Dust of Snow (17 page)

Ashley laughed. “Told you.”

I cleared my throat, my cheeks burning all
over again. “Thank you for inviting me, Mrs. Montgomery. I asked
Ashley if I should bring something, but—”

“Call me Jane, and no, he was absolutely
right. We have a no-alcohol policy in this house,” her eyes
flickered briefly to a door on our left. “And there’s more food
here than we can possibly eat tonight, so your company is all we
could want. Merry Christmas, Gregory.”

“Merry Christmas.” I smiled down at her, and
she let go of me, patting my arm one last time. I liked her. Her
eyes were as blue as the girl’s I’d seen outside.

“All right, let’s go meet the rest.” Ashley
turned but Jane held him back, tugging at his shoulder and planting
a kiss on his cheek.

“It’s good to see you, honey,” she said in a
low voice. She wiped at the lipstick on his cheek and Ash threw me
a self-conscious glance. For a moment I could see him as a
sixteen-year-old boy being hugged by his mother. It was
endearing.

“You too, Mom,” he mumbled, and then he
opened the door to our left.

“He looks much better,” Jane whispered,
grabbing my wrist and giving it a squeeze while she gave me a warm,
private smile. “I’m very happy for you both.”

My jaw dropped, but I had no time to think
about it because I’d stepped into the living room and everyone was
staring at me.

“Oh, for goodness sake,” Ashley mumbled,
leading me to a man sitting by the fire. He had a book open in his
lap, a pair of reading glasses perched on his nose, and he looked
for all the world like the next time his chin fell to his chest,
it’d stay there and sleep would win. When Ashley appeared by his
elbow, he jerked awake and rose his feet.

“Son,” was all he said, and he enveloped
Ashley in a warm, silent hug. Ashley’s dad wore a bright green
Christmas sweater. The fat white snowman on it looked a little
cross-eyed.

“Dad, this is Gregory.” I felt relieved he
left my last name out, since now the whole room had fallen silent.
Someone had even turned down ‘Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer.’
“Gregory, this is Pete, my father.”

“Nice to meet you, Pete,” I said. He took my
hand and squeezed it, his smile small and intense as he nodded at
me once.

“Gregory,” he said, and perched his glasses
back on his nose. Pete kept smiling at me as he sat down again, and
then he turned his attention to his book. This man and I could be
great friends.

“Right.” Ashley turned to the rest of the
room. “Everyone, this is Gregory. My sister Phoebe…” He indicated
the purple-nailed woman. “My niece Myrna, and my nephews Liam and
Ryan.”

I blinked. There were two of them. Two
identical, blue-eyed boys, one on his mother’s hip and the other
staring at me, his hand outstretched toward the Christmas tree, as
if the arrival of a stranger had interrupted his quest for
ornaments. Every toddler’s Holy Grail. Nodding and awkwardly waving
at everyone, I hoped I’d be able to sit down soon, and that they’d
all forget about me the minute I did.

“You already met my brother Tony,” Ashley
went on. He came to a stop and frowned. “Where’s Helen?”

Tony grimaced. “Her dad’s not well. She said
she’d try to make it for dessert but she didn’t know if she’d be
here.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

Tony nodded and opened his mouth, closing it
again when something crashed beside the tree. Without looking he
rolled his eyes. “I’ll get the broom.” Off he went, while everyone
else gathered toddlers and shards of plastic.

“Non-breakable my ass,” Phoebe mumbled. Her
face was stern and lined, and I wondered how old she was and if she
was the reason for the no-alcohol rule.

“Mommy, you said ass,” Myrna giggled.

“Ass,” one of the twins shouted. The other
one just stared at me. I gave him a little wave, and he hid his
face against his mother’s neck. In the hustle and bustle of the
cleanup, Ash leaned close and squeezed my wrist.

“You okay?” he whispered. “I know it’s a lot
of people.”

I smiled, my heart warming. I still felt
nervous, but it did me good to know he understood, and cared. “I’m
fine,” I told him. “Thank you for inviting me to meet your family.
It means a lot.”

A little frown line appeared between Ash’s
eyebrows but it disappeared nearly instantly. “Of course.”

