Chapter Twenty-Five
Darcy
Christmas Day
Darcy opened her eyes and it took her a moment to realise what day it was. She’d slept soundly, pushed out all thoughts of Myles and tried to focus on the job ahead.
When she threw back the covers she shivered. At five in the morning the brownstone was dark and very chilly. The heating usually kicked in around five thirty so she rubbed her hands against her pyjama top before braving the cold wooden floorboards to retrieve woolly socks she’d left on the chair at the side of the room. She slipped them on but not before peeking out from behind the blind to see what the weather was like. She pressed her face right against the glass it was so dark out, but with her hands on either side of her eyes, she could see enough.
A huge grin spread across her face. She could imagine she looked a state – dark hair sticking up on end, maybe a crease down her cheek where she’d buried herself into her pillow last night with a determination that probably caused a frown the whole night long. But if anyone saw her standing there at the window, she didn’t care. Snow covered the street, flakes fluttered down from the sky seeking out their landing spot, and the city felt quieter than it had been in a long while. All that would change once Manhattan woke up to Christmas Day, but, for now, it was a sight to behold.
She made a cup of tea in the kitchen and back in the bedroom pulled the curved-back armchair closer to the window. She opened the blind fully to the top, turned off the lamp by the bed, and gazed into the darkness. She could see enough from the glow cast by streetlamps on her side of the street and opposite, and she sat that way watching flakes cascade down from up above until the familiar clicking sounds told her the heating was getting ready for the day and the radiator started its progression from cold, through to lukewarm, and finally to hot.
And now it was time. It was time for Christmas at the Inglenook Inn, and she couldn’t wait. She jumped into the shower, singing away to the Michael Bublé album playing from her cell phone balanced on the shelf by the mirror, and when the bathroom was all steamed up, she stepped out and wrapped herself in a fluffy towel, using another to twist up her hair. She tried not to plough through all of today’s tasks in her head as she got ready. She needed this down time before the hectic day began. She and Rupert had made a detailed plan of all the cooking that needed to be done and first up was breakfast, with guests able to choose between omelette, eggs Benedict, sausages and maple bacon, the usual cereals, a selection of fruits. All of the guests had opted for breakfast and lunch so Darcy knew the kitchen was going to be operating at full capacity today.
She dried her hair, turning her head upside down to get all the layers. Today she’d dress in a pair of dark jeans with a deep-navy sparkly top and then she’d change again this afternoon. She already had an apron in the kitchen too because she knew she’d be helping Rupert, especially when it came to service.
Hair done and clothes on, Darcy took her cell phone and went downstairs, excited to be doing this, finally!
The brownstone was warm now but no familiar sounds greeted her as she reached the lounge and headed towards the kitchen. She checked her watch. Six thirty. Guests would be getting up soon.
She poked her head around the kitchen door expecting to see Rupert in full chef mode, slicing, dicing, whipping, stirring, preparing whatever he could. But he wasn’t there.
‘Rupert, where are you?’ she said out loud and tapped out a text to him. He’d said he would be here by six at the latest. He was also joining them for lunch. He’d bring a change of clothes and the second all that food was served, he’d sneak into Darcy’s apartment, spruce himself up and join them all. Then he’d make do with an apron as he served desserts and provided any after snacks. Darcy had fully supported the idea. He worked hard all year round, they’d never had any complaints about him, and she knew the Inn wouldn’t be the same without him.
When Rupert still hadn’t replied to her text after fifteen minutes, Darcy called him. He picked up on the fourth ring. Relieved, she leaned against the closed kitchen door. ‘Oh, Rupert, thank goodness.’ He’d overslept. She could hear it in his voice. ‘How long will it take you to get here?’ When he grunted she said, ‘Rupert, wake up.’ Her voice softened. Clearly he wasn’t a man who woke up easily. ‘It’s me, Darcy. It’s Christmas Day.’
‘Can’t.’ It was the only word she could make out.
‘You can’t? What do you mean?’
‘Flu.’
‘You have flu?’ OK, now wasn’t the time to panic. Except it was! ‘Is it man flu?’
