“Hi,” she said, because her brain had been replaced by mush.
“Hi,” Julia said back, and there was so much affection in the simple word that Vic almost forgot they had company until Hyzenthlay made a gagging noise.
“Ew,” she said. “You’re doing the eyes again.”
Julia set the tray down, completely unbothered. “Sorry,”she said. “Next time we’ll schedule our eye contact between the hours of nine and nine-oh-five.”
“That’s not nearly enough,” Vic said. “I have needs.”
Julia’s mouth curved. “I’m familiar with your needs.”
Hyzenthlay slammed a small hand on the table. “Meeting! We are in a meeting.”
“Right, yes, sorry, Madam Chair,” Vic said. “Point of order: the weather is trying to murder Christmas.”
Julia poured the tea, her movements brisk and precise. “It’s snowing, babe,” she said. “We’re in Scotland in December. This was not unexpected.”
“Level of snow: expected,” Vic said. “Timing of snow: rude. Potential impact on scheduled activities—” she slapped the pages for emphasis “—catastrophic.”
Julia handed her a mug. “We don’t know that yet,” she said. “Patel messaged me as well. They’re monitoring the roads. They can move some deliveries up, push others back.”
Vic took the mug like it was a lifeline. The hot ceramic warmed her fingers immediately. “Some,” she repeated. “Not all.”
“We’ll be fine,” Julia said. “We have enough food on site to feed a small army even if nothing else arrives.”
“It’s not just food,” Vic said. “It’s the atmosphere. The vibes. The… reindeer.”
Hyzenthlay perked up. “Reindeer?”
Vic winced. She’d been trying not to build that up too much, in case it didn’t happen. But she’d also told absolutely everyone who would listen about her genius idea, so the cat—and the reindeer—were very much out of the bag.
“Maybe reindeer,” she said cautiously. “If the roads cooperate.”
Julia paused mid-pour. “What do you mean maybe?”
Vic stared at her. “What do you mean what do I mean? I mean maybe. As in, they have to get up here from the reindeer place, and the roads might close, and?—”
“You didn’t get reindeer from Balmoral?” Julia asked, baffled. “There’s not a local reindeer dealer?”
Vic blinked. “Do you honestly think there’s a reindeer dealership in the Highlands? Like a car lot, but antlers?”
“I don’t know your life,” Julia said. “I just assumed you’d sourced them from somewhere nearby for ease of transport.”
“They’re from a reputable farm,” Vic said defensively. “They do seasonal events. They have excellent reviews. And I booked them months ago.”
“Reviews,” Julia murmured. “Of course you checked the reviews.”
“Yes,” Vic snapped. “Because I care about quality. And animal welfare. And a magical experience for our children.”
Hyzenthlay tilted her head. “If they don’t come,” she said, “we can pretend the deer in the woods are reindeer. Nobody will know the difference.”
“I’ll know the difference,” Vic muttered.
Julia pushed a mug toward her. “Drink,” she ordered. “You’re spiralling.”
Vic took a gulp. The tea was strong and slightly too hot, but it grounded her. She let out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding.
“You’re right,” she said grudgingly. “I’m… overreacting. It’s just—this is our first proper Christmas. All of us. I want it to be good. I want…” She looked down at her daughter, who was busy stacking biscuits into a leaning tower. “I want them to have the kind of memories we didn’t.”
