But he was gone.
He’d been gone a long time, and he wasn’t ever coming back.
But Sebastian was here. He was here, and he had kissed me, and I’d bet good money he didn’t sleep under a Star Wars duvet.
Nine
Sebastian
I never expected the Snowsly Christmas market to be so busy. Cars were almost parked on top of each other all around the village, hordes of people were gathered around the hot chocolate stand, and a coach full of tourists had just pulled up. No wonder this village did most of its business in these few weeks.
The small, subdued lights threaded through the branches of the beech trees that circled the green and then the more dazzling lights of the Christmas tree in the middle offset the gray sky overhead. The cold wind that was so biting when I’d gone around the back of the Manor to take out some rubbish, seemed to skip over the green completely. Maybe it was the chestnuts roasting on the far side, or the pumpkin and ginger soup in crunchy sourdough bread bowls being sold at the bakery’s stall. Whatever it was, the air carried a delicious scent and everyone was so damn happy. Even the Christmas music playing from discreetly positioned speakers didn’t dent my mood.
As I walked up the high street, I could see it wasn’t just the stalls that were overrun with customers—the shops themselves were teeming with people. Not just the Christmas shop, but the bakery selling Christmas cakes and puddings and gingerbread; the sweetshop, which I couldn’t believe had survived the decade since I was last here, had a queue out the door; and even the art gallery couldn’t fit anyone else inside. Granny’s call to me and Celia’s stress about things going wrong had been well-founded. If not for the Christmas custom, I wasn’t sure how some of these businesses would make it through the rest of the year.
This amount of tourism couldn’t be taken for granted, and people having this much of a good time shouldn’t be denied.
It was the Christmas I’d dreamed about having since I was a child. I’d have had so many happy memories if I’d been here rather than at home with my parents. Resentment mixed with regret in my gut. All children should have a Snowsly Christmas.
For the first time since I arrived, I felt like an outsider. An interloper who’d trespassed into other people’s joy because I’d never seen the market before. I didn’t have a history of Christmases in Snowsly.
Michael Bublé finally gave way to the jingling bells of Wham’s “Last Christmas,” and then just as George Michael was about to burst into song, the track jumped to Kirsty MacColl and the Pogues. Hadn’t that happened in the hotel yesterday as well? Maybe someone hated Wham!
I stood on the edge of the green, watching, debating whether or not I should disappear up to my room and fake a stomach bug when Celia stepped out of the herd of people around the stalls and started toward me. I tamped down the flicker of the smile that threatened at the edges of my mouth. I hadn’t planned on kissing Celia last night, but I couldn’t regret it. She’d tasted of red wine and oranges, and she’d been as warm as the roaring fire in the Manor’s reception.
“Your market is a triumph,” I said as she beamed at me.
“The Snowsly market is going quite well. It doesn’t belong to anyone. Certainly not me. The loss of the website hasn’t been completely catastrophic. Thanks to you.” She glanced down at the paper I was clutching. “What’s that?”
“Peter’s mailing list. He only has a hard copy. I’ve said I’ll get it transferred to an electronic format. And I’ve had my marketing department work up some graphics and wording for the market. The idea is each business can use the same templates when they mail their customers about coming to visit Snowsly in the next week or so.”
“That’s incredible, Sebastian. Thank you.”
“I made a couple of calls. It’s nothing.”
“I think you might be getting in the festive spirit.” She smoothed her hand down the front of my jacket. Every time she was near, the air seemed warmer, the stars seemed to shine a little brighter, and I stopped hating Christmas quite so much.
“It’s just business. I came to help. That’s all it is.”
“Well as long as you’re here, you’ve had your name put down for Secret Santa. I have the envelope.” She handed me a manila envelope. “Don’t open it yet because I’m likely to wrestle you to the ground just to find out who you got.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Doesn’t sound like too much of a disincentive.” I was pretty sure I could take Celia in any kind of wrestling match, but I wouldn’t mind her trying to take me on. The more time I spent with her, the more I liked her. I liked her passion and energy—even if it was aimed at Christmas. I liked her creativity and determination. And I’d enjoyed our kiss. It had been just as I’d imagined—innocent, but with a hint of spice underlying her sweetness.