‘Darce, it’s the real thing.’ She could hear it in his voice, the way he spoke as though every syllable made his head pound and was agony in his throat. ‘I can’t get out of bed. My flatmate has been bringing me painkillers and water all night.’ He stopped talking and Darcy wondered if he’d already fallen back to sleep. ‘I’m sorry, Darce. I must’ve slept through my alarm. I meant to call earlier.’
Her coping mechanisms fired up even though she was terrified of how the hell she was going to do this. ‘What am I going to do?’
‘We planned it all, my recipes are all there.’ His words struggled to come out coherently. He was in a bad way. ‘You can do this. I’d be there if I could.’
Her heart sank. ‘I know you would.’
‘I’m sorry.’
She needed to pull herself together. She couldn’t let herself fall apart. She wouldn’t. ‘Don’t apologise, you can’t help it. Now, go back to sleep, look after yourself. Drink lots of fluids.’
‘Yes, Mum.’
When he tried to apologise again she wouldn’t hear of it. ‘I’ll be fine. Don’t you worry.’
But when she ended the call her spirits slumped. How could she possibly be fine? This was going to be the world’s biggest disaster.
*
Darcy coped with breakfast. She’d done it enough times and making an omelette wasn’t overly difficult. Luckily for her, guests came down at different times, almost as though they’d planned it that way. She put out cereals and fruits, made boiled eggs for the O’Sullivans, whipped up an enormous omelette that could be cut into thirds for Myles, Ian and Martha, and squeezed oranges to make juice. Holly came downstairs looking fresher than everyone else. Darcy prepared a poppy-seed bagel for the guest she needed to impress the most and Holly took over the spreading of the honey as Darcy set a coffee down beside it.
‘Where’s that lovely young chef of yours?’ Martha asked. The sun had only just come up outside and although she’d been going through the motions until now, wishing guests a very Merry Christmas and being joyful and triumphant as guests would expect their host to be, Darcy was already willing people to disperse so she could get on with the mammoth task of food preparation.
‘He has the flu.’ She leaned in because she didn’t want anyone else to hear. There was no way she wanted to alert the whole room to the fact that this sumptuous Christmas lunch they’d all ordered and paid for could end up being one epic failure.
Martha picked up on the need to keep calm. ‘Do you have a substitute chef?’
‘You’re looking at her.’
‘Well, I bet you’ll do a brilliant job, and I’m already looking forward to a home-cooked Christmas lunch.’
‘You’ve cooked a turkey before, right?’ Myles must have been listening in. Trust him to ask the obvious.
She frowned at him. ‘Of course.’
‘It must be a big one for today, given all your guests.’
Her eyes widened playfully in an attempt to disguise her trepidation. ‘It’s enormous.’
‘So you’ll have put it in the oven already then,’ he said.
Her eyes fixed on his. She didn’t answer.
‘Yes, you must put it in, or it won’t be ready,’ Martha went on, her voice mildly hinting at panic-mode on Darcy’s behalf.
‘It’s in,’ she said. ‘Now, can I get you anything else?’
‘I’d love another coffee if I may.’ Ian had finished every last morsel of his omelette.
‘Coming right up. Cream on the side?’
‘You have a good memory.’ He smiled at her.
She smiled back right until she got out of the dining room and into the kitchen, where she shut the door and leaned against it. She immediately took out her cell phone in a fluster. ‘Mum, thank god. It’s me, Darcy.’
‘Merry Christmas! It’s Darcy,’ she called into the background and Darcy could imagine her dad pushing himself up from the armchair and making his way over. But she didn’t have time for this.
‘It’s a disaster, Mum.’
‘What is?’
Darcy told her everything. ‘I don’t know what to do.’ Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes and for the first time she felt as though everything was falling apart. If this was the huge failure she suspected it was about to be, Darcy wasn’t sure Sofia would ever forgive her. She wasn’t sure she’d ever forgive herself either.
‘You need to get going with the turkey, Darcy.’ Her mum’s firm instruction came down the line. ‘I’ve got your brother and our neighbour coming so I can’t even hop on a train, not that I know whether they’ll be running in all this snow.’
