Grace came back and pressed her hand on his arm. ‘I’ve seen a few other things I like. You stay here or it’ll spoil the fun.’ She waved her hand. ‘Have a look around. I’ll only be five minutes.’
He frowned as she disappeared. Fun?
He wandered around, watching people gaze in wonder at all the decorations. The garlands in store were beautiful. They had a whole range of colours and they covered walls, shelves and the Christmas fireplaces that had been set up in store. Next to them was a whole range of wreaths: some holly, some twisted white twigs, some traditionally green decorated with a variety of colours. He stopped walking.
He was looking at wreaths and not automatically associating them with Anna. Guilt washed over him. Shouldn’t she always be his first thought?
But she hadn’t been. Not for the last few months. It was as if his head was finally lifting from the fog it had been in these last five years. But Christmas time was a little different. It seemed to whip up more memories than usual. It made the thought of moving on just a little more tricky.
A little girl walked into him as she stared at a rocking horse. He bent down to speak to her. She was like something from a chocolate box. A red double-breasted wool coat, a little worn but clearly loved, dark curls poking out from under a black hat. She hadn’t even realised she’d walked into him—her eyes were still on the white rocking horse with a long mane decorated with red saddle. She let out a little sigh.
‘Come along, Molly,’ said a harassed voice. ‘We just came here for a little look. It’s time to go.’
He lifted his head instantly. The woman looked tired—her clothes even more so. Her boots were worn, her jacket was missing a few buttons and the scarf she had wrapped around her neck looked almost as old as she was. But it was her accent that drew his attention.
He straightened up and held out his hand. ‘Hi, Finlay Armstrong. What part of Scotland are you from?’
She was startled by his question and took a few seconds to answer. He could almost see the recognition of his own accent before she finally reached over and shook his hand. ‘Hi, I’m Karen. I’m from Ayrshire.’
There was something in the wistful way she said it that made him realise this wasn’t a visit.
He kept hold of her hand. ‘Have you been in London long?’
She sighed. ‘Three years. I had to move for work.’
He nodded his head towards the rocking horse. ‘Your little girl was admiring the rocking horse.’
Karen winced. ‘I know. I asked for one every year too as a child.’ She glanced down at her child again then met his gaze. ‘But we can all dream.’
He sucked in a breath. When was the last time he’d done something good? He’d been so wrapped in his own mourning for the last five years he hadn’t really stopped to draw breath. Even when it came to Christmas presents he normally gave his PA a list and told her what kind of things his family preferred. That was as much input as he’d had.
He thought about the prettily wrapped present that Mrs Archer had left for him at reception. He hadn’t even opened it yet.
He kept his voice low. ‘How about Molly gets what she wants for Christmas?’
Karen looked shocked, then offended. He knew exactly how this worked. He shook his head. ‘I work for a big company. Every year they like us to do a few good deeds. A few things that no one else finds out about.’ He pulled the card out of his pocket, still keeping his voice low. ‘There’s no catch. I promise. Give the girl at the desk an address and time for delivery. That’s all.’
Karen sucked in a breath. ‘I don’t want to be someone’s good deed.’ He could see her bristle.
He gave a nod of acknowledgement. ‘Then how about a gift from a fellow Scot who is also missing home?’
Her eyes filled with tears and she put her hand to her throat. ‘Oh...oh, then that might be different.’
He glanced down at Molly and smiled. ‘Good. Just give the girl at the desk your details. I’ll arrange everything else.’
‘I don’t know what to say, except thank you. And Merry Christmas!’
He gave her a nod. ‘Happy Christmas to you and Molly.’
He ruffled Molly’s curls and walked away, not wanting to admit to the feelings that were threatening to overwhelm him. That was the first time he’d wished anyone Happy Christmas in five years. Five long, horrible years.
What had he been doing? Had he been ignoring people around him like Karen and Molly for the last five years?
He heard an excited laugh and Grace walked through with one of the sales assistants from another room. Grace’s cheeks were flushed pink with excitement and she was clapping her hands together again.
The girl really did love Christmas.
One part of him felt a selfish pang, while the other dared itself back into life. In a way, he’d felt better sticking his head in the sand for the last few years. Some of this Christmas stuff made him feel decidedly uncomfortable. Parts of it were making him relive memories—some good, some bad.
But the thing that he struggled most with was feeling again. Feeling.
The thing he’d tried to forget about.
He touched the saleswoman’s arm as she was still mid-discussion with Grace. ‘I need you to add something to the order.’
Grace’s head shot up. ‘What?’ Then her expression changed. ‘Really?’
He gave a nod and gestured to the white rocking horse. ‘The lady in the dark coat, her name is Karen. Can you make delivery arrangements with her?’
The saleswoman shot a glance from Grace, to Finlay and then to Karen, who was still standing in the distance with Molly.
‘Of course,’ she said efficiently, adding the purchase to the bill.
What was he doing? All of a sudden Finlay was feeling totally out of his depth. ‘Let’s go,’ he said to Grace abruptly.
