Chapter Thirty-Two
Sunday, 24 th December
Rico jogged slowly along the banks of Lake Lugano, dropping into a walk as he passed the last chestnut tree. He wasn’t panting nearly as much today, so his self-imposed exercise programme was working. Fifteen steps jogging, twenty steps walking, was paying off. He gazed out over the water. Lake Lugano was ruffled today, a cold little breeze flitting across the bay and sending miniature waves slapping against the quay.
He crossed the road, dodged into a side street and began to jog again. Nearly there – ‘home’ at his father’s flat, but in spite of the familiar furniture he’d grown up with, it didn’t feel like Rico’s home. Was Lakeside ‘home’? Yes, but it wasn’t the one he’d lived in with Mum and Dad. Same flat, same bedroom, even, but a different home. Complicated.
Back at Ralph’s building, Rico stood catching his breath as the lift rose to the sixth floor. His phone pinged as he went inside, and he pulled it out. Two messages had come in; the new one was a weather alert, warning him of heavy snowfall north of the Alps – not his problem today, thankfully, and – oh! The other was from Stacy.
Rico opened it, surprise and pleasure fighting for top place in his head. On December the twenty-fourth, she was unlikely to be texting about work. And she wasn’t .
I know today’s the big day in Switzerland – Merry Christmas!
Rico grinned. Mum had always had messages like that from her family in Kent. The Swiss custom of giving and receiving presents on the evening of the twenty-fourth was very foreign to most Brits. Mum always said it was foreign to her too until Rico came along, but she quickly realised that the Christ Child bringing presents early evening on the twenty-fourth meant no over-excited son running around at four-thirty a.m. on Christmas Day to see what Santa had brought. He could see her point.
His thumbs hovered over the screen, then Rico stood still. Wow. He’d had a good Christmas memory of his mother. Last year had been awful, just him and Dad. This year, the good memories were popping up, and that was the way he wanted things to be.
He messaged back to Stacy.
Thx – Christ Child expected soon. He hesitated, then went on. How are things in England?
and pressed send. Back in the flat, he was towelling his hair dry after his shower when the answer pinged in.
Organising Xmas stockings to hang up. Mum’s having kittens because the turkey won’t fit in the oven tray. Happy family stuff…
Rico grinned.
Introduce them to fondue for Christmas dinner,
he tapped.
You can still have Xmas pud.
The answer came immediately:
I hate Xmas pud. Hope the Christ Child’s good to you!
I’ll let you know.
He chickened out of putting xx at the end, and added a smiley instead. It was enough that they were messaging and having fun, being daft, like real friends. They were real friends now – weren’t they? His phone pinged again, this time with a Christmas tree emoji. Rico smiled to himself. She could easily have not replied to his last message, but she’d ended the conversation in a fun way. Surely that must mean something.
His good mood lasted all day, and all through dinner with his aunt and uncle in their flat on the top floor of the building. Ralph seemed content, but he wasn’t saying much, and Rico’s heart ached for his dad. What must it be like to remember the person you’d loved most of all, and know that memories were all you’d ever have? Please God he’d never know that loss. Rico shivered.
With no children around, the family had stopped exchanging presents, so Rico was surprised when Ralph handed him an envelope when they’d finished the first course.
‘Merry Christmas, son.’
Rico opened the envelope and stared. It was a photo of the hotel, complete with geraniums in window boxes, taken from the gates on a summer day. He looked dumbly at Ralph.
‘She’s all yours, Rico. I know I said I’d keep the financial interest in her, but since I’ve been here, I’ve realised this is the better way. My part-time job with Guido will tide me over until I retire, and I’ll have enough to do everything I want. We’ll need to get the lawyers to draw up the papers, but that won’t take long.’
‘Wow,’ said Rico, his voice rough with emotion. ‘I don’t know what to say. I’ll look after her, I promise.’
Ralph sounded gruff too. ‘That’s all I ask. And whether you stay on as manager or not, make sure you’re as happy as your mum and I were.’
Rico pressed his lips together, and went to hug his father. They hadn’t quite got through the day without tears, but sometimes, tears were good.
***
‘Mama! Aren’t you coming to see the Christmas lights?’ Elijah skipped into the kitchen, where Kim was putting tonight’s dinner together, trying to look busy. They were having raclette, cheese melted under a table grill and served with potatoes and pickles. It could all be prepared beforehand, which gave her time for the important work tonight. She had to create Christmas.
‘Goodness, no, I have too much to do here.’ Kim nodded as Tobias signalled to her from the door. ‘Ben, come here a moment too, sweetheart.’
Ben ran in, and Kim closed the kitchen door. Her job now was to keep both boys in here while Tobias fetched the Christmas tree from the garage and shut it into the living room. Having a house with separate rooms was a distinct advantage at Christmas.
She produced a gingerbread man for each boy, and made them guess what their names were. Eli and Ben were charmed, and guesses were still flowing when Tobias came back in.
‘Is mine… Bobo?’ Ben was staring hungrily at his gingerbread man.
‘Yes! Well done.’ Kim handed it over. ‘Eli?’
‘Ursli!’
‘Correct!’
Tobias lifted his car key, and ushered the boys out the back door. ‘Come on, team. Let’s see those lights!’
Kim waved them off, then took a deep breath. In the next hour, she had to decorate a large Christmas tree, put all the presents the ‘Christ Child’ was bringing underneath, and get dinner on the road, if not the table. Go, Mama.
It was special, having Christmas with just the four of them. Every second year they had all the grandparents here too, which was fun in a different way. She opened the box of decorations Tobias had brought down from the attic, and set to work. Half an hour later the tree was ready, and the scent of pine was filling the room. Now for the presents.
