EPILOGUE
Three wonderful Christmases later …
‘It’s going to be a white Christmas,’ Shantelle said cheerfully.
Peering out of the door of the new Mistletoe Flower Shop, now facing the triangular green instead of the library, Rose made a face. ‘More like a grey Christmas, I’d say, but who am I to crush your dreams?’ She came back inside and closed the door, enjoying the familiar jangle. ‘So glad we kept Grandad’s bell on the door. Come on then, Shantelle, what do you think of the new shop?’
‘Flippin’ amazing!’ Shantelle sighed happily, standing behind the counter with her Manager badge on upside-down. She stroked the damp surface of the counter, where she had just finished potting up Christmas centrepieces of miniature hollies with bright-red berries and shiny gold bows, apparently unaware that she was covering her hands with tiny bits of soil. ‘To think all this is mine now.’
‘Erm …’
‘Mine to manage, that is.’
‘That’s better.’
Shantelle hesitated, her brows suddenly drawn together. ‘I take it you’re not, um, planning to come back any day soon?’
Rose grinned. ‘No, thanks. I’ve got too used to the high life to jump out of bed at five on a freezing winter morning like today, just to take a delivery. And I don’t miss being on my feet all day.’ She looked round the flower shop, everything new and gleaming, all the shelves packed with top-quality house plants, floral arrangements and baskets. ‘Besides, it looks like you’re managing okay without me breathing down your neck.’
‘Yeah, no worries, we’re doing just great on our own.’ Shantelle winked at the fleece-lined double buggy which would never have fitted inside the old shop, but could now easily be wheeled in and out without so much as clipping a bucket of lilies. ‘You’ve got your hands full there, anyway. Trust you to do the thing twice!’ She laughed. ‘At least, I only had the one bun in my oven. Not sure how I’d have coped with two.’
Shantelle’s young son Ricky was in the Christmas Parade crèche today, playing while his mum worked. But since she was in a position to keep her babies by her side, Rose had decided to keep them there as long as possible.
Glancing down at her twin sons, snugly asleep in the double buggy, Rose smiled with an overwhelming sense of love. It was strange, she thought, how love was such an elastic thing, it could stretch to cover three people, not just one. She’d been almost worried before the boys were born that she would never love another human being as much as she loved Nick, even her own children. But she’d discovered the opposite to be true, thank goodness.
As soon as they were handed to her after an emergency C-section, one baby nestled in each arm, red-faced and grouchy, her heart had simply expanded to take them in too. Plenty of love for everyone, and more love yet to come, for the new life in her belly, a baby girl due in early summer.
Shantelle didn’t know about that, of course.
Though Dad did, and had already teased her and Nick about having another child so soon after the twins. ‘Rod for your own back,’ he kept saying, shaking his head with a grin. ‘As if having two little ones underfoot weren’t enough for a young couple. Couldn’t keep your hands off each other, could you? No, don’t bother to deny it, I know the truth. Proper set of lovebirds, you two.’
As though he’d read her thoughts, her dad wheeled easily through the store room door at that moment, his lap covered with gorgeous red Poinsettias, some of which had leaves sprayed gold.
A broad smile lit up his face when he saw her. ‘Rose! And the boys too.’ He came forward, letting Shantelle relieve him of his lapful of pot plants. ‘I didn’t know you’d arrived. Have you been waiting long?’ Before she could answer, he leant forward to stroke the sleeping boys’ cheeks with a gentle finger. ‘And how are these young scamps? Looking forward to Christmas, I expect.’ He glanced up at her sternly. ‘I insist on being Santa this year, is that clear?’
‘They’re barely one-and-a-half, Dad, they don’t understand what Christmas is yet,’ Rose said, laughing at his enthusiasm. ‘And just a heads-up, you may make the poor little things cry if you plan on jumping out on them in a red coat and beard.’
‘Make my grandsons cry? Nonsense.’
The door jangled behind her, and there was Nick in the doorway, stamping cold feet and clapping leather-gloved hands. ‘Bloody cold out there,’ he said, then nodded to her dad and Shantelle. ‘Merry Christmas!’
‘Ho-ho-ho!’ Her dad adopted a deep, booming voice, leaning towards the boys. ‘Ho-ho-ho!’
Jason startled and woke up, crying piteously at once, both arms flailing above his white fleecy blanket. His brother Jake opened his dark eyes, fixed them on his grandfather’s face, gave a tiny smile, then went back to sleep.
‘What the hell?’ Nick said, looking perplexed.
‘Dad wants to play Santa this Christmas Eve,’ Rose explained, shooting him a secret smile as she plucked a wailing Jason from his buggy and sat him comfortably on her hip, the boy a dark-haired, dark-eyed replica of his father. ‘He was just practising his, erm, ho-ho-ho on the boys.’
‘I see.’
‘Sorry,’ her dad said contritely, and then looked at her husband with quiet sympathy. ‘I haven’t seen you in a few weeks, Nick. How are you doing?’
Nick did not answer at first. Instead, he stripped off his gloves, and held out his hands so she could pass him Jason. He snuggled the boy against his chest, and kissed him until the tears had subsided.
Shantelle, in tight black leggings and a festive sparkly jumper, moved discreetly away to arrange a few Poinsettias in the Christmas window, crawling into the window space with her bottom on display.
