Название | The Mills & Boon Christmas Wishes Collection |
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Автор произведения | Maisey Yates |
Жанр | Контркультура |
Серия | Mills & Boon e-Book Collections |
Издательство | Контркультура |
Год выпуска | 0 |
isbn | 9781474086677 |
I guess we found that balance, and learned to intuit what the other needed. His parents were coming soon, to stay for the winter. I worried they’d freeze with their Australian bodies, so used to heat and sun, but they assured me they’d acclimatize quickly, climbing mountains if need be to keep warm. Not hard to see where Kai inherited his love of hiking from then… I loved Kai’s parents. They were laid-back and easy-going, and all the adoption business had been squared away. It still came up every now and then, but there was no bitterness any more, just a sense of wonder at what might have been.
There was a knock on the door. I pulled myself away from Kai. Dazed from his proximity.
“Sorry to disturb you two lovebirds,” Micah said with his impish grin. “But Aunt Bessie is here. Says she wants to make an early start on dinner.”
I checked my watch. It was barely eight in the morning. “That’s Aunt Bessie. I’ll call Mom.”
I buzzed Mom’s extension and she said she’d come right over.
“Where’s Isla?”
Micah shrugged. “In town, doing some last-minute Christmas shopping, I imagine. She won’t be long.”
Isla’s parents couldn’t make it this Christmas, so she was all set to fly out to them the day after Christmas for the week.
“As long as she’s not working.” When winter set in and snow began to fall there wasn’t much need for a landscaper, so Isla helped out with the guest activities. She relished the work, and I often had to tell her to turn in for the day, so caught up was she with sorting dance lessons, or art classes, that she lost track of time.
“I’ve hidden her work file, so she can’t.”
I smiled at the knowledge. Isla didn’t have an off button and it was easy to work too hard at the lodge because there was always something that needed doing. “Good, she needs a proper break.”
He nodded. “I keep telling her.”
“Maybe she should take a few weeks over Christmas?” I said, mentally trying to rearrange staff, and who’d step in for her. Isla needed time to recharge her batteries and she would only do that if she wasn’t here.
“You tell her then. She won’t like it.” And she wouldn’t. That was the problem. Isla loved the lodge as much as I did.
“Yoooo hoooo,” a voice rang out.
“Aunt Bessie, we’re in here!”
My aunt sauntered into the room, her bleached-blonde hair curled to perfection, her face made up. I kissed her heavily rouged cheek, her flashing candy-cane earrings making me blink. “Merry Christmas,” she said.
“Merry Christmas, Aunt Bessie!” I darted a glance over my shoulder, hoping she couldn’t see her present. I’d found her the sweetest silver bracelet with little donut charms, perfect for the woman who’d taken the humble donut to the next level. In the years since she’d embraced Instagram she’d become something of a social media sensation, which had led to her being invited onto a plethora of mid-morning TV shows to do baking demonstrations, and now she had her very own cooking show. Filming wrapped in November so she was back at Puft, plying her wares and sharing all sorts of celebrity gossip with her goggle-eyed customers. But she was still the same old Aunt Bessie, a breath of fresh air and fun to boot.
“Where’s Anabelle?”
“Mom’s on her way,” I said as she took Micah into her arms, swishing him from side to side as if he were a little boy and not a full-grown man.
Just then the baby monitor rustled to life with the cries of Brooklyn. “Oh, my baby is awake,” Aunt Bessie said, grinning. “I guess that means you get to unload the car, and I’ll sort that precious little bundle out?”
Aunt Bessie loved my kids like they were her own grandbabies. She was the veritable baby whisperer when it came to Brooklyn, and when all else failed I called on Aunt Bessie to come and help if I couldn’t get her to settle. “I was going to bath her.”
“Leave it to me. Has she got some gorgeous little Christmas outfit?”
I grinned. “Of course. She’s Santa’s little helper, didn’t you know?”
She clapped her hands and rushed off toward the stairs.
***
That afternoon we had a full house. With everyone present we finally let Millie decorate the tree in the front salon. We had other Christmas trees scattered around the lodge, but they were professionally adorned by Amory, and more for the enjoyment of the guests. This one was all Millie’s and she’d made all sorts of garlands for it, including strings of popcorn she and Amory had laced that morning.
“Now, Mama?” she asked.
I kissed the top of her head. Her hair smelled like apples and innocence and I felt a fierce tug in my heart. How I loved her. “Now,” I agreed, and she shrieked and grabbed her grandma’s hand. Mom smiled, and bent over the box with Millie, discussing the pros and cons of putting the tinsel on first or last.
While they were occupied, I ambled to the kitchen and checked in on Aunt Bessie, who was helping Cruz with the Christmas Eve dinner prep.
Amory must’ve smelled something on offer and crept up behind me. “I hope you’re making gingerbread coffee to go with those,” she said, pointing to the tray of Santa gingerbread men.
“Aren’t we banned?”
Our last attempt to make eggnog had resulted in carnage. At least for the eggs involved. How exactly did one separate the yolk from the white? We didn’t think it mattered, but clearly it did. Cruz bemoaned the fate of so many eggs, and banished us with a stiff warning never to attempt cooking again.
“Technically. But this is just a snack, and you can’t mess up coffee. That’s the one gift you do have.”
Aunt Bessie shooed us out. “Come on, you two, you’ll set fire to something, or turn the oven off by mistake. Get out and we’ll make you some gingerbread coffee, yeah?” Baby Brooklyn was snug in her capsule, smiling and gurgling at Aunt Bessie’s voice. I gave her a kiss. She looked adorable in her little Santa’s helper suit complete with Santa hat. “I better feed the munchkin,” I said, taking the warm bundle. “We’ll be in the front salon then. Out of harm’s way.”
Amory snatched the tray of biscuits when Cruz had his back turned and we stole out of there like the thieves we were. I settled Brooklyn for her feed, while Millie and Mom heaped the poor fir tree with baubles of red, green and gold, as she bent Mom’s ear about everything she’d done that day, an exhausting list by the sounds of it. My little girl reminded me of me and Micah, and the fun we’d had on the grounds of the lodge growing up. So many places to explore and mischief to get up to.
Amory sat next to me, munching on a gingerbread man. Her wedding ring flashed under the Christmas lights, reminding me of their wedding. Well, their elopement actually. A few years back they’d announced breezily they were off to Vegas to get married, simple as that, as if they were talking about a weekend getaway. In typical Amory style she’d been married to the man she loved, wearing a flame-red dress, with just her, Cruz, and a witness they’d paid ten bucks.
“What’s that look you’re wearing there?” she said, squinting at me.
“What look?”
“You’re all misty-eyed…”
“Am I?” I laughed and dashed at my eyes. Weddings… I loved them no matter what scale they were on. “I was thinking of your elopement, actually, and how radiant you were coming home.”
The fire crackled behind as she contemplated. “It was perfect for us,” she said, her voice softening. While Amory was all bravado and brisk efficiency when it came to Cruz,