Several shareholders had joined forces, insisting that Howard give them an answer. One problem after another kept landing on his desk, leaving him no time–or energy–to deal with Patricia.
But Patricia wasn’t worried. Time was on her side.
Howard spent half a month running around in a panic, and before anyone knew it, Riverdale skipped straight from summer to winter–autumn didn’t even bother to show up. Patricia switched her trench coats for thick wool overcoats. Riverdale winters meant a cold river wind that never seemed to stop. With her old leg injury, Patricia couldn’t risk the chill.
That’s why the underfloor heating at Cloud Peak had been turned on way ahead of schedule. Colton and Roger couldn’t stop wondering why the place was already toasty. Guys usually ran hot and hated the heat. Roger was fanning himself with a book, wearing nothing but a T–shirt.
Johns, overhearing their complaints, finally spoke up. “Mrs. Padilla’s leg still gives her trouble when it’s cold. If you’re too warm, just crack a window in your room.”
That shut them up. They got it. It wouldn’t be right to make someone in pain suffer just so they could stay cool.
That evening, Sara came in from outside, holding onto Patricia’s arm. Behind them, Jackson and Aiden each lugged a mountain of shopping bags, making trip after trip to empty the car.
“What is all this?” Marian stared at the pile of bags, completely stunned. This was so not Patricia’s style. One look at Jackson, who looked like he was about to collapse, and Marian immediately
understood.
Sara stood in front of the pile, pointing at the bags like a general. “All this is Aunt Patricia’s. Come help us carry it upstairs!”
Roger raised an eyebrow. “You’re saying only these two are yours?” Everyone knew Sara was the shopaholic in the family.
“Yep!” Sara nodded, looking completely serious.
Colton and Roger exchanged a look. “Yeah, right.”
“It’s true!” Sara nodded again, earnest as ever. “Let’s just get everything inside first, we’ll sort it all out later.”
Pretty soon, the whole house was pitching in–hauling bags into the elevator, then into the living
room.
When Mr. Padilla came home, he stopped short at the sight of the mountain of shopping bags. He had to step around just to find a place to stand. Looking at Marian, who was still hauling another bag, he asked, “What happened here?”
“Miss Patricia and Ms. Padilla went shopping,” Marian explained.
Oliver didn’t buy it. He was sure this was just one of Sara’s usual stories.
Marian saw the doubt on his face and nodded. “Really. It’s true.”
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“And sir, you’ll have to take the stairs–the elevator’s packed with bags.”
Oliver shrugged off his coat and headed upstairs. As soon as he reached the living room, he saw the elevator blocked floor to ceiling with boxes and bags. Roger and Colton were drenched in sweat, still carrying the last of it.
“How long did you guys shop for?” he asked.
Patricia, her hair up in a messy bun, was crouched on the floor tearing open a box. She turned her
head when she heard his voice. “Three hours.”
Oliver reached out and helped her up. “Are you wiped out?”
Patricia let out a breath. “Exhausted. I shouldn’t have let Sara talk me into keeping all the packaging for that so–called ‘home unboxing experience.”
In the end, she was the one stuck opening them all. Shopping had never been her thing. When she was younger, her mom picked out all her clothes–she never had to worry about it. She never really cared much about what she wore. Shopping sprees? Not her style.
Maybe back in her teens, she’d wanted to try it, but that was right after her parents died–she’d been too sad to care. When she got back from studying abroad in her early twenties, all her friends were into fashion and looking good. But she’d gotten herself injured trying to help someone and spent months recovering.
It felt like every time she was supposed to be enjoying life, something always got in the way.
“Why didn’t you just have the store take off all the packaging?” Oliver asked, already rolling up his
sleeves. He was used to this–Sara had trained him well.
Sara always joked, “No matter how much I buy, Uncle Oliver never even blinks–he’s immune at this
point.”
“I didn’t think of it,” Patricia said, making up an excuse. She wanted to crouch down and keep unpacking, but honestly, it was just too much. It felt ridiculous–an all–hands–on–deck situation for nothing but shopping bags.
Whoever said rich people never had to open their own deliveries was lying. She wanted to file a complaint.
“I’ve got it,” Oliver said, nodding for her to put down the scissors.
Patricia glanced at him, feeling all at once like she’d pulled a god down to earth. Oliver, always so good at making her feel special without even trying.
“I think you’re trying to seduce me,” she teased.
Oliver shot her a look. “If unboxing packages is all it takes to win you over, you should’ve told me
sooner.”
Patricia laughed. Oliver slipped an arm around her shoulders, pulled her close, and kissed the corner of her mouth.
“Pattie, don’t put me on a pedestal. I’m just a regular guy,” he said quietly. “I’ll eat street food with you. I’ll help you unbox all your online orders. I’m happy when you’re happy, and if you pull away, it hurts
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me too. I’ve never been above you–not with you.”
