Page 14 of Christmas Is All Around
Charlotte was not generally a fan of men interrupting her, but she bit back her impatience and instead nodded, taking a sip of coffee. “Okay.”
“I looked up your website yesterday,” he said matter-of-factly. “I thought it was extremely impressive.”
Charlotte knew this already—she didn’t tend to suffer from impostor syndrome—but said, “Thank you.”
“I understand that you have plenty of work to occupy you, but I was curious how many customers you have in the UK, given that you ship from America.”
“I have some,” she said carefully. “The shipping is expensive, but especially if you’re ordering more than one print, it’s not prohibitive, I don’t think.”
“But I’m guessing most of your customers are still based in America?”
She nodded. She had stats on it, and tended to devote a day every six months or so to looking at all the data on where her business was coming from geographically, as well as the portion that found her from Instagram compared to web searches.
“I’m wondering if you’d be interested in having your work stocked in our shop at Eden Priory. It’s not much to speak of at the moment,but I’m trying to get in a new line of products—works from local artisans, honey from a chap in the village who has his own hives, that sort of thing—andto focus the shop a bit more specifically on art, given my great-great-grandfather’s career. I don’t know what your rates are for wholesale, and we could work out all the details later, but if you’d be willing to do us a series of prints on a holiday film theme, then in return I’ll stock your other art year-round.”
Charlotte’s mind raced; her prints were sold in some brick-and-mortar shops in New York, Boston, and a handful of touristy towns elsewhere in the Northeast. Graham’s proposal, however, would open her art up to a new consumer market—because while shedidhave British customers, she knew that the cost of international shipping definitely limited the number of them. But if her artwork was sold in a gift shop, year-round, at a famous house once owned by a famous artist, full of art-loving visitors passing though looking for something to take home with them from their visit…
It was a really tempting offer. Except…
“How many of these Christmas prints do you want?” she asked, resisting the urge to grimace on the word “Christmas.” It wouldn’t be the first time she’d done a holiday-themed commission, of course, but theChristmas, Trulyconnection made her even less enthusiastic about the idea than usual.
“Five,” he said. “I’ve written up a list—well, Eloise has,” he amended with a wry twist to his mouth, and reached into his back pocket for his phone, pulling up his notes app. He passed it to her.
“I don’t think I’ve seen any of these movies,” she said, scanning the list with a frown. ExceptChristmas, Truly, of course—but the less said about that, the better.
“I, unfortunately, have seen most of them,” he said, a bit wearily. “Sisters,” he added darkly, seeing her raised eyebrows. “I can’t believe you haven’t seen any.”
“I wasn’t kidding about hating Christmas,” she said, equally darkly, and his mouth curved up a bit. “Are all of these in London?” she asked; she recognized the neighborhoods listed for a couple of them, but the others were unfamiliar.
“No, a couple of them are in villages—none too far, but it would probably be easiest to drive.” He paused, clearly weighing his words, and then added, “I could take you—if you wanted.”
She glanced up from studying the list on his phone. “Don’t you have to work? I’d probably want to go on weekdays, just to avoid crowds.”
Another, briefer pause. “Not at the moment. Eden Priory’s my sole focus right now, so I’m already driving to and from Hampshire a few days a week—I don’t mind adding another few outings into the mix. I’d like to take a look at them, anyway—see if they’ve done anything to capitalize on their film connections in a way that we could replicate.”
She was curious about the circumstances that led to this mysterious abundance of free time, but since it was none of her business, she instead asked, “How soon would you need these? I have some deadlines while I’m here.”
He looked unconcerned. “There’s not enough time to stock them in the shop for this Christmas, so I’m looking ahead to next year—if you did the art while you were in the country this holiday season, that would give us plenty of time to get them printed and advertise it in advance of next Christmas.”
“IfI agree,” Charlotte reminded him, feeling a bit contrary, and he leaned back on his stool, crossing his arms over his chest as he studied her.
“Is there something I could tell you that would convince you?” he asked bluntly. “Or we can start haggling over the money, if that’s what will do the trick?”
At that moment, the door to the coffee shop burst open, and Ava andSimone materialized, bundled up in coats and clutching baby Alice, who was wearing some sort of hooded onesie that made her look even more like a marshmallow than usual. “There you are!” Ava said brightly, and then her gaze slid to Graham, and her smile widened. “Well,hello.”
“Dear god,” Charlotte muttered. “Graham, this is my sister, Ava, and my niece, Alice, and Ava’s mother-in-law, Simone. This is Graham—the one who gave me a ride home the other evening.”
“We’ve met,” Ava said, beaming. “He stopped by the flat to see you, and I told him where you were.”
Charlotte hadn’t even paused to wonder how Graham had found her at this specific coffee shop. She frowned at her sister. “Should you be giving out my whereabouts to strange men?”
Ava’s eyes widened innocently. “He seemedsotrustworthy,” she said, passing her chubby offspring off to Simone without a second glance so that she could dedicate her full attention to Charlotte and Graham. “Besides, we know where he lives. If you went missing, I’d make Kit drive us to Hampshire and batter down the door until you were handed back to us unharmed.”
“I don’t think that would have been much use if I’d already been murdered and left in a ditch,” Charlotte said severely.
“Charlotte, I don’t think such a handsome man would possibly murder you,” Simone said, batting her eyelashes at Graham, who smiled back at her.
“Have you heard of Ted Bundy, Simone?” Charlotte asked, crossing her arms. “I think we might need to study serial killers, just so you don’t find yourself stuffed in someone’s trunk.”
