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Chapter 11
Heart of Glass
Emma
Emma wanted to squirm.
It was seriously hot and seriously intense under Jake’s unrelenting gaze.
And, oh, didn’t he just know it was.
She shouldn’t have said anything.
Despite the fact she’d been fuming before she sat down because what was worse than being caught being nervous?
Yeah – being called out publicly for being nervous.
So what if she’d been acting more confident than she felt? Whatever got her through, she’d been thinking.
Right along with wondering whether she’d ever met a more arrogant jerk in her life.
But then he’d started presenting his ideas and, darn it, because she’d joked that he didn’t have a romantic bone in his body but as he’d talked about his vision, she’d heard the story he wanted to tell with the garden he was creating.
She’d been seriously impressed and it had made her want to show him how committed to doing a good job at The Clock House she was. How serious she took this opportunity. That she wasn’t some starving actress who’d just pitched up to have a laugh, do a little sight-seeing, and grab a pay-cheque at the end of each week. So she’d taken his idea and given it a good outing.
The shock on his face when she’d actually ventured her opinion though.
But instead of going apoplectic, he’d done a total one-eighty on her and listened.
Proper listened.
Which she’d found proper sexy!
No.
Wrong word choice, she told herself.
She was not in Whispers Wood for proper sexy!
She was in Whispers Wood for an adventure.
No … not that kind of adventure, she cut herself off before her imagination could take itself out for a spin again.
She hadn’t realised how much she’d needed to feel as if she was heard.
Really heard.
That was all, she assured herself.
All those years of keeping the faith while getting one knock-back after another, she’d obviously started to feel invisible. That what she had to say and every way she tried saying it at auditions, was irrelevant.
Jake’s reaction had made her realise he wasn’t so arrogant, after all. Not if he could take feedback on something that was obviously the most important thing in his world and rise above criticism to take the good out of what she’d voiced.
Then he’d grabbed a pencil and rather than stab her in the eye with it, he’d started sketching. Long, sure lines, and oh my God, how cute was it that the tip of his tongue poked out in concentration? Making her squirm for an altogether different reason.
A couple more lines and then he was shoving the sketch in front of her and asking her, ‘You mean something like this?’
She took the sketch with hands that were trembling, very aware of Kate, Daniel and Juliet leaning forward to get a good look at what he’d drawn, too.
She looked down at the sketch, drew in a breath that felt funny and then gazed back up at him slightly star-struck because it was like he’d created exactly what she’d been imagining.
‘Um, yes,’ she said, looking back down at the sketch because looking up at him had her completely unable to concentrate. ‘Maybe make these site-lines wider for wheelchair access and so that you can bring tables and chairs into each segment.’
He nodded, walking around the table to stand behind her and stare at the sketch. ‘Need to figure out a way to make the walls the gardens and so that everyone could see each one. I don’t know – maybe turntables?’
Excitement sparked and she nodded. ‘Then you could turn them to get the best of the weather, and to change each view. Ooh, could you tie in each movement to the clock?’
‘Great idea,’ he mumbled, leaning over her so that she felt surrounded by him. ‘Yes,’ he breathed out softly and she felt the caress of his breath against her cheek.
Actual squirming ensued.
As if finally realising he was in her personal space his gaze flew to hers and as her tongue came out without her permission to slide over parched lips, she watched mesmerised as those dark brown eyes of his tracked the movement. One, two, three slow thuds of her heart and then Jake was jerking upright and taking a hasty step back.
Able to breathe again, Emma inhaled and stared back down at the sketch.
‘So what do you guys think?’ Jake asked everyone around the table.
As Kate, Daniel and Juliet all agreed it was a wonderful new design, Jake began packing up. ‘I might need to see if Oscar’s free to handle some of the building work on this. Are we still shooting for having it ready by spring? I could start end of January?’
‘Yes. That would be great. About the noise?’
Jake smiled at Kate. ‘And the dust and the access, yeah, I’m not going to lie, there’s going to be some, but I’ll try to minimize it. If we could build the structures off-site, would that help?’
‘That would be amazing.’
‘Well, it’s not like I don’t have the room at my place. So we’ll start with that as a plan. I’ll get back to you with a revised quote ASAP,’ Jake said, moving towards the exit doors.
‘There’s no rush. I trust you,’ Kate laughed, getting up from the table to follow him out.
‘Actually, the reason for the rush is … I hope you don’t mind but Sarah showed me the invites for your party.’
‘She did?’
‘Normally she’d never do something like that, it’s just that she realised that the date was the same as—’
Emma watched Kate’s eyes grow large as she brought a hand up to her mouth.
