Page 67 of A Winter Wish

“It’s…interesting.” She thought of him kissing her under the mistletoe and tried to shove the memory away. Yeah, interesting just about covered it.

Rachel laughed. “I’ll bet.”

Lexie gave Rachel a considering look. She didn’t think Rachel would hate her for asking. “Did you know that he was going to leave me the company? Half of it, at least?”

Rachel hesitated, then shook her head. “No. I don’t think anyone knew what he was planning. I only found out he was sick a month or so before he…” She swallowed and looked down at her near-empty cider. “I was so mad at him, for not telling me sooner,” she said quietly. “He explained why, that he didn’t want the grief to be dragged out more than necessary, that there was nothing anyone could do so he was trying to protect me, but still…”

Lexie closed her eyes briefly against the guilt and the grief that wanted to rise up in her. Yet there was something comforting about being here with Rachel, about knowing that, although they were processing it differently, there were still some feelings they shared.

“But no. I didn’t know—though it makes sense. You love to travel, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” She sighed quietly. “I guess no one knew what he was planning. Apart from Theo, obviously.”

Rachel gave her a funny look.

“What?” Lexie asked.

“Theo didn’t know,” she said.

“Of course he did,” Lexie said, frowning. “He was so cross at having to share it with me. Dad must have told him before he…”

But Rachel was shaking her head. “He definitely didn’t know. I remember talking to him, after he’d found out. He wanted to find out if I’d known, and if I could explain the decision. So he called me—I think there was a meeting with a solicitor about it?”

Lexie nodded.

“Yeah, so he called me after that.”

Lexie said nothing, her mind playing catch-up. Had Theo really found out at the same time as her? Or just before, she was guessing—maybe that’s why he’d seemed so pissed off in that meeting. He’d literally just found out, and was trying to come to terms with it, like she had been.

“I just assumed…”

“Nope. Guess Dad wanted to surprise you both with it,” Rachel said, with a touch of dryness. “Theo was panicking a bit, actually. He knew what the company meant to Dad and he didn’t want to mess things up. He can be a bit like that, sometimes. He doesn’t always let on, but I know he worries about letting people down. Certain people, anyway,” she clarified, with a small smile.

Lexie thought of the way he talked about her dad. She thought of the way he’d bounced around in his early twenties, moving on before he could fail at anything—and how he seemed to need validation for certain ideas. “Yeah,” she said quietly. “I think I can see that.”

Rachel glanced down at their now-empty glasses. “So. Another cider, do you reckon?”

“Yes, let’s. Though maybe we should talk about something nice and easy like the weather over the next round.”

Rachel grinned. “Well, we are in need of some rain right now.”

“And it is hot even for August in the UK.”

Rachel collected the empty glasses to take inside. “Quite so.”

And Lexie had a flash of a younger Rachel—maybe around five years old—picking up plastic glasses from the picnic blanket she’d made Lexie sit on. At twelve, Lexie was far too old for playing tea parties, of course, but Rachel had been surprisingly bossy about the whole thing. It made her smile a little. It wasn’t a detailed memory, and there was nothing to make it stand out—but it was there. It proved she did have memories of her sister, even if they were mostly buried. And maybe, if she could find a way to let Rachel in, they’d be able to make new ones.

Chapter Twenty-five

Lexie sat between her two new friends—George, aged five, and Cece, aged seven—her tongue poking out as she concentrated on coloring in Fionn the giant. Around them, the pub was buzzing after the weekend Wake the Giant festival. It was a brilliantly traditional pub, the kind that screamed comfort—and that would certainly be the place to be in winter, when she was sure the now-empty fireplace would be roaring. A light smell of beer and chips hung in the air, and waves of chatter rose above the sound of the live band. The outside of the pub was Lexie’s favorite part—bright pink, with flowers hanging in the windows.

“The giant parade was the best bit,” George said, answering Lexie’s earlier question. He sifted through the coloring pencils laid out on the wooden table, before carefully choosing a yellow.

“That was cool,” Lexie agreed, coloring in Fionn’s hair in a dark brown, to match the “real life” Fionn who had kept them company over the last couple of days. Lexie had never heard of the Wake the Giant festival before Theo had told her about it, but she’d decided it was definitely worth the trip to Northern Ireland. It had been a weekend of storytelling, from when Fionn mac Cumhaill had arrived by ferry, sitting astride his giant motorbike and accompanied by a procession of forty boats. Fionn had watched over the music and shows, a lot of which were grounded in the folklore and legends from Warrenpoint itself. The procession of giants at the end had indeed been very cool—Fionn leading the way with a line of other walking, talking giants behind—but Lexie suspected the real reason George was calling that his favorite bit was because it was the most recent.

“I liked the disco,” Cece said. There had been music all weekend, celebrating the traditional Celtic music and local artists, and a special children’s disco, which had resulted in Lexie teaching a bunch of kids how to do “Big Fish, Little Fish, Cardboard Box.”

“What about the giant cookies?” Lexie asked and got an enthusiastic “Yes!” from both of them. There had been a giant food trail, which celebrated flavors from the area, as well as, of course, a few “giant” foods thrown in there.