Even sitting down, he towers over me, long thighs splaying out as he relaxes on the stool, broad chest and muscular arms lightly tanned against the pale blue of his T-shirt. He rakes back his untamed, morning-after-the-night-before hair and I notice strands of gold and copper in its chestnut depths. He reminds me of a beautiful tiger, although hopefully, as my client, he won’t be quite so savage.
It slightly worries me that he’s invited Clemmy for Christmas, because from what I’ve seen of her reaction to the two brothers, she seems more into Ryan than Jed. But it’s definitely not my place to say anything. Instead, I start outlining my decorating ideas.
I’m aware of Jed’s eyes on me as I reach for the milk. He fills the space beside me with his solid presence and masculine scent, making me feel oddly self-conscious, and I end up fumbling with the jug, slopping some of the contents onto the table. Mumbling apologies, I whip out a paper hanky and start wiping up the milk. So much for making a good first impression!
‘Don’t worry,’ murmurs Jed. He takes the sodden little bundle from me and his fingers touch mine. A little tingle runs all the way up my arm and I watch in a slight daze as he levers himself off the stool and strolls over to drop the hanky in the bin. He soaks a dishcloth under the tap and wrings it out while I try hard not to check out his back view again. When he turns, I flick my eyes to the window and frown, craning my neck as if I’ve spotted a rare bird in the trees or something.
‘Anything wrong?’ he asks, giving the surface a quick but thorough wipe.
‘No, no. Just – erm – admiring the wildlife.’ I crane my neck a little more, wondering what the hell is wrong with me. I don’t usually have any trouble appearing businesslike in a work situation, so why am I feeling so ridiculously jumpy today? As if I’m all fingers and thumbs?
He sits back down, folds his arms and leans casually over to look out himself, and I catch a whiff of his deliciously spicy aftershave.
‘I doubt there’s much life – wild or otherwise – in late December,’ he says.
I feel myself blushing. Is he teasing me? I’m not sure because he then says, ‘I saw a robin or two yesterday, mind you. Although it might well have been the same one, popping up in different places.’ We grin at the idea. ‘So, tell me what you want me to do, Poppy. I’m entirely in your hands.’ He holds his arms wide and smiles disarmingly.
‘Oh. Right.’ This flusters me even more until I realise a second later that of course he’s referring to my festive plans for the house.
Awkwardly, I launch headlong into a list of ideas I’ve had for Christmas decorations.
‘Well, for a start, I thought we could bring in loads of branches and fir cones and sprigs of holly and wind them all the way up the handrail of the central staircase?’ I use my hands to illustrate, choosing to avoid his eye for some reason. ‘Then obviously we need a proper Christmas tree. I’ve been buying baubles for years. I absolutely love them. Especially if they’re Italian. So, I brought loads of them over for you to use here. I won’t be spending much time at home over the holidays, so it’s no problem if you’d like to borrow them.’ I paste on a bright smile and glance at him. ‘They’re in the boot of my car if you’d like me to fetch them.’
He nods and continues watching me calmly, arms folded, a hint of a smile on his lips. I’ve got a funny feeling that he finds me rather entertaining, although I can’t imagine why. I’m trying my very best to be businesslike.
‘As for the Christmas tree,’ I sweep on, ‘I was wondering if we could dig one up. You’ve certainly got plenty to choose from out there. And then afterwards, you can obviously plant it back in the ground for next year.’
‘Great minds,’ he remarks.
‘Sorry?’
He shrugs his big shoulders. ‘Great minds think alike. After you inspired me yesterday with your plans to transform the place, I went out and chose a well-proportioned tree and dug it up. It’s in a pot in the shed awaiting your attention.’
‘Oh, wow. Fab! That sounds absolutely perfect.’ I cringe inwardly as the words leave my mouth. I don’t usually gush like that. What’s wrong with me?
‘Right. Shall we go and have a look? See if it meets with your approval?’ There’s an amused glint in his eye.
I fix on a smile and drain my mug to hide my blushes. ‘Great. Lead on.’
We put on outdoor gear and leave by the back door. A path takes us around the side of the house to a substantial wooden shed, set back from the lake and half-hidden by a little copse of trees. Jed asks what my original plans were for Christmas and I tell him about Harrison and how he’s in Spain visiting his mum for the festive period.
