Page 32 of Meet Me Under the Mistletoe
“Oh my god, yes!” agreed Nory. “Especially with people being more aware about their carbon footprint and sustainability. You could really tap into that homegrown market. Pippa doesn’t mince her words—if she says she likes your work she means it.”
“Great, so you’ll be swanning off to London and god knows where. What about the kids?” Thomas sulked.
“They have two parents and four willing grandparents,” Shelley replied. “And London is an hour and a half away. Your mum and I have done weddings farther away than that.”
“I don’t think thewhereis the problem,” said Nory. “I think it’s thewho.”
“Stay out of it, Nory,” Thomas snapped.
“If it was anyone else, you’d be biting their arm off for the work, but god forbid you should be on the payroll of one of my friends. Your self-righteousness is wearing thin. We’re not at school anymore—there is nothemandus. It’s about time you grew up and got over yourself.”
“Nothemandus? Do you watch the news? Have you seen the state of this country?”
“We’re not talking about the state of the country, Thom, this is about your aggressive resentment of anyone you think has had an easier time of it than you, including me. It’s playground stuff.Let it go.” Nory turned to Shelley. “Sorry, Shelley, same old same old. I’ll see you later.”
Nory left without saying goodbye to Thomas. She should’ve known better. Relations between them were only ever one misplaced word away from an argument. But her being a guest at the castle—with her old gang, which had caused so much animosity between them when they were kids—was bound to stir up old resentments. And Jenna using Noel and Son as her provider for the all the wedding flowers and floral arrangements just fed into all of Thomas’s serf-and-master hang-ups. Something about her friends’ money made him feel belittled, and Thomas was not a personality who did well with feeling small.
Her mum and dad were both busy somewhere in the maze of greenhouses, so Nory texted them both goodbye and promised to visit again soon. Then she called Ameerah.
“Hey, gorgeous, I just kicked everyone’s arse at archery.” There were sounds of loud disagreement in the background. “How’d it go with the fam?”
“Can you come and get me?”
“That good, huh?”
“Worse.”
“I’ll be there in twenty. Is that little coffee shop still going in the high street?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“Good. Go grab yourself a mocha, and I’ll meet you there.”
“Thanks, Ameerah.”
“No problem.”
Twenty-five minutes later, Ameerah plonked herself down in the chair opposite Nory. Castle Coffee had gone full Christmasbonanza, complete with snow spray laying in heaps at the bottoms of the leaded windowpanes, and a festive scene of cuddly polar bears and penguins frolicking on a bed of cotton wool snow along the deep window ledge. Michael Bublé’s voice crooned out of the speakers, beneath the hubbub of the busy café.
“I ordered us another coffee,” said Ameerah. “Thought you might need to gather your wits before you come back up to the castle.”
“Thanks, Ameerah. Sorry to drag you away from the fun.”
“Oh god no, thankyou! Guy’s been insufferable all morning. I don’t know how Camille puts up with him. Charles, of course, was in full competitive mode, which started Guy off. Camille, by the way, is like bloody Katniss Everdeen with a bow—properly blew us all out of the water.”
“Good for her, I feel bad at how she’s kind of in Guy’s shadow all the time.”
“Oh, I think she can hold her own in her real life; she’s just a bit shy around us.”
“It must be a bit intimidating coming into a group with so much history. Although it doesn’t seem to bother Dev.”
“I have to admit, I may have misjudged Dev.”
“You don’t say?” Nory mocked.
“It doesn’t happen often, but when it does I own it.”
“How gracious of you.” Nory smiled across at her best friend.
