She didn’t ever use the F-word. She didn’t. But she was hurting, panicked. Shaking.
“Get off! ” She pointed. “Get off the property, now. It’s not for sale. I’ll take care of whatever financial mess my parents are in. You won’t steal this property from them. You can’t.”
Cole jerked back as if slapped, his jaw setting in a steely hard line, a solemn expression in his dark eyes. “It’s not like that, Holly,” he said, his voice low now, as tight as a rubber band ready to pop. “And I can’t believe you’d think that of me. Your parents want to travel. They’re excited about selling.”
Of course, they said that. Who admitted having financial difficulties?! She drew in a hard-earned breath. “Leave, Cole,” she whispered. “Go away and don’t ever come back.”
She turned on her heels and raced toward the door, expecting him to follow. But she reached the stairs, reached the door, and Cole wasn’t there. She wrapped her hand around the doorknob and knew he was still standing where she’d left him and it hurt. She shoved open the door and went inside, leaned on the wooden surface and waited for the knock that didn’t come. A stinging sensation bit at the back of her eyes. She didn’t want to cry. She refused to cry over Cole Wiley, a man who’d obviously been manipulating and using her in some way.
She squeezed her eyes shut. Damn, damn, damn. She was crying.
***
AS EXCITED AS HOLLY WAS about seeing her sister Rachel, and as hard and long as she hugged her, it was torture to bite her tongue through the happy homecoming and not pull her parents aside. It was, after all, only an hour after she’d wiped her tears from her confrontation with Cole. She’d pulled herself together, after being instructed to bring the ruby to the main house, and now Holly sat next to Rachel in the family living room. She watched as her mother placed the stone on the mantel and announced that the ruby’s destiny would be disclosed Christmas morning.
“Grandma left a sealed letter with instructions,” Margaret explained. “She wanted us all here when it’s opened.”
“Well, of course, it’s going to Holly,” Rachel said, casting her a sideways look. “The oldest. The golden child who did no wrong.”
Holly snipped that idea immediately, not about to carry the added weight of this childhood argument at a time like this—with their family home on the line. “The golden child, as in the babysitter, diaper changer, the one who got in trouble for everything you guys did. You sound like Mason now. Please.”
Rachel narrowed her eyes on Holly and laughed. “God, I’ve missed arguing with you.”
Holly found herself smiling despite the stress weighing on her shoulders. “I’ve missed arguing with you, too.”
“Whatever the destiny of the ruby,” Margaret said, “Grandma found a way to make it special for the entire family.” The family story of the ruby followed—including Grandma Redding’s belief that it held the magic of love—and Holly fought back a wave of emotion. The ruby wish had started her down the path that had led to Cole, and looking at the whimsical expression on Rachel’s lovely, heart-shaped face, she was headed to the same place.
“So all I have to do is wish for a big, hunky guy, and he’ll come calling?” Rachel joked. She shoved a wave of dark hair behind her ear and bit her lip. “I think I’ll wish for someone tall—at least six foot three, broad shoulders, a six-pack, and blue eyes.” She sighed. “Yeah. That would be nice.”
Holly scoffed at that before she could stop herself. “Careful what you wish for,” she said, thinking of her own wish. “You might get it.”
Rachel and Margaret both stared at Holly. Rachel arched a dark brow. “Something you need to talk about, sis?”
“What?” she asked. “No. I’m just uptight about my deadlines. I need to get back to work.” She hugged Rachel. “I want to hear all about that big-time advertising career of yours before you leave. Love ya, sweetie. Glad you’re home.”
Holly stood up and tried to sound nonchalant. “Mom, that contractor who came today left some paperwork he said you needed, if you want to walk over to the cottage with me to get it?”
Her mother’s face froze. “Contractor?”
“Cole Wiley,” Holly said. “He went over everything with me in detail.”
“Yes,” Margaret said. “I’ll be right over.”
The doorbell rang and before anyone had a chance to respond it was open. Buzzy, the nosy neighbor next door, sounded off as she let herself in. “Hello, everyone!” Holly’s eyes met her mother’s and in silent, mutual agreement, they made a path for the door. Neither of them wanted to deal with Buzzy’s questions right now. Poor Rachel would just have to deal with the joy of a welcome home, Nosy Buzzy style.