by Clare Revell
“It doesn’t matter what you call it. It’s the first time since John that you’ve even glanced at another man long enough to notice his looks. Tell me about him; aside from the fact he’s hunky and arrogant, uh I mean confident.”
“He’s a Christian, which is another plus. Tall, has at least half a foot on me if not more. Bites his nails, has traces of grease under what is left so must like playing with cars. Either that or he tried to fix his vehicle this morning before giving up and coming in on the bus. But he’s Mr. J’s grandson, so off limits.” She glanced up. “See for yourself. He’s walking through the door.”
Lizzie glanced across the pub. Her eyes widened. “That’s him? Wow, he is hunky.”
“Shush. He’s heading this way.”
Hector dropped into the empty space beside Brie. “Ladies. Mind if I join you?”
Brie shook her head, wishing the huge lump in her throat would vanish as quickly as it arrived. “Not at all. This is Lizzie, a friend. Lizzie, meet Hector, he’s the Santa to my elf.”
“My number one elf,” Hector said. He leaned across Brie and shook Lizzie’s hand. “Can I get you ladies another drink?”
“Any more juice and this baby will have me up all night.” Lizzie patted her stomach. “Time to put him to bed.” She rose and grabbed her bag. “Call me, Pudding Tinsel-Shoes.”
Brie rolled her eyes and resisted the urge to grab Lizzie’s arm to prevent her going home, instead trying to give her the best ‘don’t leave me alone with him’ look she could muster. But her telepathy skills were again lacking, as Lizzie waved and headed home. Instead she sucked in a deep breath. “Go on. One more won’t kill me, or keep me up all night.” She handed over her glass. “Orange juice. In the glass please.”
“Spoilsport—in the glass is no fun. Though it does mean I can spill it all at once.” He winked as that oh so sexy grin crossed his face. “Coming right up.”
Brie turned her attention to her phone. Sexy? Where was her common sense? Yes, he oozes sex appeal, but he is off limits she told herself firmly. Sides, you shouldn’t be thinking things like that about men you hardly know. Anyway, oozes is so the wrong word. It conjures up images of mud and evil not dashingly handsome good looks. What he does is radiate sex appeal.
She frowned at a message on the handset. Every single time she got settled, something like this cropped up and spoiled things.
“What’s up, buttercup?” A glass of orange appeared in front of her and Hector’s cologne tickled her senses, setting her nerves afire in a good way.
“My mother sent me a text.”
“Parents. Who needs them? Mine often send me unsettling texts.” Hector slid onto the leather seat and waved a piece of paper at her. “Pub quiz. Prize is the pot or a bar tab, depending what we fancy. Figured we split the proceeds. I thought it might be a laugh and from the looks of you, you need one.”
“Sorry. My mother has this effect on me at times.”
Hector looked at the paper. “Hmm, according to this we need a team name. How about Team Santa?”
“Nah. How about Bubble and Squeak?”
He sipped his juice. “Elfis Presley? Let it snow? Santa and Pudding?”
“Whatever you like.” She looked at his glass. “You didn’t have to get juice on my account.”
“I fancied apple juice rather than beer tonight. Make sure I have a completely clear head in the morning.”
Brie read the text again and sighed. She put the phone on silent and dropped it into her bag.
“Well?” He set the glass down. “A problem shared is a problem halved and so on.”
“Mum wants me to go up there.”
“For Christmas?” He scribbled Hector and Brie on the top of the paper along with their table number.
“To live.” She shifted on her chair and tugged her jumper down.
“Did she say why?”
Brie shrugged, listening to the question the bar manager read into the microphone. “HMS Victory.”
Hector looked at her and frowned. “That’s not a reason to move six hundred miles away.”
She giggled. “It’s the answer to the first question.”
“Ah. Now it makes sense.” Hector wrote it down. “Are you going to go?”
“I don’t know. I’m happy here. I miss them and everything, but at the same time it’s nice not being the pastor’s daughter and having to do everything that’s expected. For example, I can’t do this of an evening.”
“Orange juice is hardly going to cause ripples in the church now, is it?”
She tilted her head. “Drinking orange juice isn’t the problem. However frequenting the pub in the first instance doesn’t give the right impression. Besides even if I could find a job as a PA in the very north of Scotland, it’s an awful long way…”
Hector sipped his juice. “That’s an awful lot of protests and sounds as if you don’t want to go. Just say no, to coin a phrase from an ad campaign. But your influence is rubbing off on me. I’ve decided elves are quite nice after all.”
She scowled. “Umbrella.” As he looked confused, she took the pen off him and scribbled on the paper. “Can’t you do two things at once?”
“I certainly can.” He winked. “I was busy breathing and talking to you. Listening to the quiz is three things and impossible. But I can stop.”
“Breathing or talking?” The question was out before she realized and she held her breath, wondering if he’d think her rude or sarcastic. For some reason what he thought of her mattered.
Hector studied her for a moment then chuckled. “Nice come back. Breathing obviously. Is Grandad really worried about the store that he wants you watching the shop floor?”
She took a deep breath. “How about we do the quiz and talk about work later?”
“OK. I’ll hold you to that.”
