Page 130 of The Twelve Dates of Christmas
“Morning, Kate!” said Andy. “Any chance of a coffee?”
“You’re perky,” said Kate.
She backed out of the doorway to let Andy in.
“I’m a farmer,” said Andy by way of an explanation. “Early to you is nearly lunchtime to me.”
Kate switched on the coffee machine and grabbed two mugs from the cupboard. Andy thrust his travel mug at her; the remnants of an earlier coffee coated the bottom of the mug.
“Are you begging coffee off all your customers?” Kate asked.
“Only the ones with coffee machines,” said Andy. “I can’t bear the instant stuff.”
“You’ll be high as a kite by the end of the day,” said Kate.
“I’ll need to be,” said Andy. “The van can’t get through the snow and I can’t fit all the orders in the Land Rover. I’m going to be running up and down from the farm all day.”
Kate looked out the window.
“Whoa,” she said.
The sky had finally given up its load in the night. The snow reached the bowl of the birdbath in the garden. All that could be seen of her dad’s sprout trees was their green petal tips. The world outside was still.
Kate put a double shot in Andy’s mug. She paid him what she owed plus a tip for his troubles, handed him a large tin of biscuits from Liberty’s for the family, and made him promise to drive carefully.
“I’ll see you at the caroling!” Andy shouted over his shoulder.
Kate waved. Her smile was noncommittal.
She had just pulled on an oversized Christmas sweater—showcasing nine galloping reindeer pulling a very jolly Santa on his sleigh—and jeans, when the front door clicked shut and her dad called up the stairs.
Together they harvested the snow-clad vegetables, wrapped them in newspaper, and stashed them in wooden crates in the old coal shed, along with the veg Andy had delivered. Mac took a sled out of the shed and laid the turkey and the ham on it, ready to take back to his cottage.
“I don’t suppose you’ll be coming to the caroling this year?” he asked.
“No, Dad,” said Kate.
“You know you two will have to make some sort of peace before you leave,” he said.
“Have you been talking to Evelyn?”
“No,” said Mac. “I’m just old enough to know when two intelligent people are being really stupid.”
Mac left, pulling his sled of meat behind him.
Kate dragged a sack of Christmas presents into the sitting room and settled herself on the floor with sticky tape and shiny wrapping paper.
She’d bought Laura a silver charm bracelet, with two charms to get her started: a letterMand a letterCencrusted with cubic zirconia. She’d also gotten her a voucher for a spa day, which she knew her busy friend would appreciate.
Mina had a set of unicorn pajamas and a cuddly tiger, and Charley had a rainmaker and a set of bath toys. Kate carefully wrapped her gifts and put them into piles under the tree.
Mac’s gifts were mostly books and clothes—he never bothered to buy himself clothes. And Evelyn had a set of lavender bath-and-pamper goodies, which Kate had purchased in the Blexford Manor gift shop.
At the bottom of the bag were some framed photographs. Kate had stumbled across some old prints months ago, when she was sorting through boxes in the loft. They were mostly family holidays and parties, but she’d found one of Matt grinning gormlessly on his fourteenth birthday, flanked by his mum and sister.
Kate had the photograph enlarged, printed in black and white, and framed, along with another picture of Matt, at ten years old, sitting on one of the branches in the pear tree. She had intended to give them to Matt for Christmas.
Kate held the picture of Matt in the tree. She remembered that day. She was sitting on the branch below Matt. Her dad had a taken a photograph of each of them separately and then a longer shot of the two of them, sitting like little elves in the branches.