‘Ah yes, of course.’ He opens the shed door and ushers me in. ‘What about your parents?’
‘I’ll be spending some of Christmas Day with Mum, but my dad is … well, he’s not here.’ I trail off awkwardly, shivering slightly in the freezing shed.
He nods slowly. ‘Neither is mine. He died a few years ago.’
‘Oh, my dad’s not dead.’ It’s out of my mouth before I have time to think. ‘At least, I don’t think he is.’
Jed frowns. ‘Don’t you see him, then?’
‘I’ve only met him once.’ I smile sadly. ‘When I was twelve. Mum was a single parent. He lived in Naples when she met him, and was working in the kitchens at one of the big five-star hotels, although he had dreams of becoming a chef. But I’ve no idea where he is now.’
I can’t believe I’m telling Jed Turner all of this. I don’t usually talk about Alessandro to anyone. I suppose I feel I can trust Jed, even though I barely know him.
‘Do you want to find him?’ he asks softly.
I swallow hard. ‘I tell myself I’m not bothered, but –’ I lift my shoulders a fraction, and when he nods, I know I don’t need to say any more.
Forcing a smile, I point at the big, beautifully proportioned Christmas tree that’s leaning against the shed wall, giving off the most glorious scent. ‘Wow! That’s gorgeous!’
‘Glad you approve.’ Jed smiles. ‘So you don’t mind spending part of your precious Christmas holidays with the weird Willinghams and their extended family and friends, then?’
‘No, not at all.’ I’m about to add, ‘I’ve never done anything on this scale before so it’s all quite exciting.’ But I stop myself in time. He doesn’t have to know that I have practically no experience whatsoever. He might not have hired me if he’d realised this was only my second real catering job!
Jed picks up a cardboard box that’s lying by the tree and rootles around in it. He brings out a big bundle of fairy lights, all wound round each other.
‘The annual puzzle,’ he remarks, pulling a comical face. ‘How many festive revellers does it take to untangle the Christmas lights?’
I laugh. ‘Just one if that person has a logical brain and the patience of three saints.’
‘Perhaps two sets of hands would make light work of it.’ He grins. ‘Let’s take them inside and separate them where it’s warmer. These are all Uncle Bob’s decorations,’ he adds, placing the box he’s holding on top of two more, and hoisting them all up together. ‘He looked them out for me last time he was here for the weekend.’
We end up taking four boxes full of promising decorations back into the house. Then we return for the tree, deciding the best place for it is in an alcove in the living room, by one of the big windows overlooking the lake. I bring in my box of baubles from the car and Jed peers inside and draws out a Santa on a sleigh.
‘More than anything else,’ he remarks, hunkering down to hunt in the box, ‘Christmas decorations bring back memories of your childhood. Don’t you think?’ He dangles a scarlet bauble looped with gold ribbon from one long finger, and we watch as it twirls around, catching the light from a nearby lamp.
I smile wistfully. He’s absolutely right. Getting them out of the attic is always a little emotional for me. On the one hand, I’ve always loved Christmas. But on the other hand, there are some things that it hurts
to remember.
Together, we go outside and harvest lots of pine-tree greenery and fir cones, throwing them into a large crate that was in the shed. Then Jed cuts down sprigs of holly with gleaming scarlet berries and I place them carefully on top of the other foliage. Jed hefts the crate into the house.
I set to work adorning the staircase banister, winding it with pine garlands, fir cones and holly, then I weave in some strings of tiny white fairy lights. Jed works at securing the Christmas tree in its pot, then we decorate it together, although I notice that Jed lets me take the lead. I’m relieved to be so busy. Once I’m in the swing of it, my earlier awkwardness seems to disappear and I find I can talk to Jed easily. Friendly but businesslike.
All this activity takes a good few hours, and by the time we’ve started feeling hunger pangs, it’s after three and the winter light outside is already starting to fade.
We have the official ‘switch-on’ and I gasp at how gorgeous the room looks now, with the Christmas tree twinkling away, reflected in the window by the gathering gloom beyond, and the garlands over the mantelpiece, just waiting for the log fire to be lit. The staircase too looks magical, with its lush green foliage, holly berries and winking white lights.
