“Were you his wife?” I asked quietly to no one. My head tilted as I looked at her eyes. “Or are you Van’s sister?”
There was another framed photo that appeared to have been taken from a distance. There were three children playing on a beach. If I were to guess, the picture had aged, but I had no other reference than that. I couldn’t even make out the children well enough to assume their ages. Even the coloring of their hair was difficult to distinguish with the way the sunlight bleached the scene.
There were two other older couples. One appeared as if the photo was taken from a newspaper. “Who are these people?” I mumbled.
The last picture was of a girl. It too had been taken at a distance, but her face was visible. She was pretty with curly dark hair and a sweet smile with big front teeth.
“The information in the library wasn’t enough?” Van asked, entering his office.
Jumping at the sound of his voice while feeling like a child with her hand caught in the cookie jar, I nearly knocked over the arrangement of frames. Spinning around, I stared up at Van and tried to come up with a reason why I’d be in his private office. “You said to make myself at home.”
He came closer and took the framed photo of the girl from my hand. His tone and tenor were measured. “As my fiancée, there’s no place in this house you aren’t welcome. As the person writing my memoir, this is off-limits.”
“Who is she?” I asked, tilting my head toward the framed picture now in his grasp.
Van’s jaw clenched as he stared down unblinkingly at the photo.
Swallowing, I shook my head. “I’m sorry. Never mind. I overstepped.”
“She’s my niece.” He set the picture down where it had been. “That picture was taken by a private detective that I use periodically. I’m not exactly close to my family.” He feigned a smile. “Good news, my side of the wedding will be small.”
“What happened with your family?” I asked, wondering if this had anything to do with his change of last name.
Van took a deep breath. “Forget about that.” His smile grew and cadence changed. “I have a surprise for you.”
“For me? No, not a gift. Van, I don’t have anything to give—”
His finger came to my lips. “You are my gift, Julia. Don’t worry about buying me anything, ever. If something catches my eye and I want it, I get it.”
“It sounds like you’re tough to buy for.”
“I prefer the gift of watching you.”
“Watching me what,” I asked suggestively, thankful the conversation had veered away from my nosiness.
Van ran his finger over my cheek. “Watching your beautiful blue eyes as they swirl with emotion and passion. Your expressions speak volumes.” His finger came to my lips. “When your mouth is unable to make anything but indistinguishable noises, your expression shows your every thought.”
Warmth climbed up my neck to my cheeks.
“And when you blush,” he said with a grin.
Pressing my lips together, I looked over at a clock. “Is it noon already?”
“No, I couldn’t stay away.” Van took my hand and led me out of the office, down the hallways of the south wing toward the front of the house and beyond the large living room into the foyer. We kept going through the glass doors and into the entry. Finally, Van opened the tall front door.
As the cold air swirled around us, a grin overtook my face. “You have a wreath.”
Hanging from a long over-the-door hook was a giant wreath made of fresh pine and decorated with balls of gold and silver, perfect for the large door to his huge home.
Closing the door, Van led me back inside and scanned my clothes. “Go upstairs and dress in your warmest clothes. Layers are recommended.”
“I’ve heard that.”
“And your boots, coat, and I have some better gloves and a hat for you.”
“Don’t tell me it’s the orange one.”
“Orange is on purpose.”
“It doesn’t match my coat.”
Pressing his firm lips together, Van shook his head. “Ten minutes.”
“What? No. I can’t be ready that fast.” I started up the stairs with the plan to thwart a rebuttal to my next sentence. “Give me half an hour.”
Van looked down at his watch. “Clock is ticking.”
I hurried up the staircase, excited about the unknown. I left my soft leggings on and pulled my blue jeans on over them. Two pairs of socks and a sweater over my shirt completed my layers. When I’d packed for this interview, I didn’t plan on survival 101.
With five minutes to spare, I found Van in his office, behind his computer, with a cool cup of coffee. As I stepped in, my heart sank. The table behind him was completely empty. All the pictures were gone.
At the sound of my entrance, Van looked up from the screen and a smile bloomed, softening his expression. “You’re beautiful.”
“I look like I’m twenty pounds heavier with all these clothes.”
He pushed his chair back from the desk. His earlier suit was replaced by his mountain-man clothes. As his boots clipped across the wood floor, he stalked my way and a devilish grin came to life. “I can’t help that my thoughts are going to undressing you.” He pulled my hips to his. “Better than unwrapping any gift you could buy.”
I pulled on the collar of my second sweater. “It’s getting warm in here.”
“Then let’s get out of here.”
“Where are we going?”
“Do you trust me?” he asked.
“I do.”
He reached for my hand and let out a long sigh. “I want that, Julia. I’ll do my best not to spoil that trust.”
I took a step back. “What’s happening with Wade?”
“You haven’t checked?”
“I tried. I don’t have any new emails from Dad or anyone else at Wade. When I woke, I saw the article about our engagement. It was pretty basic.”
“Would you rather it was detailed? I don’t as a rule share private information with my PR people or the public.”
I shrugged. “Honestly, it was good and to the point. I appreciated that it didn’t mention my recent broken engagement.”
“What you read was issued through Sherman and Madison media. The broader media has already spun it.”
“Spun it how?”
He squeezed my hand. “No one else matters.”
“Wade?”
“The statement has stilled the devaluation. I kept my word.”
I let out a breath. “That makes me feel better.”
“You can bring your phone, but where we’re going there’s no cell signal.”
My eyes widened as excitement prickled my skin. “Are we going to the cabin?”
He tugged on my hand. “Come with me.”
Soon we were both in his big black truck and heading back down his long lane. Beyond the windows, the sun glistened on the fallen snow. The heater filled the cab with warm air as Van took some barely marked narrow roads. All at once, the cabin came into view. “Is it silly that I’m excited about a one-room cabin?”
He parked the truck. “No. I am too. This cabin holds some wonderful memories.” He grinned. “Recent memories.”