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Griff’s scowl had turned into a sardonic smile, like the one he had given Grace all those years before, but other than that, he paid her no attention, although he did always make an effort to talk to her parents, and also to Hope, which Grace found slightly irritating.
But other than checking out the latest beauty Griff had brought with him for the dance and the holidays – a different one each Christmas – Grace paid no attention to him. She was always far too busy talking, watching, admiring, and swooning over Russell to concern herself with Griff.
Although, she did always wish she could wipe that damn smile from Griff’s handsome face. It seemed to grow wider and more sardonic every Christmas. The smile that is, not Griff’s face, which, annoyingly had only grown more handsome over the years.
‘That man gets better looking every time I see him,’ Hope had pointed out last Christmas. ‘Even you must agree he’s hot.’
Grace had to reluctantly admit that Griff was rather sexy, in an arrogant and overbearing way.
But Griff still wasn’t as handsome as Russell, in Grace’s eyes, and she was more than happy to let the other women in the village, including her own sister, swoon over Grifforde Betancourt.
This past year, Russell had been coming home to Betancourt more frequently and was, as always, polite and friendly when he and Grace met. Grace tried to make sure they met as often as possible and asked her parents and her sister, and even a few of the villagers, to ping her a text if they saw him. She pretended she needed to have a word with him about something or other. Luckily, no one ever asked what, or why she couldn’t simply text him herself.
‘You do realise,’ Hope said, ‘that some people might equate your behaviour to stalking, don’t you?’
Grace tutted dismissively in response. ‘I’m merely being friendly … and attentive.’
Hope told her she was mad.
Pat and Simon continued to encourage her to date other men, which she still did from time to time, but none of them compared to Russell.
Granny Joy maintained that the infatuation would end in tears.
‘It’s not infatuation, Granny,’ Grace rebuked her. ‘I’ve been in love with Russell all my life!’
‘Stuff and nonsense,’ Granny Joy replied. She had grown a little grumpy with age, and less inclined to join in with Grace’s fantasies as she had once been. ‘You only think you’re in love with him. Your problem is you see the man as some sort of romantic hero instead of the real person he is, and you always have. You need to open your eyes, my darling, and look around. You might see someone far better suited to you than Russell Betancourt will ever be.’
But Grace took no notice.
Every year, she had been secretly wishing that Russell would ask her to be his date for the Mistletoe Dance. She knew that he wouldn’t be home until the week before the dance, as usual, but this year, unlike all the previous years, Russell wasn’t bringing a date with him. He had told her so the last time they had met, which was at a Bonfire Party at Lookout Point in November. Griff hadn’t come home for that.
So, unless Russell had started dating someone since November, this year might be the year that Grace’s Christmas wish would come true.
The fact that the Mistletoe Dance might not go ahead was definitely unthinkable.
But now, after all these years, Bianca Betancourt had asked the Eversleys to organise the Mistletoe Dance. Grace was determined her family would not say no.
Finally, she would get the opportunity to spend more time with Russell. And frankly, she couldn’t wait.
Grace was so excited she would have been willing to organise the event for free. Her parents, and Hope made it clear that wasn’t going to happen.
‘I think we should charge them double,’ Hope said, after Grace had begged and pleaded with them all to say yes, and vowed that she would do most of the work even if it meant being at Betancourt for twenty-four hours a day every day until Christmas Eve, the night of the Mistletoe Dance.
‘We can’t do that,’ Simon said, never one to rip off a client. ‘But as it is short notice, we can charge a little more than usual.’
‘And Bianca will still be getting a bargain,’ Pat said, somewhat grudgingly.
‘If Grace gets her Christmas wish,’ said Hope, as if she had been reading Grace’s mind, ‘the one she makes every year, then this will be the year Russell finally asks her to be his date for the dance. I wonder what Bianca will have to say about that. Her step son dating the help.’
‘We’re not ‘help’, Pat snapped, surprising both her daughters. ‘We’re just as good as the Betancourts and don’t ever let anyone say otherwise.’
Hope pulled a face and grinned. ‘Okay, Mum. Calm down. All I’m saying is that Bianca might get more than she bargained for.’
‘Amen to that!’ Grace said, laughing joyfully, and then she let out a loud, swoony sigh. ‘I’m going to make sure there’s plenty of mistletoe because, even if Russell doesn’t ask me to be his date, I’m going to get a kiss from him this Christmas if it’s the last thing I do. And I don’t care what Granny says.’
‘What has Granny said?’ Hope asked.
Grace cleared her throat. ‘Nothing important.’ She tossed her French plait over her left shoulder and stuck out her chin. ‘Now will you please phone Bianca, Mum, and tell her the good news! Eversley Events will be delighted to organise this year’s Mistletoe Dance. And it will be the best one the Betancourts and their guests have ever seen.’