‘Just some instructions would be good.’ Darcy gulped back tears but when her cell phone cut out in the middle of her mum talking about trussing the turkey and she looked to see the battery had died, she almost lost it. She ran out and upstairs to her apartment, got her charger and then came back and plugged it in on the cabinet at one end of the room. She waited for it to get enough power to make the call and while she waited she leaned against the kitchen door again, looking around Rupert’s domain, one she could use now and then like she had for breakfast, but not one she had a vast experience of.
Someone was pushing the door from the other side and then there was a knock. ‘Darcy?’ It was Myles.
‘I’ll be out in a minute,’ she called, trying to make her voice sound as normal as possible. Guests rarely knocked on the kitchen door. It was an out-of-bounds area. She’d also made sure she’d locked the hatch so nobody would be able to peer in and see her fear building.
She swiped the tears and pulled open the door, feigning nonchalance. ‘Can I get you anything?’
Myles looked past her and sniffed the air. ‘I don’t smell turkey.’
She couldn’t hold it in any longer. The tears spilt over. ‘I’ve never cooked a turkey in my life. I’ve never made a Christmas dinner. Nobody will get their Christmas lunch, we’ll get a horrid review, Sofia will never talk to me again, I’ll be out of a job, and the Inglenook Inn will be no more.’
Myles puffed out his cheeks when she finally looked at him. ‘That’s a lot of information to give me when all I said was I don’t smell turkey.’ She managed a smile. ‘That’s better.’ But then her face crumpled again.
She waited for him to seize his moment and pull her into him, take control, but he didn’t.
He stepped past her, into the kitchen, shut the door behind them and took Rupert’s apron from the back of the door. He put it over his head and fastened it at the back. ‘Take it from someone who made their first Christmas dinner at a very young age – and under extreme pressure, might I add? – that it’s hard, but not impossible. You can do it. I’m not doing it for you.’ He held up his hands. ‘I’m here to help, not take over. Do you have a full menu for today?’
She wiped her cheeks, blew her nose and then washed her hands. He did his hands too and then, after he’d taken the turkey from the refrigerator and switched on the oven to preheat, they went through the plan she and Rupert had made, step by step. There were vegetables to prepare, the meats to make, gravy, side dishes.
‘Dessert is almost covered,’ said Darcy confidently as she wound her loose hair up into a high bun to get it out of the way. ‘And by the time everyone has eaten the enormous lunch, we could play for time and gather them all in the lounge by the fire for Christmas songs, or games of charades.’
‘Great idea. I’ll get Mum and Dad to run that. They have a weird fascination for charades that I don’t even want to think about.’
Darcy laughed, the first time she’d smiled genuinely since she’d spoken with Rupert that morning. ‘It’ll give us time to finish the desserts.’
‘What do we have?’
‘Rupert made salted-caramel pie, which should be in the refrigerator…’ She pulled open the door to check she was right. ‘…Yes, it’s there. He also planned to make a cinnamon-and-cardamom-spiced apple pie.’ She looked at the recipes Rupert had left beneath their plan and thanked goodness her chef was so organised. ‘It says here that it’ll take forty-five minutes to cook, and, looking at this, I estimate twenty minutes to prepare.’
‘Too easy,’ he said without looking up from what he was doing with the turkey.
‘What are you doing there?’
He pulled a face. ‘Sorry, am I taking over?’
She waved her hands. ‘I’m not going to fight you. Not today anyway.’
‘I’m almost disappointed.’ His gaze lingered on her until she ushered him into continuing with the turkey. ‘This is going to be a maple-syrup-glazed turkey, which we’ll serve with a white-wine gravy.’
‘You’re following Rupert’s recipe?’
‘To the letter,’ he said. ‘And I’m impressed he left recipes.’
‘He doesn’t always, but for the Christmas dinner I made him write them out.’
‘Now why doesn’t that surprise me?’
Rupert hadn’t wanted to, he’d told her to trust him, but Christmas was a big thing, the first time the Inn had hosted it, and she needed to be able to visualise what would be served, how guests may react, the whole parcel of Christmas at the Inglenook Inn.
