Christmas Forever

by Sophie Love

  Daniel went first, opening the door to let them in. It didn’t appear to be structurally unsound on the inside, though Emily knew it had been deemed such. The floor was still in one piece, as was the ceiling and staircase. In fact, it looked to be in a better condition than the inn was when she had first arrived there!

  Inside, the place was just an bizarre as it looked outside. There were rooms coming off rooms, a rabbit warren of corridors, and even a completely unnecessary second staircase at the back of the house leading up from the kitchen. It reminded Emily of the inn in more than one way!

  She knew then that tearing it down was out of the question. It would be crime to lose all the original features, to destroy this unique piece of history. But what options did she really have? The most recent building report had deemed structurally unsound. It didn’t exactly leave much wiggle room.

  She thought then of the team of architects who had helped redesign Trevor’s house.

  “This might be a crazy idea,” Emily said. “But if anyone can pull it off it’s Erik & Sons.”

  “What idea, mommy?” Chantelle asked.

  “I think we need to rebuild the house,” Emily said.

  Daniel frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean like take it apart brick by brick, salvage everything we possibly can, then put it all back together how it was before.”

  Roy looked surprised. “That would be very labor intensive.”

  “But look at it,” Emily cried, throwing her arms wide. “It would be a sin not to!”

  “You’d probably get in the newspapers,” Daniel said. “As a local crazy woman, no doubt. But you know what they say, no publicity is bad publicity!”

  She smacked him light-heartedly across the chest. “I’m being serious. What better way to honor this building than to restore it rather than demolish it? I mean it’s been done before, right? With old pagan villages in the English countryside and ancient Mayan temples.”

  “Sure, places of historic relevance,” Daniel told her. “Not just random insignificant houses in Maine.”

  “It’s not insignificant,” Emily told him. “Not to me, and not to you. Isn’t that alone enough to justify it? Not to mention the fact there is nowhere like this in the whole of Maine. It will be a tourist attraction for sure. And I don’t care how long it takes. It can be my labor of love.”

  Daniel reached out for her then and hugged her. “Emily, I’ve learned over the years that there is no point arguing with you. If you have a crazy dream you’re going to realize it no matter what obstacles you face. So you have my backing, love. You can do this.”

  She squeezed him tightly, elated to finally have his support.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  There was only one more day to organize everything before the New Year’s Eve ball. Emily was amazed by how quickly she’d managed to pull everything together so far, but there was still so much to do.

  Bryony arrived at eight a.m. for their previously postponed meeting. She bustled in through the door of the inn, her arms laden with folders, a laptop case slung over one shoulder weighing her down. As she unwrapped her huge woollen scarf from her neck, her incense scent wafted out.

  “Happy Christmas, Emily,” she smiled, slinging her laptop case down and dumping the folders on the reception desk. She hugged Emily. “WOW. You are so pregnant.”

  “I know,” Emily laughed, leading the way to the kitchen where the coffee pot was brewing Bryony’s fuel for the meeting. “I’m 42 weeks plus 3 days today.”

  “No way,” Bryony said. “That’s amazing. You didn’t want to be induced?”

  Emily tensed a little. She’d heard so many opinions about her choice she wasn’t much in the mood for more criticism. “Nope,” she said a little shortly.

  “I think that’s so brave,” Bryony told her. “It can’t have been easy to make that decision. Women are always being told what to do with their bodies, it takes a lot of guts to stand up and do things your own way.”

  Emily was surprised to get support from Bryony. Her cheeks grew warm. “Well, thank you. I just think Baby Charlotte is smart enough to pick her own birthday.”

  Bryony laughed. “I love that!”

  Emily poured her a mug of coffee and they went back through to the guest lounge, collecting Bryony’s folders on the way. They sat together in the couch that Bryony favored, placing the pile of paperwork on the coffee table before them.

  “It looks like you’ve been working super hard,” Emily said, eyeing the stack of papers.

