Page 4 of The Christmas Letter

‘Mirabelle Landor,’ Holly repeated, trying to commit it to memory.

The man cocked his head. ‘An art lover, are you?’

Holly gave a non-committal shrug. She didn’t feel bold enough to call herself an artist. Because if she’d never made any money doing it, could she really own that title? Lily told her that she could still follow her dream, could still work towards becoming a real artist, whatever that meant. But for Holly, she sort of felt like she was already giving it up and changing her course in life, by going down the teaching route. No, she told herself firmly. She mustn’t think like that – who knew what the new year might bring?

Holly looked at the card again, tracing one of the waves. She glanced up to see the man watching her, a smile playing around his lips. But there was something more, something deeper, in those dark eyes of his. ‘Sorry,’ she said quickly, thrusting it back to him.

‘Don’t be.’ He hesitated, then reached into his briefcase and slipped out another card. One of a forest this time – more golden and brown than green – but still the same style. ‘Here.’ He pressed it into her hands. ‘It’s by the same artist. I can’t give you this one,’ – he held up the waves – ‘because . . . Well, just because—’

‘You don’t have to justify that!’ Holly exclaimed, feeling mortified. Did he think she’d been trying to take it? And for God’s sake, why could she not stop blushing? ‘And I wouldn’t take it. I didn’t mean . . . I wasn’t asking—’

‘I know you weren’t,’ he said, his voice, unlike hers, perfectly level. Level – and gorgeous. Could the sound of someone’s voice be gorgeous? She decided right then that it could be – all deep and low and smooth, like liquid chocolate. But dark chocolate – rich and alluring. ‘But I bought this one on a whim,’ he continued, ‘at a shop on the way into town – and maybe this is why I did. So I could give it to you.’ It was a stupid, romantic notion, what some might call fate, which Holly did not believe in. But even so, she couldn’t stop her heart from fluttering ever so slightly.

It felt churlish to keep protesting, so she took it. ‘Thank you,’ she murmured. ‘I don’t . . . I’m not being weird. It’s just, that’s what I want to do – I want to be an artist, and it’s cool when you see people who aren’t super-famous or whatever making it work, and I . . .’ She broke off, sure that she was only sounding more crazy, not less.

‘Then all the more reason for you to have it,’ he said simply. He slipped the other card back into his briefcase. It was worn, she noticed now, the edges well-thumbed, and there was writing inside. She wanted to ask who it was from, but she didn’t – she had some sense of what was appropriate, after all.

‘I’m Holly,’ she said instead.

He smiled. ‘And I’m Jack.’

Chapter Two

The way Jack was looking at her right now made Holly glad she’d applied a wash of colour to her lips, put in the dangly star earrings. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘Ah, so, where are you off to today in your suit and with your briefcase then, Jack?’

His face tightened a fraction. ‘Oh. It’s a . . . family thing.’

Before she could ask anything else an alarm went off on his phone, making them both jump. ‘Sorry,’ he said as he switched it off. ‘I’ve got to go – my parking ticket is about to expire.’

‘You set an alarm for that?’

He smiled a little sheepishly. ‘Just to be safe.’

Holly laughed, somewhat delighted.

‘Sorry,’ Jack said again. ‘I might risk a parking ticket to keep talking to you, but I can’t miss this . . .’

‘Family thing?’

‘Right.’ But he hovered for a moment longer. ‘So, I think it’s your turn to buy the coffee next time.’

Holly cocked her head at him. ‘Or, actually, four coffees, plus half a biscuit.’

He grinned, and Holly couldn’t help grinning back.

Then she sighed. ‘I definitely do owe you, but I don’t live around here.’ Would it be inappropriate to move to Devon as the result of a single conversation?

‘Great. Me neither.’

‘I’m in London at the moment,’ Holly said, her eyebrows raised.

‘Well that works, because so am I.’ Ok, she knew what it looked like but this was not fate. Fate wasn’t real.

Jack took a pen from his briefcase and reached for her takeaway coffee cup, which she handed over to him. He wrote his number on it, passed it back to her. ‘There. Now you’ve got to call me – this is what all those romcom movies start with, right? Next thing you know we’ll be caught in the middle of a montage.’

Holly just stopped herself from snorting – snorting was not attractive. ‘I love a good montage.’

‘Me too,’ Jack said, and though he added a wink to make it jokey, Holly couldn’t help it – she blushed again.