Chapter 38
ON CHRISTMAS MORNING, Greta woke to an empty, silent flat. There was no rustling of wrapping paper, no smell of mince pies, and no need to retrieve carrots from the hearth that had been left out for Santa’s reindeers. Everything felt very quiet without her family.
She made herself a coffee, curling her hands around the cup as she looked out of the window.
The snow was falling harder now, coating the streets like a soft white blanket, still untouched by footsteps.
Everyone was likely tucked inside, eating breakfast and opening presents with loved ones.
The scene reminded Greta of her log cabin date with Jim, except there was no golden sun shining through the trees.
She picked up a framed photo of her mum from a shelf, taken last Christmas.
Her mum wore a piece of tinsel around her neck like a feather boa.
Lottie clamped her teeth together in an exaggerated smile, and Jim looked handsome in a jumper with a reindeer on the front.
Funny, she’d forgotten he had that one. He looked rather like Mapleville Jim.
Greta reached for a tea light and lit it, placing it in front of the photo. ‘Merry Christmas, Mum,’ she whispered. Then, she stood on tiptoe to add her mum’s favourite glass robin decoration to a branch on the Christmas tree.
Her thoughts turned to Edgar, who might be spending Christmas alone. Greta opened the local Facebook forum to send him a message.
Happy Christmas, Edgar! Hope you’re having a peaceful day, full of good cheer and even better coffee??
His reply arrived within moments.
Merry Christmas to you, too, Greta! Very peaceful, thank you. A time for reflecting and stirring up some nice memories. Hope you’re enjoying time with your family??
Greta smiled, but before she could close her laptop, a new post caught her eye. She clicked on it, thinking she’d skim through some local news while waiting for Lottie to call.
Her heart skipped a beat as she read the main headline.
MISSING LOCAL WOMAN (80)
FOUND AFTER FOUR DECADES
A local family has been left stunned and overjoyed by the reappearance of a woman who went missing forty years ago. Millie Maxwell (previously known as Millie Moss), now 80, vanished without a trace in 1985, leaving her family, including son Leonard (now 60), heartbroken.
The news of Ms Maxwell’s return has been met with elation.
Leonard Moss, proprietor of L. Moss jewellery shop in Longmill, confirmed the news.
‘It’s still hard to believe, but yes, my mother has been found alive and well, if understandably confused.
She is very pleased to be home,’ he said.
‘After all these years, we had almost given up hope.
We are working to understand what happened and getting to know each other again over lots of coffee.’
While details surrounding Ms Maxwell’s reappearance remain scarce, sources suggest she was located unexpectedly after decades of no contact. The circumstances of her disappearance remain a mystery.
The Moss family has asked for privacy during this special time.
The article was accompanied by a black-and-white photograph.
Greta recognised Millie immediately. Her fine bone structure remained unchanged, though her hair was now silver.
The way she and Leonard looked at each other struck Greta the most. After years of loss, and probably many questions without answers, their eyes were full of love.
Around Millie’s neck was a string of chunky pearls.
A lump swelled in Greta’s throat. Were those the same pearls she’d dropped off at the jewellery shop? Had Leonard restrung them as a Christmas gift for his mother? She liked to think so.
When her phone buzzed on the dining table, she picked up the call. Lottie.
‘Merry Christmas, sweetheart,’ Greta said.
‘Same to you, Mum,’ Lottie said. Her voice was bright, and Greta could hear Jim singing a carol off-key in the background.
‘Did Santa visit?’ Greta teased.
‘Well, if you count Dad creeping around this morning, and yelping because he stubbed his toe—then yes.’ Lottie laughed. ‘I’ll bring my presents home with me later. And we have some for you, too.’
Greta liked the word we. ‘Well, have the best morning together. I can’t wait to see you later.’ She hesitated. ‘Um, is your dad there? Can I have a quick word with him?’ She wanted to let Jim know he was welcome to stay for tea.
