The idea of children makes me choke on the cookie. Either that or I’ve eaten so many mince pies lately that I look like I’m expecting triplets.
‘Well, now you’re stepping down from the business, maybe you’ll have time to,’ Raymond says.
‘I could get on board with that,’ James adds. ‘It’s never too late, and I’m beyond a lost cause in the kitchen.’
‘You could run classes at the lane,’ I say. ‘Kids love baking and decorating cookies. Parents could leave them and go off shopping for half an hour while you run a cookie decorating class. The more options we can offer, the better.’
Raymond smiles at me. ‘James said you were good, but wow. You’ve got a head for this stuff.’
I blush. ‘We could make them nutcracker-themed. Decorate your own nutcracker cookie.’
‘I love it,’ Judy says. ‘I’d like to do that. Even though I’m stepping down, I’d like to still be involved in some way. And I’ll need something to occupy my time.’
‘The other shopkeepers talk about you two with such fondness. They’d be overjoyed to see you there again,’ I say. ‘Cookie decorating classes could be just the beginning. You could give talks or take people on tours of the factory. I mean, who knows more about the history of Nutcracker Lane than one of the people who founded it?’
The unspoken certainty that Raymond won’t be here for long hangs in the air between us. It feels terrible and wrong to be making plans that won’t involve him, and yet, I can see the tension in his shoulders easing as we speak.
He must catch me watching because he meets my eyes and gives me a small nod. Maybe knowing that Judy won’t be alone and will have something to keep going for is all he needs at the moment. ‘All we’ve ever wanted for Nutcracker Lane is someone who will love it as much as us, and will do everything in their power to ensure it’s still standing in another forty years’ time.’
‘And I think that’s you two,’ Judy adds. ‘I don’t know how James managed to find you, Nia, but if I didn’t believe in the magic of Nutcracker Lane before, I do now.’
‘You will come for Christmas dinner tomorrow, won’t you?’ The words are out of my mouth before I realise I’m going to say them.
I feel James stiffen beside me.
‘Is the invite still on?’ His mum looks between him and me. Maybe he has told her something after all.
I nod. ‘I’d be honoured to have you. I’ve always thought Nutcracker Lane was like a little family, and Christmas is always better with family.’
***
‘I didn’t think you’d still want us to come,’ James says. I can hear the sigh of relief at finally getting the words out.
We’re outside in his parents’ garage, looking through boxes of nutcrackers, and he’s clearly been itching to say something since the moment we were alone. Raymond and Judy are still indoors, and the flickering light in the garage is illuminating aged pallet-wood boxes, containing nutcracker treasures from years gone by.
I think about it for a long minute. ‘I meant what I said. You’ve helped me with so much Christmas stuff, it wouldn’t be right to not spend Christmas with you.’
‘Even though you hate my guts and would like to feed me to some cannibalistic reindeer?’
I burst out laughing.
‘I’m sorry, Nia. I know they’re just words, and I know you can’t trust me—’
‘It’s okay.’ I cut him off, my fingers running over a handwritten “1975” on the front of a box. ‘Meeting them, seeing where you grew up, how you spent Christmases … I get it. I understand why you hate Christmas. And why you resented Nutcracker Lane, and how much your family is going through, and I do realise you came there to try to set things right this year.’
I slide the lid off the box and pull out an old-fashioned nutcracker wearing a red coat and yellow trousers with the year stamped on its base. ‘They don’t know the extent of your injuries, do they?’
‘I didn’t want to worry them. They’ve got enough to deal with. Believe me, if I could’ve hidden the broken arm too, I would have.’
There’s something about him hiding his injuries and dealing with so much on his own that makes me want to hug him, but it’s also made things start to make sense. ‘You’ve been hiding the extent of the finance problems and trying to deal with it yourself and save them the worry too, right?’ I think back on the things he’s said over the weeks. ‘Burying your head in the sand, slashing the budget, hoping that one day you’d slash it enough to make a dent in the deficit? Not turning to anyone for help, thinking you can’t trust people and can only rely on yourself …’
His teeth chew on his lip as he ducks his head. ‘That changed when I met you, Nee. Within a day, I’d been more open with you than I had with anyone else in my life. Apart from this one stupid lie …’
I suddenly don’t care who he is, or was, or who he said he was or wasn’t. There are some things that no one can lie about, like that softness in his eyes, his gentle smile, and the surprise on his face whenever he said too much and let me in more than he meant to. There was nothing dishonest about that. Those heavy-lidded eyes and slow, sleepy smile. He wasn’t hiding anything in those moments. I think for the first time in a long while, he was letting someone see the real him.
He’s changed me too. Until him, I thought I was doing well on my own. I convinced myself I was a strong, independent woman and I was happy being alone, and that I was smart to always keep men at a safe distance and never let anyone in or share any part of
