Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CALLIE
“It’s not Christmas without caramels!” Luna says, leaning against the counter and watching her husband nurture his Christmas cake.
He makes the same one every year, and I know for a fact he started it weeks ago and brought it with him from home.
That thing needs so many layers of alcohol, it’s practically lethal.
It’s also an important part of Norland Family Christmas traditions.
In the Winter household growing up, we ate homemade caramels, chocolate fudge, and did a lot of caroling.
“Mom will want us to wait for her,” I remind Luna.
She frowns. “You’re probably right. I just want one right now. I’ve been dying for caramels all month.”
“Having a craving, perhaps?” I waggle my eyebrows.
“No. I wish.” Her frown deepens, and I immediately regret saying anything at all.
Rhys covers his cake and returns it to the pantry before checking the soup on the stove. “Dinner’s ready.”
“I’ll gather everyone,” I offer. Most of the group is in the living room, which makes it easy. I climb the stairs and knock at Gavin’s office door, pushing it open when he tells me to come in. “Hey. Rhys is finished making dinner.”
He swings around on his chair. “It smells lovely.”
I hold his gaze a beat longer. Ever since our conversation earlier in his car, I haven’t been able to get him out of my head.
He’s overcome so much. Not only the sorrow and grief of losing relationships, but pulling himself from the depths of depression and fighting to remain at the height of happiness ever since.
That takes strength and determination, things he should be proud of.
I’ve watched Bekah fall into those lulls sometimes for no reason, and her hopelessness is almost a palpable thing.
It breaks my heart to imagine Gavin being brought so low.
Yet he climbed from the darkness, hand over hand, until he reached the light again.
None of that comes out of my mouth. Instead, I stand here like a mute stalker.
The door creaks downstairs, the hinges sending a squeak through the house. He looks to the wall. “Can you see down the stairs?”
I crouch and look at the entryway as voices filter up the stairwell. “It’s your parents.”
Gavin visibly deflates.
Okay, that’s weird.
“Where were they?” I ask. They’ve been gone all day.
Gavin shrugs. “I don’t know.”
“Oh.”
“I’ll be down soon,” he says, which is a nice way to say the conversation is over, so I respect his space and leave.
“The tree is bonnie,” Jean says when I make it downstairs. Her cheeks are rosy and her turtleneck looks thick and warm.
I tug my sleeves down over my palms. “Violet chose it, of course. Hamish’s older daughter.”
“The children did the decorating too, I can see,” Don says, shrugging from his coat.
“Most of it, yes. Did you have a good day?”
“Aye, we did. Don drove me out to that cafe in Dunleith for a coffee because I wanted something a little more fresh than Gavin keeps here, and we found ourselves distracted by the shops. I couldn’t believe all that time had passed.”
“Wow, must be good coffee.”
Jean moans. “You would not believe it. I’ll take you sometime.”
Something deep inside tells me she won’t.
“There’s a shop I’ve been wanting to look at in Inverness, Don. Maybe we’ll go tomorrow.”
“Isn’t that an hour away?” I ask.
Don removes his glasses and wipes the lenses on the bottom of his shirt. “About that, aye.”
Would it be too much for me to suggest they do something with their son? Probably. Given his reaction to their return, it’s possible he doesn’t want to do anything with them, either.
But I have to try. “My parents get in tomorrow. I don’t remember what all we have planned, but you’re welcome to join us.”
Jean blinks at me a few times before responding. “Thank you, Callie. I look forward to meeting your parents. Did you say dinner is ready?”
“Yes. Rhys made creamy chick—”
“Great. I’ll see myself into the kitchen.”
I’m standing alone in the living room when Gavin makes it downstairs, but they had been with me only moments before. It was such an abrupt change in conversation, I feel whiplash.
“You look stunned,” he says softly.
“Oh. Yeah. Let’s eat.”
“What happened?”
Do I tell him that his parents ditched us for the day so they could get a coffee? It’s weird, so I keep it to myself. Instead, I paste on a bright smile and take his hand, tugging him toward his kitchen. “Nothing. Come on, I’m starving.”
The creamy chicken soup was great, but I expected no less since my brother-in-law is a chef. Everything he makes is incredible. Once dinner is put away and the dads are upstairs putting the kids to bed, I pull out Gavin’s playing cards. “Who’s up for some holiday Garbage?”
“How is it different from regular Garbage?” Luna asks.
“We play it next to the Christmas tree.”
Gavin glances at his parents. “It’s an American card game, quite easy to learn.”
Jean yawns…I think. Was it fake? It didn’t look real. The sigh was too forced.
“I think I’ll turn on the telly in my room,” she says. “It’s been a long day.”
“Oh no,” Ruby says. “Did you have to work?”
Don laughs. “If shopping is work, Aunt Jean should be promoted.”
“Oh, stop it, you.” She slaps her husband on the arm, but she looks to Gavin quickly. “It’s nearly Christmas. I needed to find a few things.”
Not the same story I got initially. But she did mention the shops, didn’t she? I’m probably overthinking this.
“You’ll probably need to find a few more things tomorrow too, won’t you? When will I have time to work on my book?”
“You’ll have time. We’ll be here until Hogmanay, won’t we?”
