The Majors' Holiday Hideaway. Caro Carson

was the price of endive. At work, she addressed her superior as “sir.” Her own team called her “ma’am.” Her boyfriend was awake while she slept, and now she knew that when he slept, it was with someone else.

      Her stomach churned.

      Was she so desperate for a human connection that she would have offered sex to a stranger this morning? A total stranger?

      She dropped her face into her hands and wallowed in her own foolishness for a moment.

      Foolish—but she’d been undeniably excited as she’d waited for him to arrive. So alive with hope for...something.

      Whoever he was, he’d said he’d come back to finish before Christmas. He might not return until Christmas Eve day, when she’d be on her way to San Antonio and the house would be full of cold air and noxious fumes. Nicholas had said the workers wanted to get started by seven in the morning, so they could finish by lunch, what with it being Christmas Eve and all, ma’am.

      The week stretched ahead of her, six more nights. Helen had warned her there would be nothing to do here, hadn’t she? It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours yet, and India was already feeling stifled in a house big enough to hold four of her apartments.

      She supposed she could start perfecting her own Bloody Mary recipe. Sure. Drinking alone wouldn’t be depressing at all. She could add some salty tears in there for flavor. Ha ha ha.

      Outdoors, the weather was about ten degrees warmer than Brussels, but the sunshine was ten times as bright. Texas was known for blistering hot summers, but that meant it had sunny winters, too. India checked the coat closet and found Helen’s red, double-breasted peacoat.

      She might as well go out and be lonely in the sunshine.