The atmosphere between them started off tense, but the more Darcy let Myles help and they worked together, the better it became. Rather than feeling she was losing control, she felt she was gaining it, because letting him in to help out was the way she was going to maintain the integrity of the Inn. And that was her end goal after all.
They made a stuffing and filled the cavity of the turkey with it, they seasoned the bird and then used a cheesecloth coated in melting butter to drape over the meat while it went in the oven, to keep it moist. The word cheesecloth had been scribbled on Rupert’s recipe but without Myles’s input Darcy would never have known what it meant. ‘I didn’t do it the first time I roasted a turkey,’ he’d said, ‘but over the years I learned it as a good trick to keep the bird moist at the start of cooking.’
Darcy peeled potatoes, Myles washed and prepared carrots and chopped beetroot. ‘I smell of food,’ she laughed. She’d given up trying to stay clean. Her sparkly top had been mostly protected by an apron, but cooking a meal of this size came with risks and she had a spill of melted butter on her jeans, starch from the potatoes up her arms. She’d even managed a smear of beetroot colouring across her jawbone that Myles had helped her wipe off with kitchen towel.
Christmas music blared out from the corner of the room and every now and then Darcy went out to ensure guests were happy enough and didn’t need anything. Her cell phone was charged, she spoke to her parents – who were confused when they heard how chirpy she was now – and she sent Rupert a text to say that everything was in hand. He didn’t reply. He didn’t need to.
‘Oh crap!’ Darcy put a hand across her mouth when she went to the refrigerator and saw the racks of venison. ‘We haven’t done anything with this yet.’
Myles turned the flame on beneath the pan of potatoes and came over, leaning so close to Darcy as he peered into the refrigerator that her insides took a tumble.
‘Relax,’ he told her, going over to the collection of recipes. ‘I read the plan and it won’t take anywhere near as long as the turkey. You go and set up the dining room, make it look stunning, and I’ll move on to the sauce.’
Darcy squeezed past the countertop, meeting with Myles’s body momentarily, each of them reacting to the close contact for a second before they continued with the job they needed to do. Darcy surreptitiously watched Myles combining stock, port, bay leaves and thyme after checking and re-checking the recipe. He was in control and rather than resenting it, she found having someone else take charge alongside her rather than instead of her gave her a sense of encouragement.
‘And Darcy?’ His voice stopped her before she left the room.
‘Yes?’
‘Make sure the fire is crackling in the lounge. It wouldn’t be Christmas without it.’
She gasped. ‘I completely forgot.’
Without turning round he said, ‘Like it or not, I know things about you, and I know that fireplace is part of the ambience of this Inn because you make sure it’s going for as many hours of the day as possible, even if it means a late night.’
She shifted, uncomfortable, but he still didn’t turn round. She was waiting for a Cinderella remark, but it didn’t come. And when she made her way to the dining room she almost wished he had made a reference to the email again, because it would make it easier not to like him.
In the dining room the tree in the corner stood tall and proud. The colours from decorations and baubles shone as the lights twinkled and Darcy shifted the smaller tables together to make one long structure. She put chairs around it until they had the right amount of place settings. She went down to the basement where the tablecloth had hung so that it didn’t crease, and back upstairs she laid it on the tables to create one piece of furniture. On top of the red tablecloth she laid a gold runner that stretched from one end to the other. She arranged a holly, pine-cone and red-berried centrepiece with a candle and then two smaller versions of the same arrangement at intervals along the Christmas table before rolling emerald-green napkins inside shimmering silver rings that she set down next to the polished heavyweight cutlery.
Leaving everything in Myles’s capable hands back in the kitchen, Darcy went to welcome guests in the lounge, where they were congregating for pre-Christmas drinks. She relaxed in her role because she’d already seen the turkey was looking golden and succulent and ready to carve, the venison smelled delicious, potatoes were crisping up in the oven and the vegetables were ready to have garnish and finishing touches added. Guests would choose which meat they wanted, opting for both or none as they so desired, and then would get the standard fayre added to their plates. Nobody would go hungry today, Darcy thought. Not on her watch.
