Page 45 of The Virtues of Christmas
Chapter Two
Dougal set a package of warm crumpets on the worktable. “I had a thought.”
“You had a thought.” Miss Friendly lifted the parcel to her nose and inhaled without even untying the bow. “Does that unprecedented development require a broadsheet alerting the masses to your good fortune? Perhaps we might refer to it as a seasonal miracle.”
“You’re quite on your mettle, Miss Friendly.” Surrounded by letters, with the cat napping on the mantel behind her, she looked a little less wan, a bit less weary than she had when she’d arrived for the monthly meeting more than an hour ago.
“You brought me warm cinnamon crumpets.” She tossed the string toward the hearth, though it caught on the screen. “How could I not be inspired?”
“I’m inspired too,” Dougal said, unwrapping his scarf and hanging it over the hook on the back of the door. “The professor is printing twelve special editions, and that means he’ll have to start on Saturday if he wants to get them all out before Christmas.”
“Why Mr. MacHugh, you’ve learned the days of the week by heart. Perhaps Harry has been tutoring you. Such a dear boy, though somebody needs to let down the hems on his trousers.”
Dougal shook his greatcoat then hung it over his scarf. “The professor’s twelve days begin on Saturday. Ours ought to begin Friday.”
She’d lifted a crumpet halfway to her mouth, and it remained there, poised before her. “Friday? Have you misplaced what few wits you claim, Mr. MacHugh? That means we have to have the first column to the printer on Thursday morning.”
“Which means if you have it written by tomorrow evening, we can edit it Wednesday, and beat the professor at his game.”
She took a dainty nibble of her sweet as cinnamon perfumed the office. The cat woke, stretched, and nearly fell off the mantel before re-situating himself more comfortably.
“You want me to write a column of insightful, kind, articulate advice.” She took another bite of crumpet. “We haven’t even chosen all of the letters yet, Mr. MacHugh. I can’t conjure solutions without time to think them up.”
“We’ll argue them up.” Dougal took the chair beside her, because the day was bitter and his backside craved the warmth of the fire.
“We’re good at that,” she said, nudging the crumpets toward him. “Take more than your share, and you’ll get no columns from me.”
Dougal used his penknife to slice one of the four crumpets in half, took a bite, then gestured with the remaining portion.
“Are these the letters you’re considering?”
“Yes. Don’t get crumbs on them.”
He picked up the first one and scanned it. “The oldmy sister is making eyes at my husband. Husband’s holiday token ought to be a month of slumber on the sofa, or a stern warning from sister’s husband—and his brothers.”
“Don’t be such a man.”
“I am a man.”
“Don’t be such a crude man. We don’t know if husband is making eyes back at the sister. If he is, there’s a problem. If he’s not, then the sister is simply making a fool of herself. We don’t know if the sister is married, which also matters. The issue, though, is loneliness.”
The issue was lust.
Dougal spoke around a mouthful of crumpet. “How do you figure that?”
“If the sister were content with her lot, she’d not be trying to attract the attention of her brother-in-law, which efforts are doomed to misery, no matter where they lead.”
“True enough.” Though Dougal had yet to have an entirely miserable time sharing a bed—as best he recalled those few and distant occasions—and a shared bed was the logical conclusion to this domestic drama.
“If the wife were secure in husband’s affections,” Miss Friendly went on, “she would not be troubled by her sister’s behavior.”
“Some women are born troubled.”
Sharing that eternal verity with Miss Friendly earned Dougal the same look George gave him when the cat had been put out first thing on a snowy day.
She paused before starting on a second crumpet. “If the husband were entirely secure in his wife’s affections, he wouldn’t strike the sister as a man who could be tempted.”
“Some men like to be tempted. They aren’t interested in the sin itself, they just like to know they could be naughty if they wanted to.”
