Winter Hearts

by A. E. Radley

  “Different things,” Holly said. “Some years I worked, some years I spent with friends. I didn’t often manage to get home for Christmas before my parents died.”

  “So, it wasn’t a massive deal?”

  “No, but I wasn’t madly in love with someone who I wanted to please on a very special day,” Holly hinted.

  “Propose?” Alexia suggested in a bored tone, as if she’d recommended slippers.

  Holly felt the blood drain from her face. She swayed. The idea of marrying Victoria was more than she could hope. But it was too soon, they’d been a couple less than six months. They’d known each other longer, but Holly still couldn’t recall the details of her employment with Victoria. Only what she read in her journal. And Victoria deserved more than a Christmas proposal, one that came up solely because Holly couldn’t decide what gift to give. No, if she were ever ready to ask for Victoria’s hand in marriage, it wouldn’t be a Christmas gift.

  Her brain caught up with what Alexia had said. Not just the words, but the fact that Alexia had said them.

  “Y-you’d be okay… if we… not that we… but—”

  “Of course, you live here. Mom loves you, you love mom.” Alexia picked up a hairbrush from her bedside cabinet and brushed her long locks.

  “I love you, too, and Hugo,” Holly pointed out.

  “So… propose,” Alexia pushed.

  “It’s too soon. I love your mom, and I would love to be married to her. But… it’s just too soon.” Holly sat on the edge of the bed again. “Besides, I want to give her a real present. Tangible.”

  “A ring is a real present.”

  Holly chuckled. “I’d need to save my money for about a year to get your mom the ring she deserves. But, that’s not the point, we’re not getting married. No one is proposing.”

  “Fine.” Alexia dropped her hairbrush to the cabinet and blew out a long breath. “Get her a…” She paused. Her eyebrows knitted together. She exhaled loudly again. “Well, you could…”

  Silence.

  “Hard, isn’t it?” Holly said. “What do you normally get her?”

  “I make her a Christmas card and then we plan to do something, we talk on Christmas day about things we could do, and then we book tickets to do it later in the year. Last year we went to see some Broadway shows. The year before we went to Disneyland.”

  “Victoria went to Disneyland?” Holly blurted. She couldn’t picture it. Not even slightly.

  “Yes. She stayed in the hotel spa and Hugo and I went to the theme park with a minder.”

  Now that she could picture.

  “She likes a spa; maybe I could get her a spa treatment?” Holly mused out loud.

  Alexia scrunched up her face. “Aunt Beatrice gives her spa days for birthdays and things.”

  Holly rolled her eyes. She’d yet to meet Beatrice but she was already in her bad books.

  “Holly? Alexia?” Victoria’s soft voice floated up the stairs.

  Holly leapt up. “She’s home early. Don’t say a word to her,” she instructed Alexia. “And think of something to get her.”

  CHAPTER 2

  “You’re distracted,” Victoria pointed out.

  “I’m reading,” Holly replied, without looking up.

  Victoria closed the Book, the large lever-arch folder which contained a mock-up of the next issue of Arrival Magazine. No more work would be done that evening. Which was probably a good thing; it was nine o’clock and they had been sat in the study for the last two hours. Victoria hammering out some last-minute details of the Spring edition of Arrival. Holly, supposedly, reading.

  She removed her glasses and placed them on top of the Book.

  “You’ve been reading that last page for ten minutes. I’ve seen you consume whole chapters quicker.”

  “It’s a fascinating page,” Holly argued. She closed the book and looked up at Victoria. “What do you want for Christmas?”

  Victoria rolled her eyes. “I told you, nothing.”

  “And I told you, I’m not going to get you nothing. Especially as I know you have gotten me something.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “And how do you think you know that?”

  Holly grinned. “Because, you went out late night shopping the other week and came back with an extremely smug expression. You were then overly affectionate all night. Obvious signs of someone who knows they have gotten a kick-ass Christmas gift.”

  “Overly affectionate?” Victoria sniffed. “Is there a limit?” She picked up her glasses and thrust them back onto her face.

