Page 117 of All Wrapped Up
‘And I’ll have that last slice of pumpkin pie and a coffee.’
‘Did you expect it to be as busy as this?’ I asked Dorothy from Wynthorpe Hall, later in the day and as the orders for snacks and drinks came in thick and fast in the town hall.
I had dropped Pixie – minus the bandana – at the gallery and come along to help. Lizzie was then sorting the certificates I’d forgotten about and, to make amends for my forgetfulness, I was doing my bit as Dorothy’s assistant.
‘I had a bit of an idea,’ she said, as she plated up yet more of Jemma’s leaf-shaped ginger and iced biscuits, ‘because of how busy it always gets at the festive bake sale.’
I had been told about a whole host of Christmas town traditions now and didn’t think I would need to feel worried about not having anything to do once I’d finished curating the autumn festival. Christmas, combined with the job in the gallery, would mean there’d never be a quiet or dull moment.
I had been ready to tell Lizzie that I was going to accept her offer, but since I’d been struck with Cupid’s bow, or something resembling it, I’d held back. I was already doing my best to stuff Ash back in the friend box, but until I’d got the lid secure, I wasn’t going to make any long-term plans. It was a relief that I hadn’t already said yes, but I hoped my feelings would settle soon, because if I couldn’t be in the same town as him, I didn’t know what action I would have to resort to…
‘I asked for three cookies and two teas,’ said the woman I was serving. ‘Not two cookies and three teas.’
‘Sorry,’ I apologised, making the switch.
‘You just can’t get the staff!’ Dorothy grinned, then seeing my expression, added, ‘I’m only joking, you’re doing brilliantly. It’s full on in here today!’
‘It’s certainly keeping me on my toes.’
‘Hello, you two!’ Dorothy then beamed at an elderly gent and younger man who had reached the front of the queue. ‘What can I get you? And more importantly, are you here as spectators or are you going to show us how it’s done?’
I eyed the pair with interest.
‘Have you met Albert and Brodie?’ Dorothy asked me.
‘No.’ I smiled politely. ‘I haven’t.’
‘Well, you’re in for a treat,’ she gushed. ‘This is Clemmie,’ she added, by way of introduction.
‘The festival organiser,’ the elderly gentleman said and doffed his hat.
‘And Instagram success story,’ the younger man added.
‘Both correct,’ I said modestly. ‘Pleased to meet you.’
‘Brodie here,’ said Dorothy, indicating the younger man, ‘and Albert are famous, too.’
‘I’m not famous,’ I laughed. ‘Well-known perhaps, but not famous.’
‘And neither are we,’ chuckled Albert.
‘Yes, you are,’ Dorothy insisted. ‘Both of your work is in ridiculously high demand now. When I was in the gallery earlier in the week, I noticed there were red dots on every painting in the place. You can’t say you aren’t successful.’
‘Well, we’re getting by,’ Brodie smiled.
‘Is it your work for sale in the gallery?’ I gasped.
‘It is,’ they said together.
‘Oh, my goodness,’ I said, feeling starstruck. ‘Your paintings are stunning! I was hoping to buy something for myself, but as Dorothy has just said, everything was sold.’
‘Well, that’s very gratifying. Thank you.’
‘I hope you’ll be selling more work soon?’
‘Next year, perhaps,’ Albert said.
‘But today, we’re here to paint some pumpkins which Amber has asked if she can raffle off at the end of the day,’ Brodie explained. ‘The proceeds will go towards the fund for the festival next year.’
