Tis The Season for Secrets (Village of Yule #2)

8. Juliet

D ropping her Christmas shopping on the couch, Juliet sighed in relief. She’d never got her Christmas shopping done as early as the 8 th before. The best part of being off during the week was being able to get her shopping done without crowds and never-ending queues. Even on a Friday afternoon, she’d barely had to queue after finding the perfect gifts for Margot and Beth. Now she just had to hide them from her sleuth friend.

“What scandals need tidying up this week?” she asked Margot, who was in front of her blindingly bright computer screens with her knees tucked under her chin.

“Just finished up with my last client, and then the weekend can begin. His mistress was stealing from his company. I almost feel bad for hacking into her account; I think she deserves a Christmas bonus for sleeping with a man three times her age.” Margot winced, tossing back the last of her long-melted iced coffee. “Also, my Aunt Gabby texted me to say she hasn’t received your RSVP for the Christmas Gala tonight.” Margot set her fluffy-sock-covered feet onto the corner of her desk. One of the things they had in common was that they’d never mastered being able to sit at a desk ‘properly’.

“I didn’t get the invitation. They usually go to my dad, and if he hasn’t requested my appearance then I’m not going to remind him.” Juliet shrugged, relieved he hadn’t called to force her to attend this year. The last four years had been painful enough.

“Strange that you haven’t heard from him by now.”

“Please don’t jinx it.”

“Not attending again this year?” Juliet asked, wondering if she’d escaped this year or if her dad was just waiting to pounce last minute. Invitations were only extended to the esteemed parents and their eldest child of the wealthiest and most powerful families in the country. Throughout the dinner, everyone boasted about their achievements and that of their precious darlings. The event made the Met look like a public affair.

“No, Dad still isn’t talking to me for not joining his security firm so he’ll probably take one of my brothers.” Margot plaited her hair over her shoulder, as she did when she was anxious. “He doesn’t want me stealing any of his precious clients, and even if I’m technically invited, I’d probably be turned away. No one wants to fall out with him.”

“What about your aunt? I’m sure she’d bend the rules for you, since she helped you get your business started.” Juliet took her shopping to her room.

“She would if I asked, but I’m sure the others on the invitation committee wouldn’t accept it.” Margot’s voice travelled down the hall.

“I wish you could go in my place in disguise. Although you’d have to deal with my stepmother trying to match you up with someone suitable . I think she believes marrying me off will get me out of the family once and for all. Then again, what wife wants the illegitimate child hanging around?” Juliet ranted. “And if being made to feel like prized cattle isn’t bad enough, the worst part of the evening is the whispers from those who think I shouldn’t even be there because I was born ‘out of wedlock’ and to a woman nobody knows anything about. As if I even want to go!”

“I’d be surprised if Gillian tried to set you up again this year– not after last year’s scandal.” Margot smirked as Juliet flopped back down on the couch.

“Don’t start. The jerk deserved it. A prince should know to keep his hands to himself.” Juliet winced, remembering how she’d slapped the Prince of Maldonia when he had groped her during a dance. She left the room again, in search of a sweater and to avoid the conversation.

“The video got over one million hits in twenty-four hours. The media should’ve cut you a cheque– and it did raise awareness for the charity.” Margot chuckled, having been the one to remove it from the internet after Juliet had pleaded for her help. The money raised on the night always went to war orphans, who probably suffered from a war some people at the gala profited from.

“I would’ve preferred if the precious prince hadn’t grabbed my ass at all,” Juliet called, grabbing her warm cream cardigan from the storage box beneath her bed. Oh shit, the box! She had forgotten about her nana’s chest in the chaos of the week. She was about to reach for it when the landline phone rang.

Juliet stuck her head into the living area, where Margot was reaching to pick it up. Who is it? Juliet mouthed, as her friend sat up and pushed away from her desk.

“Mr Frost! I’m afraid Juliet’s still at work.” Margot was well used to lying on her behalf.

Juliet mouthed a pitiful thank you . She reached for her phone to check her messages.

“That’s odd. Her office told you she’s left for the holidays?” Margot grimaced. “Oh, right – I forgot she went Christmas shopping. I’ll get her to call you when she’s back. Yes, sir. I will.”