  “Yup,” Bryony smiled. “With all that time on my hands with Thanksgiving and Christmas I needed something to do!”

  She opened up the first folder.

  “The good news is we’ve sold all the tickets to the ball.”

  Emily’s eyes widened. “We have? But there were over a thousand of them!”

  “I know,” Bryony smiled. “Roman is a real drawer.” But then her smile faded. “Now for the bad news.”

  “Oh…” Emily started. That wasn’t what she’d been hoping to hear.

  Bryony handed a piece of paper to Emily.

  “These are our current room booking figures as they stand, for the inn, the carriage house, and Trevor’s. As you can see our winter advertizing scheme failed.”

  Her heart heavy, Emily looked at the information. There were hardly any bookings for January and February. But as she looked past those months, she saw that March was over fifty percent booked up. And beyond that, the figures got dramatically better.

  “Wait,” Emily said as she absorbed all the information. “Is this right?”

  “I know,” Bryony said glumly. “I really wanted to be at least fifty percent for January and February.”

  “No,” Emily interrupted. “That’s now what I mean. The spring bookings. This says we’ve booked every single room in both inns?”

  Bryony nodded. “Oh yeah. We’re fully booked for next spring and summer. The island is as well. But if we look at the rest of winter…”

  But Emily couldn’t care less about the rest of winter. She was thrilled with what she was seeing. “Who cares about winter! Look at this, Bryony! I mean, this is amazing. This will provide us with more than enough income to make up for the dip this season. I can’t wait to tell the staff. They were so pissed I had to lay them off over Christmas. The fact I can pay them to work at the ball is the only reason any of them are talking to me right now. But now I can pay them their missed earnings!”

  She grabbed Bryony’s cheeks and planted a kiss on each one.

  “Oh,” Bryony said, pushing her now wonky glasses back up her nose. “I thought you’d be upset about the winter scheme failing.”

  “I mean of course it would be better to be booked out all year round,” Emily said. “But we can’t expect everything to be perfect from the get go. We’ll learn from our mistakes this year and approach next year differently. But for now, I think we should just celebrate the good news. Don’t you?”

  Bryony looked extremely relieved. “Next year, we’ll make sure we have the best marketing scheme ever. I promise. My goal is a twelve month consecutive fully booked year.”

  “That sounds like a great goal,” Emily told her.

  Just then, the doorbell rang. Emily stood. “This will be the decorations for the ball.” Reminding herself of the good news, she added, “Which we’ve sold a thousand tickets for!”

  She went to the door and directed the delivers to the ballroom. When she came back through to sit with Bryony though, she saw that it was fast approaching nine a.m and the time for her doctor’s appointment.

  “I have to shoot,” she told Bryony. “I’m having daily appointments with my doctor at the moment to make sure everything is okay with Charlotte.”

  Bryony gave her the thumbs up. “Good luck. I’ll keep crunching the numbers.”

  Emily went out to the greenhouse to find Daniel. He was busy helping Chantelle plant a shrub whilst Roy watched on. It was a heartwarming scene, Emily thought, to
see them all working together like that. And the greenhouse was looking superb as well.

  “It’s time to leave for my appointment,” she said when Daniel turned and noticed her standing there.

  “Are you guys okay to finish off here?” Daniel asked.

  Chantelle nodded, wiping tendrils of hair from her forehead with a muddy hand, leaving streaks across it. “Good luck mommy,” she said. “I think it’s going to be today, you know.”

  “Really?” Emily said. “Well, fingers crossed.”

  She and Daniel headed out of the greenhouse and went through the garden to the front of the inn, before climbing into Daniel’s truck.

  “What do you think?” she asked him, looking over as he revved the engine. “Is Chantelle right? Will it be today?”

  “I’m starting to think it will be never,” Daniel replied. “That you’ll be pregnant for eternity.”

  Emily just laughed.

  They began the short, familiar journey to Doctor Arkwright’s. Emily certainly wasn’t going to miss this, these tense trips with Daniel, the fighting for what she felt was right. She’d be extremely happy when she didn’t have to see Doctor Arkwright every single day as well. As much as she liked her, she felt silently judged each time she visited.

