Page 11 of The Holiday Cottage

“It will be fun.”

Their enthusiasm was infectious, and Sara felt a glow of warmth and anticipation. She knew her mother found this time of year hard, and part of her did too, but she’d learned to block it out and not give it a moment of her attention. The faint shadow of sadness was easily forgotten when she was with the girls. Their excitement seeped into her, blasting out the wisps of darkness.

“We’ll get the tree soon. We’ll choose the biggest one in the forest.”

Ava clapped her hands, knocked over her drink in the process, and Iris went running for a cloth to mop up the mess.

Patrick helped her. “You were the one who said you wanted a little sister.”

Iris dropped the cloth into the pools of juice. “I didn’t realize a little sister would be so messy.”

They ate their pizza together, and by the time the girls were settled and in bed, Sara was almost ready to collapse into bed herself.

She loaded the plates into the dishwasher, cleared the kitchen and made coffee.

“Tell me that’s decaf,” Patrick said, “although nothing is likely to keep me awake tonight.”

“Have they been waking you up?”

“Ava had a couple of bad dreams. You know how she is. Active imagination. I probably did too much with them. Wound them up playing. That’s the downside of working too hard—when I’m with them I overcompensate.” He reached for the cups and she poured the coffee.

“How could we produce two children who are so different?”

“I don’t know, but I happen to think they make a perfect pair. You don’t have to be the same to be good together. Think of fish and chips. Scones and cream.”

They carried their drinks into the living room and Sara collapsed onto the sofa. “I worry about them. Iris is so sensitive, and Ava is capable of getting herself into so much trouble and she’s only six. What’s it going to be like when she’s sixteen?”

Patrick stroked her leg. “They’re going to be fine.”

“You don’t know that. No one ever knows what is round the corner.”

“Whoa—” he shifted position so that he could look at her “—what’s brought this on?”

“Nothing. It’s just that sometimes I worry that—”

“I know what you worry about, but you don’t need to. That isn’t going to happen. Is this because you were trapped in the car with your mother for hours? Did she put those thoughts in your head?”

“No.” She was quick to defend her. “Obviously she worries—”

“And she infected you with that same worry. So now I’m going to tell you not to worry. The girls are fine. They dote on each other.” He put his cup down and pulled her into his arms. “How is your mother?”

“Oh, you know—the usual.” She snuggled against his shoulder. “Putting on a brave face. She’s busy, so that’s good.”

“Did you persuade her to let us spend Christmas Day with her?”

“Yes, I think so.” She glanced up at him? “You’re sure that’s okay with you?”

“Of course. The girls will love it.”

“How about you?” She reached for her coffee. “You work with my mother. Are you sure you want to spend Christmas with her too?”

“Yes. She’s good company. And she is great to work with. Not that I see that much of her. Talking of work, that proposal that the events company put together for our summer party next year looks great.”

“You read it? Between the vineyard and the girls, I didn’t think you’d have time.”

“You were away. My nights were long and empty. I missed you. And I was interested.” He paused. “It’s amazing how fast we’re expanding. If that guy you had your meeting with puts in an order—”

“I know! Our little Cotswold winery hitting the big time.” She grinned. “Merry Christmas.”

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