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“Kind of like Albert following naughty Milo.”
Alec laughed. “If only Aunt Emma knew she was being compared to Milo. That’s just perfect. I can’t even tell you how much that amuses me.”
“Well, we’re not going to tell her, are we?” Cara looked up at him, flushed and happy that she’d made Alec laugh.
Making him laugh made her feel as if she’d won an incredible prize. He had a good sense of humor, but it seemed buried, weighted down by responsibilities.
“And to be honest, I don’t think we need everyone’s input right now, just yours, because it’s your home, your holidays, and you are the host. What kind of Christmas would you like?”
“Ideally, one where we can relax.” He hesitated, and then added, “A Christmas without criticism and complaints.” He hesitated again. “Do you think it’s possible?”
She thought for a moment, picturing the faces of discontent around the breakfast table. “Do you think they object to me being here?”
“How could they? You are the only cheerful one.”
“Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe they need some holiday cheer.” She chewed on her lip. “Because everyone did come for Christmas, and they arrived early, afraid that the weather would keep them home. No one wanted to miss the annual dinner, or being with you.”
He gave her a mocking look. “I doubt they’ve come to be with me. It’s tradition to be at Langley, so to Langley they’ve come.”
“It’s tradition to be at Langley with you,” she said. “Because you’ve been hosting for a number of years now, haven’t you?”
“Four, five. Five, with my father. Four on my own. But I’m not the one that plans anything. The staff really managed it all. Mrs. Johnson and Mrs. Booth organized Christmas, made sure there was a meal and a reason to gather.”
“Perhaps that’s what your aunt Emma is afraid of,” Cara said after a minute, as they walked up the long drive, back to the house. “Worried that without the staff, she—they—won’t get the same care.”
“They won’t.” Alec snapped his fingers and the dogs came running. “I’m not going to wait on them, and you aren’t, either.”
“Not wait on them, no, but plan activities and meals, yes. Some structure is needed, something everyone knows about. It would help with expectations, and keep the family on the same page.” She glanced up at him, trying to read his expression. “I’m going to draft a plan for Christmas at Langley. Do you have any objection to that?”
They’d almost reached the stable master’s cottage turned office and teahouse and Alec stopped walking to face her. “This is supposed to be your holiday. You paid to come here. How is this an escape?”
She shrugged, untroubled. “I came to experience something new. I came to experience an English Christmas. I think I’m going to have an English Christmas. I do believe this is England.”
“Yes, this is England.” His upper lip lifted, he was smiling, faintly. “But this is your vacation. You shouldn’t be working.”
She reached down to pet Milo who’d pressed close and shoved his head beneath her hand. His fur was cold and little bits of snow clung to an ear. She rubbed his ear, brushing the snow away. “Did you know there are people who pay to go to Greece during all of harvest season? They pay to stay either at the big olive groves, or close to it, and they spend their days working. There are others who do something similar during the grape harvest seasons around the world—Germany, Australia, Napa. Consider me here to pitch in as we create a traditional Sherbourne Christmas.” She smiled wryly. “Which I have no idea what that is, but I’m looking forward to helping recreate.”
“Or create,” Alec said, brow creasing, “because I don’t think we’ve had a proper Christmas in years.”
*
An hour later,Alec found Cara in the kitchen, studying the contents of the built-in refrigerator. “Thinking about lunch?” he said.
She nodded. “Your uncle Frederick mentioned he eats at noon.” She looked up at the clock on the wall and grimaced. “I’m a half hour late.”
“Did he say what he wanted?”
“Soup. And your aunts want sandwiches. Chicken. Or egg salad.” She closed the refrigerator. “I don’t think we have cold chicken for a sandwich, or egg salad. I could cook some eggs later, and we could have egg salad tomorrow—”
“No. That’s too complicated. Johnson has lots of homemade soup in the freezer. Let’s pick one, I’ll start heating it up and then we can make some cheese toasties and that’s lunch.”
“You’re going to help me?” she asked.
“Of course. I wouldn’t leave you alone in here. What kind of man would I be to do that to you?”
Cara’s gaze met his and for a moment she couldn’t remember where she was, or much less what was said, only that Alec was here, and it felt so good. She reached for the notebook and pen she’d been filling with details and little lists. “While I have your attention, can I ask you a few things? I just want to make sure I’m not stepping on your toes if I arrange activities for your family, thinking that maybe we could play games after dinner tonight. Do you have preferences? Things I should know about? Activities that would make you uncomfortable—”
“Yes, games. I detest games. Are we really going to have to play games?”
