When they came to the last page, she underlined (twice) a particularly salient concluding point and, lost in the pleasure of the work, turned her head to smile at him.
“This is brilliant,” she complimented him, unable to stop herself.
“It was very good before I started,” he replied, his eyes hooded but her mind was still fully consumed by the document.
“Thank you,” she replied, dismissing a compliment that, since it came from Douglas (who she knew had a very astute head for business), was very dear indeed.
Before she could turn her head away, he caught her chin in his hand and leaned forward, pressing his lips against hers in sweet, but hard, kiss.
Her body instantly froze but she had no time to have any further reaction as a sound came from the door.
Julia tore her chin out of his hand and shot upright.
Lizzie was standing at the door.
“Sorry,” their niece started to retreat then came back in a rush of two steps, a tentative grin settling on her face. She grabbed the doorknob and declared helpfully, “I’ll just close the –”
“Lizzie-babe, there’s no need,” Julia said but the door already closed with a snap.
In a dither (an actual dither), Julia grabbed the papers and started to move away. She halted, twirled and stammered, “Um, thanks Douglas… for this… it’s good.”
He had come to his feet and was watching her, his eyes actually dancing mischievously.
Dancing. Mischievously.
At his expression, she wanted to scream or throw herself into his arms. Instead she forced herself to start to leave again and noticed she still had his pen so she rushed back and held it out to him.
“Keep it,” he said, not looking at the pen, instead looking in her eyes.
“But it’s an expensive pen.”
He shrugged. “I have others.”
She ignored him, placed it carefully on the desk and fled the room.
The next day, Christmas Eve, she had no time to worry about Douglas as she was too worried about the children. Tammy and Gav always made Christmas a very special day for the kids and Julia wanted to be on her guard just in case they lapsed into the same melancholy that she felt edging every moment of her day.
They seemed to cope well with Willie and even Lizzie doing their best to stay jolly and Patricia helped by calling and making everyone laugh. They sat around most of the day, watching Christmas DVDs and eating. Julia made them homemade pizza for dinner, Douglas joined them finally and they all ate the pizza while watching Gavin’s favourite movie, White Christmas.
It took a great deal of time settling them into bed and Julia didn’t want to start her Santa preparations until she was certain that Ruby was well asleep. The girl got up three times, coming down to check things out, rubbing her eyes in pretence and saying she was thirsty, she heard a noise and then trying the thirsty route again. The final time, Douglas came out of his study and took her up himself, which was a stroke of pure genius as Ruby was unlikely to leave a bed that Douglas firmly tucked her into.
Finally safe to start, Julia began collecting the extra Christmas presents, stocking stuffers and the boxes her mother had sent that she had hidden in her rooms and Mrs. K had secreted away in various places in the house. She thought about preparing Christmas herself but it would take forever and she had a long day tomorrow. Surely the children would be up early and she had a lot of cooking to do as she had invited Mr. and Mrs. K, Ronnie and Nick to Christmas Dinner (Carter had gone to his daughter’s place in Devon for the holiday).
Douglas had not said a word about his servants being invited to dinner, merely nodded his head when she suggested it and said distractedly, “You’ve the running of the house, Julia.”
Nick had no qualms about it, of course, but the Kilpatricks and Ronnie seemed somewhat shy, although also delighted about the idea.
She went to search for Douglas as he was her only hope of getting the presents sorted and getting to bed at a halfway decent hour. She could not find him anywhere and realised with chagrin that he’d most likely already retired.
With leaded feet, she approached the door to his rooms and then knocked softly, not wanting to awaken the children.
She gasped when it was thrown open almost immediately.
He stood there wearing his jeans and the khaki v-neck sweater he’d worn that day but his feet were bare.
His eyes warmed immediately when he saw her.
“Julia,” was all he said.
Not wanting him to get the wrong impression, she rushed in with an explanation. “I was hoping you’d help me play Santa.”
His damned eyebrow lifted.
She gave him a mutinous look.
“Ruby still believes and we have to get the stockings stuffed and Santa’s presents laid out…” she looked at his feet, “you’ll need your shoes.”
He looked at his feet then at her and didn’t say a word.
She lost her nerve, deciding instantly she could do it alone even if it took all night, and blurted, “It’s okay if you don’t want to help, I’ll do it myself.” And she whirled and escaped, going as fast as her feet could take her.
He found her in the back hallway, dragging a huge bag filled with wrapped presents. Without a word, he reached around her and hefted it up as if it weighed no more than a pencil, turned and walked away.
She noticed he was wearing shoes.
She ran to her rooms to get more.
Once they had all the stuff in the library where the tree was and where the children had decided they wanted Christmas, he stood there dubiously eyeing the bags and boxes filled to overflowing and the vast piles of presents already under the tree.
“This is ridiculous,” Douglas stated correctly. It looked like Santa and his whole workshop of elves had exploded in the room.
“Mom and I wanted to make sure that –” Julia started to explain as she took the stockings from the mantel.
“I understand,” he murmured, interrupting her, and she fell silent because he sounded like he understood, very much.
As she worked, she began to realise he seemed at odds as to what to do. He likely never played Santa before and she gently gave him directions which he carried out without hesitation.
Feeling strange that they were doing this joyful business in complete silence, she asked, “What were your Christmases like?”
“What do you mean?” He was putting an orange in the toe of each stocking.
“Did you have stockings like this or pillowcases at the end of your bed?” she inquired, suddenly very curious about what his childhood was like.