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Alice gave a grateful sigh. Her make-up was still impeccable but her eyes were tired this morning. ‘Maybe you should have some help? Someone to give you some confidence in your decisions.’
Grace was surprised. ‘Do you want to come with me? You’re more than welcome to. I would be glad of the company.’
Alice laughed and shook her head. ‘Oh, no. I don’t mean me. I was thinking more of someone else...someone else who could use a little Christmas spirit.’
Grace had poured the tea and was about to hand the cup and saucer to Alice but her hand wobbled. She knew exactly who Alice was hinting about.
‘I don’t think that would be appropriate. He’s far too busy. He’s far too immersed in his work. He wouldn’t have time for anything like that.’
She shifted uncomfortably. She had a pink shirt hanging up in her locker, ready to change into once she’d finished her chambermaid duties. Alice was staring at her with those steady grey eyes. It could be a little unnerving. It was as if she could see into Grace’s head and see all the secret weird thoughts she’d been having about Finlay Armstrong since last night.
Gran had been a bit like that too. She’d always seemed to know what Grace was going to say before she even said it. Even when she’d been twelve years old and her friend had stolen a box of chocolates from the local shop. The associated guilt had nearly made Grace sick, and she’d only been home and under Gran’s careful gaze for ten minutes before she’d spilled everything.
Alice Archer was currently sparking off a whole host of similar feelings.
Her eyes took on a straight-to-the-point look. ‘He asked you to get him some Christmas decorations, didn’t he?’
Grace set the cup and saucer down. ‘Yes,’ she replied hesitantly.
‘Then, he’s reached the stage that he’s ready to start living again.’
The words were so matter-of-fact. So to the point. But Alice wasn’t finished.
‘It’s time to bring a little Christmas magic to The Armstrong, Grace, and you look like just the girl to do it.’
* * *
One hour later the black shirt was crumpled in a bag and her long-sleeved deep pink shirt with funny little tie thing at the collar was firmly in place. She grabbed some more deodorant from her locker. She was feeling strangely nervous. A quick glance in the mirror showed her hair was falling out of its bun again. She pulled the clip from her hair and gave it a shake. Her hair tumbled in natural waves. She was lucky. It rarely needed styling. Should she redo her lipstick?
She pulled her plum lipstick from her bag and slicked some on her lips. There. She was done. She took a deep breath, reaching into the apron that she’d pushed into her locker for her array of pictures. Her last touch was the black suit jacket—the only one she owned. She’d used it for her interview with Clio some months ago and thought of it as her good luck charm.
Finally she was satisfied with how she looked. She’d never be wearing designer clothes, but she felt presentable for the role she was about to undertake.
She pushed everything else back into the locker and did her final job—swapping her square-heeled black shoes for some black stilettos. She teetered for the tiniest second and laughed. Who was she trying to kid? She pulled open the locker again and slid her hand into the inside pocket of her black bag. There. Drop gold earrings that her gran had given her for her twenty-first birthday. She usually only wore them on special occasions but in the last few months, and particularly at this time of year, she missed her gran more than she could ever say. She slipped them into her ears and straightened her shoulders, taking a deep breath.
There it was. The little shot of confidence that she needed. She glanced down at the papers in her hand and smiled.
She was going to give this hotel the spirit of Christmas no matter what.
* * *
He could hear a strange noise outside his room. Like a shuffling. After more than a few seconds it was annoying.
Finlay’s first reaction was to shout. But something stopped him. Maybe it was Alice Archer? Could she have come looking for him?
He sat his pen down on his desk. ‘Is someone there?’
The noise that followed was almost a squeak. He smiled and shook his head. ‘Well, it’s obviously an infestation of mice. I’d better phone the exterminator.’
‘What? No!’ Grace’s head popped around the door.
Grace. It was funny the odd effect that had on him.
She kind of sidled into the office. ‘I’m sorry if I’m disturbing you, Mr Armstrong.’
He gestured towards the chair in front of him. ‘It’s Finlay. If you call me Mr Armstrong I’ll start looking over my shoulder for my father.’
