She lay back and pulled the patchwork quilt over her head, cocooning herself in the warm scent of gingerbread mixed with the sharpness of evergreen. Eliza grumbled. Could she not even have this moment not to be reminded of Lachlan’s presence?
Reaching for her mobile, she typed in the Wi-Fi code Gretel had given her earlier and waited for the signal to kick in. Her phone lit up like Piccadilly Circus.
Ding. Ding. Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding.
Fifteen missed calls. Twelve unread texts. Most from her best friend, Piper, but a few from her mum.
She clicked on her mum’s name first.
Did you make it there, sweetheart?
*a picture of a pair of hideous leather boots*
Do you like these, darling? Thinking of ideas to get you for Christmas.
Piper texted me to ask if I’d heard from you. Are you okay?
And just now.
Call me!!!
Before she could hit the call button, the phone started ringing. She answered, and the sound of her mum’s voice came through the other end, half-relieved and half-panicked.
“Eliza? Oh, Thank God! I was two seconds away from calling the police to file a report. Did you make it there okay?”
Eliza smiled despite herself. “Yes, mum. I made it. There’s no service here and I got snowed in. But I’m fine.”
Long story short.
Her mum inhaled a soft, motherly breath. “Are you enjoying your time so far?”
She swallowed. She thought of Puffcake. Lachlan. Hansel. Gretel. The magical cookbook and nostalgic moments in the kitchen. It wasn’t all bad, per se. Just not what she initially expected.
“It’s complicated.” She tried to make it sound humorous, but it just came out pathetic and sad.
“Oh, sweetheart. I miss you so much. I just wish you had stayed home with us.”
Eliza gritted her teeth. No. If it had all gone according to plan, she would’ve had a fine week here. She wouldn’t have to share a house with sheets that smelled like him. The house wouldn’t literally be trying to matchmake the two of them. She’d be one of the blissful singles who stayed here, problem-free.
Just the magical kitchen and herself.
“It’s okay. I’m getting a lot of baking done. In fact, I have a batch of biscuits in the oven,” she fibbed. “Can I call you later?”
“Sure. Just glad you’re there, safe. I love you,” she said.
“I love you, too. Bye-bye.”
Eliza moved on to the next contact: Piper.
So many white bubbles. She scrolled to the top, reading each short message:
is your murderer fit, at least?
???
oh God Eliza please tell me this is a joke
ELIZA
