Chapter 9 Mia
Mia
‘You know the fake trees can come pre-lit, right? So, remind me again why both of our trees have to be fresh?’ Charlie asks this as he lugs another cardboard box on to the upstairs landing.
‘A fresh tree brings more Christmassy cheer, obviously.’ Mia opens up a stepladder and makes sure the safety locks engage.
‘Mum!’ Charlie turns to locate Penny, his tone outraged.
‘Mia, don’t be snide with your brother,’ Penny admonishes.
She pats Charlie on the shoulder. ‘She’s just grumpy.
She’s been like this since she got here.
I’m sure she didn’t mean it, sweetie.’ Penny pulls open a cardboard box and sighs in delight.
‘Ah, yes, here they are.’ She removes a smaller box and carefully places it on the bench in the corridor.
‘And, to answer your question, the reason we have fresh trees is called compromise.’ She looks over at where Martin is untangling a strand of lights. ‘It’s what makes a marriage work.’
Mia carefully climbs the ladder to assist her father as he begins to hang the lights on the fresh tree.
‘Actually, I’m feeling rather jolly today,’ she says.
‘Not sure what brought that on, but it’s a welcome surprise.
’ She glances surreptitiously down the hall, where John is leaning against a doorframe, observing the family dynamics.
‘Start the strand on that little sagging branch, Mia,’ Martin directs. Then he announces, ‘A successful marriage requires compromise, folks. Your mother has been after me for years to purchase artificial trees, but that would be a travesty. It’s fresh or nothing.’
‘Exactly!’ Penny exclaims.
‘I’m not following.’ Charlie shakes his head. ‘Mum wants artificial trees and Dad wants fresh ones. There are two fresh ones in the house. So how exactly did you guys compromise?’
‘Well, when your father is old and senile, I will buy as many artificial trees as I want.’ Penny smiles widely. ‘See? Compromise.’
‘Huh,’ Charlie says.
Mia giggles. ‘Makes perfect sense to me. Hey, Charlie, does your girlfriend’s family do fresh trees or artificial?’
Charlie frowns. ‘I’m not sure, actually. I’ve never met her family.’
Mia hides a grin. ‘Hard to meet the potential in-laws when the person in question doesn’t actually exist,’ she teases, narrowly dodging Charlie’s hand as he tries to smack her arm in retaliation.
‘Martin, how long have you been doing the themed trees?’ Sam asks as he lugs another box on to the landing.
Mia’s gaze snags on the line of sweat that coats the back of his neck, making his skin glisten, reminding her of the days when she watched his tennis matches.
There’s just something about seeing him hot under the collar that she’s always found mesmerising.
It takes her a moment to tear her eyes away.
‘Oh, well, let’s see!’ Martin visibly brightens. ‘I started before the kids were born. Penny, I’m sure you have pictures around here somewhere. Penny is the official recorder for the family. But I think it was probably in 2000 that I really started getting into it.’
‘You called it the tree of the new millennium! Ouch.’ Mia pokes herself on a pine needle and pops the injured finger in her mouth.
‘That’s right!’ Martin looks up at his daughter in approval.
‘And I know we have a picture because we bought a new camera that year that I was so excited about. I’ll have to look for it.
’ Penny turns to where Sam is unloading individually wrapped decorations from the box he carried in.
‘Now, Sam, be careful with those. They’re all glass, and most are antiques.
That’s why we don’t put them up before our neighbourhood party. ’
Mia groans. ‘That’s one of the reasons. Mum, do we really have to put those up?’
Martin sighs. ‘You know we do. It’s the first thing Aunt Gertie will notice when she returns from visiting Mr Thrumble.’
‘Hideous things,’ Penny agrees. ‘But they’ve been in the family for three generations. It can’t be helped. Carefully now, Sam.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Sam says as he works to open the next box.
‘Charlie, have you found the other ornaments?’
‘Mmm hmm.’ Charlie straightens from where he was bent over another box, a crude clay ornament in his hands. ‘This masterpiece is courtesy of Mia, 2005. It appears to be a Christmassy … ghoul.’
Martin laughs, and Mia pretends to glare at Charlie. ‘It’s a penguin, Charlie.’
His eyes widen comically. ‘Oh, yes. Obviously. My mistake.’
