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CHAPTER TWENTY
JOY STOOD AT her large office window, watching the Christmas decorating below. A fire truck raced down the street with a Christmas wreath attached to the front grille. She couldn’t help smiling. Joy always happily anticipated Thanksgiving preparations. It was the one time of year her grandfather left her hometown of Indian Lake, coming to New York to be with her. The fire truck blasted its siren and Joy smiled, remembering her grandfather always hanging a wreath on the front of his old truck and then driving her around Indian Lake with a thermos of hot cocoa, singing Christmas songs together as they looked at the lights reflected in the frozen lake waters. She’d thought then even the aurora borealis couldn’t compare to the beauty and sparkle of Indian Lake at Christmas.
Her view of Manhattan had blurred, and she wiped away her tears. She hugged herself, wondering why her thoughts kept wandering back to her grandfather so much this year. Perhaps it was because this year they wouldn’t be spending Thanksgiving together. Her grandfather owned the largest poinsettia wholesale nursery in northwestern Indiana. Though Joy’s year-end at Newly and Associates CPA firm was grueling, Frank Boston’s Christmas rush was brutal. This year he told her he simply could not break away.
“He’s so busy…bless his heart,” Joy mumbled.
The rap on the doorjamb was familiar. “Hey, girl,” Glory said. “Got a minute?”
Joy turned and smiled. Glory Washington was not only her best friend, but her roommate. They’d met the first week Joy had come to work at Newly and Associates. Glory was a month older than Joy to the day and never let her forget that she had seniority. When Glory wanted something her way, she usually got it. Glory was also the most trusting, generous and brassy person Joy had ever met, and Joy loved her to pieces.
“For you? Always. What’s up?”
Glory’s smile flashed impishly as she sashayed into the office in high-heeled suede boots, which she’d no doubt bought at one of her favorite resale shops. She wore a faux fur deep burgundy coat, black wool skirt, black cowl-neck sweater and an enormous rhinestone snowflake clip in her blond-black-and-cherry-bark dreads. The woman could wear a potato sack and look stunning.
“I saw you with the old man. You think he’s going to make you partner after the wedding?”
Glory was referring to Joy’s seven-day-old engagement to Chuck Newly, handsome, successful, ambitious and heir of the two-centuries-old New York Newly family.
She couldn’t wait to tell her grandfather, and she was doubly sad that he wouldn’t be in New York for Thanksgiving. He hadn’t returned her call from a few days ago, and she’d been too swamped at work to call him again. She was giddy with excitement about the announcement, though. She’d call him tonight for certain.
“Glory. Honestly,” Joy snorted, “you have a talent for shooting for the moon without any fuel or even the rocket. I’m not marrying Chuck to get ahead in my career.”
“Yeah? Why, then?”
“Because he’s sweet to me, uh, when we’re finally alone. Not always easy. He’s smart…and…and good to the employees and he’s clearly devoted to his father. His attitude toward family is important to me, you know? His mother must have been wonderful.”
Glory folded her arms over her chest, her faux Louis Vuitton purse banging against her side.
Joy frowned. She didn’t like that probing, accusatory stare Glory was piercing her with. “And…they’ve planned an incredible Thanksgiving for us. We’ll watch the parade at some friends’ penthouse. Then dinner at Le Bernadin.”
“Wow. Impressive,” Glory groaned and rolled her eyes.
“Liar. You’re not impressed.”
“Neither should you be.”
“What?”
“You already bought a turkey. We were going to have the whole gang over for dinner. Remember?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Did you forget?”
“No. Not really. But when Mr. Newly…Dad, I mean, told us of his plans, what could I say?”
“Oh, no. I get that. Alexander Newly is the most overbearing person I’ve ever met.”
Joy smiled. “And that’s saying a lot… coming from you.”
“Okay. Fine. I admit to being somewhat obtrusive on occasion, but it’s for everybody’s own good. I like being the mother hen.”
“This, of course, is because you’re older than I am.”
“That’s right.”
“You’re the best roommate in the world. And we still have Christmas.”
“Look, I don’t mind missing the holidays, if I thought you were happy.”
“Don’t start. I’ve told you. I’m happy! What’s not to be happy about? I’m engaged to a handsome, up-and-coming guy who—”
Glory cut in. “Whose father appears to love you more than he does.”
“That’s not true,” Joy countered as she fingered a sheaf of papers on her desk. Anytime the truth pinched the edges of her heart, she immediately rebuffed the feeling by moving on to something new. Immersing herself in yet another client’s financial fiasco or potential bankruptcy was her forte. She