Rose looked at Nick, but luckily he had not noticed Shantelle’s protruding bottom. Not that she was worried he would stray. Only that he might question her judgement in leaving such a young manager in charge of her precious shop. She believed in her judgement one hundred percent though. Shantelle was brilliant with customers and suppliers alike, if a little bouncy at times. And she was even becoming better at gold-spraying alliums for the Christmas display without covering half the shop in glittery gold paint.
Besides, she needed Shantelle to get used to managing a shop, because once they had their next two shops open – yes, a Mistletoe Flower Shop chain was in the works, thanks to Nick’s investment – she would need a manager for their flagship store, planned for much larger premises she and her new personal assistant Petra had just acquired near Euston Station. Then her dad could run this place on his own again, with maybe a part-time helper, which had been his dream ever since his accident.
Finally, Nick turned back to her dad, his smile speaking of a sadness that had not yet healed. ‘I’m doing okay, Henry,’ he said, with deliberate understatement. ‘Some days are better than others. Like today, for instance.’ He paused. ‘How about you?’
Her dad made a face, shrugging, though he did not fool any of them. ‘Oh, you know. Muddling through. Keeping busy helps.’
‘Yes,’ Nick said deeply. ‘This first Christmas is going to be hard though. Her favourite time of year.’
‘Your mum would have wanted us to enjoy it,’ Rose said quietly into the silence. ‘For the boys’ sake, in particular. You know how she doted on them.’
Sadly, they had lost Barbara early that autumn. Not to her cancer, which had remained in remission, but to a massive stroke, which had been so unexpected, it had torn their lives apart. Nick, in particular, had been devastated by the loss of his mother and best friend for so many years. But even he was slowly starting to recover from that shock. Having the twins was helping, Rose thought, watching with a hurting heart as he cradled his boy before placing Jason back in his warm buggy.
Her dad and Barbara had enjoyed a close relationship right up until her death, seeing each other several times a week. Nothing had been said, but she suspected they had been considering marriage. Then she had died so suddenly, and her dad … Well, Henry too was only just beginning to pick himself up. And again, having his two grandsons in his life was a major help, as well as being able to work in the flower shop again, a role he had absolutely insisted upon as soon as the place reopened. Life was changing for them all, Rose thought, and despite the sadness of Barbara’s untimely death, it did feel as though things were getting better.
‘And what do you think of the new Christmas Parade complex?’ Nick asked, looking at her dad with his eyebrows raised. ‘Does it meet with your approval?’
‘OMG, it’s freakin’ marvellous!’ Shantelle said, her voice muffled as she crawled back out from the flashing, glittery window display. She gave Nick a massive smile as she jumped down, her face lit up almost as brightly as the Christmas tree itself, gold tinsel strands wound round her dreadlocks to make her look even more festive. ‘My cousin’s got a flat on the third floor. She says it’s gorgeous. Totally. And about three times bigger than her last place, but for the same rent. Which is almost impossible in this part of London, trust me.’ She embraced Nick warmly, then kissed him on both cheeks. ‘You are, like, the best billionaire ever.’
Rose cleared her throat.
‘Oh.’ Shantelle glanced at her boss, then hurriedly released Nick, smoothing down the broad shoulders of his suit as an afterthought, now slightly crumpled from her enthusiastic embrace. ‘Sorry.’
Nick glanced at Rose, and she felt the loving intimacy of that gaze like a touch. ‘Ready for lunch?’ he asked softly. ‘I’ve got Ebba going round and round the block, now there’s only disabled parking allowed out there.’ He checked his watch. ‘Then shopping, I believe? For … What was it again?’
‘Clothes for the twins. And more nappies.’
‘Of course.’ He quirked a brow at her dad. ‘Here I am, CEO of my own global company, and I have to take my wife shopping for nappies.’
Shantelle’s eyes were wide. ‘But you’ve got a nanny, haven’t you? That funny-looking Lolita thing.’
‘Lola,’ Rose corrected her, grinning at the reference to their pink-haired Goth nanny, who rarely had anything to do because Rose herself was always in the nursery, too much of a control freak to let another woman handle her babies.
‘Okay, Lola, whatever. Why can’t she do the grunt work for you?’
‘Because my wife doesn’t trust the nanny to know what Jake and Jason really need, and prefers to do everything herself,’ Nick said drily, stopping at the door to pull on his gloves again. ‘Apparently she even enjoys shopping for nappies for them. And online won’t do either, before you suggest it. Online shopping is too impersonal, she claims, and not enough fun, for God’s sake.’ He watched as Rose wheeled the buggy round, ready for departure. ‘Plus, this way she gets to take the babies with her while she does the dreadful deed. Which means buying them toys for Christmas. More toys, I should say, as she’s already spent a fortune on the little nippers this month.’
‘Hey, mister, you enjoy shopping for nappies and kiddy toys too, I know you do.’ Rose glared at him accusingly. ‘So don’t make out like I’m dragging you away from some important business meeting,’ she added, ‘just to go out with the boys.’
‘Darling, for the record, I certainly don’t enjoy shopping for nappies,’ he told her with mock sternness, and bent his head to kiss her lips, ignoring Shantelle’s delighted shriek, ‘I adore it.’