‘You can read it first, Jim,’ said Jeanette, ‘so you can tell me if there are any scary bits.’
‘How thoughtful, Xanthe,’ said Alicia. ‘Graham and I love books.’
‘That’s all right.’ She sat back on her heels with a smug, cat-like smile, before adding, ‘And Ross can sign them all.’
Izzy’s funny half-hiccough-cum-strangled-gasp drew all eyes to her.
‘What, darling? Didn’t you know?’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Alicia.
‘You didn’t know either?’ asked Xanthe, her eyes seeking out Ross, who was studying the cornice. Izzy’s hand crept into his and she gave it a supportive squeeze.
‘Know what?’ Alicia asked.
Graham began to laugh. ‘Is it true?’
Ross gave a surreptitious nod.
‘Is what true?’ asked Alicia. ‘I do wish you’d tell me what’s going on. Why would Ross sign these books?’
‘Ross Adair is Ross Strathallan,’ explained Graham gently. ‘Our son.’
‘Really?’ Alicia’s face was a picture. ‘Are you?’ She turned to Ross.
He nodded.
She beamed. ‘Thank god for that. Imagine how embarrassing it’s been having to admit that my son is a dusty old history professor. Gosh, I wish you’d told me sooner. I’ve had to put up with Margaret Baxter telling me that her son is a successful taxidermist. A thriller writer is much more exciting. I can’t wait to tell her.’
‘How did you know, Xanthe?’ asked Izzy.
‘Mrs McPherson told me, of course. That woman knows everything except the importance of check-ups at the dentist. Honestly, Alicia, you should see her teeth. But she does sell some incredible wool in the post office. I’ve been planning to do some knitting.’ As Xanthe and Alicia entered into an in-depth conversation about needles and stitches, everyone else went back to looking over their presents.
Izzy’s thoughtful stockings went down well with everyone, especially Hattie, who had no family or friends around her but had received gifts from everyone, including a set of glass tile coasters from Alicia and a drawstring toilet bag from Xanthe, which she’d made using upcycled fabrics and deep russet tassels that had once adorned the old dining room curtains.
‘This is wonderful, Xanthe. You’re so talented,’ said Alicia, admiring the scarf that she’d made, again from a patchwork of upcycled fabrics, each end patterned with a hotch-potch of pretty buttons.
Xanthe beamed. ‘Yes, I’m thinking of setting up an arts and crafts co-operative in one of the barns.’
‘You are?’ Izzy blinked; her mother never ceased to surprise her.
‘Well, once the house is up and running, I won’t have anything to do,’ she said with blithe disregard to the work that would need to go into looking after guests. ‘You’ve got Jeanette to help you and so I thought Jim and Duncan could help fit out the end barn and I could invite local crafts people to exhibit and sell their wares. I could probably get one of those arts grants and Jim could sell his benches and make other furniture.’
‘You’ve got it all worked out.’ Izzy had to admire her. Xanthe never let anything get in the way of a good idea, and it was definitely a good idea.
‘You’re not the only pretty face around here, darling.’
‘And Ross and I have one last present,’ said Izzy, standing up. ‘Or rather, an announcement.’
‘Oh my God, Alicia. We’re going to be grandparents,’ Xanthe exclaimed.
Izzy groaned while Ross put his hand over his eyes and ducked his head.
‘No, Mother. We know where the sapphires are.’
Xanthe screamed as everyone started talking at once.
‘You found them.’