Surprised they won and knowing it was mostly Brie and not much of his brains, Hector collected the prize and divided it into thirds, giving the larger portion to Brie.
She slid the money into her pocket. “Thank you. Did you get your car fixed?”
“No. The car’s shot. I need to get it to a garage at some point. That reminds me, I need to set the alarm on my phone for earlier tomorrow morning, so I don’t miss the bus.”
“I can pick you up in the morning. Save you bus fare.”
“Thanks.” He followed her to the door. Did she have an ulterior motive for being nice to him? No, he was being paranoid. Not every girl would want him purely because his grandfather owned a toy shop. Only the ones with kids who wanted freebies. Another reason he wanted out and back to his proper job.
She headed towards the pavement.
“Brie, are you walking home?”
She nodded. “It’s not far.”
“Then let me walk you, please.”
She tugged her coat around her, her breath hanging in the air. “That’s very gallant of you, but there’s no need. I’ve done it loads of times.”
“I don’t want anything happening to you.” He moved to one side as a group of rowdy, drunk youths passed them. “Besides, that way we can talk about work.”
“OK.” Brie fell into step with him as they walked the dark, cold streets.
“How bad are the finances?” As she hesitated, Hector pushed the issue. “You work in his office. You’re his secretary for goodness sake. If anyone knows the truth, it’s you. And he won’t tell anyone else. He’s too proud for that.”
“Okay, but you didn’t hear this from me.” She lowered her voice. “It’s bad. Takings are down a lot. More than fifty percent on this time last year. And then there are his health issues, but you know about them.”
He stopped dead. A bolt of fear raced through him, sending shivers of horror from the tips of his hair to his toes. “What health issues?”
She glanced up at him, flustered. “He’s not a young man anymore. He should have retired years ago. He’s almost eighty.”
“What. Health. Issues?” he repeated.
> She hesitated. “I thought you knew. He has these pills, for his heart, in his desk drawer.”
“No. I didn’t.” He began walking again, wanting to get her home before it rained again. The air was damp as if a downpour would soon start. “We’ve tried to get him to retire, believe me. Thing is, he loves kids and making them happy. He says working in a toy shop is as close as he can get to heaven on earth.”
Brie stopped outside a block of flats. “This is me. Thank you for walking me home.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll talk to Grandad and see if I can convince him to at least slow down if he won’t retire.” He paused. “Just how bad is the money situation, because worrying about it can’t be good for him?”
“If things don’t pick up soon…” She paused. “Well, the worst case scenario is that the store gets placed into administration; at best we’re talking staff layoffs. We can’t compete with the online retailers. I suggested doing that several times, but he won’t even consider it.”
“He’s a dinosaur.”
“A cute, cuddly one. Please don’t tell him I said that.” She rubbed her arms.
“I won’t. Go on inside. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Brie nodded. “I’ll pick you up at 7:45. Once you tell me where from.”
Hector laughed. “That might help. Fifteen Lakeside.” He took a step away, and then turned. “Did you have a chance to think about the cake? I mean, if this is going to be the last year Jennings is open, then we need to go out with a bang.”
“If I make it, then it costs the company nothing. Let me get something on paper and I’ll show you.”
“Wow. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. But you heard him, he doesn’t want a party.”
“Leave Grandad to me. See you in the morning.” He watched her head inside the flats, and then turned back to the main road. What made her tick? What was it that made her keep him at arm’s length? No matter what he tried, she turned the conversation around and pushed him away.
Before he knew what he was doing, he’d pulled out his phone and dialed his grandparents. At least the conversation wouldn’t be put off any longer. He wanted the truth about Grandad’s health.
Chapter Seven
HECTOR WAS READY AND WAITING for Brie in the morning. His thoughts had been too active for sleep and it had been a relief when the alarm clock went off and he could stop tossing and turning in bed. He hadn’t realized how loud the clock in the hall ticked. Or that it chimed all night long either.
The conversation with his grandparents hadn’t eased his troubled mind at all. It had just made it worse. Not so much what they said, as what they didn’t say.
Images of Brie intermingled with worry over the shop and Grandad. Why did the mere thought of her moving away bother him? It wasn’t as if they were going out. Although he wouldn’t mind, but whether she’d ever want to be with him was another matter.
Not even Brie’s beaming smile or cheery greeting could raise his spirits as he climbed into the car and closed the door. “G’morning. I brought two sets of clothes again, hoping not to need them though.”
She pulled away from the curb. “How did you sleep?”
“I didn’t.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you last night.”
Hector shook his head. “It’s fine. I have nights like that when I don’t sleep.” He glanced at her and then looked out of the window. The traffic lights were against them and Cemetery Junction was busy. “If you could have one wish, change one thing, what would it be?”
There was a long silence. He turned to face her, to find her wiping glistening eyes.
His stomach clenched. He’d made her cry. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“Things turned out very differently to what I expected when I moved to Reading. The way God planned my life wasn’t the way I had. I still have problems accepting that.” She pulled away as the lights changed.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really.” She changed the subject. “Did you talk to your grandfather?”
