Page 33 of Charlotte's Story
The blood drained from her face and she took a sip of thematcha. “Oh my. This is serious.” As if to counter her words, a clock in her house chimed and a snowman popped out to hit a Christmas tree with a mallet nine times. Each time it struck the tiny ceramic tree, another light flickered to life and a musical chime rang out.
“So is it okay if we stay here? Even if it’s just tonight?” I asked. “I know this is a lot to ask but—”
“Of course it isn’t too much. No one is going to get away with threatening my niece.”
Tension rushed out of me, making me feel loose and gooey like unformed candle wax. “Thank you.”
Her gaze traveled over to William, then dropped to our interconnected hands. “And thankyoufor caring so much about my niece. It’s good to know that someone is taking care of her.”
“Of course.” William’s gaze found mine. “When it comes to Charlotte, there’s no task too great and no consideration too small. I’d do anything for her.”
“William, would you throw a log on the fire for me?” my aunt asked abruptly.
“Of course.” He stood and walked across the room to add a piece of wood to the flames.
ChiyoObasanleaned forward, her gaze settled firmly on me. “Are you in love with him?”
I dropped my gaze to my steaming mug to avoid her probing look. “I trust him, which I think is all I can ask for.” As the words came out, I realized they were true. I did trust William. Even if he’d somehow been caught up in Lady Catherine’s star fiasco, he would never hurt someone.
“That’s good enough for now.” She smiled softly and sat back.
William reclaimed his place at my side.
ChiyoObasangave us both a smile, then her grin turned up at the corner, a bit of mischief entering her eyes. “I’m just sorry that the cottage isn’t in a better state for visitors. I’ve hardly had time to do anything besides bring in a tree.”
“Don’t be so modest,” William said. “Your house has a warmth that rivals any of Lady Catherine’s small sitting rooms.”
“I’ll remember that.” Her lips twitched in amusement as she studied him.
“I’d love to decorate for you, if you’d like.” That was one of my favorite holiday activities, and decorating might help take my mind off everything else.
“Are you sure? It’s kind of late,” she said.
“I’m positive.” I nodded once.
“Great. I’ll grab some of the stuff.” She walked into another room without a backward glance, humming contentedly.
Instead of facing William, whose knee was bouncing rapidly, I studied the lanterns hanging above the sliding door that led outside. Tiny will o’ the wisps flitted between the lantern, lighting them up at sporadic intervals.
“How am I doing so far? Am I acting the correct way?” William whispered once we were alone.
“Fine,” I whispered back.
“By the way, I believe the correct answer is that you aren’t in love with meyet.”
I flushed. “You heard that?” Was this who William really was behind all the stuffiness and sermons, the William who wasn’t so completely under Lady Catherine’s control?
ChiyoObasanreturned a moment later with a few boxes of ornaments. “Unfortunately, I have another meeting online with some clients in Tokyo, but feel free to decorate as much as you like and then head to bed. You can stay in the usual guest room, Charlotte-chan.”
I froze for a moment, thinking of the sole bed in the guest room that usually wasn’t an issue. I forced a smile to hide my response, then poked around in a box. “Okay, great. Thanks.”
And with that, she disappeared back into her bedroom, leaving William and me alone.
I rolled up my sleeves, then put some Christmas carols on my phone, doing my best not to think about the one bed situation.
William hung up a small decorative card, and my thoughts jumped to the card that had been found in Dahlia’s pocket after she was killed. I pushed the thought away and strung up an ornament that looked like a small creature with wings flitting inside a wreath. It reminded me of the sprite I’d met the othernight—Pennyfern. I couldn’t keep my mind from jumping back to the night of the murder.
I snuck a glance at William and caught him gazing at a wooden rocking chair ornament he was about to hang on the tree. He stood still, his thumb running over the wood’s smooth grain again and again.
