Page 12 of The Holiday Cottage

“And did your mother meet up with Imogen?”

“No, not this time, although they are going to arrange something before Christmas.” She felt a flicker of unease. “They’re getting pretty close.”

“And that bothers you?”

“I don’t know.” She paused. “Yes, it bothers me.”

“Imogen is good at her job.”

“I know. She is good. That’s not what worries me.” Sara’s head started to throb. “You know what my mother is like. Waifs, strays, anyone in need, anyone vulnerable—human or animal—and my mother is there.”

“Which category does Imogen fit into?”

“I’m not sure. But when Imogen moved companies, my mother didn’t hesitate to move our business with her.”

“Because she’s competent and enthusiastic. Not exactly a waif or a stray, Sara. It was a sound business decision.”

She welcomed the reassurance and the logic, but still, anxiety gnawed at her insides. “You’re right, but we both know her reasons for using them are more complicated than that.”

He was silent for a moment. “In the end, this is your mother’s decision. She’s doing what she needs to do. What she feels is right.”

But what she was doing could have difficult consequences.

“I want to protect her.” And herself. She wanted to protect herself. Was that selfish?

No, it was survival.

“I know you do. But your mother is as stubborn and determined as you are, and she isn’t going to change her mind. All you can do is go along with it.”

“You’re right. There’s no point in worrying.” She snuggled closer. “The time of year doesn’t help.”

“I know.” His arms tightened. “But it’s going to be fine. We’re going to have a great Christmas.”

There was no reason why that shouldn’t be the case. So why was she feeling so uneasy?

4

Imogen

Imogen switched off her computer and yawned. It had been a long day, and she still had to put together some ideas for a client’s centenary celebration the following summer, but she didn’t want to stay any later because the walk from the station to her home became steadily less safe as the evening progressed.

“Imogen?” Rosalind called to her from her office. “Can you come in for a moment?”

They were the only two people left on the floor. Desks were deserted, and beyond the windows the city stretched, tall buildings glittering against the night sky.

Far beneath them the River Thames snaked its way past Tower Bridge and down toward Greenwich. It was a stunning view of London, showcasing all the best parts, and sometimes Imogen wondered if anyone would notice if she tucked a sleeping bag under her desk and lived here. It would be so much better than her current accommodation, which was an example of London at its least appealing.

Imogen paused in the doorway of Rosalind’s office. She felt the usual flash of envy. Rosalind was the only person who had her own protected space. She had a door (an actual door!), although to be fair she rarely closed it.

Imogen sometimes imagined how much more work she could get done if she had her own office. No more chitchat. No more having to be creative about her life. No more trying to fit in. What would that be like?

She’d hate it.

She was lonely at home; she didn’t need to be cut off and lonely at work too.

“Is everything all right, Rosalind?”

“Couldn’t be better. I have good news, and as you are a large part of the reason for the good news, I thought I’d share it with you first.” Rosalind sat back in her chair and slid on the glasses that gave her the look of a serious academic. “We won the Noop account.”

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