Hector humphed. “He denied the money problems. Don’t worry; I kept your name out of it. He also says he’s as fit as a fiddle, raring to go, and rumors of his imminent death et cetera, have been greatly exaggerated.” He glanced at her. “No, I’m not convinced either.”
“Could your father not take over the business?”
“Dad’s too busy at work. He’s deputy foreign secretary. He and Mum live in London, which is where his constituency is.”
“I hadn’t realized.” Brie parked in her normal space.
“He keeps out of the limelight. The thing is, Grandad wants me to become his deputy here.”
She looked at him over the top of the car. “And you don’t want it.”
Hector shook his head. “Nope. I didn’t spend years training to be a lawyer to work in a toy store.” He checked his watch. “Need to get a wriggle on or we’ll be late.”
Their footsteps echoed as they crossed the car park and clattered down the stairs to the ground. “I just find that the store is too commercialized now, for my liking. It’s lost the personal touch. I preferred it when there was a central cash office and the money whizzed along in tubes. When it first opened on Caversham Road, everything was handmade. Now look at it.”
“But you have to move with the times.” Brie dodged inside as he opened the door for her. “If it’s that or the business goes under, what choice does he have? Besides, if you took over you could change how things are done.”
“Or lose it faster.”
“Sell on line—that’s where the money is these days as it’s a worldwide market. What’s there to lose?”
“Did you think any more about the cake?” he asked. She wasn’t the only one who could change the subject when things got too personal or uncomfortable. Truth was he’d love to run this place, he was afraid of failing. He’d checked the figures last night and it was worse than anyone thought. If his grandfather couldn’t turn a profit, how could he?
“Yes.” She pulled a sheet of paper from her coat pocket. “Here. Four tiers—one for each level of the store. The top will be one square cake to fit the smallest tier of the stand. The remaining tiers will be individual cupcakes so everyone can have one.”
“What’s it made of?”
“Christmas cake—my grandmother’s recipe. Each cake will be covered in marzipan and fondant icing and finished with a J or the store’s logo. The actual tiers themselves will be decorated according to what’s on that floor. So teddies, bricks and so on.”
“I’m impressed. And you can do this?”
“Yes. I love baking. Besides, if I can handle a five-tiered wedding cake then…”
“Wedding?” He glanced at her left hand, wondering why she hadn’t said anything earlier.
She laughed, waving her hand at him. “Not mine. Paris got married last year.”
They reached the locker rooms. He paused at the door. “You ever come close?”
“Once.” She rested her hand on the door to the ladies. “You?”
He shook his head. “No. See you in there. I thought I might go skating tonight. Will you come with me?”
Brie hesitated.
“Not a date,” he added quickly. “Two work colleagues, friends, hitting the Christmas night life for some light relief after a long, hard day in the grotto.”
Myriad emotions crossed her face before Hector was rewarded with a slight nod. “Okay, I’ll come.”
He smiled. “Cool. See you in a minute.”
After a long, non-stop day filled with over excited children and stressed parents, the last thing Brie wanted to do was go and make a fool of herself on the ice rink. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea after all. With John, yes, but Hector wasn’t John.
Hector was nothing like John.
The problem was he was more than John had ever been—without being disrespectful of the dead. But part of her wondered if he’d be fa
ithful. The only other man she’d given her heart to, had betrayed her with someone else.
Hector opened doors for her. He let her go first, paid for her. Not that she couldn’t afford to pay for herself. And there was something about him that shone with goodness. She guessed it must be because he was a Christian. She’d have to ask him what church he attended or ask him to hers. As a friend of course. Nothing more.
She tugged on a warm Christmas jumper and pulled her ski jacket from the wardrobe. She’d never worn it and had to cut off the labels before putting it on.
The doorbell rang. Hoping she could get rid of whoever it was, she ran down the hallway, zipping up her jacket.
Hector stood there, flowers in his hand. “Hi. These kind of yelled ‘buy me’ as I passed the garage on the way here. I got my car working so I figured I’d pick you up.”
She smiled, her heart fluttering at the sight of him. “Thank you.” She reached for the flowers and fingered the blossoms. “And they are lovely. I’ll go and put them in water, grab my bag and I’m ready.”
She glanced at his handsome face, a huge grin lighting up his features. He’d bought her flowers. No one had done that. Ever.
His skinny jeans, black bomber jacket and neatly gelled hair set her pulse racing. As she settled into his car, his cologne filled her senses, yet it wasn’t overpowering. “I figured I’d use the staff parking at the Oracle,” he said as he drove. “We’ll never find anything otherwise.”
She adjusted the belt to stop it from digging into her neck. “There’s no parking because of the late night shopping. Something else Mr. J doesn’t do.”
“Late night shopping?”
“You really don’t know Reading retail do you?” She smiled. “For the past I don’t know how many years, almost every shop in Reading stays open to about eight all year around on a Thursday. Jennings is one of the few who doesn’t.”
“Hmmm.” His fingers tapped on the steering wheel.
She glanced out of the side window. “So many decorated houses now. Far more than when I was a kid. It’s really catching on over here now. Gone are the days when it was simply a tree in the window and a few paper chains hanging from the lounge ceiling.”