Sam carefully lifts out one of the glass ornaments. ‘Well, these are truly … beautiful? Just look at the colours of this one.’ He holds it aloft, wincing slightly. The obnoxiously pink ornament is dotted with gaudy crystals.
John has slipped down the corridor and stops right beside Sam. With a quick movement, he knocks the ornament out of Sam’s hand and on to the floor, where it shatters spectacularly. Mia gapes at the shards and then glances sidelong at John. He shrugs, a mischievous grin on his face.
‘My goodness!’ Penny covers her mouth with her hand.
‘Oh, I’m terribly sorry, Mrs Robinson,’ Sam says, looking horrified.
She presses her lips together and then smiles thinly. ‘Of course it’s fine. Just be more careful, dear.’
‘Pass me some up here, Sam,’ Mia chimes in.
Sam removes another ornament from the packaging. As he does, the glass ornament rubs against the thin plastic packaging, screeching horribly.
‘Ugh. I had forgotten that sound. These really are the worst, aren’t they?’ Charlie shudders as he hangs a felt stocking haphazardly on a lower branch.
Sam reaches up to hand Mia the ornament. John, who is several inches taller than Sam, simply bats it from his extended hand, and it goes flying.
‘Sam!’ Mia shouts, while Penny gasps. Sam pales, shaking his head.
‘I’m so sorry, I don’t know what—’
The pieces of the ornament are scattered across the floor, the garish colours winking in the soft lights on the Christmas tree.
‘It really was a hideous bauble, wasn’t it?’ John asks Mia, amusement written across his face.
Mia, studiously avoiding making eye contact with John, looks at Sam. ‘Bit of a butterfingers, aren’t we?’ she asks, her words laced with mirth.
‘I don’t know what’s wrong with me today,’ Sam mumbles, his ears turning red.
‘Well, all you can do is try again,’ Charlie encourages. ‘It works better if you don’t just toss them on the ground, though. They’re fairly fragile, as you can see.’
‘I’m not tossing them!’ Sam protests, exasperated.
‘If you ask me, it’s no great loss,’ Martin soothes in a stage whisper. He pats Penny on the back. ‘No harm done, dear.’
‘Of course, you’re right,’ she responds. Her unusually calm reaction leads Mia to believe that perhaps Penny was never a huge fan of these ornaments either.
Mortified, Sam withdraws another box of baubles from the container.
Sliding off the protective sleeve, he lifts the entire package, the ornaments safely nestled in their plastic cushions.
Moving with the deliberation of a mime, Sam takes two cautious steps towards the tree and holds the box up to Mia for her to take the ornaments.
John reaches between Mia and Sam, careful not to touch either of them and deftly removes several of the baubles. Without a moment’s hesitation, he chucks them on the ground where they splinter, pieces flying into every corner.
‘Honestly,’ Mia begins.
‘Good golly,’ Martin observes.
Charlie just shakes his head.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Sam barks, his hand shaking. He tries to put the box with its remaining ornaments down, but John bats it from his hand, and the whole thing smashes to the floor.
Everyone freezes, looking to Penny who – after a stunned moment of disbelief – bursts into laughter. ‘Sam! This is unbelievable!’ Mia, relieved, begins laughing too as Martin starts to chuckle, and Charlie smiles widely. Sam looks between them all, bewildered.
‘The boy has done us a Christmas kindness,’ Martin says in between chuckles. ‘Lord knows we’ve all hated those ugly things.’ This makes Penny laugh even harder, until she’s bent over, hands on her thighs as she tries to catch her breath.
‘I’ll get a broom,’ Sam offers, cheeks flaming.
‘Show – him – Mia,’ Penny wheezes.
Mia swaps a wide-eyed, amused look with John, and then hops down off the ladder. ‘You’ll never find it on your own, I’ll show you where we keep it. Come on, downstairs.’ She gestures towards the staircase and Sam skirts the mess at his feet, looking entirely chastened.
They make their way down the stairs, the muffled sound of the others’ laughter still faintly audible.
‘I don’t know what happened there,’ Sam mumbles, shaking his head.
Mia glances at him sidelong as they reach the front hallway. ‘You really weren’t doing it on purpose?’
‘No!’ Sam nearly shouts.
