Page 38 of Tis The Season for Secrets
“Being a guardian of Yule, I’m here to protect our secret and for your protection, even if you need to be protected from yourself.” Will followed close behind as she navigated the covered pool.
“I don’t need to be protected,” she huffed, weaving her suitcase through the garden path, careful not to crush any plants.
“Says the woman who’d have frozen to death in an alley if Lyla hadn’t found you,” Will mused.
Juliet clenched her jaw, not wanting to think about that, or what had followed. She turned on him and grabbed her handbag, leaving him with the heavier suitcase that contained the chest. Since he wanted to help, he could be the one to struggle.
“You’re cute when you’re petty,” he said, taking it.
“Don’t flirt with me when I’m mad at you.” Careful on the icy path, she passed the rose bushes that surrounded her small cottage.
“Where are we going?” Will asked, side-stepping a plant pot mostly camouflaged by thick snow.
“Home,” she told him, fishing in her bag for her keys. “The cottage predates the estate.” It was a quaint patchwork of old stones and cement.
“Don’t you live in the main house?” he asked, looking back towards the main house.
She chuckled to herself. “So, youdon’tknow everything about me.”
“There was only so much in your file,” he muttered, his leather shoes struggling to find grip on the icy path.
“You have a file on me?” Juliet stared at him, and his eyes widened as he realised his mistake.
The lanterns on either side of the door had been turned on, highlighting the front door that she’d painted baby pink years back. The shade had faded to cream after years of weathering.
She shook her head. He’d probably broken another rule by telling her about the file, and they were in enough trouble as it was. “Well, looks like that file left out some important details. I lived here for most of my teen years.” She was putting the keys in the door when she heard a loud curse and a thud. Turning around, she found Will in a hedge.
“Are you alright? I thought you’d be used to some icy steps.” She chewed her lips to stop herself from laughing as he pulled a twig from his woollen jumper.
“Fine. The weight of the suitcase threw me off. Did you smuggle Margot in here?”
“A woman can never have enough shoes.” If he knew she had the chest, he’d probably want it as far away from the Frosts as possible, but she needed it in case she found anything in the house and could compare details.
“Didn’t you want to stay with your family?” he asked, apparently trying to move past his rather inelegant stumble.
“It was my grandfather’s idea, and my stepmother preferred me being out from under her feet,” she sighed. She had to admit that she loved her little home away from the house, even if she’d never forgive her grandfather for denying her the family she’d always wanted growing up.
“Didn’t Beth ever ask why you don’t live in the main house?” Will asked, unwittingly picking at a mostly healed wound.
“When she was born, I’d already been living here for a few years. And I like having my own space. Grandfather Reginald even gave me a nice allowance every few years to do it up the way I wanted.”
“How kind of him,” he muttered, placing her suitcase by the couch in the centre of the pastel pink sitting room, just off from the small lavender kitchen.
Diana had been right about the heating– Juliet quickly added a log to the fire. Thankfully, there was no visible damp. Diana or Victor must’ve been maintaining it in her absence.
“Itwaskind of him. It was probably one of the only times he did something for me because he wanted to. He could’ve let my stepmother decorate it the way she wanted, which would’ve included a lot of beige and cream.” She didn’t know why she was being so defensive of the old man. Maybe she didn’t want to taint one of the few good memories she had of him that wasn’t tainted with neglect and hurt. “He even left it to me in his will. My stepmother wanted to knock it down when I went to college and put in a tennis court.” She couldn’t help but wonder if Reginald had done it so she’d have her own place on the estate, not just to keep her out of the main house when she came back for visits.
Will surveyed the fluffy white cushions on the light grey couch and her stacks of DVDs by the small TV. “Miracle on 34th Street, The Grinch Who Stole Christmas, The Holiday,” he murmured, looking over the collection. “I thought you weren’t all that into Christmas?”
“Christmas as a holiday I love. The expectations that come with it, not so much,” she explained, taking The Holiday out of his hand and putting it back on the rack. “And movies can be enjoyed at any time of the year.” She loved Christmas movies, with their messages of hope and love. “Do you have these in Yule?” she asked, wondering if a town dedicated to Christmas would indulge in such things, or if they distanced themselves from what outsiders believed.
“We do, but I haven’t watched any in a few years,” he said. Juliet guessed he enjoyed them, given the smile he tried to conceal.
Desperate for a cup of coffee with swirls of the chocolate sauce that Diana always remembered to stock her cupboards with, she boiled her ridiculously bright orange kettle by the small sink in the corner of the kitchen. Having Will in her home, the one place in the Frost estate she felt was her own, made her feel far too exposed, considering how much he already knew about her.
“Here. You got a bit wet when you fell into the hedge,” she said, tossing him a pink towel from the bathroom cupboard, trying to distract him from looking over her Christmas snow globe collection. It didn’t seem to faze him as he dabbed the droplets from his navy sweater.
“The snowman is smoking.” He frowned, picking up the figurine.