  They reached the office at nine on the dot and were shown straight through to the doctor’s room.

  “How are you today?” Rose Arkwright asked. “Ready for your tests?”

  “Yup,” Emily said, making sure she didn’t absorb anyone’s judgement or negativity, staying calm in her resolve.

  She knew the routine off by heart now. Blood pressure check. Visual examination. Internal examination. She’d been so daunted by it all at the beginning of her pregnancy but now she was so used to it it didn’t faze her at all.

  “Looks like baby’s in a good position now,” the doctor said, feeling Emily’s bump. “Definitely downward. That’s great.”

  Emily smiled and inched back onto the bed, bringing her legs up. Doctor Arkwright began her examination and Emily stared at the ceiling, expecting to hear the same news: no change, no sign of labor. But this time the news was different.

  “And I can see signs of effacement,” the doctor said. “I think it’s safe to say you’re in pre-labour.”

  “No way,” Emily said, grinning from ear to ear. It felt so validating to know she’d been right to hold out for a natural birth. “Thank God.”

  She looked over at Daniel. He seemed relieved.

  “How long are we looking at now, doctor?” he asked.

  “Well pre-labor can last for a few days,” she explained. “So I don’t think we need to be heading to the hospital just yet.”

  “Days,” Daniel murmured. He looked awestruck, like he really had convinced himself Emily would be pregnant for eternity.

  Emily could see the twinkling of excitement and love in eyes. In a matter of days they would finally get to meet their little girl.

  She sat up, grinning from ear to ear. “Thank you, doctor.”

  “It’s been a pleasure. Honestly, good luck with the birth. I’ll keep my nine a.m. appointment with you tomorrow in case there’s no labor in the next twenty four hours, okay?”

  They all shook hands, and Emily and Daniel left the doctor’s office in high spirits.

  The mood as they climbed back into the pickup truck was better than it had been for weeks. Emily felt so happy and validated in her decision. She’d known all along that her body knew what it was doing, and that her sister’s spirit was watching her and guiding her through the whole thing. More than ever, she felt the spirit of Charlotte with her. She held her bump, feeling now how distinctly the baby had adjusted into position. It was happening. It was really happening. Just a little bit more patience and her dream would finally come true.

  *

  Back at the inn, Emily felt like her head was in the clouds. She floated around the inn, decorating the ballroom with white satin bows and gorgeous floral bouquets in preparation for tomorrow’s ball. Everything was coming together so wonderfully, like there had been some grand plan in place all along.

  She heard the doorbell ring and headed out of the ballroom, wondering who it might be. She answered the door to an extremely smartly dressed woman with dark hair piled into a tight bun on top of her head.

  “Emily,” she said, extending a hand. “I’m Jennifer Sutcliffe, an auctioneer and associate of Rico’s. I wanted to speak to you about the collection of William Gamble kitchenware you’ve recently come into possession of.”

  “Oh wonderful,” Emily said. “Please come in.”

  She led Jennifer into the lounge, seating her at the round table in the bay windows.

  “What a gorgeous house,” Jennifer said.

  “Thanks,” Emily smiled. “We’re an inn, actually. It’s a bit chaotic here as we’re preparing for a ball tomorrow.”

  “Not the one with Roman Westbrook playing at?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Emily laughed. “You’ve heard about it?”

  “I’m coming,” Jennifer replied, laughing. “My sister and I are huge fans. Both recently divorced. Felt like we deserved a great night out. How funny. I had no idea this place was here. I’d heard of a new inn opening up nearby but thought it was in that old Queen Anne building on the sea front.”

  “You don’t come to town meetings, clearly,” Emily said, chuckling. “That inn was rejected. But funnily enough, I’m using the money from the sale of the silver to buy the building. I want to rescue it from disrepair. It’s so unique and beautiful.”

  “How fantastic,” Jennifer replied.

