Page 22 of Christmas Is All Around
“That’s fine—I do have other work to do, you know,” she added, a bit acerbically. “I should just wait and see what nightmarish Christmas activity my family has planned for next week and choose the best day to escape.”
“I would hate to interrupt any family bonding experiences,” he said solemnly. “Shall we invite them along? Go on a little artisticouting, then a trip to see Father Christmas afterward? A photo shoot in matching Christmas jumpers, perhaps? I am here to make your holiday dreams come true, Charlie Rose Lane.”
He ducked in time to avoid the coaster she tossed at him.
“Ugh. Donotcall me that—I don’t know what my parents were thinking.Charlie Rose?Horrifying.”
“Fair enough,” he said, and then added, “Lane it is.” He grinned at her again, and she liked it, too much. Liked the sound of her last name in his voice.
And, in retrospect, that should have been the moment that she first realized that she was in trouble.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Why, precisely, do we have to spend the evening freezing and damp just to see Christmas lights?” Charlotte asked for at least the third time the following day as they jostled their way onto a crowded Tube car and a harried-looking Ava handed a scowling Alice off to Kit.
“Because it’sfestive, Charlotte, Jesus Christ,” Ava said, sticking a pacifier unceremoniously into Alice’s mouth before she could unleash hell on the innocent commuters on the train. “Are you a robot?”
“No,” Charlotte said patiently, taking a seat opposite Kit and his parents and giving Alice a wave. The baby stared unsmilingly back. “Merely someone who is being forced to engage in more Christmas merriment in a week than she has in her entire life.”
Charlotte truly didn’t think this was much of an exaggeration; so far this week, in addition to her outings with Graham, she had baked and decorated Christmas cookies, been forced to watch the Christmas episode of every season ofFriends, and stage-managed a photo shoot in front of the Christmas tree in which Alice had been forced into a baby-sized Santa hat, which had ended with predictably disastrous results. (Namely: Alice had cried so hard she vomited; Ava, with nothing more useful to hand, had shown admirably quickreflexes and caught said vomit in the Santa hat.) After skipping the family outings on both Wednesday and Friday, Charlotte had felt that it might be nice to put in an appearance this evening, but she was already thinking longingly of the empty flat that she could have had to herself for a few hours.
“It’s going to befun,” Ava said through gritted teeth. “Also, there’s a bar.”
Charlotte’s ears perked up at this intriguing tidbit of information, and she spent the rest of the brief Tube ride to Kew scrolling through photos on her phone and trying not to laugh hysterically at the series she had featuring Ava cradling the vomit-filled Santa hat in her hand while a horrified Kit looked on, a screaming Alice in his arms. Kit and Ava had been wearing matching Christmas sweaters that John had knitted them. It was, honestly, spectacular. Charlotte was considering framing one of them.
By the time they had arrived at Kew Gardens station and walked the ten minutes to the gardens themselves, Charlotte’s good mood was fading once again; it was cold, her socks weren’t warm enough, and it was pitch-black at five p.m., which made her want to cry. Once they entered through the gates and scanned their tickets, however, she had to admit that this was not the worst Christmas activity she’d ever experienced—and, indeed, compared to the rest of the week, it was probably a high.
“What a ringing endorsement,” Ava said, when Charlotte made an observation to this effect. “I’m so glad we’ve salvaged at least a fraction of your week from complete torture.”
“Ava,” Charlotte said, startled; had she been complainingthatoften? She decided that she was going to stop bitching about Christmas so much. Ava knew perfectly well how she felt about it and had enough on her plate at the moment without a ceaseless litany of complaints from Charlotte. Besides, Charlotte had managed to escape alot of it—she’d been returning to that same coffee shop where she’d run into Graham to work, and as a result spent all of the morning and much of the afternoon each day away from Ava’s flat.
Half an hour into their visit—they were progressing slowly along a trail that wound through the gardens, thousands of lights illuminating the plants, shrubbery, and trees surrounding them—they paused to visit one of the food and drink vendors that had been set up along the path. Charlotte volunteered to stand in line, and she was so busy scrutinizing the menu that it took ninety seconds before she realized that Eloise Calloway was directly ahead of her in the queue.
No sooner had she made this realization than Eloise glanced behind her, then did a double take. “Charlotte!” The woman standing next to her turned curiously as Charlotte waved hello, and Eloise added, “This is Jess, my girlfriend. Jess, this is Charlotte—the woman we gave a lift back from the switch-on.”
“Hello,” Jess said, eyeing Charlotte in an interested sort of way that made Charlotte vaguely nervous. Jess was as short and curvy as Eloise was lanky, with curly brown hair and glasses.
“Hi,” Charlotte said, a bit warily; she didn’t miss the glance that Eloise and Jess briefly exchanged, and the slight frown on Jess’s face as she looked at her girlfriend.
“I’m so pleased Graham was able to convince you to do the Christmas commission for our shop,” Eloise said. A delicate pause. “And it was awfullyfriendlyof him to offer to show you the houses himself.” She didn’t even attempt to disguise the intrigued gleam in her eyes.
“I needed a ride to Berkshire,” Charlotte explained, which was true enough, at least as an excuse for Wednesday’s trip. Friday’s outing to Primrose Hill—and the one planned for next week—were a bit more difficult to explain, so she didn’t try.
They had reached the front of the line, and after placing theirorders, Eloise and Jess lingered nearby, offering Charlotte a hand with her unruly collection of cups.
“Thanks,” Charlotte said gratefully as they made their way back to where her family awaited. She quickly rattled off names as cups of wine were handed around, and then said, “This is Eloise and Jess.” She paused for a longer-than-socially-acceptable amount of time before adding reluctantly, “Eloise is Graham’s brother.”
“Isshe?” Ava asked, gleeful.
“Iam,” Eloise agreed.
“I’m Eloise’sgirlfriend,” Jess said, then shrugged when multiple brows were furrowed in her general direction. “I thought we were all talking in italics now. It seemed fun.”
“This is fascinating,” Ava said. “Is your brother here?”
“He is,” Eloise said, and Charlotte, who was about to take a sip of mulled wine, stilled for a moment, hoping no one noticed. “With his best friend, Leo. I’m sure they’re around here somewhere…” She turned, surveying the surrounding crowds—not a terribly easy task, given the darkness, as well as the fact that everyone was bundled up against the chilly night air, giving them a sort of uniform, lumpy appearance.
“I think we were just about to get going, actually,” Charlotte said hastily, but Simone—curse the inconveniently polite woman—frowned.
