Page 10 of Christmas Is All Around
“And the text didn’t send, because the cell service at this house is absolute shit,” Charlotte said with a sigh. Just as the handsome, bespectacled reindeer man had said.
“Let me call Kit now, and he and John can turn around and come get you—”
“Or I can just get a cab to the station and catch the next train back to London,” Charlotte said, not relishing the prospect. Hampshire wasn’t that far, but she doubted there was a direct train from a village this small, and it was dark and growing cold and she was tired. A flicker at the corner of her eye caught her attention. The costumed brunette was waving her hand to catch Charlotte’s attention.
“Hold on a sec, Ava,” Charlotte said into the phone, and then lowered it.
“Sorry to interrupt,” the brunette said, in the sort of refined, BBC English accent that most Americans thought all inhabitants of the British Isles possessed. “I couldn’t help overhearing—you don’t need a lift back to London by any chance, do you? My brother and I are headed in that direction in just a bit, and we could take you.”
“I do,” Charlotte said, not particularly relishing a drive back to the city in the company of complete strangers, but practical enough to realize it was a tidy solution. The harried brunette didn’t seem like a serial killer—though the best serial killers probably didn’t seemlike serial killers, either, she reflected. “It might be out of your way, though,” she hedged, wondering if she should take Ava up on her offer to call Kit instead. “I’m heading to Chiswick.”
The brunette waved a hand. “Graham’s in Chiswick, too, so it’s no trouble! I’m sure he’d be more than happy to help—Graham!Graham!”
She waved her hand wildly in the direction of someone past Charlotte’s shoulder, and she turned slowly, only to be faced with the handsome, bespectacled reindeer man. Who was the harried brunette’s brother. And neither of them seemed to be costumed performers, hired for the night; rather, they knew the Wi-Fi password, spoke with some authority about the house—the harried brunette was even now murmuring instructions to the mulled-wine vendor. It was almost as if…
Almost as if this wastheirevent. And, therefore, their house.
And now Charlotte was even more certain that these people weren’t serial killers—because, clearly, they were Calloways.
“Ava,” Charlotte said slowly, “I think I’ve got it figured out—no need for anyone to come get me.”
“Great!” Ava said, half-cheerful, half-distracted, and the line abruptly went dead.
“Hello,” the former reindeer said warily, approaching them slowly. He had his phone in one hand again, and was frowning down at it.
“Graham!” the brunette said brightly, turning back to Charlotte. “This is—oh, I’m so sorry, I don’t think I got your name.”
“Charlotte.”
“Charlotte,” she repeated, eyeing her with a bit more interest, which made Charlotte uneasy. Surely this woman didn’t recognize her, too? “I’m Eloise!” she introduced, before adding, “Eloise Calloway,” as an afterthought, confirming Charlotte’s suspicion.
“Calloway,” she repeated. “Meaning that this house… belongs to you?”
Eloise laughed. “My parents, really, but yes.” She paused, and something dark flickered across her face, but quickly vanished. “Anyway!” she continued. “Graham—we can give Charlotte a lift back to Chiswick, can’t we? She’s been left behind.”
“Has she?” he asked his sister, but keeping his eyes locked on Charlotte. He raised a single eyebrow at her, looking some cross between smug and amused, and she frowned at him.
“You weren’t kidding about the cell signal here,” she informed him, and a dimple had the audacity to appear in one cheek as he suppressed a smile.
“Where’s Mum?” Eloise asked her brother now, hopping out of the way when a man carrying a large tuba came barreling past.
“In the red drawing room. The roof’s leaking,” Graham said to his sister, the set of his mouth grim. “Again.”
Eloise sighed. “Does she need any help?”
“I’ve set up the usual buckets,” he said, with the weary air of someone who had lots of experience with the travails of owning a very old house. “I’ll ring the roofers tomorrow.” He rubbed at the bridge of his nose, slightly dislodging his glasses in the process. There was a red mark on his skin where they rested, almost as if he’d been pressing his hands to them at some point that day.
“All right,” Eloise said, biting her lip. “Does she know we’re leaving?”
“I’ll let her know,” he said, a bit shortly, and turned and began weaving his way through the dispersing musicians and mulled-wine sellers.
“We’ll meet you at the car!” Eloise called brightly after his retreating back. “Come along, Charlotte!”
And Charlotte, feeling as though she’d just been taken captive by the world’s most charming and determined kidnapper, felt that she had little option but to follow.
The car was a Mini Cooper in racing green, and Charlotte was more charmed by this than she wanted to be. The notion of owning a car while living in a major city was a novelty to her; she hadn’t driven in years.
The car itself looked as though it had seen better days; there was a dent in one door, and it had the mud crawling up its tires and sides that was the hallmark of any vehicle that had driven down a country lane.
