One More for Christmas

“They’re the wrong thing to wear around here?”

“No. The pants are great. You look great in them. Better than great. I mean, that’s probably why... Forget it.” He colored, fumbled with his glasses, dropped the cloth. “I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t. And thank you for the compliment.” She retrieved the cloth, feeling a strange sweetness spread through her. “I assume it was a compliment?”

“Yes. Menus.” He shot to his feet. “I’ll get menus.”

She watched as he strode to the bar. That feeling of awkwardness and embarrassment that had been with her since that phone call had faded during the morning, probably because he was more awkward and embarrassed than she was. The difference was that he seemed to accept it as part of who he was.

She unwound her scarf from her neck, feeling warm. It was the fire. It had to be the fire. Nothing else.

Heat flowed from the huge stone hearth. She grabbed her camera and took a few interior shots for her newsletter. A basket of logs. The walls hung with ice axes and other pieces of climbing equipment.

Brodie returned with menus. “Forgot to ask what you wanted to drink. Single malt? They have about ninety-four different ones to choose from.”

“Tempting, but I’m not a lunchtime drinker. Diet cola is fine, thank you.” She slid her camera back into her backpack and a moment later heard laughter.

Brodie was in conversation with three men who were leaning on the bar.

They appeared to be teasing him because his face was pinker than usual, but he handled it with his usual good-natured laughter. He seemed completely comfortable with who he was. Even on a short acquaintance she sensed there was no outer Brodie and inner Brodie. Just Brodie. He knew he was a little clumsy and awkward, and accepted it with laughter. But equally he knew his strengths. He didn’t play down his professional skills. He was a man who knew exactly who he was and was happy to own all of it.

She felt a twinge of envy. She would have given a lot to be half as comfortable with herself as he was.

“So Really Festive Holidays—” He put the drinks down on the table. “Tell me how that happened. How did you become the Christmas expert?”

Samantha had a vision of Ella, five years old, glowing with excitement as she’d delved into the “stocking” Samantha had made her.

“I always loved this time of year. I used to dream about the perfect way to spend Christmas, and when I started working in the travel industry I realized that I could make that a reality for people, although what we offer isn’t exclusively Santa focused. Some people don’t want a traditional family gathering over the holidays, but prefer to travel. Lapland is popular, so are the European Christmas markets. I’ve sent people to Iceland, but also to Paris and London if they want a city break.”

“London? Not that I don’t like London, but I can’t imagine anyone booking it for a special festive break. What’s in London that would be attractive to tourists at that particular time of year?”

“Christmas lights. The Nutcracker ballet at the Royal Opera House in Covent Garden. Champagne afternoon tea at one of the exclusive London hotels. For you, London is probably about crowds, commuting and work stress, but that isn’t what a tourist experiences. My job is to bring out the magic of a place and focus on that.” She curved her fingers around her glass. “I bet I could make you fall in love with London again.”

He smiled. “I think you could make a person fall in love with any place you wanted them to love. Which is good news for me. I’m grateful you’re willing to spin that magic of yours over our little patch of the Scottish Highlands.”

“I don’t think it’s going to take much work to turn this place into something magical.”

“No?” He took a mouthful of his drink and then set his glass down. “So what do you think so far?”

“I’m excited.” She pulled her phone out of her coat pocket. “I made a few notes when we were in the car, and I know we still have plenty to see, but I’m already in love with the place and I know others will feel the same.”

“What if we let people book rooms and they don’t get on well?”

“I think the way forward may be to offer exclusive hire to individual parties. It would be lucrative and less disruptive for you. We can sell it as an intimate, authentic experience living as part of a Scottish family.”

“Fights and moods included?”

She laughed. “I suggest we make those an optional extra.”

“Exclusive groups. Won’t that be expensive?”

“Yes, but there are people who will pay well for something special that they can’t experience elsewhere. And they can’t experience what you’re offering here. We’d need to refine it of course, but your basic offering is unbeatable.”

“On the strength of that, I’ll buy you lunch.”

“No, lunch is on me.” Samantha glanced at the menu. “What do you recommend?”

“It’s all good, but the burger is the best you’ll ever eat.”