Page 31 of Christmas All the Way

The warmth of his assurance made the doubts that had been assailing her fade just a little. ‘You’re probably right. I’ll just have to be careful.’

He nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. ‘Of course. Maybe don’t risk it in the bath.’

A snort escaped her then, somewhere between a hiccup and laugh. ‘Good advice. Thank you.’

She came to several realisations all at once then. The first was how close he was; her hands still rested in his, their fingers hot inside the thin gloves neither had thought to remove, but she didn’t feel the least temptation to move away. The glow from the lantern danced across his features, turning his face into a shadowy sculpture and burnishing his unruly hair to a deep, luxurious gold. His eyes were unreadable beneath his furrowed brows, his expression serious for once. Somewhere above them, the house creaked, settling down on its foundations for the night. The only other sound came from Keeley herself – from the blood roaring in her ears, the shallow rise and fall of her breathing that she was sure Xander must be able to hear too. She knew they were in the library, could feel the carpet beneath her feet and smell the familiar, comforting scent of old books, but somehow it felt as though they were teetering on the brink of a chasm. And it seemed Xander felt it too, because his eyes darkened as he gazed at her. The breath caught in her throat as she read the unspoken question and a steady surge of heat spread out from her core. ‘Keeley,’ he murmured at length, and stopped.

‘Yes?’ she said, unable to look away and not wanting to, either. She was giddy with adrenaline, tipsy from the rush of finding the manuscript, and it was sweeping her common sense aside.

‘Can I—’ he began but she cut him off.

‘Yes,’ she said, and reached up to pull his head down to hers. ‘Please do.’

The first flutter of his lips against hers almost made her knees weaken. His mouth was soft, brushing gently against hers as though still asking permission, but each feathery light touch set her skin burning and lit fires along her nerve-endings. She longed to sink her fingers into his mess of blond hair, to wrap her arms around him and press her body to his, and understood in that moment that she’d wanted to do those things since they’d stood together in the hallway of Delores Semple’s house, listening to the sonorous tick of the grandfather clock. She ran a gentle finger along the curve of his cheek, heard the breathy gasp that escaped him and wished they were not standing in the middle of Eliza’s library, with a hitherto undiscovered manuscript less than a metre away. Reluctantly, she stepped back, on legs that were still unsteady, and released a tiny sigh of her own.

Xander’s eyes were the petrol blue of a stormy sea but fixed steadily on her. ‘To be continued, I hope.’

Taking a breath, she managed a wobbly nod. ‘To be continued,’ she agreed. As one, they turned to look at the desk, where the drawer containing their discovery sat. Keeley puffed out a breath as the enormity of it hit her all over again. ‘But it’s going to have to wait. Everything is going to have to wait.’

CHAPTER TEN

A snake is still a snake, no matter where it slithers.’

Tennyson Hall, ELIZA NORTON

Santa’s Secret was growing steadily busier as September drew to a close. Grace and Ivy created a temporary autumn aisle, complete with two arching metal trees, decorated with hundreds of artificial leaves in orange, russet and amber, the branch tips studded with glitter-coated acorns. Her fingers ached for a full two days afterwards, bruised from pinching and twisting floristry wire, but she had to admit the effect was impressive.

‘You’ve got a real flair for this,’ Ivy said, as they stood back to admire their handiwork. ‘Adding the squirrels among the branches was a brilliant idea.’

‘If we had more room, it would be nice to add a woodland scene,’ Grace said, pleased her idea had worked. ‘But perhaps that’s something we could think about next month, when our customers’ thoughts really turn towards Christmas. I love the idea of them turning a corner and suddenly finding themselves in a snowy glade, surrounded by gently lit deer and fawns. We could hang some of the pine cone lanterns that came in yesterday.’

Ivy smiled. ‘I love it. Why don’t you decide on the best placement and we’ll make it happen?’