She smiled. This morning she’d thought it was a disaster, but Christmas Day was beginning to really take shape.
‘Did Santa come?’ she asked the boys, who came running down the stairs and excitedly exploded with details of everything he’d put beneath the tree. They turned to speculation at whether he’d used the front door or whether he’d braved the chimney like he should do.
Holly came over all smiles. ‘Thank you, Darcy. For everything.’
‘You’re welcome.’
‘It looked like I was going to have a terrible Christmas but you saved me from a rat-infested apartment and a lonely meal for one.’
‘I’m sorry about your friend. Christmas is a hard time for anyone who has lost someone special.’
Holly smiled humbly. ‘She wouldn’t want me wallowing. She’d tell me to stop being miserable and live my life.’ And then her eyes twinkled as her Christmas-tree earrings swung from behind her auburn hair. ‘Have a glass of champagne,’ she encouraged.
‘I will later, I promise.’ She swept effortlessly away to the next guest. She kept glasses of water circulating, served champagne or eggnog, and for Ian, a beer. The guests chattered amongst themselves and her smile only wavered when she was on the other side of the kitchen door and back to work. It wasn’t quite time to relax yet.
‘Could you finish those potatoes?’ Myles looked frantic, darting this way and that.
‘These?’ She indicated the bowl on the countertop.
‘Yep. I wasn’t sure how Rupert prepares potatoes but this is what I’d do.’ He said it as though waiting for her approval but she didn’t question him so he carried on. ‘Take the whisk, give it thirty seconds on low speed, then crank it up to medium and slowly drizzle the hot milk from the jug into the potatoes, then add the softened butter from the plate, gradually. It should go nice and fluffy and I’ll come and add some salt to taste. Or you could, it’s your call.’
She got to work, smiling when Myles found a few seconds to turn up the music. ‘White Christmas’ came over the speakers and neither of them could help but bop to the music as they put the finishing touches to lunch.
‘The gravy!’ She looked around until her eyes fell on a jug.
‘It’s done,’ said Myles, picking up the enormous platter with the turkey on it. He’d taken off the sweater he’d had on at breakfast that morning. The heat of the kitchen wouldn’t allow for it, and even Darcy had pushed her sleeves up and opened the window further as the temperature became uncomfortable. She watched the strong, manly tendons of his arms strain under the weight of the bird.
‘Cranberry sauce?’ she asked, just so she could look around the kitchen rather than focusing on his physique.
‘Done. Why don’t you go and get changed?’
‘We don’t have time for that.’
‘Darcy, this is your day as much as anyone else’s. You’ve pulled this off. You have a few minutes to go and change and make sure you enjoy the rest of today.’
‘I…I don’t know how to thank you.’
‘I can think of a few ways.’ His cheeky smile was back and it almost had her.
‘Myles, I…’
‘Go on, get changed, or you’ll run out of time. I’ll take this into the dining room. I’m putting everything but the turkey and gravy onto plates. You can’t deny guests the chance to watch the carving. Just tell me where the carving knives are.’ Her face told him she had no idea and with a laugh he said, ‘I’ll find them.’
Darcy skittered off to her apartment. She had the quickest shower she’d ever managed, dried herself and spritzed perfume. She pulled on a bottle-green velvet crush skirt with side zip pockets that finished a few inches above the knee and a black roll-neck top. She took her hair out of the bun and let it fall around her shoulders and with a bit of teasing it looked as good as it had that morning.
With another spritz of perfume and her high-heeled black suede Mary Janes with snap fastenings on her feet, it was time. This was it. What she’d worked so hard to convince Sofia she was capable of doing. Christmas at the Inglenook Inn. And she’d done it.
She stopped just outside the dining room, took a deep breath. Yes, she had done it, but she’d only done it with Myles’s help.
The kitchen door behind her opened. ‘There you are.’ Myles had changed his shirt too.
‘How did you have time?’ She could smell his subtle aftershave that was so familiar by now.
