by Eva Scott
‘Do we dress up for dinner? I don’t know about you, but I rarely get a chance to scrub up these days.’ His delivery was so casual as he tossed the apple core effortlessly into the bin.
Was he being funny? Lexie wasn’t sure she had anything nice to wear. The last time she’d bought a dress was for Malcolm’s funeral, and she had no intention of wearing it ever again.
‘What do you think?’ He looked at her with those dark brown eyes as if he saw her. Really saw her.
Her head started nodding before she’d agreed to it. Then her mouth went and said yes, all of its own accord.
‘Brilliant.’ The relaxed demeanour disappeared, replaced by an enthusiasm Lexie found unsettling. Geoff rubbed his hands together like some black-and-white movie villain. ‘What time is dinner?’
‘Um … six o’clock I guess.’
‘See you then.’ He smiled, causing a stirring sensation in the pit of her stomach. Then he paused and looked at her, as if he knew exactly the effect he had on her, before disappearing down the corridor.
It was going to be a long night.
Their dinner on to cook, she turned her attention to decorating the veranda, where she planned to serve their meal.
Standing with her hands on her hips, she surveyed the space. It would be dark so lots of lights would create a cosy atmosphere despite the heat of an Australian summer. She ran through a mental list of the decorations she’d used in previous years. They’d all been stored away in a cupboard in her office after Malcolm passed away. Christmas without him had been too painful to contemplate so she’d ignored it. Her in-laws hadn’t been interested in seeing her and she’d dodged well-meaning family. Two Christmases had now passed, and Lexie hadn’t had the heart or energy to go to any trouble for herself.
She fetched the two boxes labelled Christmas Decorations, scrawled in Malcolm’s untidy hand. The boxes hadn’t been touched since he died, and a fine layer of dust coated the tops of them. Opening them unleashed a rush of memories. All the carefully collected ornaments—Santa in his sleigh, a gingerbread house, a series of three little owls dressed up as the wise men—all meant for a tree surrounded by family. Such a shame to lock them all away.
There was the star they had put on their very first tree together. She couldn’t help but laugh at the memory of that poor pathetic tree. The weight of the star had nearly snapped it in half.
Lexie rubbed her dusty hands on her jeans. Maybe she ought to have decorated weeks ago, especially as she knew she would have a guest for Christmas, but each bauble held a tender memory she’d been fearful of facing in case the pain proved too much. And it did hurt, little pinches of the soul with each trinket she hung on the tree. She told herself the process counted as therapy and the thought of transforming the veranda into something special for this evening appealed to her.
She unravelled strings of lights and hung them in long loops. Lanterns were furnished with fresh candles and placed in strategic locations. A set of red and gold chair covers lurked in one box, while the other yielded a wreath woven from dried Australian native flowers still perfectly preserved.
Two small topiary trees stood in pots either side of the steps leading down to the garden. She laced them with fairy lights and tied a red bow on each for effect. Fetching a large glass bowl from the kitchen, Lexie filled it with the baubles that would normally have gone on the tree. No tree this year. Maybe next year.
She stood back to survey her handiwork. Not bad, not bad at all. While it might not look like much now, when the sun went down, and all the lights came on, it would look magical. Malcolm would have loved it.
Satisfied, she checked on the roast before disappearing to shower and get ready. She still had to find something suitable to wear.
Lying in bed reading a thriller his dentist had recommended, Geoff salivated, distracted by the smells of pork roast lingering on the air. He loved this time of the afternoon, when the day began to decline, the diminishing light putting a golden sheen on everything.
He gave up and closed the book. His dentist needed a more exciting life.
Lexie fascinated him, and he couldn’t work out why. Obviously, she was clever, spirited, hardworking, driven … Pretty too. And fit. But that wasn’t it. He watched the ceiling fan turn in lazy arcs as he pondered the question.
Whatever the attraction, it was enchanting and compelling. He wanted to know all about her, how she coped running this place alone, what made her tick. He lay with his hands behind his head and let his mind drift in the heat …
He woke with a start. He’d never napped so much in his life, even as a kid.
