Chapter 27
By late afternoon, Laurel Cove Bed and Breakfast smelled of cranberries and cloves.
The kettle’s hiss echoed through the kitchen as Helen arranged a tiered tray of scones.
Hannah had dropped off a tin of Christmas cookies that morning.
She added a small pitcher of milk, a small bowl of sugar, a pot of homemade clotted cream, and some strawberry jam to the tray.
The ginger stars and powdered-sugar snowballs added just the right sparkle and completed the holiday tea.
Helen carried the tray into the dining room, where the fire crackled against the winter chill. Mr. and Mrs. Edgar, a retired couple from Virginia, sat on the sofa, their voices low and companionable. She smiled warmly as she set the tea service on the coffee table.
“That looks lovely, dear.” Mrs. Edgar clasped her hands together. “And the teacups are just delightful. Do you know the name of the pattern?”
Helen poured Mrs. Edgar a cup and handed it to her. “I believe it’s called Merry Christmas.”
Mrs. Edgar took a sip of her tea. “Absolutely perfect. Thank you, dear.”
Helen smiled and handed Mr. Edgar his cup of coffee. “Thank you, Helen.”
“You are welcome. Please help yourself to the scones and cookies. All are homemade.”
Then came the sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs. Mr. Sykes appeared in the doorway, hands in his pockets, his expression too casual to be genuine. “Well, this is cozy,” he said, his eyes scanning the room before landing on Helen. “Do you mind if I join?”
Her stomach dropped. Helen kept her smile polite. “Of course. Afternoon tea is for everyone.”
She motioned toward the empty armchair near the window.
He didn’t sit right away, instead moving slowly, taking in the decorations.
He stopped at the mantle and leaned in to study the pinecones she’d placed in the garland.
He was probably trying to see if it was real or artificial.
He ambled over to the Christmas tree and flicked a silver bell.
Helen bristled at the rude gesture. Who goes around flicking someone’s ornaments?
When Mr. Sykes finally settled into the chair, it was with the ease of someone watching—more than participating—in the group conversation.
Mr. and Mrs. Edgar chatted about the road trip they were on to Vermont. Helen asked questions and added how she would love to visit Vermont one day. As they chatted, she was painfully aware of Mr. Sykes’s gaze. He seemed to be studying her.
She kept her posture calm, polite, professional. Every so often, she excused herself to fetch another pot of hot water or refresh the cookies. It gave her an excuse to maintain a layer of distance as well as steady herself.
When the couple complimented the decorations, Mr. Sykes gave a half-smile. “She does everything so well here. Picture perfect, Helen. One busy little bee.”
Helen didn’t flinch at his too familiar tone, but she steadied the teapot carefully before answering. “Busy is the nature of the season,” she said lightly. “Would anyone like more tea?”
The conversation turned back to travel plans, and Helen let the cheerful small talk fill the room. But in the back of her mind, she noted the way Mr. Sykes’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.