by Katie Ginger
Harry’s face suddenly darkened. ‘There was someone – Emma – but we broke up about six months ago. Since then I’ve been so focused on work that I haven’t even thought about my love life. Being here though, it makes me think that however successful I am, something’s lacking somewhere.’
Nell glanced up and he was looking straight at her. Was he implying she’d been what was lacking? ‘I know what you mean.’
It was something she was beginning to think about more and more too. She spent so much of her time working on the business, thinking about the business, dreaming about the business that romance only ever happened in her head. The relationships she’d had hadn’t lasted because they didn’t understand the commitment she’d made to the hotel and because after a while the flowers, the chocolates and the general romance had disappeared. Harry’s eyes had taken on a pained look that dulled their brightness.
‘I’m sorry,’ Nell said. She really wanted to reach out and wipe the hurt from his face. Whoever Emma was had been a lucky woman and a fool to let him go.
‘That’s okay. What about you? I can’t believe a girl like you is single.’
‘Oh, I am,’ she confirmed, half-happy, half-resigned. ‘I’ve had a few relationships, but they just didn’t work out.’
‘I see.’ Harry sipped his wine. She’d put a bottle of red and a bottle of white on the table, unsure what he liked. He’d opted for red. ‘So, if it’s not Tom or some other guy, then what is it that makes you seem so sad sometimes?’
A silence descended, and Nell realised that it was horribly quiet when they stopped talking. She leaped up from her chair. ‘Let me just put some music on. I hate sitting in silence and normally have the radio on low. Otherwise this place feels really big and kind of intimidating.’ She hadn’t changed the playlist from Michael Bublé and he was back crooning away. The perfect soundtrack to their romantic Thanksgiving dinner. With music playing, she sat down again.
An amused look washed the pain away. ‘Come on, Nell. You can tell me.’
Why was she hesitating? Was it because she didn’t want to spoil the evening with talk of miserable things, or was it because she normally talked about these things with Tom or Cat? Unsure, she took a sip of her wine. ‘It’s just the hotel business is a bit slow at the moment. At least for me. With the Langdon Mansion being so amazing, it’s knocked me for six.’ Harry smiled at the Britishness of the phrase. And then there was Cat’s wedding and this business with Tom. She was sure he wasn’t telling her everything at the moment but for some reason held back from saying anything about that to Harry.
‘So why don’t you do something else? Go travelling. Come to New York.’
There was a note in his voice she couldn’t quite place. Was it an invitation? Before she could stop herself, her mind had swept her away to New York with Harry. One of those wonderful airport scenes where he was running through a terminal unable to let her leave until she promised she loved him too and would follow him halfway around the world. ‘You could come and stay with me.’
Nell’s head shot up so fast she went dizzy. An explosion of excitement tingled every nerve in her body. That didn’t just sound like an invitation, that was an invitation. ‘Could I?’
‘Sure. I could show you a proper New York Christmas. The Rockefeller Centre, ice skating, eating a hot dog on a street corner while snow falls.’
‘It sounds amazing,’ she managed to say.
Outside the sky was clear and cold with sparkling stars but the chance of snow was slim. She could almost feel the flakes falling onto her skin and settling in her hair as she pictured herself in New York City. The pull of excitement and the tantalising possibilities of a new future were beckoning her, calling her to be reckless and try something new and crazy – to make a change – but just as quickly the feeling faded as Cat’s words came back to her. Was she getting caught up in another fantasy? Another dream? She did get swept up in the idea of things, romanticising them, making them out to be something they weren’t. Did she really want to leave Holly Lodge? Would she have a future with Harry if she didn’t because she was fairly certain he wouldn’t want to stay here. Or maybe he did as his family were in the bay, and his mum had been sick. Maybe this was the thing to bring him back to Britain. There’s always that moment in a movie when two worlds collide, maybe this was hers and Harry’s. The little voice in her brain told her she was doing it again, making stuff up to suit her circumstances but she ignored it. ‘I couldn’t go anywhere until after Cat’s wedding. Even for a holiday.’