‘Oh, crap, it’s not?’ Kate asked.
‘It is,’ Jake replied, ‘but it doesn’t matter. Truly.’
‘Of course it does.’
What mattered, Emma wanted to know? And what was so important about the fourteenth of December, which was the date of The Clock House opening?
‘No. It really doesn’t,’ Jake stated emphatically. ‘Look at it this way, most people around here are already going to have that date blocked out anyway, so you’ll probably get more people to come.’
‘But not you?’ Juliet asked, her tone sad as if she immediately understood what Jake had been trying to say.
‘No. I’m sorry, not me,’ Jake confirmed. ‘I won’t be in Whispers Wood at all over Christmas—’
‘Oh.’
‘—and I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t make a big thing about it,’ he asked, looking from Kate to Juliet.
‘No. Fair enough,’ Juliet said.
Emma watched as Kate touched Jake’s arm briefly and said, her voice quiet and gentle, ‘If anyone gets what it feels like to want to disappear for a while …’
Emma saw the flash of pain before Jake blinked it away and replied, ‘Thank you. I knew you’d get it.’
Get what? Why did he need to get away?
Darn it, she had absolutely no reason to feel disappointed that he wouldn’t be around for Christmas. It wasn’t like she’d be here on the actual day, anyway. Not if her Dad did what she was pretty sure he would do and invited her to spend the day with him and his wife and children.
Jake was just disappearing through the doors when she realised he’d left his jacket on the back of the chair.
Gathering it up, she called out, ‘Hey, Sir Knightley.’
She watched him pause at the doorway, stiffen slightly, and then turn around.
Wow, he really wanted to leave, didn’t he?
‘Your jacket,’ she said and performed a little curtsey. She’d meant to make him smile but felt silly when he strode back to her and took it without looking at her.
A tinkling sound could be heard as something fell onto the floor between them.
‘Oops, I think something’s fallen out of your pocket.’ Automatically she bent down to pick up the sparkly bead of glass. Holding it out in her palm she watched Jake frown down at it.
‘That’s definitely not mine. It must be from the—’ he broke off and glanced up at the chandelier.
There was an audible gasp as Kate and Juliet glanced from the chandelier to the droplet of glass and then to Jake and Emma.
‘It’s like a sign,’ Kate exclaimed and then shut her mouth quickly and after a strange look at Juliet carried on an entirely non-verbal conversation with her cousin.
With more head-turning than a tango on the Strictly final, Emma asked, ‘What’s a sign?’
‘Forget it. It couldn’t be less of a sign,’ Jake bit out, his expression murderous as he snatched the glass out of Emma’s hand and handed it to Kate. ‘It’s a bit of glass that fell off the chandelier because it was loose.’
‘Um, what he said,’ Kate mumbled, taking the glass droplet and holding it to her chest. ‘I’ll reattach it safely.’
‘Could have had someone’s eye out,’ Jake muttered, putting his plans on the floor so that he could shrug into his jacket. ‘I’ll be back later with the revised quote.’
In silence four pairs of eyes watched him bend down to pick up his plans, turn on his heel and walk towards the doors but before he disappeared completely from sight, Juliet dragged in a breath and called out, ‘Hey, Jake?’ He paused and didn’t turn around. ‘Stop by the salon after you drop the quote off. I’ll give you a couple of different choices to the man-bun.’
‘Appreciate it,’ he murmured and walked off.
‘What the hell was that all about?’ Emma said as soon as she heard his footsteps crunching on the gravel outside.
‘I felt bad for him,’ Juliet said.
‘I think she meant about the chandelier,’ Daniel said, grinning as he started loading up the tray with empties. ‘Could you two have been more obvious?’
‘About what?’ Kate asked, doing a really bad impression of appearing mystified.
‘What do you mean, “about what”?’ Emma asked. ‘A bit of the chandelier drops off and suddenly Jake’s setting his engines to warp and scarpering.’
‘Oh that. That was nothing. A bit of village folklore fun that is in no way serious.’
‘You two are the worst actresses in the world.’ Emma eye-balled the both of them until Kate gave in.
‘Okay, okay. It’s just that Jake is a bit sensitive at the moment.’
‘About folklore?’
‘About the chandelier,’ Juliet said.
Emma looked up at the light radiating sparkly warmth over the room and then looked at Kate.
‘And about other stuff,’ Kate supplied.
She wanted so, so badly to ask what the other stuff was, but she didn’t.