ELEVEN

ASHLEY’S FAMILY WASN’T loud exactly, but they all
seemed to have a tendency to talk and not listen. I tried to keep
up with the three conversations going at once, but after a while I
gave up and just let it all wash over me as I spooned my clam
chowder—which was delicious.

“And that’s how I knew it was Armani,” Tony
finished to Jane. He gave me a lopsided grin that I’d seen before.
He didn’t have Ashley’s dimples, but apart from that they looked
very much alike. Ashley’s hair was longer though, and despite Tony
being the retail guy, Ashley was more sharply dressed.

“You thought it was Hugo Boss,” Ash said,
grinning around his spoon. Tony picked up a bread roll and
pretended to throw it. With one raised eyebrow from Jane, he
sheepishly put it down as though he was a little boy again. Pete
hadn’t said much so far, and since I sat between him and Ashley,
our corner of the table was a quiet one.

“So Gregory, you work with Ashley?” Jane
fixed her bright eyes on me. Despite cooking for hours, she didn’t
have a hair out of place. Her red lipstick was immaculate, and the
short-sleeved burgundy dress she wore looked completely unwrinkled.
The entire table fell silent—because of course it did.

“Yes, I work as a PA for Carl Bourdon.”

Tony’s eyebrows rose. “He’s the big boss,
isn’t he?”

“He manages the North American branch,
yes.”

“Ashley says he’s an interesting man.” Jane’s
eyes twinkled.

I shrugged. “He’s French.” Everyone nodded
sagely like that explained it all. Maybe it did.

“Liam, use your fork,” Phoebe said. “You’re
driving me crazy.”

“Sweetheart.” Jane turned toward her
daughter. “Don’t talk to them like that.”

“It’s not like they’ll remember.”

“Ass,” the one I thought was Liam exclaimed,
and Phoebe cringed.

I leaned into Ashley’s side. “The twins look
nothing like Myrna,” I whispered while everyone’s attention was on
the kids.

“That’s because they’re from a different
father,” Ashley whispered back. “I’ll explain later.”

“Oh.” I straightened. “Sure.”

I ate turkey and stuffing and roast
vegetables, and anything else that was put in front of me. Matrix
watched the table from his bed with doleful eyes but didn’t come
begging. Between courses I helped Jane carry things in and out of
the kitchen. Their house was much older than mine, and I loved the
uniqueness of it. There were nooks and crannies everywhere, hidden
steps leading to small rooms with books and desks, a little inlet
hardly big enough for a comfy chair and Jane’s sewing things.

The back looked out over a large private yard
encircled by decades-old trees. If Ashley hadn’t told me he didn’t
grow up here, I’d have imagined him running amok, playing hide and
seek with his siblings, being drawn into the kitchen to eat freshly
baked cookies. I chuckled under my breath. Christmas was making me
sentimental.
Or maybe it was Ashley
.

His family was very touchy-feely—pretty much
the opposite of mine—and Jane’s hands were on me at every
opportunity. She never said thank you or asked me to pass something
without a touch to my wrist, my elbow, my shoulder. She was a tiny
woman, but she seemed to be everywhere at once. She made me want to
call my own mother and tell her I loved her. We’d spoken that
afternoon and I’d told her then, but I still missed her.

Dessert was a meringue tower layered with
fruit and freshly whipped cream. Ashley smirked at me when he saw
the saucer-eyed worship for the sugary goodness that Phoebe planted
in front of me, but his gaze turned dark when I moaned around the
first bite.

“This is so good,” I said, or
Zis iv fo
goof
more like, and Jane blushed under my praise.

“We can’t stand fruitcake or plum pudding, so
I try something new for dessert every Christmas. I’m glad this
year’s creation is a hit.”

One of the twins—Liam, I thought, since Ryan
appeared more watchful than his brother—stuck his hand right into
his mother’s plate and stuffed his fist in his mouth. She was
scolding him, desperately gripping his hands and wiping them before
he could touch anything else, when a beam of light swept over the
living room.