‘Sure,’ he replied with a shrug.
Oh … that wasn’t as enthusiastic a response as she was hoping for. Maybe it was disappointment. She was finding it hard to read him.
Nell finished her dinner with Harry making chit-chat about his job as an IT consultant and his newfound love of Swallowtail Bay. She was pleased to hear his mum was on the mend since her operation. ‘This place is great, Nell. I can see why you might not want to leave. I watched the most stunning sunset the other night. I’ve never seen anything like it. I mean the skyline of New York is something special but the colours here are incredible – yellows, oranges, pinks, purples – amazing.’
‘The colours are spectacular here,’ Nell agreed as they pushed their plates aside. It was time for dessert, and she grabbed the pecan pie and served them both a slice. Normally a chocolate girl, it was nicer than she expected. Harry enjoyed it too. ‘You know, I travel a lot, Nell and you’re different to every other hotelier I’ve met. You’re special.’ He waved his dessert fork at her. ‘Don’t ever forget that. I mean, how many would have done something like this for their one and only guest?’
Nell spooned some pudding into her mouth in stunned silence. Was she special? She’d never really felt that special deep down inside. In truth, as exciting as the idea of being whisked away to New York was, even if it involved romantic airport scenes, she really did love Swallowtail Bay and her little hotel. Times were tough right now but with everything she was doing there was no way this funk could last forever. Tom had been saying that for ages, she thought, and she suddenly pictured the way he pushed his hair back from his face. Always on the right side, never the left.
Glancing around, she saw Mr Scrooge settled by the fire. There’d been no calls about him yet and she found herself relieved. If the opportunity arose, which it seemed it had from Harry’s subtle invitations, could she really bring herself to leave? In her dreams, she’d imagined feeling different in this situation. Instead of unmitigated excitement and longing to be with handsome, sweet Harry, an uncertainty was growing in the pit of her stomach that she couldn’t explain.
When dinner ended, they settled into the lounge. The room was beautifully warm and cosy with the fire burning and music playing, and Nell tapped her foot and hummed along. After a coffee and a lull in conversation, Harry stood up.
‘Come on, best hostess in Britain. Let’s dance.’
Fizzing with excitement, Nell stood, and he took her in his arms, twirling her around the lounge in between the tables. He was a really good dancer and there was no awkward shuffling or stepping on each other’s toes. It felt so incredibly special and more romantic than anything else she’d experienced. Allowing every sense to be immersed in the moment, her confused thoughts vanished, and with her hand on a strong bicep she felt giddy and light. As the song ended, he pulled her in and dipped her. She met his eye and refused to look away letting him know of the attraction growing inside her, but he simply drew her back up. Still standing, Harry gave a great yawn.
‘I am exhausted. I think I’ll head to bed. Thanks for a great Thanksgiving. It’s been amazing. It felt like home from home.’
‘Oh, you’re welcome.’ Surprised at his sudden wish to leave, Nell didn’t really know what else to say. Harry walked up to her and gave her a peck on the cheek. She could smell his aftershave and enjoyed the feel of his lips on her skin, but once again she wasn’t feeling quite how she thought she would.
‘Good nig
ht, Nell.’ Harry gathered the coat he’d abandoned when he walked in before heading up the stairs to his room.
With a huff at the rather abrupt end to the evening, Nell headed back into the dining room to clear up the remains of their feast. Instead of wholly romantic, the evening had been strange and confusing. He’d asked her to visit him in New York, hadn’t he? That must mean something, but when she said she couldn’t come till New Year he’d not seemed bothered at all. Nell knew she had to stop her brain going into overdrive. It often coloured her interpretation of reality and left her disappointed when things didn’t go quite how she’d imagined they would. Once again, reality hadn’t measured up to her hopes. Worst of all, she had a feeling it was something to do with her. Something she was doing, or not doing.
Stacking the dirty plates and serving dishes, she made her way to the basement kitchen. Turning on the tap and piling the dishes in the sink, she wished her brain would include all the practical bits as well as the romantic ones. If it did, it would have imagined the amount of washing up she had to do. In which case, she’d have suggested they eat out.
