One More for Christmas(38)

An older woman turned to smile at her. “I’m the same. If you can’t spoil your grandchildren at Christmas, when can you spoil them?”

Sensing a source of reliable information and advice, Gayle leaned forward. “How many do you have?”

“Three. Two boys and a girl. My husband teases me because I buy so much for them, and in the end do you know what they play with most of the time?”

Gayle didn’t even attempt a guess. “No.”

“The dog.”

“The dog?”

“Hamish. He’s nine and half-blind. He’s a rescue and no one is too sure what breed he is, but those kids love him.”

Gayle’s smile slipped.

Was she going to have to get a dog to win over her granddaughter’s heart? She thought about it. A puppy, lolloping around her apartment. A puppy, chewing her furniture. Worst of all, a puppy relying on her for everything.

A sudden chill washed over her. She didn’t want anything or anyone relying on her. She didn’t want to carry that weight ever again.

On the other hand she did want her granddaughter in her life.

She winced. No need to buy a puppy at this stage. It was tea—that was all. A visit.

“Apart from playing with the dog, what else does your granddaughter enjoy?”

“Dressing up, painting—” the woman waved a hand “—pretty much anything. She’s a good girl. And she loves doing things with her nanna.”

“Things?”

“We bake together.”

“You mean cakes?” Gayle rarely ate cake and she hadn’t baked one since childhood. “Your granddaughter enjoys that?”

“Loves it. It’s cozy, isn’t it? Companionable.”

“Is it?” A wisp of a memory uncurled itself from the depths of Gayle’s brain. Her mother’s hand on hers, helping her to sift flour.

“Yes. It’s something we’re doing together. Just the two of us. It’s a chance to chat. Oh, the things she tells me while she’s stirring cake mixture.”

“Right.” Gayle had a sudden image of her new life. It involved puppy training, cookery classes and a little girl who had interesting things to say.

Tea, she reminded herself. They were coming for tea—that was all.

Going over-the-top would be as bad as doing nothing.

The woman was still talking. “My granddaughter’s favorite thing of all? A trip, just the two of us. We go to the ballet to see The Nutcracker. Have you seen it?”

“I can’t say I have.”

“You’re missing out. You should do it.”

Gayle made a noncommittal sound. The way things were with her girls, she was unlikely to be allowed to take her granddaughter out unattended. She still wasn’t entirely confident they’d actually turn up for tea.

She watched as the woman selected a shimmering mermaid outfit. “Is she going to like that?”

“Like it?” The woman laughed. “I’m guessing she won’t take it off for the whole holidays.”

Gayle glanced at Stacy, who was still pulling boxes from the shelves. “I’ll have one, too.”

Stacy added it to the pile.

By the time they reached the checkout, Gayle was feeling dizzier than she had when she’d first stepped into the store.

“Would you like any of these presents gift wrapped?”

“Please. All of them. Apart from the tree, obviously.” She paused. “You really are excellent at sales. You should consider doing something more with that talent.”

Stacy stared at her. “More?”

“You could work your way up, I’m sure.”

“Thank you for the compliment, but I love my job.” Stacy scanned the gifts. “Promotion would mean being locked away in a back office somewhere, and I’d hate that. I love being out here amongst the action. And I just love the kids. Why would I want to change that?”

Why indeed? Gayle no longer had the confidence to answer that question.

She left the store, assured by Stacy that her parcels would be delivered within the next couple of hours.

She let herself into her apartment and paused, struck by the oppressive silence. Normally she treasured the quiet of her apartment, so why did today feel different? She had a sudden urge to rush back out onto the street so that she could soak up the atmosphere.

Was she really missing the cacophony of piped Christmas music? The shrieks of children whose parents were struggling to keep them under control?

She felt isolated and removed from a world where everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves.

She was Scrooge, only without the unfortunate nightwear.

This time of year had never affected her before. She’d never been the type to peep through the window of other people’s lives and envy them. She’d been too busy building her own.

The conviction that she’d made all the wrong choices hadn’t gone away as she’d slowly started to recover. If anything, it had grown stronger.

She poured herself a glass of water and drank it slowly. Her phone told her that she’d had twenty-four missed calls from the office, but she felt no urgency to return any of them.

Why was that?

Maybe for the same reason she’d just spent a fortune in a toy store.

She was floating in a strange place between her old life and a new life.