Julia’s expression softened, the teasing sliding away. “They will,” she said quietly. “With or without reindeer.”
Hyzenthlay dropped a biscuit. It bounced off the table and onto the rug. She eyed it consideringly.
“Don’t even think about it,” both adults said in unison.
Hyzenthlay sighed. “You two are no fun.”
“We’re plenty fun,” Vic protested. “I’m the most fun member of this family.”
“You’re the most chaotic member of this family,” Julia corrected. “There’s a difference.”
“Rude,” Vic said. Then, because she couldn’t help herself, “Can a chaotic person produce a forty-three-page Christmas schedule, complete with contingency plans and a risk assessment section?”
“Yes,” Julia said promptly. “In fact, that’s exactly the kind of thing a chaotic person does when left unsupervised with a laptop.”
Hyzenthlay snorted with laughter, crumbs spraying.
Vic clutched at her chest. “Et tu, Hyz?”
“I don’t know what that means,” Hyzenthlay said. “But it sounds dramatic, so I’m saying yes.”
The knock at the door came not long after they’d finished the first pot of tea and most of the biscuits.
“Come in,” Julia called, before Vic could panic that something else had gone wrong.
It was Mr. Patel. His expression was as soothing as ever—slight smile, calm eyes—but the way he held his tablet a little closer to his chest made Vic’s stomach tighten.
“Sorry to disturb you, Ma’am,” he said to Julia first—habit—and then, “Mrs. Grey-Hughes-Wilding. Miss Hyzenthlay.”
“Hi,” Hyzenthlay said. “We’re in a meeting.”
“So I see,” he said, amused. “I’ll be brief.”
Vic sat up straighter, folding her schedule pages in half so they didn’t look quite so… much.
“Hit me,” she said.
“Not literally, please,” Julia murmured.
“There’s been an update from the caterers,” Mr. Patel said. “The forecast is worsening. They’re advising they may be unable to make the full delivery tomorrow as planned. The A93 has already had a minor closure further south, and if the snow continues, the A9 may be affected as well.”
The words slid over Vic’s skin like a cold breeze.
Unable to make the full delivery.
“The… full delivery,” she repeated carefully. “As in… some of the food?”
“As in potentially most of it,” Mr. Patel said. “They’ll do what they can, of course. Move things up as much as possible. But they have staff safety to consider.”
“Of course they do,” Julia said immediately, while Vic’s brain was still trying to compute a Christmas dinner without actual food. “We don’t want anyone taking risks on our account.”
“No,” Vic said faintly. “No, of course. Safety first. Very logical. Very sensible. Very—” She swallowed. “What… what does that mean? In… practical terms?”
Mr. Patel consulted his tablet. “We have a reasonable stock on site,” he said. “Pantry staples, frozen items, some fresh produce already delivered. We’ll be fine for day-to-day meals. It’s the more… elaborate elements of the Christmas Eve and Christmas Day menus that may be affected.”
“Elaborate elements,” Vic echoed.
Julia’s hand slipped over hers under the table, squeezing. Vic squeezed back hard enough to make their knuckles creak.