  Holly was on her feet and beside her in seconds. “No,” she soothed, “never when it comes to you.”

  Victoria allowed Holly to remove her glasses. She still struggled to believe that someone as beautiful and sweet as Holly could be at all interested in someone as cold and… old… as herself.

  Holly pushed the chair backwards and sat herself on Victoria’s lap, draping her arms around Victoria’s neck. “I’m sorry, that came out all wrong. I meant that you were extra affectionate that night. You are always affectionate, and I love it.”

  Victoria struggled to remain angry at the gorgeous woman in her lap. Even if she sometimes wished she could. “Well, that may be because I had found a kick-ass gift for you,” she admitted.

  “Knew it.” Holly dipped down and stole a kiss, capturing Victoria’s grumbling response. A hand snuck down her side, pulling her top loose from her skirt. Her eyes widened as she realised what was about to happen.

  “No,” she gasped.

  Holly’s fingers touched the smooth skin of her side. “Spill or I’ll tickle it out of you.”

  “That’s not in the Christmas spirit,” Victoria mumbled, trying to back away from Holly’s fingers.

  “Neither is telling me to get you nothing while planning to get me a gift,” Holly told her. “How would I feel, sitting in the living room on Christmas morning in front of the kids… opening a present from you but having nothing to give you.”

  “You wouldn’t open it in front of the children,” Victoria whispered. It was embarrassing enough that Gideon had managed to convince her to buy the… items. Now she was being forced to admit that fact out loud, under threat of tickling.

  Holly’s hand stilled. She leaned back and pinned Victoria with a sinful look. “Oh?”

  “I had planned to…” She paused. ‘Give it to you’ sounded so wrong at that moment. She felt her cheeks heat at the thought. “…the evening before.”

  The smirk morphed into a smile. Holly pressed a kiss to her cheek. She was letting her off the hook, thankfully. “So, not exactly a Christmas present?”

  “Not exactly, no,” Victoria admitted.

  “No need to wait until Christmas eve then, is there?” Holly suggested.

  CHAPTER 3

  Holly stared at her laptop screen. Google had failed her. It was impressive because it was the very first time Google had properly failed her. She was a big fan of consulting the search engine for everything she needed to know. Recipes, addresses, film times, all easy. Even the more complicated searches requesting information on the book with the red cover that took place in Venice, solved. What to get Victoria Hastings for Christmas, which was now only six days away, useless.

  Logically, she knew it wasn’t Google’s fault. Google was merely the vessel that transported her to websites which claimed to be able to answer the questions; they were the ones who had failed her. She’d been looking for over an hour. She was meant to be working, writing an article about the January Blues. She told herself that she was getting a head start by becoming blue in December. She had a couple more days to submit the article, but she knew she wouldn’t get a word written until she solved the mystery of what to get Victoria for Christmas.

  “Can I get you another drink?”

  She looked up and smiled at Tom, the wonderful barista who looked after her every day while she set up shop in the trendy coffee shop just off Lexington Avenue.

  “Please.” She hande
d him her cup and saucer. Her stomach growled. She looked at the large clock on the wall. To her surprise, she’d worried straight through lunch and into the mid-afternoon. “Can I have one of those cranberry and walnut scones?”

  “Sure, coming right up.”

  She sat up straight and lifted her arms in the air, cracking her back. Victoria had agreed that they would both exchange gifts on Christmas Day. She’d even agreed to set a price limit to avoid Holly handing her a lump of coal and receiving the keys to a brand-new Mercedes in return. Victoria seemed to be enjoying Holly’s Christmas-induced panic. The day after they agreed on the rules of gift giving, Victoria sat at breakfast like the cat that got the cream. Holly knew immediately that her present had been purchased, probably by one of Victoria’s assistants, who were, sadly, not corruptible and wouldn’t give her even the slightest hint.

  “Holly?”

  She looked up. A woman was standing in the middle of the coffee shop, staring at her in shock.