Chapter 16
The next day, as the late afternoon sun shone bright and low in the sky, Nell moved the last of the chairs from the lounge down into the basement. The one problem the hotel had was that there wasn’t much storage, so she was having to stack them in her flat and in the corner of the kitchen where Mrs Meggett was just finishing her baking marathon. Nell had thought about hiring Niall in again to provide some refreshments for St Herbert’s Welcome to Christmas carol service, but she’d instead roped in Mrs Meggett who as well as making an amazing cooked breakfast, also baked delicious cakes.
When Nell walked in with another chair, Mrs Meggett’s large round bottom jiggled as she pulled another tray of mince pies from the oven then danced around to the Christmas songs playing on the radio. ‘They smell delicious, Mrs Meggett. Are there many more to cook?’
She rested one hand on her hip and wiped her rosy cheeks. ‘Only a few more trays of mince pies and a few more of gingerbread. Lord, my feet are killing me.’
‘Oh, Mrs Meggett, you’ve worked so hard today. I’m so grateful for your help. Let me make you a cup of tea. Have a sit-down for a minute.’ Nell put the chair down and patted it.
Mrs Meggett checked her watch and the timer on the oven and decided she had five minutes to spare. ‘Go on then.’ Her body flopped down with a sigh. ‘Oomph. And I’ve still got to decorate all those bloody gingerbread men. Honestly, men are the bane of my life at the moment.’
‘Is Mr Meggett not behaving himself?’ Nell asked as she popped the kettle on.
‘Not on your nelly, Nelly, and he never does.’
Nell gathered the cups and turned to rest against the counter. Only Mrs Meggett called her Nelly and she didn’t mind it one little bit. Platters of already cooked gingerbread men and women lay on the counter from the work she had done that morning. They were expecting twenty-seven children in the choir and their parents, plus the teachers and any other families from the school who wanted to attend. It was likely they were going to be jam-packed, but Nell had studied the geometry of the place and mapped out how it was all going to work. She’d installed some tables at the sides of the dining room and conservatory piled high with treats. She’d also borrowed some old-fashioned gym benches that brought back more bad memories than good, so there was enough seating and, if necessary, people could even stand on them to ensure they could see.
Spying the gingerbread and the bags of sweets Mrs Meggett had to decorate them with, Nell had an idea. ‘Mrs Meggett, why don’t we save you a job and not decorate the gingerbread men at all?’
‘What do you mean, dear?’
‘Well, we’re not putting out the food until after the carol concert, so why don’t we lay out the gingerbread men and all the things to decorate them with, and the kids can do it themselves? If we put the mince pies and the tea urns on the other table, they’ll be safe enough.’ The kettle began to boil, and Nell stood up to make them both a cup of tea.
‘What about the hot chocolate? We still haven’t decided what we’re putting that in.’
‘Instead of putting out two tea urns we can use one and keep the other for hot chocolate. I don’t mind topping them up more regularly. What do you think? Then people can help themselves to toppings. I’ve got peppermint candy canes, squirty cream and marshmallows. We can shove it all alongside and I bought paper takeaway cups for the wedding fair, so there won’t even be washing up.’
‘Sounds like a plan to me, my dear, but are you sure you haven’t spent more than you’re likely to earn. You know how you get – and I mean that nicely – but you do go a bit overboard on the extra touches.’ She held her hands up, palms facing outwards. ‘It’s your caring nature coming out and it’s very admirable, but you can’t go spending more than you make or you won’t make any profit.’ The oven beeped and Mrs Meggett leaped to her feet to check the mince pies. The kitchen was filled with the aroma of Christmas spice and sweet, sugary pastry.
Move over, Mr Kipling! thought Nell as she brought over the tea. ‘I only need to charge about fifty pence for each drink and mince pies and though I wanted to do the gingerbread for free, the school’s offered me some money to cover the cost of the ingredients. They would have been providing refreshments too, so they just paid me to do it instead.’