A bolt of panic shot through him as he realised the time. With rapid speed he washed and dressed in the only decent clothes he’d brought with him—a pair of trousers and a business shirt he’d planned to wear on the plane so he could go straight into the office when he got home.
Here, in the stillness of the countryside, the idea of rushing back to work, of bringing business clothes with him at all, seemed ridiculous. Who did that kind of thing? He shook his head, a wry smile on his face.
This holiday may not have been what he’d have picked for himself—he’d have booked a luxury resort somewhere near the ocean—yet everything about it worked on his soul, loosening the rigid framework he’d lived within for years. He made a mental note to give his executive assistant, Leanne, a bonus.
Dressed and ready to impress, Geoff checked himself out in the antique rose-coloured mirror. Tie or no tie? He couldn’t decide.
‘Tie,’ said his ex-wife, appearing as a figment of his imagination.
‘It’s too damn hot, Melissa.’
‘A tie finishes the outfit.’ She flicked his collar up and draped the tie around his neck.
‘I don’t know. Lexie is pretty casual. I think the tie is too much.’
‘What do you know?’ Melissa laughed at him. ‘When did you ever dress yourself when we were going to an event?’
‘Point taken,’ he acknowledged as he whipped the tie off. ‘However, I don’t have to listen to you anymore. I’m not married to you and your opinion no longer matters.’
Melissa crossed her arms and pouted. ‘Don’t tell me you’re replacing me?’
‘Maybe I am,’ he said as he adjusted his collar. ‘Maybe it’s time.’ When he turned around, Melissa had gone.
As he stepped out onto the veranda, he was transported to another world, one full of magic and promise. The lights enveloped the space in a warm glow, edging out the darkness beyond the veranda rail. Out there lurked the rest of the world, yet here nested possibility and new beginnings. His heart did a little dance on the chance this might be a sign of Lexie softening towards him. It was Christmas, after all. Anything could happen.
Finding himself alone, he took the liberty of popping the champagne sitting in an ice bucket. He could hear Lexie moving about in the kitchen, drawers opening and closing, the comforting sounds of someone preparing an evening meal. He’d missed that sound more than he’d like to admit.
He poured the champagne into the crystal flutes provided, watching the bubbles rise and threaten to overflow the glass. Should he take a glass to Lexie? Or should he wait? Aware things between them balanced precariously on his ability to not make the wrong move, he hesitated.
She saved him the trouble, appearing at the door carrying a small bowl. ‘Oh! I see you’ve found the champagne.’
‘Wow!’ Speechless, Geoff raised his glass to her. Her hair, out of its ponytail, had been twisted in some complicated manner known only to the female of the species, the fairy lights catching deep golden and amber tones. Gone was Lexie’s working uniform of jeans and polo shirts, her considerable curves encased in a deep burgundy velvet dress, leaving her arms bare and showing just enough cleavage to be distracting.
‘I don’t usually wear makeup and, well, it feels a little odd, like I’ve got a mask on or something.’ She ducked her head in a gesture of embarrassment that tugged at his heart.
‘I
t’s not the makeup,’ he said quietly, holding out a glass to her.
She placed the bowl of nuts on the table and took the proffered glass, avoiding his eyes. ‘Sorry, not a very sophisticated offering,’ she said, gesturing to the nuts.
‘Everything is perfect,’ he said, and he meant it. The air fizzed and crackled with something he couldn’t identify. Christmas magic. ‘To you.’ He held out a champagne glass.
‘To absent friends,’ she said, and he knew she meant Malcolm. Suddenly, he wanted her to know he was single, and very much available.
‘To your husband, Malcolm,’ he said, ‘and my ex-wife, Melissa.’ Shameless perhaps, but it had worked judging by the brief surprise that skittered across her face, soon replaced by something he struggled to define.
‘Are you hungry?’ she asked.
He held her gaze, searching her face for some recognition of the same thing he felt. ‘I am,’ he said finally. ‘But I’m not in any hurry.’
‘I’ll serve up if that’s okay with you.’ And she was gone, retreating to the kitchen. He suspected she hadn’t bargained on this energy between them any more than he had.
