‘If he does, don’t leave it this time, yeah? Some of us like a bit of sparkle in our lives.’
* * *
Jacob pressed the code into the number pad and waited for the gate to swing open before driving through and parking behind his father’s big black car on the gravel driveway. Heather’s pink Mini was missing but his mum’s little red convertible was still there. That was okay. Heather already knew what he was planning and it was probably best to tell his parents together anyway.
It hadn’t occurred to him until Clara asked what his parents thought about their Scottish Christmas that they might be anything other than thrilled. He was giving them the perfect retreat—what more could they want? But the look in Clara’s eye on their shopping trip had told him he was missing something. Hence the drive to Surrey to fill them in on the plan.
He let himself in the front door without knocking, and the scent of evergreen pine and cinnamon hit him instantly. The hallway as a whole was dominated by an oversized Christmas tree, tastefully decorated in gold and red, with touches of tartan. The wide, curving staircase had garlands of greenery and red berries twirling around the banister all the way to the first floor, and bowls of dried fruits and spices sat on the console table next to the front door.
Christmas, as he remembered it at home, had always been a very traditional affair. Apart from that year when everyone had come out to California to his beach house, to celebrate with him and Clara. Clara had cooked a full English roast and they’d eaten it in the sunshine. The stockings had hung by the artisan steel-and-glass fire display, looking out of place in their red velvet glory.
It hadn’t been traditional, maybe, but he’d been happy. Happy—and terrified, he realised now. Scared that it could all go wrong. That he’d screw it up.
They’d gone from meeting to marriage so fast, and never even thought to talk about what their lives together would look like. And it had never felt real, somehow. As if, from the moment he’d said ‘I do’ in that clichéd Vegas chapel, he’d been waiting for it to end. For Clara to realise that he wasn’t enough, that she couldn’t rely on him. That he was bound to hurt her, eventually.
Even his family knew better than to trust him with anything more than business. Work was easy. People were breakable.
He’d woken up the next morning to find Clara gone, a note propped up against the bracelet he’d given her the day before.
Jacob shook away the memories and called out. ‘Any chance of a mince pie?’
His mum appeared from the kitchen instantly, a tartan apron wrapped over her skirt and blouse. ‘Jacob! What a surprise. Why didn’t you call and let us know you were coming?’
‘Spur-of-the-moment decision.’ He pressed a kiss to her cheek. ‘Is Dad here?’
‘Upstairs. Working, of course.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘I thought he might slow down a bit once...well, never mind. He seems happy enough.’
‘Think we can risk interrupting him? I’ve got something to talk to you both about.’ He knew as soon as he said it that it was a mistake, but it was too late. His mother’s eyes took on the sort of gleam that meant she was picturing grandchildren, and the smile she gave him made him fear for his life once he’d explained what was actually happening.
‘By all means,’ she said, grabbing his arm and leading him towards the stairs. ‘It’ll do him good to take a break, anyway. Now, let me see if I can guess...’
‘It’s nothing to do with a woman,’ Jacob said quickly, then realised that wasn’t strictly true. ‘Well, not in the way you’re thinking, anyway.’
‘So you’re saying I shouldn’t buy a hat but I might want to start thinking about nursery curtains?’
‘No! Definitely not that.’ The very thought of it made him shudder. If people were breakable, children were a million times more so. He’d learnt that early enough. Fatherhood was one responsibility he’d proved himself incapable of, and sworn never to have. And, given how badly he’d screwed up his marriage, it just proved that was the right decision.
His mother might be disappointed now, but even she had to accept that. There was, after all, a reason why she’d never asked him to babysit Heather again. Not after the accident.
Jacob sighed as they reached the top of the stairs. There was no way out of this that wasn’t going to make things worse. ‘Just...wait. Let’s go and find Dad. Then you’ll both know soon enough.’
James Foster’s office was at the far end of the hallway, its window looking out over the apple orchard behind the house. Jacob knocked on the door and waited, feeling like a sixteen-year-old boy again, in trouble because his science marks weren’t quite as high as they needed to be.
In the end, of course, it had been his flair for business that had taken the family company to new heights, not his scientific talents. For him, science had become something to work around rather than to experiment in. It was safer that way.
‘Come in.’
Even his dad’s voice sounded tired, Jacob realised. Whatever Heather wanted to believe, there was no denying that he wasn’t as healthy as he’d been even one month ago. But maybe his Christmas surprise would help. Remind his father of everything he had to live for.
Jacob pushed open the door and stepped into the study, his mother close behind him.
‘Jacob!’ James said, struggling to his feet. His arms felt brittle around him, Jacob thought. ‘To what do we owe the pleasure?’
‘Jacob has something to tell us.’ His mum had already settled herself into the armchair by the window, ready to listen. ‘And it has absolutely nothing to do with a woman, except that it might.’
‘Sounds interesting,’ his father said, sitting back down in his desk chair. ‘So, do tell.’
Jacob perched on the edge of a table, pushed up against the old fireplace. ‘Well, it’s about Christmas, actually.’
