‘And why would you do that? Call me suspicious but you’ve flown here, in this worsening weather, without prior warning, and now you’re offering to do me a good deed? I’m not complaining, mind you. Packing up a house is possibly one of the worst jobs in the world. But it is definitely suspicious.’
‘Can a brother not help out his sister without there being an ulterior motive?’ he replied, knowing full well he was telling a little white lie and about to ask Libby for an enormous favour. ‘And can I just add how proud I am of you? You’ve come so far.’ He placed a supportive hand on her elbow. ‘This job sounds amazing and you deserve it.’
‘Mmm, showering me with compliments now too? Don’t be too nice, you’ll have me getting all emotional. Now, let’s make you a drink and you can tell me therealreason why you’re here.’ Libby lightly nudged his shoulder. ‘You can also help me decorate the tree.’
A few minutes later, Libby handed Flynn a mug of tea. While she boiled the kettle he’d slotted the artificial Christmas tree together, and it now had pride of place in the bay window. Its twisted, threadbare branches had seen better days.
‘This tree has certainly had its day,’ Flynn said wryly.
‘It’s well loved,’ Libby argued. It was like an old family friend. Its lights had twinkled in this living room for the past ten years. ‘I still remember trundling off to the garden centre to buy it. My first Christmas on my own in this place. At first, I struggled to fit it in the car.’
‘No shit, Sherlock, you drive a Mini!’
‘A convertible Mini, which was a lifesaver. I put the roof down and got the tree home. I’m surprised I didn’t catch pneumonia though, as it was minus two outside and a fifteen-minute drive.’
Flynn laughed. ‘Only you. Where’s the box of decorations?’ he asked, placing his drink on the table.
‘Right there.’ Libby pointed to a cardboard box.
Delving into the box she pulled out anything that sparkled. ‘Wait, we need to put the lights on first. Here they are,’ she said, dragging out a reel of fairy lights. ‘Every year I tell myself off for not putting them away properly,’ she said as she yanked them apart. She noticed Flynn smiling and paused, her eyebrows raised in question.
‘They won’t have a cat in hell’s chance of working if you pull them like that. Give them here.’
Libby watched Flynn untangle the lights, weaving them in and out of tangled loops of wire with ease.
‘Right, there you go. All you need is a little patience. Plug them in.’
‘Here goes,’ she said, bending down and pushing the plug into the socket. They both stood and waited. Absolutely nothing. Not a flash of light or a glimmer of hope.
‘I think you might have to try and switch the plug socket on,’ shared Flynn, cocking an eyebrow.
‘Oh, yeah!’ She giggled, flicking the switch. Instantly, the lights began to twinkle. ‘Look at those. Isn’t Christmas just a magical time of the year?’
‘It is.’
‘Now that’s sorted, you best tell me why you’re actually here.’ She gave him a sideward glance as they began to wrap the lights around the tree.
‘Okay,’ he said, taking a breath. ‘I’m here to talk weddings.’
Flynn had Libby’s full attention now and she stopped in her tracks. Her mouth fell open then she grinned. ‘Oh my God, you and Julia have set a date? Finally!’ She gave a little shriek, threw her arms open wide and hugged Flynn tightly. ‘This is brilliant—and about time. When? Where? I’m assuming Starcross Manor? Winter or summer? Look at me, I’ll already be asking for time off from my new job the second I arrive.’
‘And breathe.’ Flynn laughed. ‘It’s not Julia.’
Immediately the smile slipped from Libby’s face and her mouth fell open for a second time, though this time for different reasons. ‘Please tell me you haven’t been—’
‘Of course I haven’t been cheating on Julia!’ Flynn was quick to interrupt, looking aghast that she would even suggest such a thing. ‘I can’t wait to marry her.’
Libby held her hands against her fast-beating heart. ‘Thank God for that.’
‘But Iamin a bit of a dilemma. Jenny, my wedding planner, has quit with no explanation and left me in a predicament. I launched a competition to give one lucky couple the wedding of their dreams—all expenses paid—on Christmas Eve. The couple are being filmed through the whole process and I was going to use the video for promotional marketing, maybe TV ads or possibly a one-off TV programme highlighting Starcross Manor astheelite wedding venue in Scotland. My hope was that the footage would help to attract celebrity and high-net-worth clients, putting us on the map, but now I have no wedding coordinator to plan the whole thing. Jenny picked the winner out of the hundreds of entries, announced their names, then resigned…’
‘Blimey! That’s not good timing. If she’d have hung fire, you would have had time to rearrange the wedding date and employ someone else.’
‘Exactly, and now I have a couple that are overjoyed and excited … but no means of giving them the wedding they’ve been promised.’
‘You’re in a mess. But what are you doing here? You should be recruiting a brand-new wedding planner instead of hanging baubles on my tree. And why are you looking at me in that way…’
Flynn gave her a hopeful smile. ‘I thought wedding-loving Libby, who is obsessed with Christmas, could possibly come to my rescue.’
