Page 93 of Kiss Me at Christmas
“You know about our production ofA Christmas Carol?”
“Everybody does,” said a grinning man with the hair on either side of his head shaved off and a tattoo of what Harriet presumed was the Holy Grail on his neck. Another man, with a handlebar mustache, stepped forward and shook Harriet’s hand, his other hand clasped with that of a petite woman with long rainbow plaits who singsonged, “Hello!” in a tiny voice.
“You’re the talk of the town,” added a man with eyes the color of periwinkles behind his small round glasses. “Literally. It’s all over the Little Beck Foss socials.”
“Some of us are into medieval reenactment,” said Cassidy, “and we know our way around a sewing machine. We bumped into a couple of the Lonely Farts in the foyer, and they said it was going to be all hands to the thread to get the costumes ready in time. So put us to work!”
“Seamsters!” Harriet clasped her hands below herchin in wonder. “I feel like you guys were sent here by Father Christmas. We are in dire need of people who can make alterations. But just so you know, I would have let you have your meetings here regardless of whether you’d offered to help out or not. This is a community space for as long as we have it, and you are all very welcome. Make yourselves at home. There’s usually a steady stream of baked goods coming out of the kitchen that you are welcome to partake of; we only ask that everyone pitches in with a couple of quid, if you can spare it. In fact, I do believe Prescilla and Ernest have been baking batches of mince pies up there this afternoon.”
As she said this, a whoop went up from the auditorium, and she heard Hiroshi shout, “Here they are!” followed by a stampede of feet across the stage.
“Players! Players, please!” Gideon’s impassioned plea cut through the noise. “The mince pies will still be there after the run-through!”
“They won’t be hot, though!” returned Destiny. “Don’t you worry yourself, Gideon, I can eat and act, I’m a professional.”
Harriet left the Relic Hunters to settle in and stole around to the front of the stage to watch the run-through. She spotted James sitting in the stalls a few rows back and made her way over to him. On the stage, Destiny aka Jacob Marley was wailing, “Mankind was my business!”
“It’s a pity Evaline isn’t here to see this,” Harriet whispered in James’s ear. “She could learn a lesson or two from Jacob Marley.”
He smiled. “She’s not so bad.”
“Your loyalty to her is rather touching. I’m not sure she deserves it.”
“I understand her, that’s all. If I were truly loyal, I probably would have tried to stop you from invitingevery displaced club within a ten-mile radius into the theater.”
“Do you really think you could have stopped me?” she challenged.
His chuckle was low and rumbling. “No. I don’t think I could.”
“Will you tell Evaline about your legal surgery?”
“Perhaps.”
“What about your practice?”
“I spoke to my partners this afternoon, and they’ve given their blessing.”
“Do you think Lyra will come to the performance?”
She felt his shoulders stiffen.
“I’d like to ask her to,” he said cautiously.
“I’d like that too.” She took his hand and felt his shoulders relax. “James?” She wasn’t sure how to broach this subject, or if it even needed a label, but the part of her that liked things in their places had been poised with a Post-it note and pen ever since their heart-to-heart on Friday.
“Yes?” He cocked his head to one side when she didn’t say anything.
Heavens to Betsy, what am I? Thirteen? Just ask him already!
“I was just wondering, um. Are we a thing?”
He quirked an eyebrow.
“After our behavior in my car on Saturday night, do you even need to ask?”
She flushed at the remembrance of her wantonness. She’d already had one run-in with the police recently; she didn’t need to risk being charged with outraging public decency. He was rubbing circles over her palm with his thumb now. She cleared her throat.
“Yes, but we’ve engaged in a couple of encounters previous to the car and that didn’t make us a thing.”
