Page 24 of Christmas Is All Around
“Oh, I bet there’s some romantic history there that you’d rather he didn’t shout in the village square.”
“You do realize that we live in the twenty-first century and not the village inBeauty and the Beast, don’t you?”
“Of all the references you could come up with,that’sthe one you choose?”
“I may have watched it a few times. Lizzie was obsessed with it when she was about four, and she was going through a phase at the time where she wanted me to sit with her whenever I was home.”
“How old were you?”
“Fifteen.”
“And how many times would you say you and Lizzie watchedBeauty and the Beast?” she asked, already highly amused.
“Er. A few,” he hedged.
“Give me a ballpark figure. Five?”
“More.”
“Fifty?”
He looked a bit harried. “Possibly.”
“Oh my god.” She couldn’t help it: the mental image of anadolescent Graham sitting next to his preschool-aged sister, patiently watchingBeauty and the Beastfor the thirtieth time, was one of the most adorable things she’d ever contemplated. “Youarenice.”
Now he looked a bit indignant. “Itoldyou.”
She shrugged, unrepentant. “I think it’s good for you, that I didn’t immediately fall under your spell. Keeps you humble.”
“Believe me, I’m feeling plenty humble these days,” he said, and there was a wry, almost unhappy note to his voice as he said it.
“Does this have to do with your roof woes?” she asked, which was definitely a sentence she had never uttered in her life.
“Among other things,” he said, sounding tired. There was a pause then, and they walked in silence for a few moments. “We need an injection of cash—just enough to ensure that every time the roof leaks it’s not some mad scramble to figure out how to pay for it,” he said at last. “My dad inherited some family money, made quite a large salary, but we’ve nearly spent through it, and we need to work out something else. I had a meeting this week with a potential investor—someone I worked with several years ago. His idea is to convert the house into some sort ofChristmas, Truly–themed holiday let—allow people to come stay at the holidays, plan a whole itinerary around the film for them. My mum and sisters want to consider it, since it would only be for a few weeks a year, but I just… can’t.” His voice was heavy as he spoke, the distaste evident in each word. “I spent my entire career, up until now, helping people make calculated, logical business decisions, but it turns out it’s much harder to be cool and logical when it’syourfamily business you’re trying to save. And with my mum and sisters and I not seeing eye to eye on things, it’s… difficult.”
“I can imagine,” she said, and this was true; she considered herself something of an expert on not seeing eye to eye with one’s family. Him speaking of his family, however, made her realize a conspicuous absence this evening. “Does your mom not come with you guys tothis anymore?” She gestured around at the lit-up topiaries all around them to encompass the “this” that she meant.
He hesitated—only slightly, but just long enough that she noticed. “No. It makes her sad, I think, since… since my dad died.” She noticed how soft his voice went, whenever he mentioned his dad’s death. Wondered how often he spoke about it—and, if it was as rare as she suspected, why he’d spoken of it toher, of all people. “The holidays are difficult for her these days.”
“Of course,” she said softly, thinking about her own parents—imperfect, frustrating, not at all the sort of parents she would have designed for herself, had she been given the choice… and yet, still, two people who would leave an absolutely gaping hole in her life, if they were suddenly gone.
“That’s why I quit my job,” he said abruptly, and she glanced at him in surprise; she’d thought he’d clear his throat, change the subject, perhaps try to catch up to Leo or Eloise or someone else in their group, something that would allow him to change the subject. He didn’t seem the sort to bare his soul to a virtual stranger—which, ultimately, was what Charlotte was. Even if, increasingly, it didn’t feel that way.
“My dad didn’t like to let any of the kids help out with the business side of things at Eden Priory—he always told me that he could handle it, whenever I offered to help, once I left uni and started working in financial accounting,” he continued. Frustration laced his voice, faint but noticeable. “But when my dad died, I got a proper look at the books at Eden Priory and realized that the finances were a mess—my parents had been taking on debt for years, not enormous amounts, but enough each year that it was starting to accrue. I have some savings, so I left my job six months ago, and I’ve been trying to figure out what needs to be done—and of course, the damn roof is just another thing to add to the list.”
Charlotte, who had watched every season ofDownton Abbeywith Padma, vaguely understood that owning a house as large and historic as Eden Priory was not quite as glamorous as it might seem these days. “Old houses like Eden Priory are expensive to maintain, right?”
His nod was grim. “Right. The heating costs alone are… exorbitant. When we’re not hosting an event, we keep a lot of the public rooms closed off so we don’t have to heat the entire house.”
“This is like something out of a movie.”
“Considerably less romantic, I promise.” She glanced at him in time to see the wry twist of his mouth. “We generate income for the property by giving tours of the house a couple of days a week, and renting it out for events sometimes, but I think we could lean into the Christmas thing to earn more. We could do more events—give candlelit tours, get historical reenactors to illustrate how Calloway and his family would have celebrated the season, that sort of thing. We’re not that far from London, so I think we could draw in people from the city, tourists… we’ve been doing the lights switch-on for years, but it’s just one day, and if we could keep visitors coming all season long, we could eventually make enough money in December to provide a cushion for the rest of the year.”
“And your family doesn’t agree?” she asked curiously.
“Not entirely—they like the Christmas programming, but Eloise and Lizzie both think that we should try to market ourselves forChristmas, Trulytourism—center all the decorations, all the exhibits at the house, around the film. Ignore the fact that a world-famous artist once lived there, that that’s what the house, ourfamily, is known for, and just focus all our attention on a mediocre Christmas film, try to attract people who would be interested inthat.” He sighed heavily, a frustrated sound, and Charlotte, who was looking at the path ahead and the lights surrounding them, sneaked a glance at him, noted the lines at the corners of his eyes, the grim set of his mouth.
“At the end of the day, it’s still our family home, and it has been for generations, and I don’t want that to change. My dad had very specific ideas about how the house should be run, andIdon’t think that we should ignore those just because—” Here he broke off abruptly, and took a long, slow breath. “Just because he’s gone,” he finished quietly, and Charlotte turned away again, giving him a moment to collect himself. She didn’t think she’d imagined the emphasis on the word “I,” and guessed that this was where the disagreement with his family came in.