She looked a little surprised but glanced at her watch. Did she think he wanted to beat the traffic? ‘Thanks so much for your assistance. I’ll be back at The Armstrong for the delivery.’
She rubbed her hands together again. Something sparked into his brain. The one thing he’d thought to do back at the hotel.
He pulled out his phone and spoke quietly as they hurried back outside to the car. The light had almost gone completely now and most of London’s stores were lit up with Christmas displays. The journey to Harrods didn’t take quite as long as he’d imagined.
Grace gave a sharp intake of breath as soon as the gold lights of the store came into view, lighting up the well-known green canopies.
He touched her elbow. ‘We need to do something first in here before we go to the Christmas department.’
She looked surprised. ‘Do you need some Christmas gifts for your family?’
He shook his head. Thick flakes of snow were falling outside. ‘That’s taken care of. This was something I should have done earlier.’
They stepped outside as the chauffeur opened the door and walked in through one of the private entrances.
A woman in a black suit with gold gilding met them at the entrance. ‘Mr Armstrong?’
He nodded. She walked them towards some private lifts. ‘This way, please.’
The journey only lasted a few seconds before the doors slid open on women’s designer wear. Grace frowned and looked at him. ‘We need to go to the Christmas department.’
He waved his hand. ‘In a few minutes. I need to get something here first.’ He turned to the personal shopper. ‘Do you have anything the same shade as her shirt? And some black leather gloves please, lined.’
Grace was still frowning. ‘Who is this for?’
He turned to face her. ‘You.’
‘What?’ It was a face he recognised. Karen had worn the same expression thirty minutes earlier. ‘What on earth are you talking about?’<
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Finlay held out his hands. ‘Look at me. I’ve dragged you halfway across London in the freezing cold with snow outside.’ He touched her arm. ‘You’re only wearing your suit and a shirt. You must be freezing. I feel like an idiot standing beside you in a wool coat.’
She tipped her head to the side. ‘Then take it off. It’s too hot in here anyhow.’
She said it so matter-of-factly. As if he should have thought of it himself.
He shook his head. ‘But once we get back outside, you’ll freeze again. You were rubbing your hands together the whole time we were in the last two stores. It was obvious you were still cold.’
The personal shopper appeared carrying a knee-length wool coat in the exact shade of pink as Grace’s shirt. She held it up. ‘Is this to your taste?’
He smiled. ‘It’s perfect.’ He gestured towards the coat. ‘Go on, Grace, try it on.’
She was staring at it as if she didn’t quite know what to say. Then she shook her head. ‘You are not buying me a coat.’
He took the coat from the personal shopper and held it open. ‘You’re right. I’m not buying you a coat. The Armstrong hotel is. Think of it as part of your official uniform.’
She slid her arms along the black satin lining of the coat as he pulled it up onto her shoulders. The effect was instant. The coat brought out the darkness of her chestnut hair and dark eyes while highlighting her pink cheeks and lips. It was perfect for her.
He felt himself hold his breath. Grace turned and stared at her reflection in a mirror next to them. Her fingers started automatically fastening the buttons on the double-breasted coat. It fitted perfectly.
The sales assistant brought over a wooden tray of black leather gloves. Grace stared down in surprise and looked up at Finlay. ‘They’re virtually all the same. How am I supposed to choose?’
The personal shopper looked dismayed. She started lifting one glove after another. ‘This one only skims the wrist bones. This one has a more ruffled effect, it comes up much further. This one has a special lining, cashmere. We also have silk-lined and wool-lined gloves all at different lengths. Do you have a specific need?’
Finlay could tell by the expression on Grace’s face that she was bamboozled. He reached out and ran his fingers across the gloves. Some instantly felt softer than others. He selected a pair and turned them inside out. ‘These ones must be cashmere lined. The leather feels good quality too. Want to try them?’
He had no idea what size or length they were. Somehow he thought his eyes might be similar to Grace’s—all the gloves looked virtually identical. But they didn’t feel identical.
She slid her hands into the pair he handed her and smiled. ‘They’re beautiful...’ She gave them a little tug. ‘But they seem a little big.’
In an instant the personal shopper handed her an alternative pair. Grace swapped them over and stretched her hands out. ‘Yes, they feel better.’
‘Perfect. Add this to our bill, please,’ he said. ‘We’re going to the Christmas department.’
‘But...I haven’t decided yet.’ Grace had her hand on the collar of the coat.
Finlay shrugged. ‘But I have—the coat is perfect. The colour is perfect. The fit is perfect and the length is perfect. What else is there to say?’
He started to walk away but Grace wasn’t finished.
‘But maybe I’m not sure.’ Her voice started to get louder as he kept walking, ‘What if I wanted a red coat? Or a blue one? Or a black one? What if I don’t even like coats?’
People near them were starting to stare. Finlay spun around again and strode back over to her, catching her by the shoulders and spinning her back around to face the mirror.
‘Grace. This is you. This is your coat. No one else could possibly wear it.’ He held his hands up as he looked over her shoulder.
