Page 5 of A Winter Wish

Lexie looked down again at the card in her hand. “Do you know someone called Angela Wilson?” she asked as her mum drew near.

“Ange? I think she’s your dad’s PA, isn’t she? Or was,” she added after a beat. She rubbed Lexie’s arm in a soothing gesture. “How are you doing, Lex?”

“I’m…God, I don’t know.” Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Rachel moving a little closer. Soon, they’d be right next to each other. But Rachel wasn’t looking her way—Lexie suspected she wanted to avoid the awkward conversation, too.

“Mum, I think I’m going to go home. I’ve got a bit of a headache.” It wasn’t a lie—she could feel the pressure, a tight band around her head.

“OK, love, I’ll drive you.”

“No, you—”

Her mum gave her a look. “Lexie, you’re staying at my house—how else are you going to get back to Frome? Besides, I think I’m done, too.” She glanced around and Lexie wondered again how her mum had the strength to get through this with grace and dignity. “Let me just say goodbye to one or two people and I’ll meet you outside, OK?”

Lexie obeyed, feeling relieved to have an instruction to follow. She slipped her coat on, headed out of the function room. As she was walking through the doorway, concentrating on her feet so that she didn’t make eye contact with anyone, she felt a solid body slam into hers. She stumbled a little, felt a hand catch her arm to steady her.

She looked up. It was the man she’d seen talking to Angela earlier—dark hair, a strong jawline with the beginnings of stubble, and a faint scar through one eyebrow.

“I’m so sorry.” His voice was deep, with a slight rough edge. “I wasn’t looking where I…”

His eyes met hers. They were a darker brown than her own eyes, with an amber glow in the center that made her think of hot coals glowing orange in a fire.

His hand dropped from her arm and his eyebrows pulled together in a frown. “You’re leaving?” he asked, and she swore she heard disapproval in his voice. Maybe he knew who she was—one of Richard’s daughters, bailing on the funeral.

“I, er…” She cleared her throat, told herself to stop being ridiculous. This stranger had no right to judge her. “Yeah. So if you don’t mind…” Lexie gestured to the doorway, indicating that he was in her way.

He gave her a curt nod, then stepped aside so she could pass.

She walked away quickly, hugging her coat to her. Before she turned the corner that led to the hotel lobby, she risked a quick glance behind her. The stranger was turning away, but she swore she caught the edge of a scowl he’d been shooting in her direction. Seriously? What was wrong with this guy? She told herself to shake it off as she stepped out of the hotel into the cold, damp air to wait for her mum. Tried to tell herself that she was being silly, that she was imagining the disapproval in his voice. It was just her being self-conscious, that was all. She was sure of it.

Chapter Three

Lexie stood on the street outside R&L Travel. It was uphill from the center of Bath, where there were lines of gorgeous, golden Georgian buildings with big, inviting window displays on ground level and enviable flats above the shops. The sky was a bright blue today, the air crisp and cold, and around Lexie people were rushing to get their Christmas shopping done. She imagined the city would look beautiful after dark, once the Christmas lights lit up.

She’d walked past a few Christmas pop-up stalls, and the smell of sweet roasted nuts hung in the air. It made her think of a Christmas market in Germany she’d been to as a child. She didn’t remember much of it, but she had a fuzzy memory of clinging to her dad’s hand as he held a cone of nuts, the sound of her mum’s warm laugh filling the air. She frowned and shook the memory away. She didn’t have a lot of memories of her dad from before he left, having only been seven at the time—and those she did have she didn’t think of often. But when they’d been a family of three, they’d gone away every Christmas, without fail. Not always abroad, but always somewhere new—her parents saving all year to make it happen. She’d never asked why they’d done it. Given the company her dad had set up, maybe it had been driven by him. When he left, they’d stopped going away in December, no doubt because her mum couldn’t afford it alone. Lexie remembered their first Christmas at home in the cottage, her mum handing her a hot chocolate, red-eyed after trying and failing to call someone on the phone, making excuses for why her dad hadn’t come to visit. And the whole day had been tainted, full of hope that got crushed as the day went on and he still didn’t show. All she’d gotten from him that year was a Christmas card with a ten-pound note inside—and the tradition of just a card and money was something he’d continued, year after year.

Snap out of it, Lexie.

She squared her shoulders as she stepped into the building. It was customer-facing, stands with brochures around the shop so that people could browse through the holidays on offer. One wall was completely covered in photographs of real people on holiday, presumably people who had taken one of these holidays and didn’t mind their snaps up for anyone and everyone to see. On the other three walls there were various styles of artwork with no distinct theme holding them together. Somehow it worked, though—despite the anxiety currently rolling through her body, Lexie could admit that the shop felt intriguing. There was a Christmas tree in one corner with presents underneath—presumably fake—and chocolate coins in a bowl on the reception desk. In the background, “Last Christmas” was playing.

A guy who looked like he was in his early twenties, with floppy blond hair and glasses, looked up. He smiled, showing his teeth in a scarily enthusiastic way, and lurched toward her. He had a Christmas tie on—bright red with white snowflakes. “Hello, come on in—are you just looking or would you like…?”

Lexie was backing away without really meaning to, startled by the overeager reception, but was saved from having to answer by a bark to the left. “No, Harry, she’s not here for a holiday. And try to look less like you’re going to chase her down the street and hit her over the head with a brochure if she leaves the shop. But well done, that was better.”

Lexie couldn’t help wondering what the usual greeting was like, if that was better. Still, she looked over at Angela, who was wearing a bright polka-dot dress over black tights, her lips the same color red as at the funeral. This time, she had Christmas-tree earrings on—the biggest earrings Lexie thought she’d ever seen.

“Come on in, Lexie.” She smiled. “We’re all upstairs, ready for you.”

Lexie followed Angela through the shop, feeling Harry’s curious gaze on her back. She was wearing a big red roll-neck jumper and jeans, and suddenly wondered if she should be dressed more formally. God, she shouldn’t be here. She shouldn’t have let her mum talk her into it, shouldn’t be such a bloody pushover. Her stomach curdled as she stepped through the door at the back of the shop, then followed Angela up a staircase.

When they reached the top of the stairs, Angela let them through a door with a shiny gold number 2 on it—and straight into the entranceway of a flat.

“Um…” Lexie began.

Angela smiled over her shoulder. “Come on, they’re just through here.” She led Lexie into an open-plan kitchen–living room, stepping behind the island onto the tiled kitchen floor. “We thought we’d have the meeting up here—bit less formal than in the staff room downstairs, and less likely to be interrupted with a question from Harry every five minutes. Now, would you like a cup of tea? Or coffee? Water?”

“Um, just water, thanks.”

She glanced around the space, saw two people waiting for them in the adjoining living room. Both were men, one with a balding head and reading glasses, licking his finger before flicking through a bundle of papers, and one with a dark head of hair who was shoving a piece of paper into his jeans pocket. He stared out of the big mullion window to the left, so she couldn’t see his face. Neither of them seemed to notice that they’d come in.