He took a seat and waited patiently.
Lexie returned with two plates laden with roast pork and perfectly baked vegetables. His stomach growled in appreciation. She laid a plate before him and took her seat, self-consciously adjusting her neckline and pulling at the skirt of her dress as she did so.
‘It looks wonderful.’ He pulled out his napkin and made a show of inhaling the satisfying scents rising from his plate, giving her a moment to settle.
‘It’s not much …’ she began.
‘Lexie, stop.’ He put down his knife and fork. She looked at him through her lashes like a child anticipating a tongue-lashing. Reaching across the table, he covered her hand with his. ‘Listen, the meal is perfect. The champagne is perfect. The setting is perfect. And you look amazing. You are amazing.’
She exhaled a little. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t mean to downplay myself. I always find it annoying when people do that.’ She offered a timid smile. ‘Well, I’m new to this and I’m not sure how it’s all supposed to work.’
‘I’ve never done this before either, so I say we make up our own rules as we go.’ He laughed, relieved even though he had no idea why.
Lexie took a long drink of champagne and held out the empty glass. He filled it obligingly.
‘I’ve not had a man in this house since my husband died and it feels … well …’
‘Weird, strange, a little like a betrayal, all of the above?’
‘Yes,’ she said, her own relief evident in the smile on her face. ‘All of the above. The feeling’s not personal. Please don’t think that.’ A tiny frown appeared between her brows, distracting him with the idea that it might be nice to kiss it away.
‘I promise not to take it personally.’ A lightbulb went on. ‘Can I ask you something?’ She nodded. ‘Am I your first guest?’
‘Yes.’ She screwed up her eyes as if confessing something shameful. ‘Is it that obvious?’
‘Not at all,’ he hurried to reassure her. ‘The first man in the house comment kind of gave it away.’
‘Oh.’ She contemplated the pattern on her champagne flute, tracing it with her fingertips. ‘My sister, Bea, had this mad idea that a farm-stay bed and breakfast might help financially, to tide me over until harvest time. I thought it would keep me busy enough so that I’d sleep at night. Do you know what I mean?’ She looked up at him with those gold and green kaleidoscopic eyes. A bolt went straight to his heart.
‘I do. Ever since my ex-wife left I’ve been rattling around my house all night watching too much Netflix. Can’t sleep. It all seems so …’
‘Empty, pointless, lonely, all of the above?’ Her smile, heartbreakingly vulnerable, mirrored the contents of his heart.
‘Yes, all of the above.’
‘Sorry about your wife.’
‘Melissa and I are still good friends. We’ve known each other since we were kids, so it seemed wrong to set fire to it all just because we weren’t in love anymore.’ He took a swig of his champagne.
‘Sensible. Very enlightened of you both.’
He shrugged. He wasn’t sure enlightened was a word he’d use to describe him and Melissa.
Lexie reached for the champagne and refilled his flute. She raised her glass. ‘To you and your enlightenment.’
Surprise caught the glass halfway to his lips. Her words stalled time, creating a pivot upon which the past swung behind him and the future took its place. ‘To future happiness,’ he said, letting his history fall away, feeling free of its burden as soon as the words left Lexie’s lips.
‘And you?’ He leaned in. ‘What keeps you up at night?’
She didn’t answer right away, at least not with words. Her eyes spoke volumes as they searched his. He could see every moment of pain, love and loss reflected there.
‘Emptiness—the house, my bed, my heart.’ She shook her head and gave a little laugh. ‘It must be the champagne, sorry. Oversharing.’
‘I asked, remember. I get it. I feel the same way about my life.’ He didn’t want her to retreat into her shell. Now he’d coaxed her out he wanted her to stay.
‘How did you end up here?’ She leaned back, putting some distance between them.
It was his turn to laugh. ‘Would you believe I asked my executive assistant to book me somewhere far, far away for Christmas …’
‘And she did!’ Lexie’s laugh filled the night air, a sound he could sit and listen to forever.
‘I didn’t think she’d take it literally.’