Twenty missed calls pinged as Juliet turned on her phone. Even her stepmother had tried to call her.

“Why did you turn off your phone? I hate when he shows up when you don’t respond.” Margot shut off her screens from prying eyes, as though Juliet’s dad was about to burst through the door.

“I’ve got four weeks to do whatever I please, and I didn’t want to get caught in my father’s festive plans,” Juliet muttered, picking up a pastel pink blanket from where it lay in a heap on the floor and tossing it over the cream couch.

Frantic, they tidied up the apartment as best they could, covering the dishes in the sink with a wooden cutting board and closing their bedroom doors to conceal the mess within. They both knew there was no way Mr Frost wouldn’t come himself, and he’d report whatever he saw to Margot’s father, his lifelong frenemy.

After twenty minutes, both surveyed the sitting area. Legally Blonde was still frozen on the TV screen from breakfast, and the bookshelves that sat across from Margot’s desk needed a dust, but they’d done their best.

“If we get out of here before my dad arrives, he won’t know you lied and it’ll spare us both an argument,” Juliet said, much preferring for them to flee.

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” Margot pulled on her trainers and wrapped a giant scarf over her NYC jumper. She didn’t like coats– they made her claustrophobic. Juliet shoved her laptop in her bag, hoping to get some writing done during her break, and threw open the door.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!”

Her father, Jeremy Frost, stood in the hall with an intimidating grin. As usual, not a strand of his black hair, peppered with grey, was out of place. Even his navy suit was probably too afraid to wrinkle. It was at moments like this that Juliet knew God had a warped sense of humour.

“Is that any way to greet your dear ol’ dad?” Mr Frost brushed past her smugly, not waiting for an invitation. He watched Margot backing up towards the couch. Even though Margot was taller, he had an aura that made people shrink.

“Wonderful timing, sir,” Margot lied, forcing a wide smile. “She just got in.”

To take the heat off her friend, Juliet tried to apologise. “I’m sorry I didn’t answer your calls. I was out and left my phone behind.”

“Am I truly so frightening?” Mr Frost raised his greying eyebrows, and she noticed the suit bag occupying his other arm. Maybe he just came from the dry cleaners? Juliet hoped it wasn’t anything for her. Gifts always came at a steep price.

“Yes,” Margot muttered. Both Frosts turned to look at her. She quickly moved to the kitchen. “I’ll put the kettle on.”

“How is your father, Margot? I haven’t seen him at the Club recently,” Frost commented, though he knew they weren’t talking.

Margot’s shoulders stiffened as she filled the kettle. “You know him – he prefers to work rather than spend his time idling away.”

Mr Frost clenched his jaw at the insinuation, and Juliet felt herself sweating. Only Margot could get away with talking to him like that, thanks to her family name and connections. It would only take a snap of her fingers for Mr Frost to end up in some unmarked grave. She’d even offered once. Juliet wanted her dad out of her life, not dead. However, it was nice to have the option.

“Aren’t you going to give your father a hug?” Mr Frost wrapped his free arm around her. She froze; his calm and happy demeanour confused her. “Don’t frown, you don’t want to get wrinkles.”

Juliet’s expression softened.

“Better. I already pay enough for your stepmother’s Botox.” He surveyed the apartment, no doubt wondering again how the girls could possibly live in this shoebox. But they loved it– and it came with no strings attached, even if it wasn’t up to his square footage standard.

He’s only this cheery when he wants something. “To what do we owe the pleasure? I’m sure your calendar is overwhelming; a visit wasn’t necessary.” Juliet cut to the chase, even though he had hundreds of employees to keep the Frost industrial empire going without him.

“Don’t play dumb, it doesn’t suit you. Your attendance at tonight’s Christmas Gala is requested, and Gillian has kindly selected two dresses for you to choose from.” Her father lifted his suit trousers and sat down on the lilac stool by the kitchen counter.

“I thought requests could be accepted or declined?” Juliet hid the irritation in her voice to stay on his good side. Mr Frost wasn’t like Margot’s dad, who’d iced her out when he was mad at her for leaving the family business for a less murderous career. Juliet’s dad only inserted himself more into her life if she didn’t give in to his requests.