Gavin clears his throat. “Some of our guests have never heard of Hogmanay before coming to Scotland.”
Jean draws in a gasp that is far too dramatic for what the situation warrants.
“I only learned about it last year,” Luna says. “But it sounds fun. Parties at midnight. House hopping until the sun comes up. What do people do with their children?”
“Find a sitter for the bairns,” Jean says. “Or bring them along. The whole family goes.”
“Are we doing that this year?” I ask.
“Patty won’t be happy if I don’t bring you,” Gavin says.
My entire body heats a few degrees at that. I haven’t been here long enough to have made a friend, but it feels true to me as well.
“Isn’t there a thing about luck and men who are tall, dark, and handsome?” Ruby asks.
“The first person to cross your threshold on the night of Hogmanay at midnight brings gifts, and if he’s tall with dark hair, it’s seen as good luck.”
“Everyone wants you at midnight then, don’t they?”
“My hair isn’t the darkest,” Gavin says, shrugging. “But it’ll do.”
Jean yawns again. “That’s me finished for the day. Good night, all.”
Don follows her from the room. They’re not gone for a full five seconds before Gavin’s smile is set in place. “Shall I turn on Christmas music to go with our Holiday Rubbish game?”
“Garbage,” I remind him.
“You can’t call it that in the UK.”
“You still know exactly what I mean.”
He shrugs unrepentantly. I can see the challenge, so I square up to him. “Winner of the game tonight gets—”
“A question?”
I was thinking naming rights, but I want another question, and clearly he does too. I hold his gaze, narrow my eyes like we’re about to face off, and put out my hand to shake. “A question and naming rights.”
Gavin cracks a smile. “Deal.”
“What’s going on in here?” Rhys asks from the doorway, looking between us with suggestively raised eyebrows.
“Just a little Christmas magic,” Luna says, sweeping past us. “Come on, babe. We’re playing Garbage.”
“Holiday Garbage!” I call after her.
The tree is big and beautiful and smells of pine, the fire is roaring, logs crackling and popping in the hearth, and Bing Crosby is singing through the speakers somewhere in the room.
We spread out in front of the fire and each take the right number of cards, then start the game.
Since Luna has taught Rhys, Ruby, and Hamish how to play in the past, and I’ve taught Gavin, it goes fairly quickly.
We make it through three rounds before I break out of the eights into seven. Finally. Gavin is already on six.
There’s time. I can still pass him.
Hamish tells us about his farm and who’s running things with him gone. He doesn’t look nervous, but he certainly sounds uneasy.
“Who is running the pub for you, Rhys?” Gavin asks.
“We hired a girl, Nikki, to help in the kitchen so I would be able to take more time off, and she’s taking over this entire week. I thought we should close, but she wants to try and manage the place on her own.”
Luna reaches for his arm and gives it a squeeze. “It was hard to leave, but the pub’s in good hands. Nikki has a level head. If she can’t manage it, she’ll tell us.”
Rhys doesn’t look as confident. He draws an ace, places it in his set, and discards the five that was sitting there. “I’m out.”
Luna yawns. “I think I’m out out.”
“No, we have like four more rounds,” I say. “You can’t quit now.”
“You know Mom will want to play when she gets here. I can’t stay awake any longer, Cal.”
“Same.” Rhys gathers his cards and puts them in the discard pile. “I’m done in.”
Hamish and Ruby join them. When I look at Gavin, he hasn’t moved.
“I’ll play a few more rounds with you,” he says.
I happen to know how tired this man is. His offer is as sweet as it is enticing. But that glint in his eyes proves he’s doing it to win just as much as I am. This isn’t an altruistic move on his part.
Luna is overjoyed by this turn of events, almost to the point of me wanting to go to bed myself. But I want to win this question and find out what the deal is with Gavin and his parents. If they’re going to be in this house with us for the next week and a half, I feel I should be prepared.
Everyone tells us good night and heads upstairs while I shuffle the cards and deal a new hand. “Today was a good day. Trees, snowmen, Patty, shortbread, good soup. I’m not sure what more I could possibly want.”
“Note to self: the key to Callie’s heart is quality time.”
“And good food.”
“Well, naturally.”
“What’s the key to Gavin’s heart?” I ask.
“Just turning up.”
My hand misses the pile and comes down hard on the floor. “I don’t remember that being one of the love languages.”
He shoots me a self-deprecating smile and takes the bent card from my hand to smooth out the crease. “It’s probably more of a trauma response.”
“Gavin—”
“No, I shouldn’t have said anything. You haven’t won yet.”
“Then I’ll owe you one,” I say.
“Assuming you’re going to win…”
“Which I am.”
“Possibly, but not probably.”
I give him the biggest, most dramatic eye roll I possibly can.
Pulling my knees up to my chest, I wrap my arms around them and look into his deep blue eyes.
They sparkle when he teases, but they’re not shallow pools of little substance.
This man might create books for children, but he’s the most emotionally complex person I know.
“It’s a tie. We each get a question and I’ll keep calling it by its true name while you can call it Rubbish. Deal? Everyone wins?”
“That’s not true to life.”
“But this way we go to sleep much faster.”
Gavin’s chest rises and falls as he watches me. “Maybe I don’t want the night to end faster.”