“But your feet are still on the rungs.” Aunt Cam noddedtoward her notebook. “How are you feeling about what you’ve got planned for today?”
Fred put her hand to her stomach as the queasiness gave another churn. “Nervous.”
“There’s no need. Just think of yourself as a spotlight pointed toward our friends, giving them a chance to shine in the light.” There was a knock at the door. “That’ll be your young man.” Her aunt smiled knowingly at her, and this time Fred didn’t correct her.
“Greetings!” Ryan smiled at her, holding up an elf costume on a coat hanger in one hand, and clutching a green hat and pointy ears in the other.
She beamed at the sight of him, and her smile lingered when he leaned across the threshold to kiss her.
“Come in and I’ll get changed.”
“You’d better put a coat on over the top of it; you’re only a part-time elf, after all. It’s freezing out, and you don’t have the magic of the North Pole to keep the chill out.”
She shook her head as she took the hanger from him, and slipped into the sitting room to change while he popped into the kitchen for a cuppa.
The red-and-white striped sparkly tights were mercifully thick, and Martha had lent her a pair of her green Dr. Marten boots to wear with them. The green velvet skater-style dress was short, but not sexy-short, with a red organza frill at the bottom—so she wouldn’t have to worry about exposing her bottom every time she bent over—with a matching red Peter Pan collar. She pulled on the long-sleeved green bolero and then fitted on her pointy ears. Last of all, shefixed on the hat with the little bell that jangled when she moved. She’d left her black hair loose, and it tumbled down around her shoulders. Fred wasn’t usually one for red lipstick—she always felt it popped too much against her pale complexion and dark hair—but this outfit seemed to cry out for it, just as Aunt Aggie had said it would when she’d pressed the Mac lipstick into her hand earlier. She slicked it over her lips now and checked herself in the mirror. Yep. She looked like a thirty-five-year-old elf.
Ryan was leaning against the worktop, mug in hand, when Fred walked into the kitchen. He stopped talking mid-sentence when he saw her, and stood with his mouth open.
“Try not to dribble on your shoes, dear,” Aunt Cam said to him, smiling.
Ryan flushed and closed his mouth. She watched him swallow, and enjoyed the thrill of pleasure she felt low in her abdomen.
“You look”—he swallowed again—“cute.”
Fred raised her eyebrows. “Cute?”
He recovered himself. “I think you look more appealing in your outfit than I do in mine.”
“Oh, don’t do yourself down, Ryan,” said Aunt Cam. “You make a very fetching elf. As do you, Fred, my love,” she continued. “You look as pretty as a picture.”
“Thanks. Okay,” she said, pushing down the sudden flutter of nerves that had erupted in her stomach again. “Let’s get started.”
28
They began at Demeter withthe Doukases.
Mr. Doukas was all jovial conversation as Ryan set up the tripod and ring light for Fred’s phone, while she arranged the family—all four of their sons, plus daughters-in-law and several reluctant teenage grandchildren—in a relaxed formation on banquettes in front of a mosaic depicting the Greek goddess Demeter, looking serene beneath an olive tree in a field of barley. Mrs. Doukas remained reserved, regarding Fred as one might a spider lurking in the corner of the room. Fred couldn’t really blame her for feeling mistrustful after their brush with Warren and his contentious brand of journalism. She only hoped the response to her campaign would go some way toward softening up the matriarch.
With everyone settled, Fred took a moment to steady her nerves, then gave Ryan the nod that he should begin filming.
“Hello, everyone! And Merry Christmas!” she began.The shake in her voice was audible but Ryan gave her a thumbs-up and she plowed on, recalling her aunt’s pep talk from this morning. I am not the focus, I am simply the spotlight.She took a breath and a quick peek at her notes, then plastered on a wide smile. “My name is Fred Hallow-Hart, and I am a fourth-generation maker of Hallow-Hart Christmas Crackers. Any small business needs a supportive community if it’s to thrive, and Pine Bluff has the best. So, in my capacity as one of Santa’s little helpers”—she gave a little curtsey—“I am going to introduce you to some of the wonderful small businesses we have here in our corner of the Scottish Highlands. I’m kicking off this tour of delights with Demeter, a Greek restaurant owned by the Doukas family. They have been serving excellent Greek cuisine here since Mr. and Mrs. Doukas Senior settled here, after serving in the British Army during the Second World War…”
Filming continued and, despite Fred’s obvious nervousness and one or two attacks of stage fright from the older members of the family, it went well. When Mrs. Doukas handed her a tub of baklava before she left, she knew she was forgiven. The Doukases’ grandchildren were all prolific TikTok users and promised to share the video far and wide when Fred uploaded it. Fred’s advertising mind was instantly thrilled at the connections this would generate between Hallow-Hart Crackers and the next generation of purchasers.
They stopped in at Coast Roast on the way to Smoke and Soul, under the guise of grabbing a coffee, when really Fred knew that Ryan wanted to check in with Mina and hislatest roast. She didn’t mind. She was beginning to get how that worked, feeling love for a thing you’ve built—or, in her case, generations of women before her had built.
She sat on a packing crate in the roasting room behind the shop as Ryan busied himself with his coffee beans.
“Sorry,” he said. “It won’t take long.”
“Don’t be sorry, this is your business, I should be apologizing for making you chase me around town with a camera.”
He chuckled. “I don’t mind a bit. I’m getting to spend time with you.”
“I love how much you love your business,” she mused.
Ryan laughed as he sniffed a handful of beans and then turned to jot notes into a notebook hanging from a string on the side of the machine. “Is that code for you think I’m weirdly obsessed with coffee beans?”