Kate and Juliet were obviously trying to protect Jake and from a couple of conversations and some observation, Jake was a proud and private man and, if that flash of pain was anything to go by, definitely feeling humiliated about something.
She realised she didn’t have the right to know.
She was the newcomer and needed to earn that right.
Double darn.
It was going to burn her up inside not being able to ask questions about him without coming across as being ‘interested’.
Which she wasn’t.
In the slightest.
Chapter 12
Mince Pies on the Prize
Emma
‘Sheila, these are so good, they should be illegal.’ Emma bit into another of the bite-sized mince pies with the little star and little Christmas tree sweet-pastry toppers and told herself this would absolutely be the last thing she ate seconds of during Sheila’s visit.
Kate’s mother’s face lit up at the compliment. ‘Bootleg mince pies. I like the sound of that. Perhaps I should deliver them under the cover of night.’
‘We’ll set up a code and a secret handshake,’ Emma joked alongside her, delighted to discover where Kate got some of her sense of humour from. ‘Honestly, I can’t remember the last time I ate a mince pie this good.’
To be honest, she wasn’t sure she’d had one since she’d left the UK, and as the rich fruit flavours burst on her tongue and the sweet buttery pastry melted in her mouth, the vault containing Christmases past burst wide open.
Suddenly she was six years old again. Valiantly trying to stay awake on Christmas Eve and waking in the early hours with the feel of a pillow case filled with treats, against her feet, signalling that Father Christmas had been. With excitement she’d feel her way past the small wrapped toys, and the dreadfully squishy Satsuma, hunting for her favourite present, a book. Tearing off the wrapping she’d clamber out of bed, read the title by the dull hallway light and rush into her parents’ bedroom to climb in between them and fall asleep, happily clutching it to her chest.
As the carousel of Christmas memories sped up there were more books but it was harder to steep herself in the stories with her parents hurling recriminations at each other until her father would inevitably decide to go for a drive.
Feeling a little sick, Emma quickly tugged on the reindeer reins, jumped off the carousel and fled the vault, slamming the door shut behind her. Picking up her clipboard she concentrated on putting another tick in a column.
‘Well,’ she said, forcing a smile for Sheila. ‘These are definitely going on the menu. As is the triple layer chocolate-fudge cake. Also, the Tiffin brownies and, oh, I don’t suppose you could do mini Yule-logs with white frosting to look like snow?’
‘I think I could do that.’ Sheila jotted the request in the notebook beside her. ‘What if I dust them with a pistachio crumb in the shape of a holly leaf and add a couple of cranberries for the berries?’
‘That sounds yummy. They’d need to be small enough to fit on these cake stands,’ Emma said, pointing to the pretty mismatched ones she’d laid out, so that Sheila could get an idea of what would go into each festive afternoon tea. ‘Is that going to be possible? I don’t want to make your life too fiddly.’
‘Oh, I can handle a little fiddly.’
Emma heard the determination in Kate’s mother’s voice and looked up from where she’d been adding notes to her order sheet. ‘Do you not get busy at the B&B at Christmas?’ she asked.
‘Not during the lead-up. That’s why I’m so happy to be doing this.’ Sheila fussed with the napkin she’d laid across her lap. ‘It’s a strange time of year,’ she confessed.
‘Because of Bea?’ Emma couldn’t believe she’d come right out and said that and reached a hand out in automatic apology. ‘I’m so sorry, Mrs Somersby. I shouldn’t have mentioned anything.’
‘Actually it’s fine. Everyone always tiptoes around it, not wanting to make it harder on me, I know.’
‘I remember Kate only ever made flying visits back to you at this time of year. I guess that made it even harder?’
‘I’m ashamed to say at the time I hardly even noticed. After Bea died I could never really get myself into a place to celebrate. This year, I’m feeling so much better and so thankful and well, Oscar and Melody should be allowed to celebrate with Juliet and Kate will want to celebrate with Daniel of course,’ she rushed out. ‘Their relationships are so new and I don’t want to intrude.’
‘Of course,’ Emma said, feeling awkward. She wasn’t sure it was her place to reassure Kate’s mother that Kate and Daniel, and Oscar, Juliet and Melody were bound to include her in their Christmas plans. She hated thinking the first year she was ready to celebrate since her daughter’s death, Sheila was worried about intruding on her other daughter’s or her son-in-law’s plans. Was Sheila subtly asking Emma to get involved? If she could help then perhaps she should mention something to Kate? It wasn’t like she couldn’t speak to the feeling of being on your own at Christmas.