“I would love to give you the option,” he started.

Liar. She kept that to herself.

“However, after last year’s incident, you’ve no choice but to attend and make amends. As a Frost, you have responsibilities, and you will act accordingly,” he told her, his thick brows pulled together. As if she could ever forget who she was. “Be at the Museum of Natural History by eight tonight.”

Margot set a cup of coffee in front of him, but there was no way he’d drink it. Not unless it was an Irish coffee.

“Don’t be late. Gillian doesn’t like guests coming in once the speeches start. She won’t be embarrassed again, and I don’t want to spend another Christmas in sullen silence,” he added. His wife co-chaired with Margot’s aunt, making the exclusive event all the harder to skip.

“I wouldn’t want to embarrass the family. Again.” Juliet resisted the urge to smile at the thought of his displeasure. As punishment for last year’s embarrassment, her stepmother had refused to talk to them for the entire week Juliet had spent at the Frost estate. It was one of the best Christmases she’d had to date, despite it being the first without her nana.

“That’s the spirit! It’s the Christmas season, after all. We shouldn’t be at odds with each other.”

Juliet didn’t even dignify that with a response. Wanting to see the damage, she unzipped the suit bag, wondering if Gillian had chosen something more tasteful than last year’s pink, ruffled monstrosity. She pulled out a strapless emerald dress with a slit up the leg. Huh, maybe she’s starting to hate me a little less.

“My assistant booked your hair appointment for four at the salon Madame, so be prompt.” Gillian would probably have the spies in her favourite salon confirm that Juliet turned up for her appointment.

Juliet darted her eyes to Margot. It seemed like so far all she had to do was dress up and attend…

“There is something else,” Mr Frost said, heading toward the door and leaving his coffee untouched.

And there it is.

“There’s someone we want you to meet. A Mr Duncan. His real-estate portfolio is impressive, and I want him on our books.”

“Dad, does it ever disgust you to pimp out your daughter to the highest bidder?” Juliet asked, opening the door for him. The name sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place it. Not that it mattered; he was sure to be some leech trying to please her father.

Her dad let out a bark of a laughter. “That wit! One of the many traits we share.”

Juliet’s skin crawled at the thought of sharing anything with him.

He put his thick-knuckled hand on the door before she could close it. Still strong for a man in his early fifties. “Is it a sin to want my daughter to have a good life? If we both benefit from tonight, then I see no harm done.” He headed towards the stairs, not waiting for her answer. “See you tonight, chickpea.”

He only called her “chickpea” when he wanted to pretend they had a normal father-daughter relationship. Juliet slammed the door, then opened it and did it again. It helped relieve some of the anger, but not all. She’d have done it once more, but the door was rather old, and she didn’t want to break the frame.

“I should’ve just gone to some abandoned island for the holidays and left my phone behind.”

“He still would have tracked you down. Probably would’ve hired one of my brothers to do it too,” Margot pointed out, handing her the coffee her father had abandoned. I need something much stronger . “At least the dresses are pretty, though. I think Gillian actually wants you to look nice this year.” She held the second dress from the suit bag against herself: a silver midi with crystal-beaded straps. With her icy hair, it made her look like a snow queen.

Juliet smiled into her coffee, knowing exactly what would make the night more bearable.

Margot grimaced. “I don’t like it when you get that look in your eye.”

“Well, I’ve got two dresses, and it’d be a shame for one to go to waste… and having back-up might disrupt whatever sordid plans my father has in store.”

“You’re supposed to be making up for last year’s scandal, not scheming for another,” Margot accused her, but Juliet could see the twinkle in her eye as she held the silver silk against her body.

“Like you said earlier – technically, you’re already invited. I don’t want to go alone, and you can keep me in check.” Juliet grinned. “C’mon, it’s not like your aunt wouldn’t love to see you, or she wouldn’t have checked in earlier.”

Margot hesitated, chewing her lip. Juliet resorted to begging.

“Please! Frost is trying to marry me off again to this Duncan guy for the sake of a deal, but if I’ve got a stunning friend with me, he’ll be too distracted. You said you wanted to find some new clients, and this is the perfect opportunity!” She gave her the biggest puppy-dog eyes she could.