‘I only called this place Far Far Away because I couldn’t think of anything else. I’m well aware of how ridiculous it sounds.’
‘I think the name is apt. I like the Shrek reference,’ he said, spearing a piece of potato on the end of his fork and crunching it appreciatively. ‘You are a very good cook.’
He thought he detected a blush stealing across Lexie’s cheeks in the golden half-light cast by the candles. ‘And you are very beautiful,’ he added softly.
She looked at him, properly, in a way she’d managed to avoid all night. He read fear, hope, vulnerability and an awareness of the energy that fizzed and sparked between them. The world became a bubble containing only the two of them and he longed to freeze the moment, suspend it in time forever.
The air around them became charged with the sort of electricity Lexie had experienced only once before. With Malcolm.
She swallowed hard, longing to look away, to break contact with Geoff. He sat there staring into her soul, reading her heart, and she lacked the power to stop him. She wasn’t sure she wanted to. The warring sensations of wanting to run and hide and the desire to stay in this moment created a maelstrom of confusion whirling inside her.
‘You know what we need?’ He broke the tension, leaning back in his chair with a lopsided smile on his face.
She shook her head, not trusting her voice.
‘Music. Do you happen to have any?’ He raised his eyebrow, making her laugh. She’d been worried he was going to suggest something else, and the relief he only wanted music made her giddy.
‘Of course,’ she said. ‘I’ll clear the dishes if you’d like to make your way to the lounge room. My paltry CD collection is stacked on the bottom of the bookshelf.’ Lexie stood and began to stack the plates. ‘I have to warn you, it’s slim pickings.’
‘I’m sure I’ll find something.’ He pushed back his chair and stood up. He placed his hand on her arm, stilling her and sending a spark shooting across her bare skin. ‘Thank you, Lexie, for a delicious dinner and lovely company.’
She stared at him, stunned. He managed to catch her unawares at every turn. She shook her head a little, to try to connect her brain to her mouth again. ‘You’re welcome. It’s lovely to cook for someone. I normally can’t be bothered cooking like this for myself.’
Making her escape to the kitchen, she busied herself
with stacking plates in the dishwasher and wiping down the benches, anything to kill some time before returning to Geoff. He was so damn intense, or was that her? She couldn’t tell anymore.
She turned the dishwasher on and took a deep breath. Deep down lurked the feeling that having dinner with Geoff constituted a form of adultery. Ridiculous because she was a widow and Malcolm would want her to be happy, to have dinner with other men. He’d hate the idea of her struggling on alone. He’d even said as much on those long afternoons when they sat together in the hospital during his chemo treatment. She’d ignored him, preferring to believe that they’d beat the cancer somehow and it wouldn’t matter anyway.
But they hadn’t.
What would Bea say? Stupid question. She could hear her sister as clearly as if she stood in the kitchen. Bea would tell her to stop being so silly. It was just a dinner, a simple Christmas dinner with a side serving of mild flirtation, which Lexie needed before she turned into a dried up grumpy old dowager.
And she’d be right.
Lexie straightened her dress, smoothing it over her hips. She checked her reflection in the microwave oven. Her hair was holding up well in the heat. So far so good. She pulled open the cutlery drawer and retrieved her one good lipstick which she’d stashed there earlier, reapplying it carefully using her makeshift mirror.
‘Ready for round two?’ she asked her reflection. ‘Just a flirtatious meal. Nothing more, nothing less.’
Barely reassured, Lexie left the safety of her kitchen for the more confronting territory of the veranda where the familiar strains of Billie Holiday drifted on the balmy night air.
‘Great choice,’ she said in an attempt to create a bright, light atmosphere and dispel the deep magic they’d shared earlier.
Geoff reached for the champagne bottle and topped up their glasses. ‘She’s always been a favourite of mine.’ He returned the bottle to its ice bucket and picked up his glass. ‘To Lady Day and the blues.’
Lexie raised her glass in salute, then took a sip, grateful for the cool liquid as it slipped lazily down her throat. ‘They say you can’t sing the blues until you’ve experienced them.’
