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Andrea had burst into her office this morning, all frantic. She’d received a call requesting an interview, and she’d given a standard cop reply: no comment. Once she hung up, she realized she wasn’t a detective anymore and was worried she’d screwed up.
Clary didn’t mind, though. She didn’t have time to deal with the press anyway. “Just tell them no comment.”
“But won’t it be good for public relations if you give an interview and let them know that you’ve refunded all the unauthorized fees?”
“It probably would be, but I don’t really care about that.” Clary kneaded her neck and strode over to the elevator. “Not right now. I’ll think about it after Christmas.”
“And I think your package is here.”
Clary perked up and glanced at the slow-moving number on the elevator panel. “I’ll have a lot of packages arriving tomorrow.” She’d paid an exorbitant price to have them delivered tomorrow. “We’ll need to wrap them before Seth gets here.”
“Before you get too excited, I have bad news too.” Andrea lowered her phone. “The—”
“Wait.” Clary held her hand up. “Will anyone drop dead in the next few minutes if you don’t tell me the bad news?”
Andrea’s eyes slid to the side. “No.”
“Okay. Then just let me keep this Christmassy mood while I open my package, and then we can do the bad news, okay?”
Andrea nodded.
“What are your plans this Christmas Eve? Are you going home?”
“Definitely not going home,” Andrea said and shrugged. “But I haven’t decided on my plans.”
“Dinner at Seth’s place?” She paused. “It’d be a lot easier if we had it at the mansion. The kitchen there is way better equipped than the one at his place.”
“I don’t think they’ll want to step into an Eolenfeld place.”
“It’s mine.”
“What?” Andrea’s eyes bugged. “You own the place? But you said—”
“I only found out this morning. Apparently, Mrs. E left it to me.”
“She must have really liked you.”
Clary shrugged. “We’ll decide on the location later. But do you want to join us for dinner?”
“Will you have time to prepare the food? It’s impossible to get a turkey now.”
“I’ll see what I can get tomorrow. We’ll just have to make do.”
Andrea bit down on her lower lip. “I don’t know how to cook.”
Clary chuckled. “Did you think I’m inviting you just to get someone to help me cook? If that was what I was after, I’d invite Grandma Moretti.” She took out her phone to check her text message from Uncle David. “You can go watch TV or play games with one of his brothers or go do your nails while I cook.”
“Do my nails?”
Clary glanced at her. “Your Christmas present.”
“I thought you were taking me out for a spa-day.”
She nodded. “I still am, but we won’t be able to do it on Christmas, and I haven’t had time to find a good place to buy the vouchers. I promise we’ll still go, but I thought I’d get you something else for Christmas.”
Andrea’s eyes widened. “So you’re sending a manicurist to me?”
“No.” Clary licked her lips. “Would you prefer that?”