  Uh-oh, here we go, Holly thought. Since she’d been back in New York, she’d bumped into a few people she’d known prior to the accident. Each time she had to explain that she had no idea who they were. They usually laughed and elbowed her, telling her it was a great joke.

  “Um. Hi?” Holly said.

  The woman crossed the shop floor and looked at Holly like she’d seen a ghost. “Thanks for calling,” she said, her tone suddenly bitter.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t know who you are. I was in an accident a couple of years ago and I suffered a brain injury that led to amnesia,” Holly explained carefully. It was a conversation she’d had a few times, it never got any easier.

  The woman’s eyebrows rose so quickly Holly was worried she’d injure herself.

  “An accident?” She swallowed nervously, shifting from foot to foot. She’d gone from angry to concerned in the blink of an eye.

  “Yes, I’m really sorry but I’m going to have to ask you who you are?”

  The woman stared at her. “Kate. You… you really don’t remember?”

  Holly shook her head. She didn’t remember her. But Kate was the name of her ex-girlfriend, the one she had broken up with prior to going to Paris for Fashion Week. She hoped that this was another Kate.

  Kate pulled out a chair opposite Holly and sat down. Probably wise, she’d gone pale and looked like she might fall down.

  “Are you Kate Brady?” Holly asked. She already knew the answer. And that she was about to have an uncomfortable catch up with her ex.

  Kate nodded. “You were in an accident?”

  “Yes. I’m not sure what happened. It happened in Paris, when I was there for work. I was in the hospital there for a while, well, a year before someone helped me with my identity and getting home,” she spilled all the headline points. She knew from experience that a large info dump of information was best, she’d be repeating it several times anyway.

  “A year?!” Kate exclaimed. Her hand flew to her mouth.

  “Yes, it was a long time ago, I’m getting on with my life now.” Holly closed the lid of her laptop. She might as well write the afternoon off.

  Tom returned with another pot of green tea and her scone. “Can I get you anything?” He asked Kate.

  “Um… yes, a latte, please,” she requested. The moment he was gone, she leaned forward. “You went to Paris and I never heard from you again. I assumed you wanted to cut ties.”

  Holly nodded. “I know, we broke up before I went and it… wasn’t pretty. I’m not surprised you didn’t try to get in touch.”

  Kate sat up. Her eyebrows knitted together.

  “My journals,” Holly explained. “I don’t remember you, but I know the details because I wrote everything in my journals.”

  Kate laughed, there was a bitterness to it. “Oh yes, your journals. Wow, did we argue about them.”

  Holly knew that Kate hated her habit of noting down every little thing that happened to her. Especially when they’d argued. Holly often went to the bedroom and furiously wrote about what was said, analysing every word and action. Kate thought of it as Holly’s way of keeping tabs on their arguments, a point system of sorts. Nothing could be further from the truth. Holly journaled everything, good and bad. And Kate never complained when she wrote about the good times.

  “We did,” Holly conceded.

  “I feel terrible,” Kate said. “I… I just assumed that you set up a new life somewhere and were happy. I stalked you on social media a couple of times, but nothing changed… so I assumed you’d stopped using it. Well, I suppose you did. I just thought it was best if I stayed away and let you get on with your life.” She grabbed the tiny vase with a plastic flower in it and toyed with it. “You were there for a year?”

  “Yes. They couldn’t send me home; they didn’t know who I was. I was never declared missing. So, I was sort of in legal limbo.”

  “What about Arrival? Surely Hastings noticed her coffee didn’t turn up?” Kate snorted a bitter laugh.

  “I’d quit my job. They assumed I’d gone home.” Holly didn’t like Kate’s tone, but she supposed it was expected. Most of their arguments had centred on Holly’s employment, and her insistence on keeping that job rather than getting a better paying one to help fund Kate’s desire to return to culinary school.

  “You quit?” Kate’s eyebrows rose again. “So, you developed some backbone then?”

  Holly felt anger flash through her. She cut into her scone. She didn’t owe Kate an explanation. Or anything.

  “Wait a minute, they didn’t check up on you?” Kate shook her head. “Unbelievable. That woman doesn’t care about anyone but herself.”