‘I get the odd guest at Christmas but between you and me,’ Sheila said leaning forward in her chair conspiratorially, ‘there’s this phenomenon in Whispers Wood where even the largest of houses tend to magically shrink at this time of year.’
Emma leaned forward too. ‘Between you and me it’s not only in Whispers Wood where there’s suddenly “No Room at the Inn”. Perhaps the greatest gift family can give each other at Christmas is space. Everything seems to work better when no one is under each other’s feet.’
‘You’re probably right,’ Sheila said but Emma could see the tinge of sadness in her posture and decided it wasn’t meddling if she could help her not to feel alone. ‘How about you? What’s Christmas usually like for you?’
Emma sat back in her chair. ‘Usually my mother and I spend Christmas Eve at a spa and then we open our gifts to each other.’
‘So she spends Christmas day on her own – I mean – you both spend the day apart?’
‘No. My mother never spends the day alone. She always spends it,’ Emma held her hands together to form a heart and added in a thick French accent because somehow, to her, it sounded less judgey, ‘avec l’amour du jour.’
‘Oh.’
‘It’s perfect really. She gets to do what makes her happy and so do I.’
‘And what makes you happy?’
‘Being in my apartment where it’s usually quiet because my flatmates have gone home to their families,’ Emma confided, bringing up the memory she’d created and filed under “How Not to Feel Alone at Christmas”. She’d spent a good few Christmases honing her skills so that now she always associated spending that particular day of the year on her own with happy thoughts. ‘I’ve usually stuffed myself silly at Thanksgiving, so I lay off a huge lunch and enjoy a few little treats. Nothing as nice as these though,’ she added, looking again at the finger sandwiches and baked goods Sheila had brought along to the afternoon tea tasting session. ‘Then I sit in my favourite chair and read. It’s bliss. Truly the best Christmas present I could give myself.’ Infinitely better than being invited to spend the day with people who were all coupled-up, or get herself a Tinder date and discover the guy didn’t want to be out with her, so much as he didn’t want to spend the holiday alone.
Sheila looked as if that was the saddest thing she’d ever heard. ‘It sounds lonely. Do you and your mother not get along?’
‘We do,’ Emma laughed a little self-consciously. There was absolutely no need to mention the bitter disappointment followed by the endless links to auditions for panto season, when Lydia Danes had discovered her daughter was coming back to the UK. Or the strange relief Emma had felt in ignoring them. ‘But I guess the pressure on Christmas being perfect can bring out the worst in everyone, so we switched to going big on Thanksgiving when we moved to the States.’
Now Emma realised with a start that Thanksgiving wasn’t far away. A pang of home-sickness hit and she felt caught. Her loyalty divided between two different celebrations. Maybe if she asked everyone over for a meal on Thanksgiving? It might be a nice way of fitting in. Not that she should really be let loose cooking and only if she could get the cottage to warm up, that was. As the hurdles started mounting up, she lost her confidence. Who’d want to have a Thanksgiving celebration so close to The Clock House opening up? Everyone would surely have their own plans.
To prove to Sheila she didn’t have some weird penchant for being on her own at Christmas, she found herself admitting, ‘Anyway, this year is all change. I expect to be at my Dad’s on Christmas Day, spending it with him and his family.’ Nervous as she was about that, and worried she’d be crying out for down-time and solitude after having worked so many hours at The Clock House by the time the big day came around, she was also looking forward to breaking with tradition.
It was all part of her new adventure. And, anyway, she and her Dad would get better at chatting on the phone with each other so that by the time they actually met up it would be less stilted.
She was nearly sure of it.
Eager not to let her mood flatten she changed the subject. ‘I also have another favour to ask.’ Standing up, she pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket, unfolded it and slid it across the table to Sheila Somersby. In a careful whisper, she asked, ‘Is there any way you could make these out of gingerbread?’
Sheila took the piece of paper and unfolded it. ‘Oh, how lovely,’ she said, looking up at Emma with a soft expression on her face.
‘And could you not tell anyone about it? I want to create little scenes and put them under the glass domes so that they look like giant—’
‘Snow globes,’ Sheila said on a delighted sigh.
‘Exactly. Do you think you’d have time to get them done by opening night?’
‘Yes. I think I could do that.’
‘Wonderful. I thought it would help Christmasify the theme, I’m glad you like the idea.’
‘I do and Kate will love it.’
‘Love what?’ Kate said wandering into the room.
‘It’s a surprise,’ Emma and Sheila answered together and Emma was pleased to see how happy Kate looked that her mother might willingly be in on a surprise for her daughter.
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