There was a rustling sound on the line, then Lottie’s voice again. ‘Nope, sorry, Mum. He’s in the middle of a pancake disaster. We’ll see you later.’ Lottie giggled, then hung up.
Greta’s cheeks glowed. It was great to hear her daughter having fun, even if it was without her. She made herself a bacon sandwich for lunch, ate a mince pie, tidied around the flat and watched a bit of TV.
When Lottie arrived home later that afternoon, she burst into the living room, clutching a book about dog breeds. ‘Look what Jayden bought me,’ she said, hugging Greta without thinking.
Greta melted into it, exchanging a surprised look with Jim over the top of Lottie’s head.
‘She’s already read half of it,’ Jim said, following their daughter inside.
He wheeled Lottie’s suitcase with one hand while carrying a bag of Christmas presents in the other.
Setting them down, he looked around admiringly.
‘This place looks really pretty,’ he said.
‘Much more festive than Martin’s place.’
Lottie rolled her eyes. ‘Dad didn’t even buy a tree.’
‘Hey, I can’t help—’ Jim started, but trailed off with a helpless shrug. He wheeled Lottie’s case into her bedroom.
‘Martin’s cleaning lady gave him her spare one,’ Lottie said. ‘You should see it, Mum. It’s got black tinsel branches. They match her eyelashes.’
Greta cocked her head. ‘Eyelashes?’
‘Yeah, they look just like spiders. I found one on the carpet in my bedroom and tried catching it on a piece of paper.’ Lottie laughed.
Greta smiled, too, a little regretfully.
She should have believed Jim when he’d told her the eyelash she found in the penthouse belonged to the cleaner, rather than doubting him.
Could she have given him more chances to explain other things, too—like his business conversations with Nora—before jumping to conclusions?
Jim returned from Lottie’s room, a bag of presents in hand.
‘The neatly wrapped silver ones are from me,’ Lottie said.
‘The badly wrapped red ones are from me. Well . . . from Santa,’ Jim added with a wink.
‘Well, thank you, Santa,’ Greta said. ‘Your presents are on the hearth,’ she told Lottie.
‘Can I open mine after dinner?’ Lottie asked. ‘Like I used to do when Grandma was here?’
‘Of course,’ Greta said.
The three of them sat down together in the living room, where it felt cosy rather than cramped.
Greta unwrapped her presents while Lottie and Jim watched.
She loved the minicandles, and violet cream chocolates that Lottie had picked out for her.
Jim had bought her an expensive pair of noisecancelling headphones.
‘They’re really useful if you want to listen to an audiobook, or to block out Lottie’s music,’ he said.
Lottie rolled her eyes and excused herself to call Jayden from her bedroom.
The headphones were something Greta wouldn’t have bought for herself but that she’d use often. ‘Thanks,’ she said, handing Jim his gifts. ‘They’re brilliant.’
Jim opened a bottle of his favourite rum, a new jumper and some aftershave. ‘I love them all,’ he said. Then, reaching into the bottom of the giftbag, he added, ‘I’ve actually got you one more thing . . .’
He handed Greta a badly wrapped, rectangular gift.
Greta frowned slightly. ‘Jim, you shouldn’t have. The headphones were more than enough.’
‘This is something a bit more personal.’
She unpeeled the tape and opened the present. Inside was a book, The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger.
‘I didn’t know if you’d read it or not,’ he said. ‘It’s a special edition—something to do with decorated pages, apparently. I bought it for the title. Though I suppose it should really be called The Time Traveler’s Husband.’
Greta checked out the back cover. ‘It’s wonderful. I’ve always wanted to read it.’
‘It was either this one, or a book about Doctor Who,’ Jim said. ‘I figured this was the sexier read about time travel.’
Greta held the book to her chest. Jim was obviously trying. ‘Going to Mapleville wasn’t time travel. It was more of a time hop to somewhere else . . she explained.