‘Brilliant.’ Jed nods approvingly and grins at me. ‘You’ve earned your money already.’
He brings out a variety of cheeses, cracker biscuits and red grapes, and we sit back down at the breakfast bar for a very late lunch with a glass of cider each. Clemmy and Ryan still haven’t returned from Easingwold.
‘So, how long have you been a private caterer?’ asks Jed, buttering a cracker. He’s moved the stool round the other side, so we’re facing each other to chat.
‘Oh, not long,’ I tell him airily. ‘What’s in that dish? It looks lovely.’
‘Chutney.’ He passes it across and I’m hoping that will be the end of that subject. Perhaps he’ll imagine the glow in my cheeks is from our hard work.
‘Great, thanks. Yes, I really hope I can make a go of the business because cooking and baking really are my passions. I work in a restaurant and do this on the side. But I really want to do it full-time.’
Jed nods slowly, studying me. ‘I’m sure you will. A passion for your subject is half the battle when it comes to being successful. I bet, erm, Harrison is it?’
I nod.
‘I bet he’s really proud of you for having the guts to switch career like this. It takes courage to give up a regular job to strike out into the unknown.’
‘Yes, I suppose he is proud of me. He was all for me giving up my job at the restaurant.’
‘Great, well, that’s a definite vote of confidence in you and the business, then, isn’t it?’
I nod. ‘I guess so.’ It’s not quite that straightforward, of course. Harrison would prefer me to make him my career by becoming a stay-at-home housewife. But I’d feel a bit disloyal, somehow, explaining that to Jed.
He raises his glass. ‘Well, here’s to the huge success of Diner Might! And to a load of delicious food and drink to put the merry into Christmas. Which reminds me, we need to get down to brass tacks.’
‘Sorry?’
‘Money.’ He smiles. ‘I’m assuming Diner Might isn’t a charity?’
Colour surges into my cheeks. I’ve been so caught up in the novelty of having a real catering job, it’s completely slipped my mind to bring up the subject of payment. He must think I’m so unprofessional! And what the hell should I be charging anyway? Mrs Morelli was a flat fee for one dinner party, but this will be totally different. I’ll be cooking every day for almost a whole fortnight, if my mental arithmetic serves me correctly! I’ll have to talk it over with Erin and somehow come up with a figure. And I’ll also need to find out which days Erin can help me, and agree on a rate of pay for the work she does. I’ll feel much more confident if she’s with me in the kitchen here, especially for the first few days.
Taking a deep breath, I paste on a smile and say, in what I hope is a businesslike manner, ‘Actually, I was planning on getting a quote together for you this evening and emailing it through to you so you’d have it first thing tomorrow morning?’
He nods as if this would be perfectly acceptable and I breathe a little easier.
‘What I usually do with clients is draw up a selection of menus and send them through for their approval.’ My fingers are crossed under the breakfast bar. Talk about having to improvise on the spot! ‘Would you like me to buy all the food and then bill you for it?’
‘Sounds about right to me,’ says Jed.
So far so good!
‘And I’d be cooking dinner every evening – including Christmas Day itself – and providing a home-baked cake for tea every afternoon?’
‘Yes, please.’ He smiles at me. ‘You’ll certainly be making my Christmas a lot merrier, Poppy!’ His green eyes are full of warmth and a funny little shiver of pleasure runs through me. Those eyes of his are so mesmerising. Then, with a stab of foolishness, I suddenly realise what he means. I’ll be taking the weight off his shoulders by doing the cooking, so he doesn’t have to. That’s why his Christmas will be merrier. My heart swoops a little in disappointment, which is ridiculous. I’m obviously just feeling over-emotional after everything that’s happened. Starting with having to wave Harrison off at the airport …
I pick up my glass to cover my embarrassment. ‘Well, here’s to a Merry Christmas!’ I only hope I can cook up a storm and give Jed Turner value for money.
There’s a sound from the hall. ‘Hello-o! We’re back! Oh my God, the staircase is amazing!’
Jed and I go out into the hall, just as Clemmy bursts into the living room, stops short in front of the Christmas tree and clasps her hands to her chest. ‘Oh my days! How utterly gorgeous.’ She turns as we join her in the doorway. ‘You clever thing, Poppy. Did you do this?’
