Page 70 of Kiss Me at Christmas
When she got home, she changed straight into her pajamas, made herself a big mug of hot chocolate, and climbed into bed with her laptop to start her report for Cornell. Today had wrung her out, left her limp with fatigue. She was no stranger to burning the candle at both ends, but at this rate she was going to need a much longer wick. The only upside to being so busy that she’d practically had to start scheduling pee breaks into her day was that she didn’t have time to dwell on the Maisy-shaped hole in her home.
Twenty
Harriet pushed open the doorsto the theater on Tuesday evening in a state of obliviousness. She had arrived on autopilot, barely noticing how the gray woolen clouds obscured the stars, or the carol singers around the giant Christmas tree handing out flyers advertising the Winter Theater’s one-night-only production ofA Christmas Carol.
Her mind was so consumed with work and all the jobs she hadn’t finished today that when Ken boomed out her name, the surprise of it almost caused her knees to buckle.
“Flippin’ ’eck, lass! Didn’t you see me waving at you?”
She blinked a couple of times and reacquainted herself with her surroundings.
“Sorry, Ken, got a lot on my mind.” She rubbed her hand across her forehead as though she could wipe away her distraction.
“You can’t go on like this much longer. Something’s got to give,” he said kindly.
She laughed lightly. “My sanity, probably.”
He regarded her, frowning, and then said, “Come on, I’ve been saving the inaugural trip for you.” He ushered her toward the lift.
“It’s working!” she exclaimed.
“We’re about to find out.” Ken grinned.
He pressed the call button, and the ornate doors slid open to reveal an exquisitely Art Deco interior. Suddenly she was wide awake.
“Oh my god, Ken, I think it’s the most beautiful lift I’ve ever been in!”
He stroked his chin; one eye twitched in a half wink, which was as close to crowing as this hunk of Yorkshireman was likely to get.
“I reckon people with mobility issues ought to experience the same pizzazz as the ones who take the grand staircase.”
“They certainly will.” Her first thoughts were for Mallory and the Lonely Farts, and then she recalled Evaline painstakingly tackling each stair and was shocked by the surge of affection she felt for the old battle-ax.
“We’re putting in another one in the foyer next door that’ll reach the cocktail lounges and restaurant,” said Ken. “And one backstage—that one’ll be a no-frills affair, but it’ll get the job done.”
“Wonderful. It’ll certainly cut down Mallory’s mileage. I can’t believe the changes to this place in such a short space of time. Your teams are miracle workers.”
“Hard workers, at any rate,” said Ken. “I reckon another week or so and we’ll be close enough to done that we can finish the rest during slightly more respectable hours.”
“I bet they’ll be pleased about that.”
“Their other halves will be, that’s for sure.”
The lift doors opened, and she waved back at Ken as she stepped out into the auditorium at the bottom of the main stairs.
Yesterday’s dyspeptic atmosphere had been replaced by a can-do humor that would have made Santa’s elvesproud. Several of Hesther’s group had settled into painting the backdrops with Leo. Farahnoush, who had worked in design in her former life, was in deep discussion with Billy and Harry about the sets. Down in the orchestra pit, Ava and Dhruv had already begun work on building Scrooge’s four-poster bed frame with wood castoffs from Ken. It was a recipe for bedlam but somehow both new groups seemed to fit right in, and the camaraderie levels were high. Harriet hoped their positivity might be enough to dilute the animosity brewing between the famous five and certain members of the Great Foss Players.
“Heartwarming, isn’t it?” said Josef when he saw her watching. “Everyone pitching in for a cause greater than themselves.”
“It is. It makes me feel quite emotional.”
“I feel it too.” He placed his hand over his heart. “In here. I’m inclined to think our assemblage was no accident.”
“You think we’re dealing with kismet?”
Josef smiled in a way that made him look both wise and impish.
“Something like that. Ernest has left two of his famous fruited tea loaves in the coffee room for everyone to help themselves.”
