Page 6 of The Holiday Cottage

“I don’t want to hear it, Sara.”

“But—”

“Imogen is doing a great job. She is smart, hardworking and creative. There is no one I would rather be working with. You heard her just now—her enthusiasm is infectious.”

Sara took a breath. “She is good. I’m not arguing that point, but—”

“Do you know that our suppliers and customers still talk about the event she ran for us last year? Even the ones who didn’t come talk about it, because they regret not having made the effort. It’s a shame you missed it.”

Sara turned her head away and stared out of the window. “Ava was sick.”

“Yes.” Dorothy opened her mouth and closed it again.Let it go, Dorothy.

“I know you want to give the business to Imogen,” Sara said, “but don’t you think we should at least ask a few other companies to pitch?”

“No.” Dorothy kept an eye on the car ahead that was weaving in and out of traffic. “Imogen is excellent at what she does, the costings are in line with our budget and I’m confident the project will run perfectly if she is in control. Why put it out to pitch? We’re a small family business and I don’t have time for all that. Whatisthat guy doing? Does he really think he’s going to squeeze through that gap? Friday afternoon does strange things to people.” She wanted this conversation to end, but it seemed she didn’t get that lucky.

Sara tapped her fingers on the file in front of her. “All I’m saying is that—”

“I know what you’re saying, and I’m grateful for your opinion, Sara, always. But this decision is mine, and I’ve made it.” She said it as if it had been easy, but it hadn’t. She wondered if Sara knew that she questioned herself every moment of the day. Big decisions, important decisions, should be clear, but this one was murky and opaque. “Those concepts are perfect. The drone display is inspired. We’re holding it on our own land, which will keep the costs down. And I love the fact that we’ll be able to invite our neighbors and everyone in the village. It will be quite a party.”

“It is clever, I admit it. This isn’t about Imogen’s work, you know that.” Sara sighed. “I’m worried about you, that’s all.”

“You don’t need to worry about me. I know what I’m doing.” If only that were true. She had no idea what she was doing. She was winging it. Doing her best. Making her best guess and hoping that instinct served her better than it had in the past. Mistakes should make you wiser, surely, but in her case they’d just made her wary.

“Mum—”

“More importantly, give me the latest sales figures and then we can switch off and get ourselves into weekend in the country mode.” The traffic finally eased and she headed out of London, leaving the city behind her.

She could feel Sara’s gaze on her, but finally her daughter turned her attention to her phone.

“Patrick sent the numbers through an hour ago. Sales are up 40 percent on this time last year. Orders are going through the roof, but that’s Christmas of course. I spoke to the agency—the new ad,Christmas without the headache, seems to have resonated with the forty-to fifty-year-old age group, which is good because we were aiming to increase sales among that group.”

Dorothy smiled. “All those parents cooking the Christmas dinner. And your new social media campaign?”

“It has been a hit with influencers. We’ve had some dreamy lifestyle photography, the new bottle and label looks great in photos. There was a brilliant one taken on a Christmas tree farm. I’ll send it to you. The half size gift bottle with the Christmas label has almost sold out. We have more on order—” Sara talked for the next hour, and by the time she’d finished updating Dorothy, they’d left the motorway and were weaving their way along country roads toward the Cotswolds.

Dorothy felt the stress of the city leave her and a new stress form behind her ribs.

It wasn’t the place, it was the time of year.

“It’s cold today,” she said briskly. “I can’t believe it’s December next week. It will soon be Christmas.” The moment she said the words she felt Sara’s hand on her leg, comforting.

Any tension that the earlier conversation might have caused fell away.

“I know.” Sara gave her leg a squeeze. “But it’s going to be fine. We’re going to have a good time, you wait.”

“We are. We always do.” What would she do without her daughter? Dorothy sat up a little straighter and focused on the road. Sara was better than she was at compartmentalizing. She’d managed to lock the past away. Dorothy wished she was able to do the same. “Are the girls excited?”

“Exciteddoesn’t cover it. They’ve made a chart so that they can count the sleeps until Santa comes. They’ve made more Christmas cards than we have people in our lives. I have no idea what we’re going to do with them all.”

“Get the girls to send them to the animals. The alpacas would love to have a Christmas card, I’m sure.”

“That’s a great idea, although you’ll have to make sure they don’t eat it.” Sara laughed. “And talking of alpacas, Mrs. Nolan wants to know if they can borrow Benson for the play at school. As you’ll be in the audience, you can supervise him.”

“Goodness. They have a role for an alpaca? What exactly is this play?”

“The kids have written the story,” Sara said. “All living things welcome. They created a part especially for Benson because the children love him, and no matter how much they fuss over him, he never bites them.”

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