Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 121898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
The man was a mystery.
***
It was freezing.
It had snowed just enough this afternoon that the paths in the village square were no longer a grey slushy mush, but rather a grey slushy mush with a fresh inch or so of snow on top. I wasn’t sure which was better—being able to see the slush and know where to step or being allowed to be wilfully ignorant of where the danger spots were.
From someone who had to walk on it, I wanted to know.
On the other hand, as someone who would also see other people walking on it, I kind of didn’t want to know.
I wasn’t so grown up that I couldn’t laugh at people falling over. Especially when those people were tourists.
I didn’t understand the appeal of driving into the middle of nowhere and getting lost on country lanes just to experience a bit of Christmas spirit. Castleton surely wasn’t the only village that had some Christmas vibes going on, but you wouldn’t believe that tonight.
I also didn’t know why they were switching on the lights on a Tuesday evening, but here we were.
On a Tuesday.
In the cold.
With three times the normal number of people here.
I was having the time of my life. Not.
Like I hadn’t had a long enough day already. Aside from having to spend an hour of my precious time with Thomas at the tree farm and having an afternoon of crises from my future brides—some real, some exaggerated, as brides tended to do—I was just really tired.
And the pig had pooped in my bed.
I was not happy about that.
I glanced around, thinking about what Gramps had told me earlier. Emily, the Duchess of Castleton, also known as Thomas’s mother, would be turning on the lights.
Hm.
Was she still the duchess? Or was it dowager duchess? If Thomas was single, did the dowager part matter?
I’d have to Google that when I got home.
Either way, I’d promised to meet Beth here and had resigned myself to seeing Thomas again. Beth had told me earlier that he’d gone into some weird protective role over her, and the idea of him overcompensating for being an obtuse twat was more than a little amusing to me.
I just hoped he’d let her breathe tonight.
I mean, I could smell the Belgian waffle stand from where I was standing, and I wanted to eat my weight in them without being judged.
Given that I’d make a snide comment to Thomas if he were to eat that many waffles, it was fair to assume he’d do the same to me.
I was just really tired of being cold.
“Oh, what if Beatrix is cold?” Nana asked, holding the tiny pig against her chest.
“She’s wearing a jumper,” Hazel said, eyeing the pig. “And antlers. Also, she’s a pig. She’s fine.”
“But she’s so tiny.”
“The pig is not cold!”
I couldn’t believe I was a part of this conversation.
I couldn’t believe this was actually a conversation that was happening anywhere between any adult humans.
Kids? Sure. Adults? No.
“A pig in a jumper! Look, Mumma!”
I turned at the little voice and saw Danny running towards us. Beth was hot on his heels, but it was Thomas who got there first and grabbed his hand.
“Danny, I told you not to run off. You’ll get lost,” he said, bending down.
Beth sighed, catching my gaze. “That’s the third time he’s said that.”
“Good to see he’s listening to him,” I replied, smiling at her.
“But there’s a pig. In a jumper,” Danny finished on a whisper.
Nana beamed at him. “This is Beatrix Trotter. Would you like to stroke her head?”
No.
On my way to Castleton, I had to have driven through a portal into an alternate universe, because this was insane.
Danny was completely enraptured by the pig, and I had a feeling Beth might have just gotten herself a new babysitter. The pig… And by extension, my grandmother.
Danny’s face lit up, and he reached forwards to smooth Beatrix’s head. The pig did a weird little oinking noise that I took to be a sound of happiness because, you know, she didn’t try to bite off any of Danny’s fingers.
It was fine.
All fine.
If you ignored the pig dressed in a hand-knitted festive jumper, of course.
Beth startled and reached into her coat pocket, pulling out her phone. “Ah, crap. Thomas, Zara’s calling. Can you watch Danny while I talk to her?”
“Of course,” he replied, smiling at her. “Do you want some waffles?”
“About ten thousand of them,” she said, swiping on her phone before she turned away and held it to her ear, covering her other one with her hand.
I didn’t catch what she said on the phone, but Hazel appeared out of nowhere and grabbed my arm, making me jump. “Whoa. Hello.”
“Sylvie.” She gripped my other arm and shook me like a ragdoll. “There’s a stall here with hand-rolled marzipan. Hear me out, what if we—”