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He sighed. “Suzy—”
Maybe not so patient.
“A fraction lower.” She watched as he lowered them. “Perfect. Don’t you love them?”
“Fairy lights are right at the top of my Christmas list. If Santa doesn’t bring at least ten sets, I’m going to break down and cry like a baby.”
“Sarcasm is unattractive. On the other hand, now I know what you want, I’ll make sure Santa returns the perfect gift he bought you and buys fairy lights instead.”
“Don’t!” He gave her a look of wild-eyed panic. “I know you’re capable of it.”
“Are you going to hang those fairy lights without complaining?”
He secured the fairy lights with exaggerated care. “Have pity. I’m a man. I can’t get excited about fairy lights, whatever shape they are. They come under the same heading as throw cushions. In other words, something that serves no purpose.”
“You think?” Suzanne flicked the switch and the stars gleamed white. “They look good. Let’s hang another set over the hearth.” Creating comfort was at the heart of everything she did, from cooking good food in the café to knitting sweaters. It was as if par
t of her was determined to erase the cold and loneliness she’d felt in her early childhood. She’d had no one to nurture her, so she’d learned to nurture herself. She’d been afraid of the dark, but night-lights hadn’t been allowed, so now she made up for it. Warm lights, soft cushions, family—everything she’d never had, she had now in abundance.
“Another set?” Stewart climbed back down the ladder. “How many do you have?”
“Ten. I bought them for the café, and these were left over. On the other hand, maybe candles would be better on the hearth.” Suzanne folded a throw over the base of the bed and carefully added cushions. “Do not say anything.”
Stewart looked at the cushions. “My lips are sealed, but only because I’m shallow and care about my Christmas gift.”
“I asked Posy to fetch some extra logs for the basket so we can light a fire when she arrives. I don’t want Hannah to be cold.”
“She lives in New York. Do you have any idea how cold New York is in the winter?”
“There’s a difference between Manhattan and the Scottish Highlands.”
“That’s why we live in the Highlands.”
Suzanne straightened a lamp and surveyed the room. The curtains were the same deep green as the moss that clung to the side of the mountain in the summer. The fabric was rich and velvety and fell in a pool to the polished oak floor. They were heavy enough to keep out the cold wind that sneaked through cracks and rattled the windows in the winter months. The position of Glensay Lodge, idyllic in the summer, was exposed in the winter. For that reason, Suzanne made sure there was warmth in the furnishings. She’d made everything herself, from the curtains to the soft throw draped across the base of the bed.
She’d longed for a home of her own, and there was never a day when she wasn’t grateful for it.
Stewart took it for granted, but that was because he’d always had it. She knew he was equally content sleeping on a snowy ledge, thousands of feet up a mountain.
Thanks to Cheryl, she’d experienced that, too.
The first time her friend had dragged her climbing still stuck in her mind. Would she have done it without Cheryl? Probably not. To her surprise, she’d enjoyed the crunch of snow under her boots and the icy slap of the wind against her face. It was true that she hadn’t shared Cheryl’s single-minded passion for it, but she’d enjoyed the physical challenge and the beauty of watching the sun rise above snowcapped mountains. Most of all she’d enjoyed the friendship and the teamwork that came with climbing.
* * *
“This is all I want from life.” Cheryl lay on her back in her sleeping bag staring up at the stars. In the still of the night they could hear the glacier creak and groan. “Not a mansion in the Hollywood Hills, or a swanky apartment on Fifth Avenue. Who wants to be trapped between four walls when you can have this? It’s the best.”
Suzanne was cold and wished Cheryl hadn’t insisted on sleeping outside the tent. “Don’t you want a family one day?”
“I suppose so.” Cheryl shrugged. “I’ve never thought about it.”
Suzanne thought about it all the time. “You can’t raise a family in a sleeping bag. You’ll need a home.”
“No, I won’t. I’ll travel around. Buy a van. We can all sleep in the back, or camp out.”
It sounded exhausting and insecure to Suzanne. Before she’d met Cheryl, she’d been moved between so many different foster homes it had made her dizzy. Living out of a van didn’t sound any different, except perhaps colder in the winter months. “Is that fair on them?”
“Kids get used to whatever life they’re living. That’s their normal.”
