“Here’s to peeing in the snow.”
Lucy let out an exasperated sigh. Nate laughed, his back to them, then took both pans off the hob and slid each omelette onto its plate in perfect sync—a little breakfast-for-dinner theatrics.
He chatted with them while they ate, doing most of the talking while Lucy and Will replied with nods and “Mmm-hmms”. When he was finished, Will leant back. “Great omelette, Dad, thanks.”
“My pleasure.”
Will raised his arms above his head and stretched his neck from side to side, his T-shirt lifting to show a strip of bare stomach—bare, muscular stomach. Lucy gulped down her bite and took a sip of her hot chocolate.
When she glanced at Nate, it was clear that he’d seen the little episode. If she’d been embarrassed by Will sharing the outdoor weeing episode—and she was—this was several notches higher on the mortification scale.
Stop perving on Jules’s brother, Lucy—especially in front of their dad!
Chapter 9
Chloe
Chloe woke with a head that felt like it was stuffed with cotton wool. She wasn’t sure what to blame, the sherry or the jet lag, but as she lay there looking up at Lucy’s garish light fitting, she knew one thing for certain. She was now Acting Co-chair of the town’s Christmas Fair and it was only two days away.
Why on earth had she said yes?
She threw an arm over her bleary eyes, blocking out the weak light seeping through the curtains, and indulged a long groan. Then she peeked at the clock on the bedside table. She had precisely thirty-five minutes to get up, get dressed, and head to the planning meeting. Good thing it was being held across the road.
Chloe prided herself on being good with names, but as Susan went around the circle and introduced everyone on the committee, she struggled to remember all of them.
“And this is Cecily,” said Susan, pointing to a stout woman with a particularly sour expression. She’d remember Cecily, though, with that “cat’s bum” face. Chloe nodded in greeting and Cecily’s lips pursed even tighter. Then, along with the other five committee members—Susan included—she stared expectantly at Chloe.
She was only supposed to be Co-chair, right? With Cecily? She scanned the group—five women and one man. She’d expected a grateful reception and to be looped in on the plans to date, but no, the stares continued. She wasn’t even sure if Susan was actually on the committee, or if she was just there to spectate.
Tough crowd, but Lucy had handled far worse than this.
She straightened to her full one hundred and fifty-two centimetres and pulled her shoulders back, adopting the power stance that always gave her a little boost of confidence when she needed it. She donned a bright smile. “Good morning.” It wasn’t. “I am very pleased to be here.” She wasn’t. “I am sure that you hardly need me at all, but I am happy to be of any assistance I can to make sure your Christmas Fair goes off without a hitch.” Another lie—she wasn’t happy about any of this.
Five stony faces didn’t flinch, and she glanced at Susan, who was watching her with an encouraging smile. “Right, so how about we go around the circle again, and you can tell me what each of you is responsible for.”
“We usually start with tea and biscuits,” said the man—Simon, Chloe remembered.
“Oh, right.” She looked around the group, wondering who was in charge of making tea.
“Cecily, aren’t you going to put the kettle on, dear?” Susan prompted. Cecily seemed to remember herself, tearing her scrutinising eyes from Chloe and standing.
“Yes, of course. My apologies everyone.” She disappeared through a doorway, presumably to the kitchen. Right, so they were in Cecily’s home.
Chloe knew she had to crack the toughest nut and get Cecily onside, so she followed her into the kitchen, hearing a cacophony of loud whispers erupt behind her. Cecily was fussing about with a tea tray and the kettle was already on to boil.
“Cecily, I meant to say before what a beautiful home you have. I was admiring your thatched roof as we crossed the road.” Flattery, flattery, flattery—in her experience, the three best ways to earn someone’s trust quickly.
Cecily started and looked at Chloe, her lips parted in surprise. “Oh. Why, thank you.” Chloe could tell that it was difficult for Cecily to take a compliment.
“What year was it built?” Chloe took in the low ceiling with its exposed beams of dark wood, which contrasted with the whitewashed, uneven plaster. It really was a beautiful building; she hadn’t been lying about that.
Cecily started placing biscuits from a tin onto a large floral plate. “Well, the original structure dates back to the sixteenth century.” Chloe’s eyes widened. She was standing in a building that pre-dated European settlement in Australia. It was one of the things she adored about visiting England.
“Actually, and you can see this better from the outside, this was once four separate structures—stables for the estate—and at some point, in the 1800s, it was converted into houses—four of them. It was only last century, before the war, that it became one house. That’s when my grandparents bought it.”
Wow, once you got Cecily onto something she wanted to talk about, she opened right up. Still, she’d yet to crack a smile. “Well, it certainly is impressive, and it has a fascinating history.” Cecily nodded, her mouth remaining in a taut line. “Can I help?” Chloe asked as the kettle boiled and switched itself off.
“Oh, well, yes, I suppose. You could take these out to the sitting room.” She indicated the plate of biscuits and a stack of matching smaller plates. “Oh, and take the napkins too, dear,” she added. She’d got a “dear” out of Cecily. Progress.
Cecily continued to flit about her kitchen with skilful efficiency, and Chloe did as she was told. Thankfully, being the bearer of biscuits seemed to win her some much-needed brownie