Five trips up and down the stairs was needed, goodness, she’d earned her Christmas sherry this year. But the living room was gorgeous. They had electric tree lights, as real candles and small children weren’t a good combination, but otherwise, the room was the picture of a fabulous, traditional family Christmas. Okay. A quick text to Tobias: Ready! And now dinner. Good job all she needed to do was put everything on the table. Kim locked the living room door behind her, and sped back to the kitchen.
Fifteen minutes later the boys were back, full of their trip to Rorschach, and Kim’s heart melted. If only they would stay small, in this wonderful time when anything was possible and Christmas was magic.
‘Has he been?’ Elijah ran up and pulled her sleeve.
‘Who?’
‘The Christ Child, of course! Did you see him?’
‘Oh, I’ve been much too busy in here to worry about that,’ said Kim, hiding a smile. Eli knew the Christ Child was due, though Ben was still hazy about what was going on. ‘Let’s have our raclette first, then we’ll see.’
For a wonder, both children ate well, and Kim winked at Tobias. ‘Okay, you boys. I cooked, so you clear up. I’ll pop upstairs and then we’ll have our ice cream in the living room!’
She made a show of thumping up the stairs, having unlocked the living room and switched on the Christmas tree lights on the way. Downstairs again, Tobias and the boys were coming out of the kitchen.
Elijah raced to the living room door. ‘Let’s put a DVD – oh!’
Tears came into Kim’s eyes, and Tobias hugged her. They watched as the little boys crept into the living room, now lit only by the Christmas tree lights.
Ben’s eyes were huge. ‘Presents!’
‘It’s the Christ Child,’ said Eli. ‘He always brings presents, doesn’t he, Mama?’
‘Yup. Shall we sing to him, before you open one?’
Tobias got out his guitar, and Kim sat with the boys on the sofa to sing Oh Christmas Tree and Silent Night , and the wonder on the little faces beside her made her want to cry all over again. This was the Christmas they might never have had, if Stacy hadn’t been there to save Eli last summer.
Her heart full, she sat cuddling Ben to her as Tobias passed Elijah a present to open. Christmas had come.
***
Stacy finished wrapping the presents she’d brought for the family, and slipped them under the tree in the living room. Tomorrow, they’d have the usual Christmas elevenses and presents, a tradition dating from the days when Gareth had first left home to go to uni. She glanced up at the sunburst clock that had been one of her parents’ wedding presents. Ten o’clock, two hours until midnight and Christmas day. Was Rico still celebrating with his family, sitting round the table at Guido and Julia’s, like she and Emily had when they were in Lugano on their fateful trip? She checked her phone, but no new messages had come in, neither from Rico nor Martin, who was still texting daily and signing off with kisses, but somehow, the messages from Rico were more real. Even without kisses. That horribly complicated discussion they’d had the night before she left had made a difference, and it was odd how often she found herself thinking about Rico, and Lakeside, and everything they’d be doing with the place on her return. Switzerland was a big part of her life now, but she hadn’t realised how big until she’d left.
She retreated to the sofa and leaned back, gazing round the room. Living here again was bizarre. The old home had moved on without her. The shop was different, and Jo and Gareth were filling the place she’d had there before she left, and doing it better than she ever had, too. Mum and Dad were still the same, but even they often spoke of things that had happened since Stacy left – she wasn’t in touch with everyday family life any more. Home here was no longer quite home, in spite of the unchanged bedroom.
‘We’ve opened the Christmas sherry!’ her mother announced, appearing with a laden tray while Dad brought up the rear with a bottle. That was another tradition – late-night sherry and nibbles on Christmas Eve while they watched whatever was on telly. It was lovely, but… Stacy sighed. Another ‘but’. She clinked glasses with her parents and settled back again. Today and tomorrow were for Mum and Dad, then on Boxing Day she was invited to Emily and Alan’s, and hopefully she could go there at New Year too.
Her phone buzzed, and she pulled it out to see a message from Rico. A photo of a photo of the hotel, and underneath,
My present!!!
Stacy gaped. What did he mean? She tapped quickly.
Your present???
The answer came in seconds.
Lakeside. You are texting with the new big boss.
Tears shot into Stacy’s eyes. That was an important change for Rico. He’d be able to make all the decisions now, including the one about whether to continue as owner-manager, or get someone in to run the hotel, which was what he’d originally wanted. Would he stay, now that he could choose?
She thought for a moment, then tapped:
Wow!!! Huge congrats. Any immediate changes in mind?
His reply took a few minutes to arrive.
New rule: All staff visiting the UK must return with at least 2 chunks of English cheese. Stilton and Cheshire if poss. Obligatory staff cheese and wine once a month.
Stacy giggled, and her mother smiled. ‘A joke?’
‘Anything but – Ralph has given Rico the hotel!’ She tapped Count me in! and grinned at her mother. ‘I think he’s really pleased!’
‘He should be,’ said her father dryly. ‘It’s probably the most expensive Christmas present he’ll ever get.’
Getting ready for bed a couple of hours later, Stacy mulled over Rico’s news. It was lovely to think he had something so amazing, after all the pain and frustration of his accident. Would this make a difference to her role in the hotel? A conversation they’d had with Rico’s family in Lugano came back to mind. Someone had mentioned that university courses started twice a year, in September and February. It wasn’t impossible that Rico would want to start his master’s degree in February, and that would make things different for her. She’d be working with a new boss, possibly even flat-sharing with him or her. She might hate it.
And it might never happen, the sensible part of her brain assured her. But then, it might. And she didn’t want it to.