Page 104 of The Cornish Cream Tea Bookshop
Her beautiful barn was full. She’d cooked far too much, had got over-excited about hosting and bought a turkey and a beef joint, a small salmon and a nut loaf. There were enough roast potatoes to feed an army, Brussels sprouts which she’d cooked with butter and bacon, and a vat, rather than a jug, of gravy.
The morning – after Max had finally let her get out of bed – had been a whirlwind of cooking. They’d workedtogether, though she’d made Max sit at the kitchen island, giving him chopping and sorting tasks to do, so he didn’t get too tired, and Henry had constantly got in the way, but had done it so adorably that they couldn’t be cross with him.
It felt like domestic bliss, and Ollie hoped she was getting a glimpse of her future. Max might not cook his own pastries and cakes at Sea Brew, but he had a great tip for getting the roast potatoes extra crispy, and he knew how to make the creamiest, most indulgent brandy butter, and when the spread was laid out on her dining table, she felt an overwhelming sense of achievement.
Max poured her a glass of champagne, himself a lime and soda – doctor’s orders – and clinked his glass against hers. ‘Happy Christmas, Ollie.’
‘Happy Christmas, Max,’ she said, taking his hand. She wanted to be close to him all the time, even if it was just their thighs touching as they sat beside each other. ‘I’m so glad you’re here.’
‘I’m not going anywhere.’
She grinned. ‘Excellent! When shall we move your stuff in? Do you think Oxo will get on with Henry Tilney?’ She’d meant it as a joke, had expected him to grin back at her, to laugh, but his eyes went wide with shock. Of course, right at that moment there was a knock on the door, and Ollie had to go and answer it, and then the barn was full of people and laughter and clinking glasses and Christmas music, and she was the host, with Max at her side, and she’d just managed to make things impossibly awkward between them.
‘I couldn’t eat any more, thank you,’ Max’s dad, Philip, said, leaning back and patting his flat stomach.
‘It was delicious,’ Cath, Max’s mum, added. ‘Ollie, you are a marvel.’
‘It was lovely to have people to cook for.’ She was surprised at how calm she was in the company of Max’s parents – though they were both warm, down-to-earth people, which was unsurprising, considering who their son was. ‘Until a few days ago, I thought I’d be having Christmas alone.’
‘Tush,’ Liam said, topping up wine glasses. ‘Even if you hadn’t bagged your fella, I would have had you over at mine. It would have been shepherd’s pie, but we’d have made a go of it. This, I have to say, is a real treat.’
‘I didn’t want anyone to go hungry,’ she said with a shrug.
‘Were you picturing the whole of Port Karadow when you set yourself that goal?’ Philip asked, a twinkle in his eye.
‘I’m going to leave it all out, and the others can pick at it when they get here,’ Ollie said.
‘And what about Henry?’ Max pointed at her chocolate Labrador, who had his nose on Max’s lap and was looking longingly up at the table.
‘If I give him some more pigs in blankets, and some sprouts – which he loves – then he shouldn’t be too much of a terror.’
‘Wishful thinking,’ Liam said mildly. ‘We’ll all keep an eye on him.’
‘Until we fall asleep,’ Philip added, holding up his wine glass.
‘Oh no.’ Ollie stood and started to collect their empty plates. ‘That’s not happening. We’re playing charades.’
There were groans around the table, and when Ollie caught Max’s eye, he grinned at her.
‘What?’ she asked.
‘Nothing.’ He shook his head, his eyes dancing with amusement, and Ollie had to turn away as love swelled inside her and she risked making a fool of herself in front of his parents.
The charades became a hundred times more chaotic when Ollie’s other guests arrived. Dylan, Meg, Billy and Finn threw themselves into it with wild abandon, assigning teams and team names, talking in hushed whispers as if it was possible to strategise a game of Christmas charades.
Ollie watched them with growing happiness. Her home was full of talking and laughter, the new arrivals looked like they might actually make a dent in the mountain of food, and everyone was having a good time. She had always prided herself on her event-organising skills, but she’d never put it into practice in her personal life. After today, she was going to make it a more regular thing.
‘Hey,’ Thea said, coming to stand beside her at the kitchen island. She was watching Finn and Dylan try and communicate their book or film to their team, while the other team – Ben, in particular – tried to sabotage their efforts. ‘This is wonderful, thank you.’
‘Thank you for coming,’ Ollie said. ‘It’s the best Christmas I’ve had in a long time.’
‘Me too,’ Thea admitted. ‘It’s my first with Ben, and my first in Cornwall – my two favourite things.’
‘What about A New Chapter? A close third?’
Thea nodded. ‘But Ben and Cornwall are home to me. The bookshop is important – I’m so happy with how it’s going, in no small way thanks to you – and I’m proud of it, of course.’
‘But?’
