Page 5 of The Holiday Cottage

Soon a giant tree would arrive in the foyer and she’d admire it along with everyone else. Mistletoe would be hung in strategic places, even though office romance was banned (and, as Janie had once pointed out after several glasses of wine that most definitely had retained all its alcohol content, the number of kissable people in their office was depressingly limited).

And there would be the “bring your dog to work day.”

Midas.

She sighed and glanced at the photo on her desk. The photographer had captured the exact moment his tail had been suspended in mid wag.

He really was a gorgeous dog.

It was just a pity he wasn’t hers.

Also a pity that her Christmas wasn’t going to be a big, noisy family affair.

She loved the family photo she’d placed on her desk, but they weren’t her family. She had no idea who they were (although they looked like lovely people).

She’d described someone else’s Christmas, not hers.

There was no big house in the country. There would be no oversize tree or a log fire. Uncle George wouldn’t be singing out of tune because she didn’t have an uncle called George, or any other uncle. She wasn’t going to have to stop her nieces and nephews squeezing the presents, because she didn’t have nieces or nephews. There would be no games of charades, and no burnt turkey because her mother had never cooked a turkey in her life.

But right now that wasn’t her biggest problem. Her biggest problem was “bring your dog to work day.”

Everyone was expecting to meet Midas, but there was no Midas.

Imogen didn’t have a dog. Imogen didn’t have a loving family.

Imogen had no one.

The personal life she’d created for herself was entirely fake.

2

Dorothy

Dorothy eased into the line of traffic and was heading out of London when Imogen returned her call.

“I’m sorry I missed your call, Dorothy. You know how much I enjoy talking to you.” Imogen sounded breathless and apologetic, and Dorothy smiled. It would have been hard not to admire and respect someone who was as relentlessly upbeat and positive as Imogen. Her energy transmitted itself to the people around her. Added to that, she always had a smile on her face and was ferociously committed to her job.

“It’s not a problem. I only rang to tell you in person that I loved your proposal, so consider this a green light. We can talk details in due course.” She glanced briefly at her daughter, who was seated in the passenger seat next to her, hands clasped in her lap.

Sara gave her a look.

Dorothy ignored it. This was her decision. She could do as she pleased. And it pleased her to give the business to Imogen. No one deserved it more.

“Brilliant! That’s the best news. I’m excited.” Imogen’s enthusiasm filled the car. “I’ll start working up some of the detail over the weekend and let you have that on Monday.”

“There’s no hurry. Take the weekend off, Imogen. You’ve been working too hard.” Dorothy checked her mirror and pulled into the outside lane. “I was thinking that maybe we should have lunch next time I’m in London. We can toast our excellent partnership and also Christmas.”

“That would be great. Just name the day and time, and I’ll make the arrangements. I’m already looking forward to it.”

“I’m in the Cotswolds for the next week, but I’ll be back in London the week after that. Does that work for you?”

They firmed up plans, Dorothy wished Imogen a pleasant weekend and then ended the call.

Silence echoed around the car.

Dorothy waited. She didn’t have the energy for the conversation she knew was coming. Not tonight.

Finally, Sara spoke. “Mum—”

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