Page 66 of The Holiday Cottage

Or maybe he did know and was thinkingyou think you’ve got trouble? Look at me! No one wants me.

She gave a half smile and felt him lick her palm in solidarity.

Miles shifted his gaze back to the road. “You’re staying in Holly Cottage so of course you know Dorothy. She’s great, isn’t she? One of my favorite people.”

Dorothy definitely wasn’t Imogen’s favorite person right now, but she couldn’t resist the opportunity to find out more from someone who knew her well.

“You’ve known her a long time?”

“Forever. She and my mother were best friends. They were each other’s bridesmaids. Also, Dorothy was my primary schoolteacher for a while.”

“You’re kidding.” She tried to imagine him as a six-year-old.

“That was a long time ago. Before her husband died. Before she took over the running of the vineyard full-time.”

Before her husband died.Her grandfather.

Dorothy had mentioned being a widow, but Imogen had never probed for detail. It hadn’t seemed appropriate. But now she tried to work out where that information fitted with everything she knew about her mother’s family. What was the timing? Had he died after he’d thrown her mother out?

She caught Miles’s questioning glance and realized she was expected to respond.

“Our relationship is mostly professional. I work for an events company. Dorothy is a client.” Or was. Was a client. There was no way Imogen would be working with her again, but that was far too much detail to share.

He nodded. “You live in London? I suppose someone has to.”

“You don’t like London?”

“On occasion, but I generally prefer having space and clean air to breathe. Whenever I visit, I’m always glad to get home.”

Glancing out of the window at the wintry landscape, it wasn’t hard to understand his point of view. They were driving steadily along the narrow road, through an avenue of snowy trees.

If she wasn’t so cold and miserable, she’d be admiring it. It looked like a Christmas card, not that she ever sent Christmas cards.

“So Dorothy was your teacher and a family friend, and you look after her animals.”

“She didn’t always have animals. It started with a donkey. She rescued it and called me to take a look. That was quite a few years ago. I was just starting in the practice. Newly qualified. It was my father’s practice.”

“He retired?”

“My parents were killed five years ago.” His voice roughened. “They were on their way home from an anniversary dinner when their car hit a patch of ice.”

He gave no more detail than that, but he didn’t need to.

She felt a flash of sympathy and also frustration with how unfair life was. He’d clearly had a wonderful family, and they’d been taken from him. “I’m sorry. That must have been tough.”

“At the time it was, yes. But everyone in the village was a great support, Dorothy in particular. Partly because she felt she owed it to my mother, I suppose—they were close friends—and partly because that’s just who she is. Dorothy is the kindest person I know. Always there for anyone in trouble, and that includes animals. She takes in anything unwanted.”

Unless it was her own daughter, Imogen thought bleakly. Then she wasn’t so generous. Did Miles know that part of her history? Presumably not.

“You see a lot of her.”

“I check on her animals from time to time. And I drop in for cake when I’m passing. If she offers to cook for you, say yes. She’s a brilliant cook. I’d cross the country for her chocolate cake.”

Imogen thought about the meal she’d left congealing on the table.

Where was Dorothy now? Probably waiting for her at the cottage.

She’d probably been calling, but Imogen had left her phone in her coat pocket so she had no way of knowing.

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