Blossom in Winter (Blossom in Winter #1)(105)

“It is the most boring, Maud,” teases Yara.

We hear footsteps coming down.

“I’ve never seen a single picture of you…” I follow the sound of the sharp voice on the stairs, laying eyes on an elegant, fit lady with silver-white hair. She’s probably over sixty-five years old, wearing a black shirt and pants, and a long, sophisticated jacket, with red lips and an impeccable but imposing posture. “Yet I’m pretty sure you are Petra Van Gatt.” Her face welcomes me with a warm, beautiful smile, and I find myself blushing at it. “Alexander has spoken about you so much that I could draw you blindly. Welcome home, Petra.” Margaret gives me three kisses on the cheek and a maternal hug that feels quite odd. “And Merry Christmas.”

“Many thanks, Mrs. Van Dieren. Merry Christmas.”

“Please, Margaret,” she corrects, pinching my chin playfully. Margaret glances around. “And of course Julia is not yet here.”

We hear the doorbell ring.

Margaret decides to open the door herself. “Ah, Julia, finally. Where is your sense of punctuality? You are dressed as if you just came from the office. This is Christmas, dear Lord.”

Stepping through the door, Julia sighs and rolls her eyes at Margaret’s sermon. “Right, because Yara dressing like she just came from a polo game is perfectly acceptable.”

“Merry Christmas to you, Julia,” replies Yara with a smirk.

Julia sends one back, like they’re used to the banter. She then takes off her Burberry light-gray gabardine, gives it to the butler, and greets Margaret with three kisses on the cheek. “I’m sorry, Mom, but I had to finish a motion for next week. I’m handling a very delicate case.”

“We know. They are all delicate for you,” Margaret snaps. “Hello, Sebastian,” she says, looking at Julia’s husband.

“Margaret,” greets Sebastian.

“Petra, let me officially introduce you to my three wonderful daughters: Julia, my second oldest, followed by Maud and Yara, who had the decency to arrive on time and whom you’ve already met. And as you know, Alexander is the oldest and my only son.”

“And the one who never settled down,” teases Yara, taking a sip of her tea.

Everyone bursts out into laughter.

Except Margaret. “Yara!”

“Oh, it’s a joke, Mom. You take yourself way too seriously.”

“And you not enough.”

I give three kisses to Julia, and she gives me a warm hug afterward. Wow. Looks like all the girls love to hug each other. “I’m so glad to meet you, Petra. You’re divine. I love this dress on you.” Julia seems to be the sweetest of them all. Her energy feels so bright and reassuring. She’s also the most beautiful to me—incredible glowing skin; white teeth with a magnetic, friendly smile; wavy blonde hair to her shoulders; and an impeccably fit and toned figure. I also love her elegant dress, beige with a white pattern in a fit-and-flare style, and matching earrings and beige stilettos. I get the sense that she’s the friendliest of them all, and also the most mature. I smile, a bit envious not to have her as a sister. I also realize none of the sisters have blue eyes—just Alex and Margaret.

“Thank you, Julia. I love your dress too. I have a lot of fit-and-flare dresses at home. They are my favorites.”

“Indeed, they look great on you.”

While Margaret invites everyone to move to the grand salon, I wonder who the three women are left standing behind in the hallway in uniform. The first one holds the hands of two teens maybe twelve-to-fourteen years old, the second one is holding hands with two younger girls between six and ten years old, and the last one carries a small baby and has a toddler. They go upstairs and discreetly vanish into a room.

“Julia’s governess and two nannies,” murmurs Alex as he catches me staring.

“You mean those three ladies work for Julia?”

“Yep, the others had already arrived.”

“So, wait… You are telling me those six kids belong to her?”

Alex chuckles. “Margaret has twelve grandchildren. So imagine having them all here among us. It’d be quite chaotic.”

I’m doing the math, but it seems like quite a lot of children in the family. Or at least to me, growing up alone with no siblings, just like Emma. “Indeed, a bit chaotic.”

“Ms. Van Gatt?” calls one of the staff.

“Yes?”

“Lady Margaret would like to see you in the Picasso room. May I escort you?”

“You have a Picasso in your house?”

“You should go. It will be like heaven on earth for you.”





As I follow Clarissa down the long corridor, I look up at the walls and wonder who these people in the gold-framed portraits are. Are they all ancestors and family members? Does Alex also have a classical oil portrait of himself hanging on a wall somewhere?

Clarissa knocks on the door and, after hearing an approval, opens it, invites me inside, and closes it behind me.

“Ah, Petra. I’m glad you are here. Alexander told me you love art, so I thought this might interest you.”

“Wow.” I gape as I take in my surroundings. The room features not only modern artwork on the walls but also abstract sculptures in the center. “Indeed, this place is amazing.” My eyes roam around the room until they stop at the Picasso painting on my left. Shit, I also see a Monet! Unbelievable! I have always admired these artists, but have never seen any of their work in such a private collection. “I hope you’ve got a lot of security for these paintings.”