19
Andy
It washard to believe that a house as big as Alderwold Hall could feel crowded, but that was my first thought as soon as we stepped back inside.
Christmas songs played from a speaker set at the top of the stairs, and people—invited guests and staff alike—were bustling in and out of doors, laughing, calling across the whole goddamn house.
I was good at crowds—I lived in New York, after all—but this one instantly set my teeth on edge.
Will appearing on the landing made my stomach fall into my boots.
Teddy appearing before Will could make his way down felt like another tiny Christmas miracle.
“A Snowball for Andy, as promised,” he said, handing me a glass of what looked a lot like eggnog, but wasn’t quite as thick.
“And for Kit,” he added, passing the other glass over. “But do feel free to go straight for the brandy, you’ll need it.”
I snorted, sipping my drink and humming happily. “This isn’t bad at all. What is it?”
“Advocaat, lime juice, and lemonade,” Kit said. “Advocaat is a liqueur not unlike eggnog. Sort’ve comes out to a lemon cream flavor, doesn’t it?”
“Or a key lime pie,” I said, taking another sip. “How boozy is this?”
“Oh, not very. Not much more than a good stout, I should think,” Teddy said. “Now, Andy, I’m afraid I really must take Kit away from you for a few minutes, but I promise to have him back in—”
“Teddy!” Kit’s mom called from the top of the stairs, scrambling down them as fast as her four-inch stilettos allowed. “There you are, I’ve been looking all over for you.”
Teddy looked between Kit, me, and his wife before sighing, his shoulders slumping.
“Later, then,” he said. “I was about to tell Andy there’s a fresh batch of mince pies in the kitchen, you might as well both help yourselves before they’re gone and we’re eating the Sainsburys packet ones.”
Kit’s mom dragged him off with a huff before he could say anything else, barely even glancing at the two of us.
“What did he say was in the kitchen?” I asked, sipping my drink again. Itwasgood, and I definitely needed it. Probably another couple, too.
“I suppose you’ve never had one,” Kit said, eyes lighting up. “He’s right, we ought to get to them before they're gone. Although I doubt mother would allow a Sainsburys one in her home.”
“Are they that bad?”
“They’re quite good, actually. Unsuitable to serve to the likes of Will and her brother, though. It may have occurred to you that appearances are vastly more important than enjoyment to Mother.”
“Kind of a sad way to live,” I said, following Kit into the kitchen.
“Quite,” Kit agreed, snatching up two tiny pies from the counter. “Still warm,” he added, eyes lighting up.
“What am I putting in my mouth?” I asked, but Kit was already halfway through his first bite, moaning happily.
Ifheliked it, how bad could it be?
I bit through buttery pie crust and into... what the hellwasI eating? It was sweet, but the texture wasn’t like any pie I’d ever had before.
“The filling is a mixture of dried fruits, and I suspect these ones have been soaked in brandy,” Kit said, licking crumbs off his lips. “Do you like it?”
“Still deciding,” I said between bites. “Can we go play with the dogs?”
“We should have stayed in London, shouldn’t we?” Kit asked, fingers tapping uncertainly on the edge of the counter.
“Your dad seems to have something important to tell you.” I shrugged. “So maybe not?”
