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She closed her eyes, refusing to even think about the prenup. That still made her see red, but it was Christmas, and a new day. Forgiveness was important, and so was compassion. Maybe she could forgive Baird for being difficult and unreasonable. She smiled faintly, knowing he thought it was the other way around, that she was emotional and unreasonable. She was the problem.
They were a pair, weren’t they? Ella smiled a little bigger. She’d apologize when she saw him. She’d do her best to keep her million opinions to herself.
Ella bundled up in a big sweater and peeked downstairs. It was cold, and everything was dark. The little tree hadn’t been plugged in. There were no candles lit and the fire in the hearth had burned out. The kitchen was equally dark, and no coffee brewing.
Ella glanced to the front door. Baird’s coat was not hanging there. The coffee cup he’d used the past several days wasn’t on the counter or in the sink. There were no papers or books anywhere. Downstairs was spotless.
Worried, she went back upstairs, walking down the hall to Baird’s room and lightly rapped on the door. There was no answer. She opened the door and peeked in. His bed had not been slept in. Or if he’d slept in it, he’d made it up and removed all of his things. There was no sign of him anymore. No clothes, no suitcase, nothing on the nightstand, nothing anywhere. He was gone.
Ella went to his window and looked out, her gaze going to the house and the gravel driveway curious if she could see Baird’s car, but a tree blocked part of the driveway, and then the old stablemasters house which had become an office for the Christmas tours, with the second floor becoming Mrs. Johnson’s home.
He wasn’t here anymore.
Ella didn’t know how she knew, but she knew. He’d left, just as he’d left last August, the morning after the wedding. Instead of attending the brunch, instead of saying goodbye, he woke up early and returned to the Seattle airport. And now he was gone again. One more abrupt departure that no one saw coming, least of all her.
Ella took a quick breath, her chest tight, pins and needles in her middle. It hurt, the way he just left, but this was who he was, and she’d seen his true colors—twice. She should be relieved he’d left.
She was relieved, she silently insisted. And she wasn’t going to cry.
*
Christmas morning atthe house was nice—mature and a little dull but civilized. No small children tearing packages open. No stockings overflowing. No crumbs and half eaten cinnamon rolls left on holiday plates.
Cara smiled at Ella from across the drawing room, and Ella smiled back. It was her fake brave smile, the big bright one when she didn’t want anyone to know how she felt on the inside. It was a smile she used sometimes when teaching. It was a smile she wore when listening to her advisor destroy her dissertation telling her it wasn’t strong enough, she wasn’t digging deep enough.
She had that smile on her face today because she wasn’t miserable. She wasn’t tortured. She wasn’t in a bad place. But she did feel a little sad, and a little regretful.
“We are down to our last gift,” Alec said, picking up a white box with gold stars and checking the nametag. “Ella, it’s for you.”
Ella rose and took the gift from Alec and sat down again. She didn’t recognize the handwriting. It wasn’t Alec’s handwriting, and it wasn’t Cara’s. It wasn’t the aunts or uncle, either as she had already opened small gifts from them.
Tearing the wrapping paper away from the box, she saw it was a pale silver clothing box. She carefully lifted the lid off and pulled the tissue paper back revealing a folded pink cardigan, the edges finished in a darker pink crochet trim. It was a very delicate little trim. It also happened to be the sweater she had seen two days ago in Bakewell when shopping with Baird for a sweater for Dorothy.
Lifting the cardigan from the box she gave it a little shake, admiring how the fabric buttons were the same pink as the jacket.
“What a pretty sweater,” Cara said from her seat on the couch. “Who’s it from?”
“Baird,” Ella said softly, carefully folding the sweater and placing it back in the box.
A knot filled her throat, and she smoothed the sweater, stunned. She hadn’t expected anything from him, never mind the lovely hand-knit sweater she’d admired in a Bakewell shop he hadn’t even gone into with her. How had he known? How had he managed it?
Cara looked at Alec. “What did Baird give you, honey?”
“Nothing,” Alec answered. “What did he give you, darling?”
Ella flushed, knowing exactly what they were doing. “I don’t know why he gave the sweater to me. I didn’t give him anything.”
“What a beautiful cardigan, and in your favorite color,” Dorothy said.
“Oh, you should put it on,” Emma said.
But Ella looked at Dorothy. “How do you know I love pink?”
Dorothy smiled kindly at her. “It’s what you wear whenever you’re happy.”
*
Christmas dinner wasserved midafternoon right after the Royal Christmas Message, which they all watched on the library television. Uncle Frederick looked a little emotional at the end, acknowledging that he missed the Queen. Her Royal Majesty had served them well for so many years, and he was forever grateful to her.
