“Is too much of anything a serious consideration with this display?” Fred asked. “Because if it is, I’d say we went way past ‘too much’ after the gingerbread house.” Two of Rab’s children were sitting on deck chairs inside said gingerbread house, scooping gloopy marshmallows off their hot chocolate mugs with candy cane spoons. “And the motion-activated singing Christmas tree doesn’t scream subtle either.”
“She has a point,” said Ryan, and everyone else agreed.
As the heavy sculpture was stood up straight and secured with guy ropes and tent pegs, with Aunt Aggie barking out orders all the while, Fred took a moment to soak it all in. It was without doubt the gaudiest, most wonderful garden display she had ever seen; it was an overcrowded mishmash of elegance and vulgarity. Tim would have hated it, and the thought of it made her smile broader.
“What do you think?” asked her mum, brushing the dirt off her hands as she came to stand beside her. “It seems to get bigger every year.”
“It’s perfect,” said Fred, meaning it. “I love it.” There was a time when her family Christmas display used to cause her embarrassment, mostly during her teens. But all she saw now was a whole lot of happy. The glittery garden ornaments twinkled like rainbow jewels in the fairy lights. And if that wasn’t enough, silver snowflakes were being projected against the house, and every tree in the garden was lit from below with a color-changing spotlight. “I’m sorry I didn’t come home, these last few years…”
“You have nothing to apologize for. You’re here now, and that’s all that matters,” her mum said, with her signature understanding, which Fred was learning to appreciate after so many years of it driving her nuts.
“This makes me feel like a kid again.” Fred opened her arms out toward the garden. “Tim’s house was very tastefully decorated at Christmas.”
“I remember. I recall Aunt Cam used the word ‘minimalist,’ and I don’t think it was a compliment.”
Fred laughed.
“We weren’t allowed to celebrate Christmas in my house when I was a kid,” said Bella, “not like most people celebrate it at least. It was a serious time for prayer and reflection. I may have gone a bit overboard since I moved in with the aunts.” She pressed a finger to her lips, as if thoughtful.
“Ya think?”
Bella laughed and wrapped her arms around her daughter. “It’s so good to have you home. Even if it’s only for a little while.”
“About that”—Fred rested her head on Bella’s shoulder—“I think I’d like to join the business, properly; on the books, as it were.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
She felt her mum suppress a hiccup of emotion before she said, “Fred, that’s wonderful! I’m so happy. What made you decide?”
“A few things. Realizing that the aunts are getting older was one of them. And it turns out that the grown-up version of Ryan gives good advice—”
“I always liked that boy,” Bella cut in.
“And I just thought, why am I worrying about finding another job in advertising when I could be using my skills at Hallow-Hart?”
“Exactly. We want all your skills for ourselves, don’t share them with the rest of the world.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m going to live at Hallow House forever.”
“Of course not. You can move into the cottage with the aunts. Or we’ll build you your own cabin down by the woods…”
“Mu-um!”
“I’m kidding!” Bella laughed. “I don’t care where you live, so long as you’re happy and you don’t cut yourself off again.”
“Never again. I promise.” Her phone beeped with a message. She opened it. “It’s from Warren. He’s booked us in for lunch at Smoke and Soul on Tuesday.”
“Lovely. Is this fun, or fodder for his restaurant piece?”
“The latter, but there’s no reason it can’t be fun too.” She winked at her mum.
They were quiet for a moment as they watched the hubbub playing out before them on the lawn.
“Ryan will be pleased that you’ve decided to stick around for a while,” Bella said as the man in question hoisted one of his nephews onto his shoulders so the boy could reach to hang an ornament on a rowan tree.
“Do you think?” She tried to squash the zip of pleasure it gave her.