‘Are you sure?’ She can’t help teasing him a little more. She’s enjoying this way too much, but it is so nice to finally feel a bit better. ‘They were properly ugly. Maybe you were just trying to help us out, like Dad said. Heaven knows we’ve had to endure their hideousness long enough.’
Sam huffs out an approximation of a laugh. ‘To be honest, I’ve never seen such ugly ornaments. I can see why your mum doesn’t put them up until after her party.’ He winces again. ‘But I would never … I’m so embarrassed.’
‘Mmm.’ Mia leads the way into the kitchen and heads towards the cupboard on the side of the room. Seeing Sam so flustered has soothed her simmering anger considerably.
‘No one likes feeling embarrassed.’ Popping open the latch on the broom cupboard, she reaches inside and passes Sam the broom and dustpan.
Sam makes a little rumbling sound of agreement and Mia’s stomach flips unexpectedly.
She’s startled by the intensity of her reaction to him after all this time.
Why hadn’t that chemistry waned? Not even a little?
Sam gives her a knowing look but makes no comment.
He reaches up and runs a hand across her shoulder. ‘You picked up a few cobwebs.’
But even after brushing away the offensive strands, his thumb continues to move, gently stroking along her collarbone. Mia’s eyes fix on his thumb, hypnotized. Her lips part just as he seems to realize what he’s doing.
‘Sorry,’ he mumbles, pulling his hand away quickly, before adding sheepishly, ‘it’s always been hard to keep my hands to myself when I’m around you.’
Mia can’t help the smile that creeps over her face. She remembers having the same problem all those years ago, remembers how intoxicating it had been to touch Sam, like a drug she could never quite get enough of.
‘It’s good to see you smile, Mia.’ Sam hesitates. ‘I’m sorry that I ruined Christmas for you. I shouldn’t have come.’
Mia’s not sure how to respond. She didn’t want Sam here, didn’t want to ever see him, or be within the same fifty miles as him again.
But she can’t forget that look in his eyes when he told her that his family had all made plans without him.
And she can’t ignore the desire that had risen inside her at his touch.
‘You have something so special here, Mia,’ Sam continues.
‘I don’t mean about Willowby Manor, although this place is incredible.
I’m talking about the community, the people I met on Saturday.
And your family. There are relationships here that go back centuries.
Now I know why you’re always so grounded and calm. ’
This makes Mia laugh. ‘I think you might be the only person to ever describe me as calm.’
Sam chuckles softly. He’s standing so close, and his expression is warm and open, the way it used to be when they spent time together.
‘That’s not what I meant. I just meant that you have a certain sense of belonging.
You know where you come from and it gives you a stability that most people don’t have.
It’s something very … special.’ He steps back slightly and clears his throat.
‘Thank you for letting me stay the week, even though it’s obviously not what you would have chosen. ’
Mia harrumphs. ‘I didn’t let you do anything.’
‘No.’ Sam smiles down at her. ‘But you could have insisted that I leave. I’m grateful that you didn’t.’
His words are doing something funny to her.
If she’s not careful, she’ll forget the reasons why she hates this man.
It would be too easy, when he looks at her with such admiration and care in his gaze.
She feels the instinctive pull, the desire to move into him, to close the little space that remains between them.
Mia forces herself to take a step back and looks around for a much-needed distraction.
‘Looks like we’re low on bin bags. Will you write them on the list on the fridge, please? ’
Sam pulls the pen from his pocket and locates the pad magnetized to the fridge door. ‘Argh,’ he growls, as the pen proves to be dry. ‘Why does this keep happening?’
Mia rummages in a drawer for a pencil. When she hands it to him, their fingers brush.
His skin is warm, and a jolt runs up her arm at the contact.
All she would need to do is close her eyes, and she’d be back in the cramped little bed, heart pounding after Sam had traced one of those long, artistic fingers down her cheek.
She’d never felt so wholly desired. Agitated, Mia jerks back, breaking eye contact.
‘Ah, I need to finish presenting. I mean, wrapping. The presents. Gifts. You know. For Christmas.’
‘Sure.’ Sam raises the cleaning tools. ‘I have work to do as well. Happy wrapping,’ he calls out as Mia beats a hasty retreat.