One More for Christmas(101)

The compliment made her glow.

“Did she work?”

“No.” Gayle dried her hands. “She wanted to stay home with me, just as you’ve chosen to do with Tab. And Tab seems to be loving spending time with you as much as I loved spending time with my mother.”

She no longer needed her mother’s approval for her choices, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t pleased to have it.

“I think you’re ready to add ginger to that.” Mary measured it and handed the spoon to Tab.

“Cookery classes for kids,” Gayle said. “We should probably add that to our list of ideas.”

“Instead of gingerbread men, can we make ginger reindeer?” Tab stirred and poked at the mixture.

“We can. I even have a cutter the right shape somewhere.” Mary delved into a cupboard and emerged victorious. “Here it is!”

Ella discreetly checked her phone again, but there was nothing from her sister.

She was about to make an excuse and leave the kitchen to find her when the door flew open and Samantha strode in carrying a stack of papers and her laptop, with Brodie right behind her.

Her hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail, and her makeup freshly applied. On the surface she looked like someone who had slept soundly all night, but something about the glow in her cheeks and the shine in her eyes made Ella think that wasn’t the case.

Last time she’d seen her sister, she’d been worried she was on the verge of a major meltdown, but here she was looking strong and in control.

Ella was relieved. Also puzzled.

“We have a plan.” Samantha chose the end of the table that wasn’t being used as a production line for gingerbread reindeer.

Brodie sat down next to her.

They didn’t seem to be looking at each other. Was that good or bad?

Kirstie poked her head round the kitchen door. “You wanted me for something?”

“Come and join us.” Brodie pulled out the empty chair next to him. “We’ve some things to say, and you’re part of this.”

Samantha spun her laptop round so that they could see the screen.

“Winter in Kinleven.” Mary read the heading and then sat down. “That photograph is stunning. I haven’t seen it before.”

“Samantha took it. She’s a talented photographer.” Brodie shuffled the papers in his hand, most of which seemed to be covered in numbers. “Show them the rest.”

“This is very rough at the moment. And it’s private—the public can’t access this page. But I wanted to give you an idea of what we’re offering. I want you to see it from the point of view of your guests.” Samantha moved through the photographs. Sunrise over the loch, the light turning the snow from white to gold. A reindeer posed against a snowy background. The lodge, with its fairy-tale turrets. Tab, her face alight with laughter as she sat in the back of a sleigh. There was even a photograph of Bear, his glossy black coat standing out against the snow falling around him. There was a pub, looking warm and inviting. A shot that took in the forest floor and the snowy branches of fir trees. And then there were the internal shots—the Christmas tree in the library; Mary’s shortbread dusted with sugar; a glass of whiskey, the color deepened by the glow of the fire behind, hints of tartan, the shimmer of red ribbon.

As she scrolled through the photographs, Samantha started to talk.

She painted pictures of hikes along the loch trails, of sleigh rides and reindeer encounters, of trips into the forest to cut the perfect Christmas tree.

Then she talked about her clients, about the type of people they were and what they wanted from the winter holiday season.

Kirstie was the first one to speak. “It looks great, but what if the guests don’t get on? We’re not a hotel.”

“And that is what is special about Kinleven.” Samantha focused her attention on Brodie’s sister. “Not everyone wants a hotel. What we’re offering them is more personal. And we will be offering this exclusively to family groups, or groups of friends. They have to book the whole place. I’ve done some calculations, based on what I know people have charged for something similar—although not around here. It’s difficult to match what you have here, which is, of course, part of its value.”

Mary looked overwhelmed.

“You’ve put in a lot of work,” Ella said. “You must have been at it for most of the night.”

Samantha didn’t react, but Brodie blushed up to the tips of his ears.

Charmed, Ella took pity on him. “I want to book it,” she said. “I want to spend the holidays doing all of these things. Have I told you lately that you are so, so good at your job?”

“She is. Which is lucky for us.” Brodie passed the pages to his mother. “I printed them out. Circled the numbers you need to look at. Ultimately this is your decision, Mum.”

“I need my glasses.” Mary stood up, found them next to the toaster and slid them on. She picked up the papers, studied the numbers Brodie had marked in red, and looked up. “No way would anyone pay that.”

Samantha glanced up. “They would. Trust me.”

“But you don’t—”

“I’ve already contacted two of my most long-standing clients in confidence, testing their interest. One is ready to book for ten days over Valentine’s Day, and the other wants two weeks at the beginning of December.”