent a basket that had ten different types of French cheese in it. And Swiss chocolates and mixed candied nuts the day before.”

I didn’t even mention the ludicrously expensive scotch and wine bottles that had accompanied the food, because it felt vulgar to even mention such extravagant things.

“Well I’d say that former friend is sending you goodies like this, he probably wants to be a current friend,” Norm said. “Whew.”

“I better take this inside. Thanks again, Norm.”

He gave me a wave. “You’ve got my card!” he called out as he ambled back over to his truck, boots crunching in the snow. I shut the door behind him, letting out a long sigh. I placed the vase on the coffee table in front of the sofa. It was the brightest spot in an otherwise drab room, commanding attention.

I’m sure that was what Sebastian had wanted, with all of these gifts, anyway. Each of them had been accompanied by a note saying only “I’m sorry,” but I knew better.

He just wanted me to be thinking about him.

As if I wasn’t already, every second of each day.

I picked up the little box that had been sitting under the vase, undoing the silky blue ribbon.

“If this is a fucking Rolex, Sebastian, I’m going to kill you,” I said out loud into the air. But as I opened it, I let out a short laugh.

It was just a box of Cocoa Bites cookies. The same old-timey brand I’d always loved so much as a kid.

I shook my head, still smiling, as I ripped open the box. I hadn’t had any since I was last in Berrydale, and hadn’t even known they still existed. I popped one into my mouth. Still just as good as when I was a kid, even though it tasted far too sweet now.

This was far better than any bouquet or basket of cheese. I liked flowers and snacks and certainly scotch, but the cookies were something that only Sebastian and my deceased mother knew I loved so much.

Sebastian remembered. And that meant something to me, even though I really, really needed to think about anything but him right now.

I pulled in a long breath and let it out slowly. I glanced all around the house, from the weathered window panes to the cracks in the plaster that I hoped weren’t foundation-deep. Fucking granite countertops. That was the last thing this place needed.

I pulled out my phone. I needed to call the one sane person in Berrydale right now.

“Henry,” Tracy answered, her voice bright. “Thought you’d never call.”

“Hey, Tracy,” I said. “I need your professional, lawyery opinion on something right now.”

“Lay it on me,” she said.

I crossed over to the living room, staring out at the castle through the big, fogged-up window. “It’s not normal to have a twenty-year mortgage for your countertops, right?”

She laughed. “Would you be shocked if I said it’s more common than you think?”

“Christ,” I said.

“Yep,” Tracy said. “Home renovation is a big deal these days. Maybe not a twenty-year payout just for a countertop, but… pretty close.”

“If I DIY this place, it’s going