‘I’m fit. I ran up the stairs and down again.’
‘Shall we?’ she asked, turning back to push open the door to the dining room.
Myles stopped her by laying a hand on her shoulder. When she turned he said, ‘One more thing, before you go in.’
‘What’s that?’ Their faces were inches apart. She saw him reach into his pocket and he took something out. When he opened his palm it was to show her the two diamond earrings she’d handed back to him last night.
She looked down into his hand. And without another word she took the earrings, put one in, and then the other.
‘You look beautiful, Darcy,’ he said, but didn’t do anything else. He didn’t try to kiss her, he didn’t ask her to give him a chance.
But she almost wished he would.
*
Christmas lunch started with Myles standing at the head of the table after Darcy had insisted she was more than happy for him to carve the turkey. Just as he was about to plunge the fork into it and run the carving knife back and forth he said, ‘I’d like to make a toast first, if I may?’
Darcy nodded her approval.
Myles picked up a glass of champagne and everyone followed suit with whatever they were drinking. The O’Sullivan boys were feeling very grown up with champagne glasses filled with grape juice.
‘I’d like to make a toast to the Inglenook Inn,’ said Myles. ‘And also to our hostess today. To Darcy.’
Everyone charged their glasses and Darcy felt the intense appreciation in the room. ‘Thank you,’ she said modestly, but Myles hadn’t finished.
‘I think we can all agree that this young lady has given us all a Christmas to remember so far. She’s pulled together this lunch – with a little bit of help,’ he smiled, ‘and I’ll bet none of you would’ve known the disaster she was faced with this morning.’
Murmurs of agreement were heard around the room and Darcy had to say something. ‘I couldn’t have done it without help,’ she smiled. ‘You ask my mother, I called her in tears.’ She raised a laugh and sounds of sympathy. ‘I want to wish each and every one of you here a very merry Christmas.’
Glasses clinked mid-air, well wishes were exchanged, and between the merriment Darcy met Myles’s gaze across the table. Whatever had gone on before, they’d somehow worked as a team today. A look of understanding passed between them, and Darcy wondered whether she was the only one who didn’t think he deserved a second chance.
*
Christmas lunch went without a hitch. There was a charged atmosphere filled with chatter, laughter and most of all new friendships the guests at the Inn had secured. The O’Sullivan boys told jokes from the books Santa had given them, Holly had everyone gasping in shock when she told them about her brother who tried to be Santa one year and went as far as climbing onto the roof and was about to attempt the chimney when their dad put a stop to it. ‘I thought he was going to dive head first,’ she said. ‘I was terrified!’
Darcy sat next to Martha for the dinner and managed to switch off from being the boss, the hostess, and enjoy the occasion for what it was: a gathering with new friends, full of good food and cheer. She wasn’t sure she’d ever work in a big hotel again after this and wondered whether this job would be the trigger for a lot of changes in her life.
Nobody backed off when it came to clearing the table. In fact, guests were clamouring to be helpful taking plates away, glasses to the kitchen, picking up debris from the floor.
Myles and Darcy left the dessert preparation for now. Every guest was too full to eat more food and some went out to see the snow in Manhattan, others went for a walk in Central Park, and the Cunninghams settled in the lounge to enjoy the tree and fireplace.
Back in her apartment with the laptop, Darcy snatched her chance to FaceTime Sofia and Gabriella. Their Christmas looked as spectacular as the one Darcy was experiencing, with a white scene playing out beyond the warmth of the house. Kyle spent most of the conversation tugging at his grandma’s arm to try to persuade her to take him out in the snow.
‘Darcy, you’ve done really well. I’m proud of you,’ Sofia’s voice beamed all the way from Switzerland.
Darcy hadn’t told her about Holly yet. She’d save that for when Sofia returned, once the piece was finalised. Holly, albeit under the influence of champagne, had agreed to read the article to Darcy over the telephone before it went to publication. She did it for a select few, she’d told her, but not many, and Darcy had thanked her profusely, although she doubted she needed to worry any more after today’s celebrations. Holly seemed to be embracing the day entirely and already seemed a more laid-back version of the woman Darcy had first met.
