Page 25 of The Secret Mistletoe Promise
‘It’s why they’re thinking about changing the Oak Fest,’ Mandy went on. ‘Usually it’s on the green, a festival withmusic and stalls and food and Father Christmas. What can I get you?’
‘Oh. A cinnamon bun today, I think.’
‘Great choice. Anyway, apparently Harry has offered to have the Christmas fun at the manor – a series of short plays, in his grand reception room.’
‘That young girl’s turned him around,’ Moustache Man said. ‘Never used to say hello to anyone, and now he’s inviting the whole village to his gaff.’
‘Young girl?’ Imogen asked.
‘Sophie,’ Mandy supplied. ‘Everything’s relative, especially when you’re close to ninety.’
‘I’m six years off, Amanda.’ The man sounded amused, and Imogen wondered if he was as rigid as he was making out.
‘Here you are.’ Mandy handed Imogen her bag with the cinnamon bun inside, and Imogen thanked her, said goodbye to Moustache Man, and left. She wondered if she could get involved in the Christmas play event, except she’d probably be back in London by then. The thought made her stomach clench.
London, of course, had a million Christmas activities she could be part of. The switching on of lights, parties organized by her father and the businesses he worked with, the soirée that Edmund’s family always held at the end of November. And it was nice to dress up sometimes, wasn’t it? To squeeze yourself into dresses and squash your feet into towering heels. It was fun.
She had made it to the beginning of the cliff path, and was debating whether to risk a walk along it or head home, conscious that the clouds over the sea were ominously dark,when she heard laughter, screeching and someone shouting, ‘Wait, Terror! Stop!’
Imogen was almost barrelled over by a golden retriever as it jumped up and put its front paws on her coat.
‘Down, Terror! God.’ Sophie was with May; they were accompanied by a dark-furred retriever to go with the golden one, and a black scruffy mop of a dog that Imogen knew was called Clifton. ‘Imogen, I’m so sorry,’ Sophie said. ‘Harry’s in London and I’m on dog-walking duty, which means I get rings run around me by Darkness and Terror, not to mention having to call their names out when they go rogue.’
‘So this is Terror?’ Imogen ruffled the dog’s head, Darkness trying to join in when he realized there was affection to be had. ‘Beautiful dogs,amazingnames.’
‘My fiancé was once a grumpy sod,’ Sophie explained.
‘He named his dogs in a moment of sarcastic frustration, and it has very satisfyingly haunted him ever since,’ May added. ‘They’re very friendly, and only occasionally inspire terror.’
‘And dark feelings,’ Sophie grumbled. ‘How are you? Terror, get away from Imogen’s bakery bag. You’re going to have to hide that, I’m afraid, or it won’t last.’
‘It’s a cinnamon bun,’ Imogen said.
‘One of Dexter’s specialities.’ May smiled at her. ‘We should pop in there, see how he’s getting on with the cake.’
‘I didn’t see him, actually.’ Imogen hoped she sounded nonchalant, rather than disappointed. Talking to him, even if it was only to say hello, had become as important to her new routine as her daily fix of sugar and carb goodness.
‘He’s making your wedding cake?’ she asked Sophie.
‘Yes, and we didn’t even ask him to. He offered, though he warned me he’d never made a wedding cake before, that he was confident about the quality and the taste, but not the appearance. He was going to watch a lot of YouTube videos.’
‘He’ll do a wonderful job, I’m sure,’ Imogen said, even though she’d known him less than three weeks.
‘Of course he will.’ Sophie grinned. ‘How are you getting on?’
‘I’m good. Getting in lots of walks, lots of pastries, reading, helping Birdie in the garden. It’s good for me, having space away from everything. Except now I’ve had a few weeks out of the office, I don’t know how I’ll ever go back.’
It was a throwaway statement, but she worried she’d bared more of herself than she’d meant to; Birdie’s seaside village was clearly working its way into her bones.
‘Is it busy, your law firm?’ May tugged on Darkness’s lead, and the dog trotted over and sat at her feet.
‘It’s super busy. I was in the conveyancing department – I was actually my dad’s PA – but in the corporate division, so supporting lawyers working on big deals: warehouses and apartment blocks and commercial properties.’ She bit her lip, realizing she’d spoken about it in the past tense.
‘Is that where Edmund works?’ Sophie asked.
‘Yeah.’ Imogen looked at her feet. ‘He made partner last year, so he’s always got a big caseload.’
‘Wow. He sounds pretty important.’ Sophie smiled, but Imogen could see through it. The other woman ran a stationery shop and made her own notebooks, and Imogen couldn’t imagine a commercial conveyancing solicitor would be something she would be impressed by.
