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The police will be dropping her things by the house, was the text I received back from him.Andyou’re a fucking idiot.
That was fair. I was a fucking idiot.
When we arrived back at the house, Moira, my housekeeper, was waiting by the door to take our coats.
“In der küche ist das abendessen fertig,” she said. “Soll ich dienen?”
“Nein,” I assured her. “Wir können das schaffen. Danke.”
Moira smiled and walked off to put our things away.
“What was that?” Hannah asked, a bemused smile on her face. “All I caught was the thanks.”
“She said dinner was ready,” I explained, motioning for Hannah to follow me to the kitchen. “And I assured her that we can serve ourselves.”
“Holy moly!” Hannah exclaimed as she took in the spread that had been laid out for us. “Who else is coming?”
“It’s just us,” I assured her.
“There’s enough food here for an army,” she said with a laugh, shaking her head.
“Or two very hungry ice skaters,” I teased. “Shall we watch your movie while we eat or is that too uncouth?”
“I’m fine eating in front of a television,” she answered. “We Americans are quite the uncouth breed.”
“Thank goodness for small favors,” I told her, grinning as I handed her a plate.
Moira had gone a little overboard, but since I so rarely entertained guests, she was probably happy to have an opportunity to feed someone other than Simon and myself.
“Should I open a bottle of wine as well?” I suggested as she picked sausages and cheeses and fruit from the platters on the table.
“That would be lovely,” she agreed.
So we gathered our food and our drinks and headed into the living room, where I queued up the movie while Hannah settled in on the sofa.
We ate and drank our way through the first bottle of wine while I tried desperately to understand this Die Hard movie she seemed to love so much.
“I don’t understand why this is a Christmas movie,” I said finally, turning away from John McLane pulling glass out of the bottom of his feet. “It seems to just be an action movie that happens to take place at Christmas.”
“Well, that’s a common argument,” Hannah explained. “However, there are two deciding factors as to what makes a Christmas movie a Christmas movie. One, would the movie have worked at any other time of year. And the answer for Die Hard, is no. If your brother had chosen a different night, there wouldn’t have been hostages available, because there wouldn’t have been a party going on.”
“You’re not going to let the Gruber thing go, are you?” I asked, rolling my eyes.
“No,” she answered. “And two, is the soundtrack Christmas music, or is it just regular cinematic music. And this soundtrack is Christmas music. Therefore, Die Hard is a Christmas movie.”
“I feel as if you’ve made this litmus test up,” I told her.
“Maybe,” she said. “But I’m still right.”
“Whatever you say,” I told her, grinning at her before leaning back against the seat and draping my arm behind her on the sofa. “Are we done with the bloody feet?”
“Yes,” she promised. And then she leaned against me, resting her head against my chest as she tucked her feet underneath her. “Do you mind?”
“I do not,” I promised her.
My heart was hammering in my chest, and I prayed she wouldn’t notice as I dropped my hand to rest gently on her shoulder. God, it felt so damned right to have her there in my arms and I never, ever wanted the moment to end.
“Herr Gruber,” Moira said softly from the doorway. “Die Polizei ist hier.”