Her dark brown eyes fixed on his. For a second he was lost. Lost staring at those chocolate eyes, in the face framed with chestnut tresses, on the girl dressed in the perfect rose-coloured coat.
There was a tilt to her chin of defiance. Was she going to continue to fight with him?
Her tongue slid along her lips as her eyes disconnected with his and stared at her reflection. ‘No one has ever done something like this for me,’ she whispered at a level only he could hear. She pulled her hand from the leather glove and wound one of her tresses of hair around her finger as she kept staring at her reflection.
‘Just say yes,’ he whispered back.
She blinked, before lowering her gaze and unwinding her finger from her hair. She pulled off the other glove and undid the buttons on the coat, slipping it from her shoulders.
She handed it to the personal shopper. ‘Thank you,’ she said simply, then straightened her bag and looked in the other direction. ‘Right,’ she said smartly, ‘let’s hit the Christmas department. We have work to do.’
She wasn’t joking. The Christmas department was the busiest place in the entire store.
And Grace Ellis knew how to shop.
She left the personal shopper in her wake as she ping-ponged around the department, side-stepping tourists, pensioners, kids and hesitant shoppers.
He frowned as he realised she was picking only one colour of items. ‘Really?’ He was trying to picture how this would all come together.
She laid a hand on his arm as she rushed past. ‘Trust me, it will be great.’ Then she winked and blew into her fingers, ‘It will be magical.’
She was sort of like a fairy from a Christmas movie.
He was left holding three baskets and feeling quite numb as she filled them until the contents towered. Lights. Christmas bulbs. Some weird variation of tinsel. A few other decorations and the biggest haul of snow globes. He hadn’t seen one since he was a child.
‘Really?’ he asked again.
She picked up a medium-sized one and gave it a shake, letting the snow gently fall around the Santa’s sleigh above a village. ‘Everyone loves a snow globe...it’s part of our theme.’
Our theme. She was talking about the hotel. Of course she was talking about the hotel. But the way her eyes connected with his as she said the words sent involuntary tremors down his spine. It didn’t feel as if she were talking about the hotel.
Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. Maybe he should have started much smaller. Grace’s enthusiasm for Christmas had only magnified as the hours increased. Was he really ready for such a full-on Christmas rush?
She tugged at his sleeve. ‘Finlay, I need you.’
‘What?’ He winced. He didn’t mean for the response to be so out of sorts. The truth was, he wasn’t quite sure what he was doing here, or how he felt about all this.
Five years ago he’d still been numb. Five years ago he’d spent September and October sitting by his wife’s bedside. The year before that he’d been frantically searching the world over for any new potential treatment. On a bitter cold November day, he’d buried her.
Anna had been so much better than him at all of this. She’d been devastated by the news. Devastated by the fact no treatment had worked. But she’d been determined to end life in the way she’d wanted to. And that was at home, with her husband.
No one should have to watch the person they love fade a little day by day. But Finlay knew that every day the world over, there were thousands of people sharing the same experience he had.
Grace was standing in front of him, her face creased with lines. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing.’ He shook his head. ‘Nothing. What do you need?’
She nodded to the snaking line in front of them. ‘We’ve reached the front of the queue. I need you to pay.’
Pay. Something he could manage without any thought.
He walked to the front of the line and handed over the credit card. The personal shopper was
putting all the purchases into some trolley for them to take to the car. He stopped her as she started to wrap the coat in tissue paper. ‘Don’t,’ he said. ‘Just take the tags off. Grace should wear it.’
There was a moment’s hesitation on Grace’s face as he handed the coat over. But after a few seconds she slid her arms back inside. ‘Thank you.’
‘No problem.’
By the time they got outside the air was thick with snow. It was lying on the pavements and surrounding buildings and roads.
Grace fastened her coat and slid her hands into the leather gloves while all their packages were stored in the boot of the chauffeur-driven car.
The journey back to the hotel was silent. He’d started this afternoon with the hope of a little Christmas spirit. It wasn’t that he wasn’t trying. But sometimes memories flared. Tempering his mood with guilt and despair.
Grace’s fingers fumbled over and over in the new gloves. She was staring at the passing shop windows. Her face serious and her eyes heavy. What was she thinking about?
When they reached the hotel he couldn’t wait to get out of the car. ‘I have an international videoconference,’ he said as he climbed out.
‘Good.’
He stopped mid-step. ‘What?’
She walked around to the boot of the car. ‘I don’t want you to see anything until I’ve finished. It’s better if you have something to do. I’m going to get Frank and some of the other Maids in Chelsea to help me set things up. I’d prefer it if you waited until I was finished—you know, to get the full effect.’
It was almost as if somehow she had switched gears from her sombre mood in the car. Grace seemed back on point. Focused again. Ready to complete her mission.
And right now all he felt was relief. He could retreat into his office. He could stop asking himself why he’d bought a stranger’s child a rocking horse and an employee a coat and gloves that were way outside her pay range.
Two of the doormen from the hotel started lifting all the purchases from the car. One of them gave her a nudge. ‘Frank says there’s a delivery at the luggage door for you.’
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