It had been a week since the run-in with Nathan at the Inglenook Inn. Since then Amelia had tried to talk to Kyle but at the same time she’d given him space. They’d both worked shifts at the markets, they’d both gone off around the city doing their own thing, reconvening in the evenings for dinner.
Amelia suspected Kyle had been seeing quite a bit of Scarlett judging by the way he took longer to get ready before going out, how there was the aroma of whatever body spray he used whenever he was about to leave the apartment, and she’d seen Scarlett lurking by the Christmas tree stall on several occasions when Kyle was working. Tonight she decided it was time to push again, time to talk to him. But first, they needed to decorate the tree, something she’d put off until now, with Kyle being in an unpredictable mood.
She took off her coat, tired from a day at the Garland Street markets but determined to have some time with Kyle this evening to find out more about how he was feeling. In her job she’d been accused of overstepping but this time she’d backed off enough and couldn’t do so any longer. ‘Did you have a good day?’ She’d start with a simple question to gauge his mood.
‘Yeah, Mitch is a decent bloke. Don’t mind working with him.’
It was a start, he was at least talking in more than grunts or one-word answers.
Amelia had been relieved that the showdown at the inn hadn’t caused Mitch to tell Kyle his help was no longer needed at the market stall. The work ethic had to start somewhere and here in another city, without Connie breathing down his neck or undesirables trying to get him roped in with whatever they were up to, it was a start for Kyle. And when he was working and selling those trees he looked happier than he had in a long while.
She eyed the box of decorations still waiting by the curved window that looked out over the street. ‘We need to do the tree.’
‘Now? I’m knackered.’
‘Me too, but look at it. It’s not fulfilling its Christmas wish.’
‘What a load of…’ Her stare stopped him going further.
Standing by the window, she undid the box and when she turned her head as movement caught her eye, she smiled.
‘What is it?’
‘It’s snowing,’ she beamed.
Even he managed to haul himself from the sofa to the window. ‘Wonder if the ground will be covered in the morning.’
‘I hope it is.’
‘I suppose we don’t have to drive anywhere, just walk to the markets.’
‘It’s going to be a wonderful Christmas, Kyle, I promise you.’
His smile wasn’t quite as big as she would’ve liked but his enthusiasm was there when he said, ‘I’ll do the lights, it’s a man’s job.’
‘No argument from me, I hate winding them round. The pine needles get in my hair and I always end up in a tangle.’
With her guidance he soon had the lights on and they tested them, adjusted a few so they were spaced evenly, and tucked the wiring out of sight. Next it was time for the baubles Darcy had given them as part of the collection she was happy to share – silver, ice blue and shiny purple. Amelia bossed Kyle about to make sure the colours were evenly spread out.
‘What about these next?’ He held up a set of twelve red-and-white drums hanging from sparkly white thread.
‘Go for it, evenly spaced though, and I’ll do the pine cones.’
‘You’re way too bossy. Mum’s the same. I thought part of the fun of decorating the tree was letting your kids do it no matter how haphazard it became. Mum likes things to match, last year the theme was tartan. She had ribbons on the ends of branches, ornaments in the right colours.’
‘I remember it well, it looked like something out of a catalogue.’ Thrilled he was talking more than usual she hung the first of the pine cones on the tree and moved around to do the rest.
Kyle hung the second drum higher than the first and moved round to place the third. ‘A couple of years ago she went for minimalistic.’
‘I remember.’ Scarlett unwrapped a penguin wearing a woollen hat with snow dusting the top. ‘I thought she’d forgotten where half her decorations were.’
‘Exactly. It was boring.’
‘It wasn’t her best effort.’
‘Dad always did the tree before he died.’
Amelia didn’t swallow hard because his voice softened, or because she could remember it vividly, but because he was talking about his dad again. And she knew he needed to.