I look modestly from her to Jed. ‘With a little bit of help … well, a lot, actually.’
‘Poppy did most of it,’ Jed says, smiling at me in a way that makes my tummy flip with pleasure.
Clemmy glances towards the door as voices float in from the hallway. A look of uncertainty flashes across her pretty, flushed face but she quickly replaces it with a big smile. ‘You’ve obviously been really busy the two of you!’
Jed frowns and indicates the voices. ‘Who?’
‘Oh, Ryan’s brought Jessica back,’ says Clemmy. ‘He thought you wouldn’t mind if she joined us for Christmas.’ She beams at Jed and then at me but I catch that same hint of vulnerability in her eyes as they dart once more towards the door.
Ryan walks down the hallway with a statuesque blonde woman. She’s wearing a stunning white winter coat and high-heeled tan ankle boots that match the expensive, buttery leather bag over her shoulder. ‘Hi, there,’ he says, keeping his hand firmly round her waist. ‘Sorry we’re late. We – er – got a bit held up.’ A flirty look passes between them.
I can hardly bear to look at Clemmy. Her cheekbones must be aching with the effort of keeping that smile fixed in place.
Jed ushers Ryan and Jessica into the living room.
Jessica glances around her with a look of vague surprise. ‘It’s smaller than I imagined, but at least it’s warm.’ She rubs her hands together delicately. ‘It’s bloody parky out there.’ She wriggles away from Ryan and slips off her coat. Then she turns and looks at me. I start to smile and hold out my hand, only to have her drop the coat into my arms the next second. I only just manage to catch it before it hits the floor.
Her disrobing has rendered me temporarily speechless – but it’s not just the fact that she could so obviously sniff out the hired help at twenty paces that’s taken the wind out of my sails.
Ryan’s guest has the most enormous surgically enhanced chest I’ve ever seen in my life in the actual flesh. And there’s a lot of flesh, believe me, encased in a plunging cream-lace bra – just visible above her top – that really must be wired with the aid of cutting-edge-precision engineering. Her waist is
jaw-droppingly miniscule by comparison and her shiny dark-pink lips appear to have been outlined in caramel with a road marker.
There’s a sort of hushed silence in the room. Then Jed moves towards her. ‘Hi Jessica. Great to meet you.’ He encloses her hand in both of his as she bats her eyelash extensions at him. ‘I’m Jed and this is Poppy, who’ll be cooking all sorts of delicious food for us over the festive period,’ he says, glancing at me. ‘I’ll take the coat, Poppy,’ he murmurs, and I hand it to him with a grateful smile. He drapes it over the back of a sofa then rubs his hands together. ‘Right. Drink, everyone? Jessica, what would you like?’
‘Champagne, please,’ says Jessica smoothly. ‘If you have any.’
Jed disappears into the garage and returns with a bottle. Clemmy helps him with the glasses in the kitchen as I glance around, thinking it’s probably time I took my leave.
When they bring in the champagne and Jed offers me a glass, I glance at my watch. It’s four-thirty. ‘Thank you but I think I’d better be going.’ I look at the glowing Christmas tree and almost wish I could stay. But I’ve got so much to do.
The job starts properly tomorrow, when I bake my first cake for their afternoon tea, and cook the first of my three-course dinners, so I need to do shopping and get organised. And before that, I need to head to the hotel and try to persuade Mimi to let Maxine do some of my shifts over the festive period. I feel sick at the thought. I’m not sure what I’ll do if she refuses.
‘You’ve done a great job,’ says Jed warmly, and for a second, I feel his hand on my waist. It’s so unexpected, it feels like an electric shock.
I swallow, feeling a blush rise in my cheeks. ‘Thank you. Right. Bye, everyone. Enjoy your evening.’ Avoiding Jed’s eye, my smile lands on Clemmy and she gives me a little wave and an enthusiastic nod. I wish I could stay and chat to her. I really can’t imagine she’s relishing an evening in the company of Ryan drooling over his busty model girlfriend.
Jed goes with me to the door. ‘Till tomorrow then?’
Christmas at the Log Fire Cabin Page 11
