Chapter 18
But as soon as the disastrous present opening experience was over, it was time for a new disaster. Chrissy looked at Ethan, and his gut twisted with dreaded anticipation as he took in her expression.
“I would like to thank you all for the nice presents,” she announced to the room at large. “The airports are open now, and I scheduled a flight to leave first thing in the morning.” She turned to Ethan. “I’m sick of this. Sick of you and this whole situation. I’m blowing the whistle on your little secret here, and Suzanne Rey is about to be exposed.”
He could feel Belle and Cam freeze and stare at them in horror. “Chrissy,” he said carefully, glancing at PJ and willing her to understand. “I can’t make PJ give you the interview. If she doesn’t want to come clean and admit that she’s Suzanne Rey, then there’s nothing I can do to help. But I think this is a really rotten thing to do. This family has been nothing but kind to you, and this is how you repay that kindness?”
Chrissy didn’t answer, but she looked uncomfortable. Coy, however, interrupted with a laugh. “PJ, you’re Suzanne Rey?” he said. “No kidding! I love your work.” He beamed at her.
“I don’t…I’m not…” PJ stammered, looking helplessly at Ethan.
“She’s not Suzanne Rey,” Cam said, his tone resigned.
“I am,” Cade interrupted. Everyone turned to look at him in shock, especially his wife, Layla. “Why do you think I spend so much time in the office?” he said, giving Layla a significant look to try and counter the stricken, betrayed expression on her face. Josh looked from Cade to Cam to Belle and back again a few times before stepping forward.
“He’s lying,” Josh said. “I’m Suzanne Rey. I stuff my feelings deep down inside to write about them later.” Now it was his wife, Sam’s, turn to look confused. Coy, however, was starting to catch on.
“Or maybe it’s me,” he added. “I’m a lot deeper than people think I am.”
“Maybe it’s all of us,” Layla said, having finally caught up to what was happening. “Maybe it’s a collaborative effort. I, for one, am willing to give an interview, though, Chrissy.”
“Me, too,” Cade echoed.
“Me, too,” Josh and Coy added.
“You’re not all Suzanne Rey,” Chrissy said, sounding pouty and frustrated. “Stop trying to protect her.” She pointed accusingly at PJ.
“Which magazine do you work for?” This time it was Belle who spoke. Everyone swiveled to look at her because she sounded different from the Belle they were used to. Everyone but Ethan who smiled in anticipation of what was coming. He knew this Belle, his boss, the tough New York literary agent who was finally about to give Chrissy what was coming to her.
“New York Reader,” Chrissy said, sounding uncertain for the first time.
Belle smiled and Chrissy actually shuddered. “Can you hand me the phone please, Sam?” she said to her sister-in-law, reaching for it. Sam gave her the phone and everyone watched as she dialed a number from memory. “Bob, hi, it’s Belle Landry King,” she said. “Merry Christmas to you, too. I’m sorry to bug you when we’re supposed to be away from it all, but I’m sitting here with one of your reporters.” She paused and looked at Chrissy who was staring at her in mute horror. “What’s your name?”
“Chrissy,” everyone supplied when Chrissy didn’t answer.
“Chrissy,” Belle said. “And, correct me if I’m wrong, Bob, but didn’t we have an agreement that I would give you exclusive details about new Suzanne Rey releases if you left her identity alone? Right. Right. Yes, she did. Yes, she is.” Chrissy was squirming uncomfortably now. “Fire her?” Belle said, pinning Chrissy with an icy stare when she cried out. The moment hung endlessly until at last Belle smiled and returned to her conversation. “No, I don’t think that will be necessary. I’m sure you’ll know best how to handle the situation. Thanks, Bob. Give my love to Gwen and the kids.” With that, she hung up and turned her attention back to Chrissy. “Go pack. I’m finding you a flight today and one of the hands will drive you to the airport. I think it goes without saying that you are not welcome back to Montana, but if I could offer you a piece of advice, I would tell you to rethink your approach. I’ve been in the publishing business a long time and while backstabbing and social climbing may seem like a good way to get ahead, it isn’t.”
Belle stared her down until at last Chrissy dropped her eyes and slunk away without another word. Chrissy’s door clicked softly closed, and Belle looked at Ethan.
“You should have told me,” she said.
“I didn’t want to worry you; you’ve been so sick, and I didn’t want to add any more stress,” Ethan said.
“I appreciate that, Ethan, but I’m fine, and it’s my job to worry about this sort of thing,” Belle said.
“No one should have to worry about it,” Cam said. “I should just come clean.”
“You think?” Coy asked, indignant. “I’ve been sneaking around reading Ivy’s Suzanne Rey books, thinking I was enjoying reading girl stuff, and my own brother is the author. This is humiliating.”
PJ sat forward as if just now catching on. “You’re Suzanne Rey?” she asked, staring at Cam in disbelief.
Now it was his turn to squirm uncomfortably. “Yes,” he admitted. “Ethan was sworn to secrecy,” he added, guessing what had been the cause of the rift between them. “He was trying to protect me.”
PJ turned to Ethan with an unreadable expression, but it was late and the gathering was beginning to disperse. Activity swirled around them as they stared at each other. He wanted to explain or apologize or something, but he just sat there, motionless and silent, and so did she until at last she stood.
“I should go to bed,” she said. She slipped by him without looking back and silently closed her door.
Ethan was getting ready to go to bed himself when a heavy hand clamped on his shoulder. “Tomorrow you and I need to have a little talk,” Grant said, his tone serious and deadly. Ethan looked up—way up—to see that his expression was grim, too. Ethan nodded, thinking that being beaten half to death by a Honeywell would be the perfect end to this horrible vacation.
Morning came, though, and it was difficult to feel gloomy. It had snowed again in the night, covering Christmas Day with a blanket of glistening white fluff. For a moment, Ethan felt panicked, thinking maybe Chrissy hadn’t been able to make it to the airport, but she had. As soon as he exited his room, the cheery, festive atmosphere of the kitchen told him so. In fact, someone was humming Ding Dong, the Witch is Dead, and he thought maybe it was PJ. Though she seemed in high spirits, she was still avoiding him, and Ethan couldn’t fathom why. Could she still be angry and disappointed in him? Was a lie a lie, no matter who he had been protecting?
With the family around, he wasn’t able to talk to her. Just as he worked up the nerve to do so, the now-familiar clamp on his shoulder told him Grant had arrived. “We need to have a little talk,” Grant said. Not waiting to make sure Ethan was following, he turned and headed outside.