“Are you there?” Mindy asked when she answered her phone.
“Just got here, and it’s snowing. I checked the forecast and now it’s saying at least four inches. Maybe more. I really think you should consider leaving earlier than tomorrow morning. I’m worried the roads won’t be passable.”
Several moments of background noise filtered through from her sister’s side of the line. “There’s no way. Things are crazy busy here.”
“But you’re the boss. You have to take a break sometime, and this is the weekend to decorate the house. There won’t be another one.” With every new word from Sophie’s mouth, she started to feel a bit more panicked. She cared deeply about following through on the family tradition. “I can’t do it by myself. I don’t want to do it by myself. It’s not right.”
“First off, I have no doubt that you can do it yourself. Second, there’s a chance you won’t have to.”
“So you’ll knock off early and get your butt up here?”
“No. I’m sticking to my plan to leave tomorrow. But there’s a chance you might run into Jake.”
“Run into him? Where?” Sophie’s heart leaped into her throat.
“I don’t know. The kitchen? The sitting room?”
“What did you do? Did you send him after me?”
“As serious as you are about not selling, I’m just as determined to change your mind.”
A swarm of conflicting emotions buzzed in Sophie’s head—anger, frustration and the familiar flutter of anticipation that had become synonymous with seeing Jake. How Sophie wished that part of her brain would stop being so hard on her. “I can’t believe you would do this to me.”
“I wouldn’t if it was a stranger. But you know Jake. You’ve known him forever. I just think he wanted the chance to talk to you alone.”
The word echoed all around her—alone, alone, alone. “He won’t come. He has too much pride to grovel.”
“He showed up at your office with dozens and dozens of peonies, didn’t he? Sounds to me like he’ll do anything to make a good impression on you.”
Sophie shook her head and started down the center hall, with its herringbone brick floor and wide white baseboards. She could already smell the fresh pine of the Christmas tree she’d asked Barry, the Eden House caretaker, to deliver. The fragrance alone lifted her spirits, all while the idea of Jake trying to make an impression aggravated her. He’d never really tried before now, certainly not eight years ago when she’d wanted it more than anything. So what had changed? The promise of a big deal. That was all Jake cared about. Any overtures he made were not only designed to manipulate her and pull at her heartstrings, they were solely prompted by money. She couldn’t let him play with her like that. “I have to go.”
“Are you mad, Soph?”
“Of course I’m mad. You put me in Jake’s crosshairs. You know how badly he hurt me. He broke my heart.”
“I know that. I reminded him of it when we talked.”
“You did?” Sophie stepped into what Gram had always called the sitting room. The tree was in the corner, waiting to be trimmed, all while Sophie was overcome with the sort of embarrassment that haunts a teenage girl forever. “He already doesn’t take me seriously as a businesswoman. Why did you have to bring our romantic past into it?”
“Because he’s a clueless man. He couldn’t figure out why you were giving him such a hard time.”
“I don’t want to sell. This has nothing to do with romance.”
Mindy tutted as if she was scolding Sophie. “You really expect me to believe that? Because I don’t. Your history with him is clouding your judgment, and you need to get past that. Not just for my sake, but for yours. I think it’ll be good for you two to finally talk things through. Clear the air.”
Sophie trailed over to one of the tall leaded-glass windows overlooking the sprawling yard. What she could see of the grounds was already covered in a thin blanket of white, with the storm steadily adding more layers. In the spring and summer, this was a lush green vista that had always seemed to go on forever—much like her feelings for Jake, the ones that she desperately wished would just end. “There’s nothing for Jake and me to talk about. I already know how he feels about me.”
“And how is that, exactly?”
“He sees me as sweet, gullible Sophie. The woman who would do anything for him. I’m not that girl anymore. I won’t let him trick me into being her, either.”
Mindy grumbled. “Just listen to him if he shows up, okay? That’s all I ask.”
“As long as you promise you’ll still try to come up tomorrow.”
“I’ll do my best. I’ll give you a call in the morning with an update, okay?”
“Fine.”
“Love you, Soph.”
“Love you, too.” Sophie hung up and drew in a deep breath, blowing it out through her nose. She considered calling Jake and telling him to not come, but maybe Mindy was right. Maybe it was time for the two of them to really hash things out. Maybe that would finally let her forget him for good.
In the meantime, Sophie didn’t dare start the decorating until Mindy arrived tomorrow. Plus, after her long drive, and her hellish workweek, she was simply exhausted. A nap wasn’t merely in order; it was a necessity. She grabbed her suitcase and headed upstairs.
Eden House slept twenty people comfortably, which meant that Sophie and Mindy had always each had their own bedroom. Sophie’s was the second on the right in the upstairs hall, directly across from Gram’s master suite. It was beautifully decorated in white and soft tones of gray and pink, with a cloud-like four-poster bed and the most picturesque view of the backyard and woods beyond. Sophie changed into comfy lavender silk pajama pants with a tank top and climbed under the fluffy comforter. Not bothering to set the alarm on her phone, she closed her eyes, let her head sink into the feather pillows and tried as hard as she could not to think about whether or not Jake was going to turn up on her doorstep.
When Sophie woke, the room was much darker. From somewhere beyond her door, she’d heard a banging sound. Bang bang bang. She bolted up in bed and clutched the covers to her chest, her brain slowly whirring to life. How long had she been asleep? She fumbled for her phone. Her nap had lasted for hours. Bang bang bang. Sophie jumped. Then she heard the more pleasant ring of the doorbell and she realized what all that banging was. Jake.
She grabbed a thick cream-colored cardigan, tucked her feet into her boiled-wool slippers and hurried down the hall. As she descended the staircase, clutching the banister, she craned her neck, trying to see through the sidelight. The snow was coming down so fast now it was impossible to make out much more than a dark jacket and a tall figure.
Was it Jake? Logic said yes, but what if it wasn’t? Sophie was not a paranoid person, but if that was a strange man out there, she’d better be prepared. She was all alone in this house, practically a sitting duck. Frantically, she scanned the foyer for something to defend herself with. Nothing too scary. She just needed a little insurance. Unfortunately, everything her eyes landed on was too bulky, like a lamp, or useless, like a book. Then she spotted the cast-iron fleur-de-lis doorstop next to the front door. It was heavy but fit into her hand nicely. It would have to do, although she couldn’t imagine having the nerve to ever hit anyone with it. The threat was most important, she decided.
Gripping it tightly in one hand, she held it flat against the side of her leg. With her other hand, she flipped the dead bolt and unlocked the door.
Icy