Over at Ruggles, Grace could see preparations for the pumpkin patch getting underway; a corner of the car park had been hidden behind tall black and orange screens emblazoned with the words ‘COMING SOON!’ and posters adorned the sides of the trolley parks. She wondered whether the newly returned Jesse had much to do with the development. But from what Keeley had said, the pumpkin patch was a well-established feature each year, so perhaps he was focusing his attention on turning Flaxwood into a winter wonderland. She could certainly see the evidence of his ambition. The village green had been home to a variety of diggers for the best part of a week, which she supposed were involved in laying the electrical cabling Keeley had mentioned. Two new wooden footbridges had appeared across the stream that ran alongside the green and a tall, Japanese-style pagoda now sat a short distance from the war memorial. It must all be linked, she thought, and, not for the first time, found herself wondering whether Freezy Tye would be able to compete. From what Keeley had told her, other villages had come close to stealing their crown in the past but it seemed Flaxwood had money to burn. At least the Freezy Tye committee knew they had a fight on their hands and could up their game accordingly, but Jesse had all the resources of Ruggles at his disposal. It might just tip the balance in Flaxwood’s favour.

With that in mind, she wasn’t surprised to arrive at work one Friday morning to meet Jesse on his way out of Santa’s Secret. He stopped in the doorway, frowning as though trying to place her, then smiled in recognition. ‘We meet again. Gloria, wasn’t it? From the autumn wreath workshop.’

‘Grace,’ she corrected a little awkwardly, hoping he’d also forgotten her disaster of a wreath. ‘Did you pop in to see Ivy or were you in the market for some decorations?’

He smiled, flashing his white teeth in amusement that didn’t quite reach his eyes. ‘A quick chat with Ivy about some plans I have for the future of Ruggles,’ he said. ‘I must admit, I’d forgotten how chaotically she runs this place. I’m amazed your customers can find anything – it’s rather like a jumble sale. She certainly brings new meaning to the phrase cheap and cheerful.’

Grace could only stare, slightly open-mouthed, at his rudeness. What had he been expecting – Harrods? ‘Santa’s Secret caters to a lot of different customer bases, from event planners to DIY Christmas decorators,’ she said, unable to prevent the note of stiffness in her voice. ‘The sheer amount of stock we sell makes it difficult to display everything as neatly as you do over at Ruggles, but it’s a rare day that anyone leaves us unable to find what they came in for.’

In Grace’s experience, the wealth of choice meant most shoppers left with far more than they had originally intended to buy but she didn’t want to press the point. From the pinched expression on Jesse’s face, she’d already said more than he’d been expecting. ‘I suppose you have a point. Some of the larger displays are very well done. I might see whether we can use any of the ideas for the Christmas decorations in Flaxwood this year,’ he said, and eyed her appraisingly. ‘We’re intending to win Britain’s Most Christmassy Village and could use someone with a bit of design talent, if you’re interested.’

Grace couldn’t believe his audacity. In one breath, he had described her workplace as a jumble sale and, in the next, he’d tried to poach her to help with Flaxwood’s display. She knew he could have no idea she had any loyalty to Freezy Tye – Keeley had been careful not to mention her own workplace at the wreath workshop, or even where she lived – but even so, the cheek of it all was a bit much. She summoned up a tight smile. ‘I’m afraid I mostly sweep up and make the tea,’ she lied. ‘Ivy is the real design genius. Have you asked her?’

Jesse scowled. ‘She insists she has to stay neutral, since a lot of her customers come from other local villages. It’s all nonsense, of course. She’s just too stubborn to see which way the wind is blowing.’ He made a show of checking the time on his flashy gold watch, and Grace was unsurprised to see it was a Rolex. ‘Anyway, I must go. I’ve got another meeting with our tulip supplier from Amsterdam. Let me know if you change your mind about helping with the design.’

With a nod, he strode past her and made for the road that led to the garden centre. Shaking her head, Grace pushed back the door and went inside.

‘Morning,’ Misha called cheerfully, looking up from tidying the boxes of wrapping paper propped up in front of the tills to tempt shoppers.

‘Hey,’ Grace replied. ‘All set for another day of festive fun?’

Misha grinned. ‘Always. We had another delivery first thing – I think those Nordic gonks you and Ivy ordered might have arrived. Either that or we’ve been invaded by an army of Christmassy garden gnomes.’

‘Great,’ Grace said, busily juggling her plans for the morning to fit in an inspection of the new stock. ‘I’ll just dump my stuff, then go and check them out.’