‘I need to make some changes, don’t I?’ Sofia was still smiling, but clearly the time away from the Inn had made her see it in a new light.
‘Not too many, but we’ll talk about some ideas when you’re home.’
‘We will. And I’ve been thinking about making this a bit more permanent.’
‘Living in Switzerland?’
‘No, no.’ She shook her head. ‘I’m talking about you working at the Inn. I’ve enjoyed this time with Gabriella and it’s made me realise how many hours I put into my job. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad I’ve done it, but I need to make sure I prioritise other areas of my life. Maybe we could talk about you having a part share in the Inn. I have no idea how we could work it out, perhaps we need to see a financial advisor.’ Sofia threw her hands up in the air the way she did when she had no idea what was going on. ‘But whatever happens, what do you think? Could you see your involvement in the Inglenook Inn becoming more long-term?’
Darcy grinned at how excited Sofia was. ‘I would absolutely love that.’
‘Then it’s settled. We’ll talk. But for now, I must go. I have snow angels to make. And Darcy…Merry Christmas.’
‘Merry Christmas, Sofia.’
Darcy checked her hair, added some lip gloss, smoothed down her skirt and popped her heels back on. She’d kicked them off whilst she lay on the bed chatting with friends across the miles.
Downstairs the Cunninghams were laughing around a laptop resting on Martha’s knees and Darcy gave them space. But it didn’t seem that Martha wanted any and she called Darcy over. ‘Come and say hello.’
Darcy saw they were Skyping someone and she waved to a man, a woman and a couple of kids. She realised it could only be Myles’s brother and his family. ‘Merry Christmas,’ she said to them.
‘Merry Christmas!’ they all chimed back. The woman moved closer to the camera. ‘So you’re the infamous Darcy.’ She earned herself a nudge from the man, who must be Winston, and she lost her balance and ended up falling onto the kids’ laps, which they found hilarious.
‘Sorry about her,’ said Winston, ‘but it’s lovely to meet you.’
‘Thank you. It’s nice to see you all.’ She was aware of her proximity to Myles and wondered if it was making him as nervous as it was making her.
‘I hope my family are behaving themselves,’ Winston continued. ‘They have a tendency to make Christmas an interesting affair.’
Martha giggled and Myles seemed pleased that the teasing was taken in good spirits.
‘They’ve been on their best behaviour,’ Darcy confirmed.
‘They’re loving the Inglenook Inn. Careful, or we may all come over next year. How about it, kids? Christmas in New York?’
Wide eyes and yelps of ‘Yay! Oh please, can we?’ rang out and Darcy laughed, leaving the Cunninghams to it.
The O’Sullivans came through the door brushing off snow, chattering about the snowman they’d made a few blocks away with some local kids; Vanessa and Zach came in from a walk and said they needed at least another hour before dessert because they were so full.
Darcy swept the hallway with the broom. She longed to step outside and walk a few blocks, take a deep breathful of the season and enjoy the feeling of snow on her cheeks, look up at the sky while flakes cascaded down at her and twirled round. She settled for hovering at the top of the stoop, with the front door open to the world. She wished a merry Christmas to Mrs Armstrong from number twenty as she came home from wherever she’d been to, she waved at a stranger on the other side of the street, because it was Christmas after all.
When she felt someone behind her, she knew it would be Myles.
‘We did it.’ He was standing so close she could feel the heat from his body against the cold of the outside, and she wasn’t shivering at all.
‘I’m sorry, Myles. I’ve not been very pleasant to be around.’ She looked down at the top step, clear of snow where it was protected by the arched doorway above. The rest of the steps were white with a collection of footprints slowly being covered by fresh snowfall.
‘No, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I got you into trouble in London. I’m sorry I sent a horrible email because I was so ungrateful when you were only trying to help.’
‘I was interfering and it was wrong.’ They both gazed out across the street. It was easier to talk this way.
‘You were, but your intentions were right. I overreacted. I’m so used to being the one in charge, nobody putting a foot wrong around me.’ He leaned closer. ‘Except my family, but that’s another story.’