“That’ll be Helen,” Tony said, and he put
down his napkin before rising to his feet. A heavy engine grumbled
and rattled as it died. Phoebe froze, and then jumped up so fast
her chair knocked back.

“Phoebs—” Ashley began, but she’d already
hurried toward the window.

“Fuck,” she said quietly, but a chill ran
down my back.

“What is it?” For the first time that night,
Ashley’s dad became really alert. His expression hardened as he
stood. He’d seemed like such a calm, quiet man before, but I
instantly knew this was not someone to be messed with.

“Frank,” Phoebe’s gaze flicked to Ashley and,
oddly, to me. Myrna shrunk in her seat. Ashley and Tony headed
toward the door with Pete right behind them.

Jane appeared by my elbow. “I think it would
be best to start clearing up a little. Would you mind giving me a
hand?”

Mother had raised me well, and it didn’t even
occur to me to say no. Automatically I collected the barely touched
dessert plates. When we stepped into the kitchen I had to ask,
“What’s going on?”

Jane clutched the sink, her back to me. I
instantly felt guilty, because this was a woman in pain. Maybe not
physically, but hurting none the less. Hurting for her children, if
I guessed correctly.

When she turned to me, she was smiling, but
it didn’t reach her eyes. “I think Ash likes you,” she told me. “I
think he likes you a lot, and I think you like him too. Beyond
colleagues and even friendship, am I right?”

“I—” My palms tingled. “It’s early still, but
yes. On my part anyway.”

She nodded like there’d been no question. “In
that case I feel I can tell you. That I can trust you.” I felt
myself nodding. Jane sighed and let the fake smile go. “Frank is
Phoebe’s ex-husband. He’s also Myrna’s father. He’s the one that
got Phoebe into drinking. She quit after they divorced, but it was
a struggle. He wasn’t always a bad guy, but the alcohol made him
ugly.” She glanced at me, and away again. “He’s a terrible
homophobe. He used to make these snide remarks that turned
downright hateful over the years. It’s one of the reasons she left
him in the end, because of how he spoke to Ashley. She couldn’t
stand to raise Myrna to hate her uncle.”

‘What about the twins’ dad? Is he…?” I
faltered as Jane eyed me carefully. “Working?” I tried.

Jane grinned. “Yes. He’s a nurse, and he’s on
the late shift tonight.”

I felt like I’d just sidestepped a land mine
and sighed in relief. “So why is Frank here?”

“Phoebe has full custody because he still
drinks a lot. I bet he’s here to see Myrna.”

This was not going to end well. While
reluctant to leave Ashley in a house with this hateful person, I
felt my presence would only make it worse. “I should go. I can just
call a cab and stay out of the way, and leave through the back
door. Frank doesn’t need to know—”

Jane took a fierce step forward. “No. We are
not going to hide you, or Ash for that matter, away like some dirty
secret. You have nothing to be ashamed of. If anyone needs to eat
some humble pie, it’s Frank. I just wanted to give you a heads up
in case he says something.”

“I don’t want to cause any trouble.”

“Honey,” Jane took both my hands in hers and
squeezed them. “You’re not the cause of trouble. He is. I’d better
go check on Myrna.”

Frank was my go-to stereotype when I imagined
what hooligans looked like. Hair shaved to within an inch of his
scalp, square-jawed, hook-nosed, and a solid mountain of flesh.
Everyone hovered in the silent living room while Frank sat on the
couch, a timid Myrna in front of him staring at her feet. I could
tell she wanted nothing more than to hide behind her mother’s
skirts, but Myrna was a brave girl, and she wouldn’t do it.

When I walked in, Frank had been asking her
about Santa. Surely no ten-year-old still believed? Myrna was
mumbling a reply when Frank’s eyes lit on me. He rose slowly to his
feet, the disgust he clearly felt at the sight of me pulling his
mouth into a grimace.

Jane stepped in front of me. “This is my
house,” she said quietly, and yet I knew everyone heard her very
clearly, especially Frank. “I will allow you to remain here and
spend a bit of time with Myrna if you can be civil. If you can’t,
you can leave right now.” She shifted her gaze to Myrna. “Darling,
will you help me carry in the cookies?”