Page 64 of Christmas at Sturcombe Bay
That had been their biggest regret. They’d considered adoption, but somehow it hadn’t felt right for them. So it had been just the two of them, and they’d stayed here. And they had been happy for all those years.
Taking his tea, he strolled through to the sitting room and over to the glass-fronted cabinet beside the fireplace, its shelves filled with the cups and medals he and Sarah had won.
And photographs, he in his smart dinner jacket, she in a dozen different spectacular dresses, all swirling skirts and sequins. She had made those dresses herself.
Maybe one day he could reach that standard again with Kate.
He had really enjoyed tonight. Kate was a natural — she had picked up the steps quickly, and she was so light on her feet. She seemed to really feel the music.
He had wondered, driving home, if she would invite him in for a last drink. Had she been worried that he might take it the wrong way?
He laughed, shaking his head. Hardly, at their age. But that kiss . . . Well, it hadn’t really been a kiss. She had really only intended a friendly peck on the cheek, but then, like an idiot, he’d turned his head at the wrong moment, and embarrassed them both.
At least she had agreed to come dancing again next week.
Chapter Nineteen
“Well now, you two seem to be very busy.” Mike smiled at the two small girls sitting at a corner table, the drawing paper and coloured pencils strewn across it giving the clue to what was engaging their attention.
It was Saturday afternoon, but by this time of the year there were few customers — mostly locals, who greeted him cheerfully.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
Kate’s granddaughter Amy beamed up at him. “Writing to Santa.”
“Really? Isn’t it a little bit early for that?”
Robyn, Amy’s best friend, shook her blonde head. “You have to write them early,” she explained earnestly. “Because Santa lives a long way away at the North Pole, so letters take a long time to get there.”
“Ah — I see. And what are you asking Santa for?”
“First you have to tell him your name and where you live, or he won’t know where to go,” Amy insisted. “And that you’ve been good.”
He chuckled softly. “And have you been good?”
“Well . . . Mostly.” Her soft brown eyes, so like her grandmother’s, were slightly evasive. “I didn’t mean to let the kittens play with the toilet roll and unwrap it all. But they wanted to play with it and it ended up all over the sitting room floor.”
He had to stifle the bubble of laughter that sprang to his lips. “Oh dear.”
He glanced round as Kate came over, her pretty mouth curved into a shy smile.
“Hello Mike.”
“Hello.” He’d been worrying since Thursday evening how it would be, seeing her again. After that awkward sort-of-kiss would she be embarrassed? Would it make things uncomfortable between them?
But that smile told him that everything was going to be alright.
* * *
Kate suppressed a sigh of relief — at least she hadn’t scared him off with that clumsy kiss. Her little granddaughter beamed up at her. “Are you going to sit with us, Nanna? I need you to help me with my letter.”
“Of course, sweetie,” Kate responded, smiling. “Mike, I’ve brought your coffee, and I thought you might like to try one of these mince pies I’ve made.”
“I’d love to — thank you. Is it okay if I join you, girls?” he added solemnly to the children.
They giggled at the grown-up request. “Of course it is!”
“Thank you.”
