One More for Christmas

Today was one of those days.

Samantha

Samantha stepped through the door of the airport and pulled her coat more tightly around her. The icy wind shocked her system. It stung her cheeks and crept through the gap between scarf and skin. A few tiny snowflakes settled like sugar on her coat.

The afternoon light was fading, but there was enough for her to see the curving line of snow-covered mountains in the distance.

Scotland.

She breathed in the clean, sharp air and felt something stir inside her.

Her clients were going to love it here.

“Wasn’t he supposed to meet us?” An exhausted Ella dragged two cases and the oversize stuffed reindeer that Tab had refused to leave behind, while Michael carried the rest of their luggage and a sleeping Tab. The fact that she was finally quiet was a relief to everyone after a flight that had been punctuated by tiredness and tears.

“He said he’d be here. Be patient.” Samantha wasn’t in any hurry to meet him. Would he pretend their conversation had never happened? Or would he give her a wink to indicate that he knew exactly what was going on in her head? Never before had she started a business relationship feeling at a disadvantage. Resolving to be more open was one thing, but she wouldn’t have chosen a client to be the recipient of her new approach.

She smoothed her hair, checking nothing had escaped from the elegant chignon she’d managed to produce in the confines of the airplane. It was a fight between her and the wind as to who was in charge of her appearance. Maybe she should have worn a hat, but then her hair would have looked wild when she’d taken it off, and Samantha didn’t want to look wild. Any wildness she felt was kept firmly on the inside. She wanted to look like the person she’d been pretending to be for her whole life.

“Are you okay?” Ella steadied the case and flexed her fingers. “You seem tense.”

“Not at all.”

“Mmm.” Ella removed her scarf and laid it over Tab, giving her extra protection from the cold. “I hope she doesn’t wake up. I can’t stand any more crying from her or frowning from Mom. All I need now is for her to tell me I’m a terrible mother and this Christmas will have turned out exactly the way I predicted before it’s even started.”

“I know you’re nervous, but it’s going to be fine.” The words came automatically, even though she didn’t really believe them. There were so many potential pitfalls, how could it possibly be fine? But the success of her business was partly down to her ability to handle the unexpected, the unplanned, the emergency, so when she said fine she usually meant fine in the end. For every problem there was some sort of solution. “And no one could ever think you’re a terrible mother.”

“She frowned a lot on the flight. She was judging me.”

“I don’t think so.” It was true that Gayle had frowned a lot on the flight, but unlike her sister, Samantha wasn’t convinced that Tab’s restless behavior had been the cause.

“I hope

he arrives soon.” Her sister leaned in. “Maybe your sex conversation scared him off.”

Michael turned his head. “The what conversation?”

“Nothing.” Samantha glanced at her mother, but Gayle was standing apart from them, gazing into the distance in a world of her own. She’d been quiet on the flight. Samantha might have said nervous, except she’d never seen her mother nervous. Maybe she was as worried about spending Christmas together as they were. “Are you all right, Mom?”

Gayle stirred. “Yes. The air smells so fresh,” she said. “I’d forgotten how beautiful it is here.”

“When were you here? You mentioned it, but you haven’t told us the details.”

“Haven’t I?” Gayle turned her head. “Look—vehicle approaching. I hope that’s our ride. I can’t feel my fingers.”

Samantha had no opportunity to question her further, because a vehicle pulled up next to them and a man emerged from the driver’s seat.

“Samantha Mitchell?”

She relaxed.

Not someone in his sixties. Not the craggy, weathered face of the man she’d spoken to. A younger man. Early thirties she guessed. Presumably someone who worked at Kinleven Lodge, although he wasn’t at all what she’d been expecting. She’d expected a tough-looking, weather-beaten, outdoors type. Apart from the high performance winter jacket and sturdy boots, this guy looked more like a college professor.

Ashamed of herself for stereotyping, she picked up her suitcase. Just because a guy had a lean, intelligent face and wore dark rimmed glasses, didn’t mean he was an intellectual. And whoever said that outdoorsy people couldn’t be intellectual? The important thing was that he wasn’t the man who had been on the end of that phone call. Her professional self would rather have been met by the owner, but her personal self was relieved that he’d sent someone else.

“I’m Samantha.” She thrust her hand out. “I appreciate you meeting us. I wasn’t sure if it would be Brodie McIntyre himself.”

“I’m Brodie. Good journey? You must be tired. Do you have all your luggage?” He nodded to the rest of the group, and gestured to Tab. “There’s a booster seat for the little one in the back. Also a blanket in case she’s cold. I wasn’t sure what to bring, so I threw everything in the car.”