  “It wasn’t Victoria’s fault,” Holly defended.

  Tom interrupted the moment by bringing Kate’s latte. Holly looked down at her scone, suddenly she wasn’t hungry. She hated to admit it to herself, and she’d certainly never admit it to anyone else, but Victoria wasn’t blameless. She’d shunned Holly’s admission of her feelings, causing her to run away. Whatever accident she’d gotten into had presumably come as a result of that. She knew Victoria still felt the guilt heavily, even if she refused to talk about it. Victoria couldn’t believe that Holly felt anything but infatuation.

  “You would always defend her, to your dying breath,” Kate said.

  “Can we not argue?” Holly snapped. “Can we just… start anew?”

  Kate looked apologetic. “I’m sorry, of course.” She pushed the vase back to the edge of the table and wrapped her hands around the mug. “It’s good to see you again, I’m glad you’re okay.”

  “Thank you. What’s happening with you? Did you go back to school?”

  Kate smiled. “I did. I managed to get a job for a publisher, working on cookery books as a consultant. It gave me the time and the money to get myself back to school. I’m still studying, but I really like the publishing gig. I might stay.” She shrugged her shoulders.

  “I’m so glad it worked out. And an office job but still staying in the culinary world? Sounds perfect!” Holly was pleased for her. The face may have been a mystery to her, but she still felt like she knew Kate. And a part of her still cared about her.

  “Yeah, I get to work in a studio kitchen in Manhattan. Still got those chef whites. What about you? Out from under Hastings’ shadow? Must be a relief.”

  Holly leaned her head into her cupped hand, attempting to smother her blushing cheeks. Kate would go ballistic if she knew that Holly was living with Victoria. Sleeping with Victoria. Not that it was any of her business anymore, but she still didn’t feel like explaining herself.

  “I’m a freelance writer,” she explained. She tapped her laptop with her free hand, trying to distract Kate’s attention from her reddening face. “Articles for magazines, that kind of thing.”

  “Cool.” Kate took a sip of her latte. “You must be writing a lot to pay the bills? They don’t pay much for an article unless you’re a big name, surely?”

  Holly’s mouth went dry. That was true. Livi
ng in New York was very expensive, and she was nowhere near making enough money to pay her own way. She’d had a job as a part-time receptionist for a while, it had just about paid for her to live in a house share out of town. Not long after she’d moved in with Victoria, she’d quit the job to focus on her writing career—at Victoria’s insistence.

  “Sorry, I shouldn’t quiz you about money.” Kate winced. “Old habits…”

  “It’s okay,” Holly reassured.

  “So, you said someone helped you with your identity and got you home?” Kate asked.

  Suddenly Holly very much wanted to talk about money again. That she could lie about, inflate the average wage of an article writer. What would Kate know about it anyway? But she knew that wouldn’t happen. Kate wanted answers, and Holly couldn’t blame her. She’d been in a similar situation, feeling so out of the loop and desperately wanting to understand things. Kate gripped the latte mug, an intense stare focused on Holly. It was one of sadness and guilt. She wouldn’t be leaving soon. There was no way to escape what was about to be unveiled.

  “Yes,” Holly said vaguely, hoping for a reprieve. Maybe the fire alarm would go off?

  “What happened?”

  “Um.” She lowered the blunt knife she had used to cut into her scone. “Victoria found me.”

  Kate’s fingers went white as she gripped the coffee mug. “What do you mean?”

  “A journalist who had covered my story saw some footage of Victoria and I from the previous year’s Fashion Week. He tracked her down. She got arranged for a replacement passport and I came home.” Holly knew it was too vague, it would lead to further questions. But she wasn’t quite ready to commit to the entire story yet.

  “Wow, so you came home and still had amnesia? That must have been hard.”

  “It was… weird. I’d kind of gotten used to the amnesia by then. Having no memory for a year, you get used to it in some ways. I’d hoped that coming back to New York would jog a few memories… but it didn’t. Not much anyway, more feelings and sensations than actual memories.”