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“Don’t. You’ll wake her up.”
“What if she woke early and wandered off? She could have been eaten by a reindeer—”
Michael rolled onto his back, giving up on sleep. “Reindeer are herbivores.”
“Stabbed by their antlers, then.”
“They always seem like pretty docile creatures in the movies. Would Santa really use them to pull his sleigh if they were so lethal?”
“I’m just going to check on her.” She tugged a sweater over her nightdress and tiptoed from the bedroom into the room next door.
She pushed gently at Tab’s door, opening it just enough for her to peep into the room.
The bed was empty.
She opened the door fully. “Tab?”
There was no sign of her daughter.
Panic knotted in her stomach.
“Michael! She’s gone!” She ran back into the bedroom and tripped over her shoes. “Get dressed. We have to search for her.” She grabbed her shoes from the floor and her jeans from the back of the chair. “How could I have slept so late? I never sleep late.”
“Ella—”
“Why didn’t I hear her? We should have stayed home and not come here for the holidays. I hope they lock the doors in this place.” She pulled off her nightdress and dragged on her jeans. “She could have wandered anywhere—”
“Calm down.” Michael forced himself out of bed. “I’ve never seen you like this.”
“Well, now you’re seeing me.” Her heart was thumping, her pulse racing. He was right that she had to calm down. “We need to find Brodie McIntyre. We need to—”
“Breathe.” Michael ran his hand over his face, waking himself up. “You need to breathe. Then we return to our usual parenting style, which favors logic over panic. She’s probably downstairs playing with the dog.”
“Or maybe she took the dog for a walk and she slipped into the loch and drowned.”
“Why would she do that? And why would you think that?” He grabbed a robe. “Okay, let’s go find our daughter.” He glanced out of the window and paused. “Ah—panic over.”
“What? Why?”
Ella joined him at the window and saw Tab in the distance, a tiny figure against a vast snowy landscape. Next to her was a larger figure. An adult, dressed in a bulky down jacket.
“Who is that she’s with?”
“Looks like your mother.”
“That’s not my mother. My mother only ever wears black. That jacket is—” she squinted “—peacock?”
“Well, maybe she fancied a change. It’s definitely your mother.”
“But black is her color. Still—” She flopped down onto the edge of the bed. “It’s a relief that Tab’s okay.”
Michael sat down next to her. “Are you okay?”
“I’m always like this around my mother. You know that.”
“I don’t know that. I’ve never seen you with your mother. And I don’t understand why you’d be any different in her company.”
“We all act differently around different people, Michael. Have you seen my gloves?”