‘I spent a while in the book shop, and didn’t see anything with that title.’ He laughed.
‘So . . .’ She hesitated. ‘Does that mean you believe that I actually went to Mapleville?’
Jim pursed his lips. ‘As much as I can do. Someone helped me to understand things more. You mentioned Edgar Barker to me, and said he’d experienced something similar to you. I wanted to know you were okay, so I paid a visit to Barker’s Treasures. It was, well . . . quirky. A very interesting shop.’
Greta felt like she’d just stepped onto a sunlit balcony on holiday. Jim had listened to her and taken the initiative to go to see Edgar. ‘What did he say?’
‘Well.’ Jim laughed. ‘I think I came away with more questions than answers. But he was a nice guy, and I figured there can’t be two people who’d both cook up such a bizarre story about a magical coffee shop.’
Greta briefly pictured Iris smarting at the word magical.
She ran her fingers over the glossy book cover. It was more than just a gift. It was a gesture. Something that told her Jim listened to her and cared. He might not always have the right words, but he was always kind and thoughtful.
She wanted to reach out, to trace the wrinkles around his eyes with her fingers, just like she used to do. Instead, she gripped the book even tighter.
‘Happy Christmas, Greta,’ Jim said with a searching smile.
Greta felt her cheeks flushing. ‘Merry Christmas, Jim.’
‘Hey, Mum. Dad,’ Lottie called out, barging into the room and breaking the moment.
Her footsteps slowed when she saw her parents gazing at each other, and her mouth twitched upwards in the corners.
‘Jayden’s asked if I can stay over at his place on New Year’s Eve.
His mum’s having a party for their friends and relatives.
I get on with Jayden’s sister, and I can share her room.
’ Her eyes were full of longing. ‘Can I go? Please.’
New Year’s Eve. The date that had been etched in Greta’s thoughts for months. She looked at Jim, and he nodded it sounded okay to him.
‘Yes, that’s fine,’ Greta said. ‘I’ll chat with Jayden’s mum to check on the details.’
‘Yep. Sure,’ Lottie said. She pulled a face as her stomach rumbled. ‘Um, are we eating soon? Dad’s pancakes were a bit . . . flimsy.’
‘Hey,’ he said, pretending to look hurt.
‘I’ve got some of our favourite bits and pieces to eat sitting on the sofa. Sound okay to you?’ Greta said.
‘Sounds great. Are you staying, too, Dad?’
Greta turned to face Jim again. Say yes, she willed him. ‘You’re very welcome, Jim . . .’
Jim’s gaze passed from his wife to his daughter, as if tempted. ‘Thanks, but I should be going,’ he said. ‘I’ve had Lottie all week, and it’ll give you girls a chance to catch up.’
Greta walked with him into the hallway. She wanted to tell him about accepting a job in Brewtique, but standing by the door wasn’t the right time or place. Her news would have to wait for a while.
Jim turned to face her. ‘It’ll be New Year’s Eve soon,’ he said. ‘Our decision day.’
A shiver of anticipation ran down Greta’s spine. ‘I know.’
‘Have you got any plans?’ he asked.
‘No. Have you?’
Across the hallway, a cheer rose up. Someone watching football on TV in the flat opposite.
Jim shook his head. ‘Fancy sharing a bottle of wine?’ His voice didn’t give away any of his thoughts. Did he want to make things work? Or didn’t he?
Greta tried not to give away anything, too.
It had been such a long journey just to get to this place, where they’d been able to spend a bit of lovely family time together.
She felt like she needed some time alone with Lottie, and to process her thoughts.
She could read her new book, and give her ideas for Brewtique some more thought. ‘Sure,’ she said. ‘Wine sounds great.’
‘Good,’ Jim said. ‘I’ll be in touch.’
They shared a brief smile before he walked away, and Greta shut the door.
As she listened to his footsteps descending the stairs, she pressed her back against the wall, her heart beating so hard it felt like it might break free from her chest.