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The Best Christmas Ever

Page 84

by Sarah Morgan

Brooke tilted her head. “That’s because I suggest good things.”

Matt filled two cups. “That’s generally true.”

Her objections overridden, Izzy opened the package carefully and pulled out a black minidress in a rich velvet and covered in glittering silver stars. “Oh—” She stared at it, dazzled. “It’s stunning.”

“It is. And it’s going to look perfect on you.” Brooke looked almost smug. “I can’t wait to see his fa— I mean, see you in it.”

“I’m not even going to ask.” Matt shook his head and then smiled at his wife in a way that suggested he knew exactly what she was up to and walked back to the door with the drinks. “I’ll leave you to your scheming.”

He adored her, Izzy thought. Whatever fight they’d had in the car, whatever heated words they’d exchanged and however much tension there was over the situation with Brooke’s parents, it didn’t change the fact that he adored her and she adored him right back.

She could see why Brooke had moved to another country to be with Matt.

Still, it had been a brave thing to do.

“I should check on the girls in case they’re terrorising Mabel. We’ll talk more later.” Brooke headed towards the door.

“Did it scare you?” Izzy blurted out the question and Brooke paused, her fingers on the door handle.

“Did what scare me?”

“Falling in love with Matt. Changing your whole life for him.”

“Of course. But nowhere near as much as the thought of not having him in my life. Now, that terrified me.” She opened the door and smiled. “You might want to think about that.”

25

Mabel

Mabel?”

Mabel felt the cushion dip and realised that Brooke had joined her on the sofa. She hadn’t even heard her come back into the room.

She was conscious that she’d already said more to Brooke than she ever had to anyone else. Even sharing that small amount of herself had made her feel lighter, as if by telling Brooke she’d offloaded a little of the weight of her burden. And she’d been right to trust her. Nothing in Brooke’s warm smile suggested she was in possession of Mabel’s darkest secret.

She’d already decided to tell Brooke the whole story when the right moment presented itself. She needed to stop blocking all those feelings out, and let them in. She’d lived in a state of frozen inertia for long enough. It was time to move forward.

“I was thinking,” Brooke said. “You’ve been so kind taking us in and making us feel at home. I thought that tonight I could put the girls to bed early and cook a special dinner for the five of us. There are a few things in the gift basket I can use, and maybe if we discuss what you have available, I can design a menu. I’ll do all the cooking. All you have to do is show up.”

Dinner. With company.

Something else she hadn’t done in a long time. An almost unrecognisable feeling flickered to life inside her. Joy? No, maybe that was going too far. But something close. Contentment maybe. It had been a while since she’d felt that.

“I used to enjoy cooking,” Mabel said. “Walter loved to entertain.” She remembered the two of them setting the table the year before he’d died. There had been candles, and greenery from the garden, green and gold napkins, a fire flickering in the hearth.

“What was your favourite dish?”

“Walter loved my duck with orange-maple glaze.” Remembering brought the familiar ache of loss, but also a warmth. Funny how some memories cut deep and others comforted. “I always had duck legs in the freezer. We could make that. Assuming everyone eats duck?”

Poppy stopped dancing, her eyes wide. “Is it the same duck we feed on the river at home?”

“No.” Matt exchanged a panicked look with Brooke. “Definitely not that one.”

“Is it the mean duck that tries to steal the food from the other ones?”

“It’s no duck you’ve ever met.” Matt scooped her up into his arms and walked to the bookshelves. “Let’s pick a book and sit and read for a while.”

Poppy wasn’t so easily distracted. “I don’t want to eat a duck. Not even if it was mean and horrid. It might learn to be nicer, but not if it’s been eaten.”