Margot wavered. “It is kind of a pity to let this dress go to waste…”

“It was made for you,” Juliet agreed. The slinky outfit complemented Margot’s golden skin perfectly.

“Okay, I’m in.”

Juliet threw her arms around her. “I’ll call the salon! Leave it all to me.” Buzzing with excitement over her plan, she grabbed her phone to find the number for the exclusive hair salon, Madame.

“Madame.” The receptionist spoke with a thick British accent.

“Hello! It’s Juliet Frost,” Juliet said brightly.

“Ms Frost, how are you? Mr Frost called ahead already; you’re scheduled for four o’clock.”

“That’s wonderful– only, I’ve got a small problem,” she admitted, copying her stepmother’s half-apologetic, half-whiny tone whenever she wanted something.

“There’s never a problem at Madame, especially for a Frost! What can I help you with?” the receptionist begged, eager to please. Juliet’s stepmother had helped Madame Brigit gain legal ownership of the hair salon when her ex-husband had tried to divorce her and take it from her. Mrs Frost’s methods, though successful, hadn’t been altogether ethical.

“My father, Mr. Frost…” Juliet knew she was milking it, but she needed all the luck she could get. Everywhere else would be fully booked. “He was meant to make the appointment for two, myself and a Ms Roth, but silly Dad only made the appointment for one.” She cringed at herself.

“I’m sorry, Ms Frost, but with tonight’s event we’re already fully booked.” The receptionist sounded gutted not to be able to help, and Juliet used that to her advantage.

She let out a long, audible sigh. “I understand completely, and I’d hate to put you under any pressure. I’ll have to go to Claudia’s instead—”

“That won’t be necessary! We can accommodate you!” the receptionist said quickly. “Just a moment, please.”

Juliet heard her fingers flying over the keyboard. She felt awful for causing the woman such panic when she’d never intended to cancel, but this was an emergency.

“We’ve got a free seat at ten past four. Will your guest’s treatments be charged to Mrs Frost’s account also?” the woman asked, making Juliet’s day even better.

“Yes, all on the Frost account. Thank you for all your help.” She had some cash left in her purse after shopping for a nice tip; she made a mental note not to forget.

“For the daughter of Mrs Frost, it’s a pleasure. Please tell Mrs Frost we look forward to seeing her very soon,” the receptionist said. Juliet knew Gillian would be there at noon for her standing appointment; she helped plan the Christmas Gala, and she’d be sure to arrive before all the guests. Juliet was relieved to hear they wouldn’t run into each other.

After exchanging polite goodbyes, she put her phone on the kitchen counter. “Done!” She winked at Margot.

“I can’t believe you got me in! They book out months in advance.” Margot beamed. “I’ll have to put it on one of my credit cards until my next client pays up. They charge hundreds for a freaking manicure.” Margot might have come from money, but she’d put everything into her business, and her family had cut her off once she announced she had no intention of following their plans for her future. Juliet could never thank her enough for always supporting her. Hopefully, this would be a good opportunity for her.

“No need– it’ll be charged to Gillian’s account. I’d pay to see her reaction when she gets the bill,” she said mischievously.

Her stepmother had always begrudgingly given her what she thought was appropriate to keep up appearances befitting a daughter of the Frost family, but Juliet had been the first Frost to work her way through school and college because her stepmother had kept the money her dad had originally planned to give to Juliet for expenses. She’d claimed Juliet wasn’t mature enough to handle her own finances, but Gillian obviously just didn’t want her to have any financial freedom. She’d only been able to attend college because Nana Rose had paid for what her scholarship didn’t, and she’d covered the rest herself. An education meant freedom, and they’d wanted to keep her on a tight leash.

Yet when they’d learned about her plans to go whether they liked it or not, and the power was out of their hands, her dad had suddenly loved to brag about her excellent grades and her academic scholarship, as though it hadn’t been out of necessity.

“Thank you, but it’s too much!” Margot argued.

“It’s not nearly enough, and you can thank Gillian.” Juliet smiled. For the first time in years, if ever, she was looking forward to attending the Christmas gala.