Page 4 of The Holiday Cottage

“I’ll be going home, yes. It will be chaos as usual. You know how it is. Big noisy family gathering. Tree too big for the room. Log fire. Uncle George singing out of tune. I’ll be spending most of my time trying to stop the nieces and nephews squeezing the presents and making sure my mother isn’t burning the turkey.” That was enough information to keep them happy, surely? “We really need that costing, Anya.”

“I’m on it. Oh, and I forgot to tell you that Dorothy Rutherford called for you earlier. You were on the phone to that tech guy from the lighting company.”

Imogen felt her breathing quicken. “You forgot? Dorothy Rutherford is an important client, Anya. When she calls, I stop what I’m doing and take her call. If I’m on with another client, then I call her right back when I’m done.”

“She was fine about it. She loves you. We all know you’re the reason she gave us the business. She wanted to carry on working with you when you left your last place. You can do no wrong. Also, you’re the only one of us who genuinely loves her alcohol-free wine.”

“I don’t mind it,” Janie protested. “It’s a refreshing drink. But it’s not—you know—alcohol. It doesn’t give me the buzz I need on a Friday night. I know those bubbles aren’t going to give me the headache I need the morning after.”

“Just Friday?” Anya grinned. “What about the other nights of the week?”

“Those too. It’s the first thing I do when I get home. My mum and I open a bottle and share it. That’s why I go to the gym every morning. I’d have more willpower if I lived on my own. You’re so lucky to be able to afford your own place, Imogen.”

Imogen waited for a break in the conversation. “What did Dorothy want?”

“She wanted to talk to you about the proposal you sent. Sounds as if she wants to go ahead with everything you suggested. She was impressed. She asked for a bespoke and original concept and you gave her one. The outdoor festival, complete with a stage and tents and the works. Like a rock concert. She thinks it’s a perfect way to showcase their products to customers and have a party for locals at the same time. And she loved the idea of fireworks and the drone display. This will be a huge piece of business, Imogen. Congratulations. You turned a virtually impossible brief into reality. We should celebrate—” She grinned at Janie. “Fancy a glass of nonalcoholic wine?”

“No thanks. I’d rather have a double espresso. I’ll say this though, I love their packaging. Those bottles are classy. Theylooklike champagne.”

“And their sales are rocketing, so someone is loving it.”

Anya rested her chin on her palm. “I wonder if it’s because the marketing is so clever. She has tapped into the whole healthy living trend. Pictures of her estate in the Cotswolds with its vineyard, lots of cool people toasting each other with glasses of Spearcante. I look at the ads and I want to be there, even if there is no alcohol on offer. I wonder how she came up with that name?”

“I think spearca is from an Old English word meaning spark,” Imogen said and they both stared at her.

“How do you know these things?”

“Dorothy is my client. It’s my job to know as much about her as possible. She hasn’t always been in business. Originally, she read English Literature at Oxford. And then she did Medieval studies, which included Old English and Old Norse. I think she also studied Anglo Saxon prose and poetry. I guess etymology was part of that.”

Anya frowned. “Isn’t that insects?”

Janie grinned. “That’s entomology. Etymology is the origin of words, and I’d rather talk about that than insects, thank you very much.”

Right now, Imogen didn’t care about the origins of the name. The only thing Imogen cared about was that Dorothy had been kept waiting. Dorothy wasn’t only an important client, but she was Imogen’s favorite client. She was smart, interesting and surprisingly easy to work with. She embraced Imogen’s ideas and rarely reined her in. Dorothy had been running the family vineyard in the Cotswolds for many years, producing award-winning wines, before deciding to experiment with extracting the alcohol from the wine. She’d been producing no-alcohol wine long before it had become something of a cultural movement, but lately the business had taken off.

Imogen had worked with her for several years and found her enthusiastic, encouraging and supportive. She never whined and complained, which was more than could be said for most of their clients.

“I’ll call her now.”

“No point. She said she’d be tied up for the next couple of hours, but she’d call you from the car on her way home.”

Imogen managed to hide her frustration. If Dorothy was in a meeting, then it would have to be later and she would have to try not to stress about it.

And in the meantime...

“Anya, if you could get those costings now it would mean I could finish this document...” She had a sudden brainwave. “And then I’ll be able to make the call about Midas.”

“Of course! Anything for Midas.”

“Great. Thanks.” As she’d hoped, the mention of Midas galvanized her colleague into action, and ten minutes later Imogen had all the costings incorporated into the document.

Relieved, she sent it through to Rosalind for final approval and sat back in her chair.

Done. Finally. Maybe she should try using Midas as a motivator more often.

She felt uncomfortable talking about him at work, but she badly wanted to fit in, and if that required a little personal sacrifice on her part, then fine. She’d do whatever it took, even pretend to be enthusiastic about Christmas.

Her colleagues would never know the truth.

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