Page 22 of The Holiday Cottage

“I wish he could have met the girls. Ava is so like him.”

“She is. She has his exuberance and zest for life. Your father never used to take no for an answer. No matter what the objection, he’d find a way to talk someone round.”

Sara nodded. “I don’t know if that’s good or bad—certainly tiring for the person on the other end.”

They exchanged a look and Dorothy smiled.

“My fingers and toes are freezing. Time for that hot chocolate, I think. Ava and I will go ahead and start making Christmas decorations.”

“Beware glue and glitter,” Sara warned and then stopped as Dorothy’s phone rang.

Dorothy checked the number. “It’s Imogen—I should take this. I promise to be quick.”

Sara’s expression changed from warm and happy to wary. “Mum—”

“It’s fine, Sara. Hello, Imogen? Is everything all right?” She listened as Imogen spoke and then nodded. “That sounds perfect. I’ll see you then. I’m looking forward to it.” She ended the call, aware that Sara was still watching her. “She was just confirming our lunch next week, that’s all.”

“I can’t believe you’re going back to London just for that. It’s Christmas. The streets are packed. Why don’t you stay here and push your lunch with Imogen into the new year?”

“Because I made a commitment and I always honor my commitments. And I like London at this time of year. I enjoy the buzz and the atmosphere, and I enjoy Imogen’s company. She has been working hard for us.”

Sara sighed. “We both know that’s not why—”

“Can we have hot chocolate now, Nanna?” Ava, bored with horses and her sister, reached for Dorothy’s hand. “I’m cold.”

“I’m cold too.” Dorothy took her hand. “We’ll see you indoors, Sara. Don’t stay out too long.”

She knew there was more Sara wanted to say. She knew Sara didn’t want her to go back to London again, but that wasn’t going to stop her going. She would do what she needed to do.

You couldn’t undo the past, but you could do your very best with the future.

6

Imogen

It promised to be the busiest day of the year so far. Imogen had three events taking place at different times, in different parts of London. Not ideal, but it sometimes happened that way. Clients didn’t always have flexibility with their dates, and she was the one who had to make it all work.

Her schedule had required intricate planning to ensure she could spend some time at each event and even when she wasn’t physically present, she intended to be fully available to the client if needed. Experience had taught her she probably would be needed. That was life. And it was her job to smooth out any wrinkles.

Imogen wasn’t worried. She was prepared for every eventuality, and there were few emergencies she hadn’t encountered at some point in her career. Most memorable was the keynote speaker at a pharmaceutical conference who had suffered a heart attack on stage. Imogen had located the defibrillator, ripped open his designer shirt and delivered 200 joules, which had brought him back to life. It had been a shock to both of them (also to the audience, and the applause had raised the roof), because that happened far less frequently than TV medical dramas led you to believe. Imogen had then escorted him to the ambulance, while simultaneously locating a substitute keynote speaker. Despite the drama, the event had been declared a success. The company had been clients of hers ever since, and the CEO sent her an extravagant gift every Christmas.

Then there had been the event where the hotel had suffered a kitchen fire an hour before a celebratory lunch for the board of a leading investment bank. Imogen had tapped her many contacts, pulled in favors and produced a four-course lunch worthy of the royal family.

She’d held an event at a zoo (client’s request) where one of the delegates had drunk too much and tried to climb into the enclosure with the penguins.

And then there was the minor stuff. She’d dealt with broken heels (she’d had a pair of shoes couriered from a store in Knightsbridge), sore throats (lozenges), lost notes (she insisted clients gave her backups of all presentations), apocalyptic weather (moved the event from outdoor to indoor with two hours’ notice). The list was endless. But Imogen was confident she could deal with anything that was thrown at her (or blown at her in the case of the weather). She enjoyed the challenge. She liked proving to herself, and others, that she could handle anything.Bring it on.

This was her job, and she was good at it. Not just good.The best.

Clients assumed their events would run smoothly and usually they did, but when things went wrong it was Imogen’s job to fix it, preferably without the client being aware.

She worked on the principle that there was always a solution to every problem, and usually more than one. It was simply a matter of picking the best.

And even when she wasn’t physically present at an event, she was always available for advice and troubleshooting. She carried two phones, just in case one of them was lost, stolen, or she needed to field two calls at once (it happened).

Each event was allocated its own team from RPQ and they were present the whole time. Imogen’s job was just to show her face, take a few photos of the event, troubleshoot anything the account manager couldn’t handle and generally give the client confidence that everything was in hand.

Her first event today was an all-day sales conference in a smart hotel just outside London. The company was celebrating their best year ever, and her brief had been to design an event that was both a company celebration and a Christmas celebration.

---