  Pleasantries aside, it was time to get down to business.

  “So Rico explained that I have some William Gamble kitchen silver to sell. Would you like to see the pieces?” Emily asked.

  “I’d love to,” Jennifer said, grinning. She looked very excited about it. “I’m such a geek for silver kitchen ware, and I love Gamble. He was one of the Silversmiths of Soho. His son carried on the trade. Such wonderful history.” She looked dreamy-eyed then before her gaze snapped back to Emily. “Sorry, I’m already going into a daydream.”

  Emily laughed as she stood. “No need to daydream, you can see it for yourself.”

  She led Jennifer along the corridor towards her study, where the silver was currently being stored behind a locked door. Emily rummaged in her pocket for the key, then twisted it in the lock and opened up the door.

  There was so much silver inside, it had started to take over the entire room! Every shelf had some kind of ornate piece upon it, and her desk was covered in the smaller pieces, like the cutlery and dishes.

  “Here it is,” Emily said.

  She turned to face Jennifer and saw that the woman’s mouth was hanging open in surprise. A hand fluttered to her chest.

  “Incredible,” she murmured.

  She paced inside, looking lost as if she didn’t know where to go first, then finally headed towards a coffee pot standing on top of the filing cabinet. She took it down, turning it delicately in her hands to look at its underside.

  “There is it,” she gasped, letting out a little squeal. “William Gamble’s official silversmith’s stamp.” She looked over her shoulder at Emily. “It was law, you see, to have this unique stamp. Every sivlersmith had to make a stamp on a lead plate that was sorted in Goldsmith’s Hall, which consisted of the silversmith’s initials. It was a way of both guaranteeing the standard of silver, and also helping identify cases of fraud, because no matter how closely someone may try to copy the mark, fraudulent copies would never perfectly match the leaden plate.” She turned back in wonder at the coffee pot. “I love that feeling of holding a piece of history.”

  “So it’s definitely genuine then?” Emily asked.

  “Oh yes,” Jennifer gushed. She put the pot down and picked up a dish beside it, nodding when her gaze found Gamble’s mark. “Yes, yes. Of course, I’ll need to authenticate each one before I can say conclusively. It may take a while.” />
  “Please, take as long as you need. Shall I bring some tea? Coffee?”

  Jennifer shook her head. “No, thank you. I’ll be quite fine.”

  She sat down and began making a list, checking each piece’s authenticity. Emily watched her, curious about the process, and amused by the way Jennifer behaved like a kid in a candy store with each new piece Emily handed her.

  When the list was complete, Jennifer confirmed they were all, indeed, authentic pieces.

  “Fifty-two items,” she told Emily. “How marvellous.”

  “What happens next?” Emily asked.

  “Well, you’ll be pleased to know that I already have a potential buyer in England. They’re ancestors of William Gamble, and his son Ellis who continued his work after him. They’re very keen to snap up pieces as and when they becomes available. I’d hazard a guess that they would pay a very handsome price just to avoid the risk of losing them at auction.”

  “Really?” Emily asked, surprised.

  Jennifer nodded. “Of course, as an auctioneer I’d always recommend auctioning them. A collection as extensive as this could fetch up to three times the amount of their worth on the day but there’s always a risk involved of the sale falling through for whatever reason.”

  “So I have options,” Emily said. “Sell immediately to the family, or hold out for auction and see if I can get a higher price.”

  “Precisely,” Jennifer explained. “Here, this is some information on the auction process.” She handed Emily some brochures. “There’s lots of information in here that will help you make your decision.”

  “How long would each option take?” Emily asked as she took the brochures and rested them on her lap for future reading. “The auction versus selling straight to the collectors.”

  “Auctioning would be at least a month,” Jennifer explained. “We need time to get the word out to interested parties, you see. With the collectors, I’d have to call them first to confirm, but I’ve worked with them in the past and it was honestly a matter of days from authentication to sale. It’s sentimental for them, rather than an investment, you see.”