Sex for Beginners Box Set(68)

“I know. And when things slow down after the first of the year…I’ll think about it. I do hate the idea of passing up business. I could’ve earned a lot of extra money on this assignment.”

Nan’s wistful sigh breezed over the line. “But I guess it’s just as well that you didn’t take Dominick Burns up on his offer.”

Violet frowned. “Why?”

“Well, he is a notorious playboy. He’d probably get you down to Miami and try to have his way with you.”

Violet swallowed hard. “Do you think so?” she managed to say, her voice squeaking.

“Oh, sure. You’d probably have spent the entire time fighting off his advances.”

“Yeah, that would’ve been…awful.” Violet glanced down at Winslow, who had planted himself on the sidewalk, whining. “I guess I’d better go. Duty calls. Have a great time in Aruba.”

“I will,” Nan said. “Give your parents my best. I’ll call you when I get back in town.”

Violet said goodbye and disconnected the call, then went through the steps of cajoling Winslow to do his thing. When he was finished, she carried him back to the house to save time. He practically purred in her arms.

“He did great,” she said, handing him over to Patricia. “Merry Christmas, Ms. Kingsbury. Enjoy your time in Birmingham with your son and your grandchildren.”

“Thank you, dear.” Patricia Kingsbury ruffled Winslow’s lion’s mane. “I’m leaving in the morning, but the more I think about it, the more worried I am about taking Winslow with me. Between his reluctance to go potty and the fact that one of my grandsons has allergies…” She sighed. “Well, the truth is, Violet, I was hoping you’d be willing to take care of Winslow until I return.”

Violet’s eyes went wide. “Me?”

“You’re staying in town for the holidays, aren’t you?”

“Yes, but—”

“I’ll pay you, of course. And I’d feel so much better if he were with you than in a kennel somewhere.”

Violet didn’t know whose eyes were more pleading, Patricia’s or Winslow’s. She wavered, reasoning that she could leave him at the office during the day and take him upstairs to her condo at night. And her folks probably wouldn’t mind having him over Christmas Eve.

“Okay,” she said, relenting. “But I can’t take him with me now—my SUV is full of poinsettias and I still have a number of stops to make.”

“I’ll bring him over in the morning, on my way out of town,” Patricia said quickly, as if she were afraid that Violet would change her mind. “I’ll make sure you have his carrier and all his toys and things.”

“See you then.” Violet gave Winslow one last pat, then walked back to her car with hurried steps, checking her watch. She was looking forward to seeing her mother. They’d spent very little time together since her parents had returned to town. Violet had suggested meeting for lunch once a week to help them both get into a routine of seeing each other and sharing news. She was doing what she could to establish a mother-daughter relationship, and fortunately, her mother seemed amenable to her overtures.

When Violet pulled up to her grandparents’ house, she was disappointed not to see a single light or decoration. She guessed that her parents had spent so many Christmases in foreign countries that they were out of the habit of decorating. She smiled as she pulled the box of decorations and the gifts from the front seat. She would do her best to get her parents into the holiday spirit. The trip up the well-worn steps to her childhood home never failed to warm her heart. While she had pined for her absent parents when she was little, her grandparents had made sure she experienced nothing but love and happiness in this house.

She pushed the doorbell with her elbow and leaned into the door frame to balance her awkward load. A few seconds later, her mother opened the door.

Violet smiled wide. “Hi, Mom.”

Diane Summerlin was inserting an earring that matched her chic camel-colored ensemble. Violet had always envied her mother’s casual elegance.

“Hello, Violet. Come in. What a nice surprise.”

Violet’s smile dimmed as she stepped over the threshold. “I thought we were supposed to have lunch today.”

Her mother winced. “Were we? Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. I’m supposed to meet some old friends at the club.”

Disappointment washed over her. “That’s okay. We’ll do it another time.” She noticed that the furniture in the living room had been rearranged and the curtains were different. She’d assumed her parents would be making the home their own, but the changes were jarring.