Darcy smiled. ‘You all seem really happy now.’
‘Mum needed my forgiveness, but she couldn’t ask for it.’ He swallowed hard. ‘And I couldn’t give it until I understood what had really gone on. And that has taken more years than I care to admit.’
She turned to him. ‘So you’re converted? You love Christmas again?’
‘I wouldn’t go that far.’ He grinned. ‘But it’s growing on me. Mum gave me a gift.’
She’d noticed him holding a small present wrapped in gold paper with an ice-white bow. ‘What is it? Haven’t you opened it?’
‘I did open it. But I re-wrapped it myself.’ At her confusion he said, handing her the gift, ‘I’m giving it to you.’
‘What is it? Another caramel macchiato?’
Smiling, he said, ‘Like I said, I know things about you.’
‘I still can’t work out how you knew that little bit of information. Were you inspecting my takeaway cups after I’d thrown them in the trash?’
‘Not quite. It was your friend Isabella.’
‘Isabella told you it was my favourite coffee? When?’
‘She slipped a note under my door suggesting it may be a way back into your heart.’
‘The sneaky thing.’ Darcy shouldn’t be surprised. Her friend had suffered the frustration of Darcy’s insecurities when it came to relationships for a long time now. She probably saw it as a last resort. ‘So what is it then?’ She looked at the gift once again.
‘You don’t understand the present ritual if you’re asking me that. Open it, Darcy.’
She took a deep breath as the wind picked up and blew the waves of her hair across her face. Myles reached out a hand and moved the strands out of the way as she pulled back the paper.
‘It’s…cute,’ she said, looking at a little snowman on skis.
His laughter filled the muffled sounds of the street. ‘It was mine when I was a little boy. I thought it had been thrown out, but Mum kept it all these years. It means a lot to me and I’ll tell you the whole story another time, but I wanted you to have it.’
‘Why?’
‘Because it isn’t an expensive pair of earrings, Darcy. This is something you could probably pick up for a few dollars at a bargain store. But it means something to me. It has enormous sentimental value, and…well, I guess I’m trying to show you that I’m not trying to extinguish your independence. What we did in there…’ He tilted his head back towards the inside of the Inn. ‘…that is what I want. It’s been a long time since I let anyone into my life. I think we’re more similar than you realise. I want someone who will be my partner, who I can support and who supports me. I guess what I’m trying to show you is that you can still be you, Darcy, but it doesn’t mean to say you can’t let anyone else be a part of the bigger picture.’ He looked down at the ground beneath their feet. ‘I’m making a mess of this, aren’t I?’
Holly picked up the tail-end of the conversation as she arrived back at the Inn and trudged up the steps, her boots collecting snow. ‘You could be doing a better job, Myles,’ she said.
Darcy grinned. They were all very much on a first-name basis after last night’s festivities and today’s lunch.
‘Here,’ said Holly, reaching into a plastic bag. ‘I think I can help you both. I bought this because I thought it might be fun,’ she said with a mischievous smile. She took out something Darcy instantly recognised, stretched up above the doorway but couldn’t find anything to push the mistletoe into.
Without taking his eyes from Darcy, Myles reached out a hand and Holly, understanding, placed the mistletoe onto his palm. Standing even closer to Darcy, he lifted it above both their heads as the breeze swirled snowflakes their way, landing on the shoulders of his sweater and fluttering onto her miniskirt.
Darcy was vaguely aware of the other guests crowded in the hall of the Inglenook Inn, as keen as they both were to see how this worked out.
‘What do you say, Darcy Spencer? Do you want to be part of a team?’
She smiled. ‘Well now, that really does depend.’
He closed the gap between them some more, the warmth of his body now against hers, his lips inches from her own. ‘Oh yeah? On what?’
‘On whether I’m the boss or you are.’
His hand reached up through her hair and clasped the back of her neck as he gently pulled her closer still. ‘Oh I think we all know who’s the boss.’
And with that he kissed her deeply. And Darcy knew she’d been right all along. This was going to be the most perfect Christmas ever.
THE END