“Not all friendly.” Abbie’s voice was quiet. Darcy nudged her gently with his shoulder. “Would you like something to eat?”
“We didn’t bring anything.”
“Hah!” Charlotte said. “Then you’re perfect for the yummy gingerbreads that I’ve just been told off about. Store bought at the last minute.”
Something like a smile flickered on Abbie’s face. “I’m still getting used to small towns. In the city we’d never do anything like this.”
“Then go and enjoy.”
“Babe, I might find something.” Abbie kissed Darcy’s cheek and wandered to the closest table.
“I really am happy you are here.” Charlotte turned to Darcy. “You may not know, but the bookshop had a giving box this year, and lots of people donated books with different age groups, genres, interests and the like.”
His smile disappeared.
Oh, Darcy. Don’t expect the worst.
“Do you know how many people asked if they could give a book to Lachie? And before you go all proud and protective on me, you need to know why. Okay?”
Lips pressed together, Darcy nodded.
“Cool. That kid of yours makes people happy. His manners and willingness to help out is not unnoticed. And the fact he calls Abbie ‘Mrs Forest’ is kinda cute. You need to admit that.” Charlotte grinned at Darcy and at last, his face softened into a sort-of-smile.
“So,” she continued. “There’s a box of books for him for Christmas. All appropriate, and all very well wrapped I might add.”
“Your work?”
“Darcy, I can only imagine how much you’ve had to contend with. You and your family are amazing people. Please don’t reject a little bit of help at this time of year, when so many people want to feel good about giving.”
Lachie ran over and grabbed his father’s leg. “Dad, daddy. Santa’s gonna be here!”
“Is that right?” Darcy said. “Have you said hello to Charlotte?”
“Hello, Charlotte. Is your tree quite well?”
Charlotte almost collapsed in laughter at the adult tone coming from a child’s mouth, but she kept her face serious. “The tree is very well. It thanks you for asking.”
The look he gave her almost broke her resolve.
“Trees do not speak. Perhaps we should check this tree in case it has become an alien.”
“Oh. You like aliens?”
“He loves aliens.” Abbie returned with a small plate of food. “The scarier, the better.”
“Santa is an alien!” Lachie announced, over his shoulder as he ran back toward the fountain.
“This is true.” Charlotte observed.
“Sorry about yesterday.” Darcy looked at the ground. “Got some bad news and it felt like the final straw.”
Abbie leaned her head on his shoulder and his arm went around her. A little twinge of wistfulness touched Charlotte. Time to move along. “My advice is get a big plate of Christmas fare before Sid and the book club ladies consume the lot. That’s where I’m off to now.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
She didn’t get as far as the tables. Rosie wheeled toward her, waving in an urgent fashion that had Charlotte weaving through people to reach her near the fountain.
“There’s been another…” Rosie lowered her voice, glancing around. “Another break-in. Another tree gone. My neighbour. Arrived home from work ready to begin preparing for tomorrow’s lunch with their relatives and the back door was wide open.”
Rosie stopped to draw breath and Charlotte squeezed her arm, squatting at her side to keep the conversation private. A few people glanced their way. “And the tree was gone?”
“Yes. Tree, and this time something else was taken. They’re expecting their first grandchild and had a highchair set up ready to give them.”
“Oh, no.”
“Oh, yes. So specific.” Rosie gazed at the Forests, who were sitting on a bench a little distance away with plates.
“Rosie! They didn’t do it.”
“I know. But someone wants to make it look that way.”
Surely nobody would accuse the family of stealing a highchair. What was next? Charlotte got to her feet as Glenys appeared through the partygoers, looking around until she saw Octavia and Marguerite. In a moment they were huddling around Glenys’ phone.
“What’s she showing them?” Rosie was at a disadvantage from her position. “Is it on a phone?”
“Yes. And they’re getting all riled up. Rosie, we might need to—”
Rosie was already on her way to the Forests to get there before the book club ladies. They, led by Octavia, ploughed through anyone who was in their way without so much as an ‘excuse me’. This couldn’t end well. Charlotte chased after Rosie.
At the bench, Darcy was on his feet, in front of Abbie and Lachie as though protecting them. Abbie clutched Lachie to her, hands over his ears as Octavia bellowed at them.
“—of all the sneaky, underhand and cruel things to do!”
“Stop it!” Rosie got there just before Charlotte. “Octavia, lower your voice before you frighten the child.”
“The child? Who cares about the baby who now won’t have a highchair!” Octavia’s face was bright red and her hands in fists against her hips. “What do you have to say for yourself, Darcy Forest? What excuse do you have?”
The music stopped. People turned to watch. Some moved closer. For an instant, the only sound was the gurgling of the fountain.
Darcy took a step forward. “I have no idea what you are yelling about, Mrs Morris. None.”
“Liar.” That was Marguerite.
Where was Sid? Charlotte couldn’t see him amongst the crowd.
“Ladies, please. This is a Christmas party. Not the Spanish Inquisition.” Rosie spun her chair, so she was at Darcy’s side, facing the three women. “What is the problem?”
“None of your business, Rosie Sibbritt.” Marguerite snarled.
Rosie blinked a few times, but her voice was steady and calm. “You’ve made this everyone’s business. I think you owe us all an explanation.”
Onlookers formed a circle around the bench, obviously agreeing.
Glenys tapped on her phone and then showed an image to Darcy. “This.” Then swiped. “And this.” She held the phone higher and showed it to the crowd.
The photos were in a pine forest clearing. The first was of a pile of broken artificial trees. The second was a wider shot and included a tipped over highchair with a bow around it.
People strained