Diane brightened. “I know. You could go with me.”

But Violet knew a pity invitation when she saw one. “Thanks, but I have to get back to the office soon. Is Dad around?”

“He’s playing golf.”

“Oh.” Violet tried to smile and patted the box she held. “Maybe I’ll just stick around here and get a head start on the decorations.”

Her mother’s smile faltered. “Um, Violet, about Christmas Eve…”

At the regretful note in her mother’s voice, Violet’s heart caught. “Yes?”

Diane touched her sophisticated blond bob. “Your father and I were invited to go on a cruise to Panama with the Tollesons.”

Violet blinked. “Over Christmas?”

“The trip is all expenses paid. It would be a waste to let the tickets go unused, don’t you agree?”

“Yes,” she murmured, telling herself not to let her mother see how much their rebuff hurt.

“Your dad and I were thinking that we could all spend New Year’s Day together, maybe go to the parade. Wouldn’t that be just as good?” Diane’s voice rang with false cheer. “You probably have friends with whom you want to spend Christmas anyway, don’t you, honey?”

“Sure.” Violet was proud of herself—she even managed a smile. “When do you leave?”

“Tomorrow.” For the first time her mother looked contrite. “I was going to call you this afternoon.”

Violet nodded. “Have a great time,” she said with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. She set the gifts—the handmade coverlet and the set of carving tools—by the door, saddened that she wouldn’t get to see them opened, but not sure that it mattered anymore. “Give Daddy my love.”

Diane reached forward and kissed Violet on the cheek. “I will, honey. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Mom.” She looked down at the box of decorations she held, then turned to go, taking them with her. She kept her back straight and her tears at bay until she pulled out of the driveway and into traffic. And even then, she only allowed herself a few minutes to feel sorry for herself. She couldn’t really blame Diane and Richard. The magical Christmas had always been her fantasy, not her parents’. They truly didn’t understand what it meant to her for the three of them to spend Christmas Eve together. To them, it was no different than any other day of the year.

A profound loneliness enveloped her. Her grandparents had been her rock. Without them, her life and her heart seemed afloat. She knew that Nan was right—that since losing them, her workaholic tendencies had become more compulsive. She didn’t need a shrink to tell her that she kept moving because she didn’t want to acknowledge how empty her personal life was. But now it was staring her in the face. With Nan out of town, she didn’t have anyone to spend Christmas with.

While Violet sat stalled in interstate traffic, her mind jumped among acquaintances, but there was no one with whom she was close enough that she’d feel comfortable inviting them to share the holiday. Although…Lillian had said she was staying in town for the holidays.

Which meant Lillian could probably work until Christmas Eve. Unbidden, the thought slid into Violet’s mind.

She mentally reviewed the tasks left to do for various clients—a few last-minute gifts to buy, the pickup and delivery of a handful of tailored formal-wear, but mostly, gifts to wrap. Gifts dropped off at the office and gifts at the homes of clients. Lots and lots of gift-wrapping.

But Lillian had stated that she had experience wrapping gifts. And the business was bonded against anything that might be damaged or broken while in their care.

Violet’s mind started churning, rationalizing how she could arrange for Lillian to cover her commitments. Did she dare take Dominick Burns up on his offer?

He’d probably get you down to Miami and try to have his way with you.

A sheen of perspiration appeared on the rim of her lip. She was weary of being overlooked and underestimated, even by those who were supposed to be the closest to her. And she had to accept the blame for allowing it to happen. She was so quick to adopt the role of wallflower, of being seen, but not being heard. She was a spectator, staying on the sidelines and peeking like a voyeur into the exciting lives of others, instead of jumping in to her own. Even her chosen vocation of personal concierge meant always putting other people’s needs first.

Frustration welled in her chest, crowding her lungs and pressing against her breastbone. A lifetime of wishing, hoping, wanting…things had to change.