‘Well, it sounds like you’ve got it all sorted. Right, I’ll slurp this and get back on.’
‘Me too. I’ve got my first guests for my Christmas romance package arriving today and I want to make the room really special for them. And there’s more to do down here first.’
Mrs Meggett cleared her throat.
‘And I know not to go silly on the details. Tom’s already told me.’
‘Good. At least one of you has got some sense,’ she said affectionately.
After the refreshing tea, Nell’s next job was to add some more decorations to the lounge so when it was viewed from the dining room, it would be the perfect back drop for the children. She left Mrs Meggett and the chair and went back to the dining room. Standing and looking into the lounge with the door folded back, Nell imagined all the children there. The Christmas tree was to the left, the fireplace to the right, though she wouldn’t light it until after just in case of accidents. The garland Tom had made for the mantelpiece framed that side of the room but there was something missing. She needed something to fill the large elegant sash windowsills and thinking of what she could use, decided to recycle a couple of the empty boxes from the kitchen. She had some wrapping paper left over from her recent present buying and a couple of tantalisingly giftwrapped presents would finish things off nicely.
Nell set to work but stopped when Harry walked in, his hands in his pockets. A cream sweater ran ever so nicely over his broad torso. She felt her breath hitch a little with the force of his presence. After last night’s dinner, she’d been confused at how the evening had gone, but she’d put it down to tiredness sapping her good mood. She needed to let the Christmas spirit fill her with excitement, just as it normally did.
‘What’s going on here then?’
‘I’ve got the Welcome to Christmas carol service tonight by the local primary school.’
‘That sounds fun. And what is that smell? It definitely smells like Christmas in here.’
Nell glanced up from her present wrapping workstation in the lounge. ‘Mrs Meggett’s been making mince pies and gingerbread men for after the service. It does smell good, doesn’t it?’
‘Reminds me of home,’ Harry replied wistfully, sitting next to Nell on one of the few remaining armchairs in the lounge. His trouser leg rode up a little revealing a hint of athletic calf. Nell approved; she didn’t like men with skinny chicken legs.
‘Feeling homesick today?’
‘Yeah. I never told you last night, did I? I come from a big family. You know about my mom, but my dad moved to the States when they got divorced and as I went with him only coming b
ack for holidays, I wanted to come back and be with her. But back home, we always have a big family Christmas with my stepmom. She has a large family.’
Last night, they’d chatted quite happily but she realised now that quite selfishly, the conversation had been focused on her and not him. She hadn’t asked as many questions as she wanted to and there was still so much to find out. ‘I bet you’ll be glad to get back at the end of the month in time to celebrate with them.’ She looked around for the scissors and Harry handed them to her, his fingers brushing hers.
Suddenly, he rose from the chair. ‘I’d better get going. I’ve got some things to do. Save me a mince pie, okay?’
‘I will.’ Nell watched him go as her imagination once again went into overdrive. Suddenly, on his last day with her, he was begging her to come to New York, to sell the hotel and build a life with him there. Or he was asking her to extend his stay while he set up an office here, oh, and by the way, he was madly in love with her. Lost in myriad scenes that would have made any romantic comedy Oscar winning, Nell felt the day speed by.
In between setting up the lounge and dining room and making trips to the kitchen, Nell made sure the room was ready for her new guests. With excitement she sprinkled rose petals over the duvet, placed a vase of red roses on the table, along with a box of chocolates and a bottle of prosecco. She even wrote them a little card welcoming them to the hotel, that she placed on the table in the room. Within minutes of returning to the dining room, her guests arrived. The young couple, who were extremely happy with their room, really appreciated the special touches she’d added. They were even happy about the carol concert that night, feeling it added to the charm rather than causing them any inconvenience. Nell promised to save them a gingerbread man each and left them to enjoy themselves hoping she’d get a good review to balance these strange bad ones.
Mrs Meggett left later that afternoon, tired but satisfied, her work done. The afternoon light turned from a clear whiteness to a pale, shimmer and darkness rapidly followed as Tom, her moral support for the night, arrived.