‘You’re bringing someone new?’ His mother clapped her hands in enthusiasm. ‘Except you said not a woman.’ Her eyes grew wide. ‘Is it a man? Because, darling, really, we just want you to be happy. And you can adopt these days, you know—’
‘I’m not bringing anyone,’ Jacob said firmly. ‘But I am taking you somewhere.’
‘Somewhere...not here?’ she asked. ‘But it’s Christmas.’
For a horrible moment it struck Jacob that Clara might actually have read his parents better than he had this time.
‘Do you remember that year we spent Christmas in Scotland?’ he asked, changing tack.
‘In the cottage?’ James said. ‘Of course. It was possibly the best Christmas we ever had.’
Of course it had been. The last Christmas before the accident. The last time his family had been able to look at Jacob without that shadow in their eyes. The one that told him that they loved him, of course—they just couldn’t trust him. Couldn’t believe in him. Couldn’t move past what had happened.
And neither could he.
This Christmas might not fix his mistakes but it was at least one more step in a long line of atonements. Maybe the last one he’d get to make to his father. He had to make it count.
Jacob forced a smile. ‘Well, good. Because I wanted to give you another Christmas like that.’
‘So you hired the cottage for Christmas?’ James frowned. ‘I thought that cottage was sold on, a few years later. Do you remember, Sheila? We tried to book again, didn’t we? Let me check my files...’
‘Not the same cottage.’ The last thing he needed was his dad disappearing into his filing cabinet for the afternoon. ‘Actually, I’ve found a castle, up in the Highlands. It has huge old fireplaces, four-poster beds... It’ll be perfect.’ Or so Clara promised him.
‘A castle? Jacob, where on earth do you find a castle for Christmas?’ His mother asked, astonished.
‘On the Internet, I imagine,’ his father said. ‘Was it on eBay, Jacob?
Because I’ve heard some stories...’
‘I haven’t bought the castle,’ Jacob explained. ‘We’re just hiring it. Clara said—’
‘Clara?’ Mum might be woolly on some things, but she homed right in on the mention of her ex-daughter-in-law. Jacob winced. He’d half hoped to get through this without having to explain the exact logistics. ‘What has Clara got to do with this plan? Are you two back together? What happened?’
‘No, it’s nothing like that.’ How to explain? ‘She runs a concierge and events company in London now, you see. I’ve hired her to organise us the perfect Christmas. I figured that since she already knew us...’
‘And left you,’ his mum pointed out. ‘Jacob, really. Are you sure this isn’t just an excuse to see her again? We all remember how mad you were over her. And how heartbroken you were when she left. We just don’t want to see that happen to you again.’
Jacob had a horrible feeling that they were going to believe this was all a cunning ploy to win his wife back, whatever he said. Unless...unless he told them about the divorce. He took one glance at his father and dismissed the idea. He couldn’t bear to lay that last disappointment, that last failure, on the old man.
‘I’m sure,’ he said instead. ‘My heart is fine.’
‘Well, I suppose it will be good for you to have some closure at last,’ his mum said dubiously. ‘But are you sure—’
‘Apparently it’s done,’ his father interrupted. Jacob’s mother looked at James in surprise.
‘Well, I only meant—’
‘And I meant it’s decided. We’re all having Christmas in Scotland.’ Jacob couldn’t quite tell if his father was pleased or disappointed by this news until he smiled, a broad grin that spread slowly across his whole face.
The tension in Jacob’s shoulders relaxed slightly. This was a good idea after all.
‘It’ll be good to see Clara again too,’ James said, casting a meaningful look in Jacob’s direction.
Jacob wasn’t at all sure that Clara planned to hang around long enough to be seen, but the moment his dad spoke the words he knew he’d try to make it so. His dad had always adored Clara; they’d had a strange connection she’d never quite managed with his mum or sister. Suddenly, Clara was just one more thing Jacob wanted to give his father for his perfect Christmas.
Even if it was only temporary. After all, Clara had never stayed past Boxing Day.
CHAPTER SIX
‘HAVE WE GOT the decorations?’ Clara asked, checking the list on her clipboard for the fiftieth time. They’d started their final checks at 6:00 a.m., and now it was almost seven. The early start was a pain, but necessary. Nothing could go wrong with this project.
‘Ours or theirs?’ Merry’s head popped out from deep inside a box emblazoned with courier logos. ‘I mean we have both, but which list are you ticking off right now?’
‘Theirs first.’ Organising two perfect Christmases at once had turned out to be rather more work than Clara had anticipated. What with Jacob’s ever-increasing wish list and Ivy’s last-minute announcement that, actually, she needed to send another letter to Father Christmas because she’d changed her mind about the colour of her bike, the last week had been rather more tense than Clara had hoped for.
Still, it was only two days until Christmas Day and the courier boxes were almost ready to go. Most would be sent to the Highland castle for the Fosters’ Christmas, and one or two would go to the hotel down the hill from the castle where Clara, Merry and Ivy would be spending their Christmas.
Ivy was still snoozing at home with her usual childminder, who’d come over super early as a favour. Clara had them all booked on the mid-morning train, first class, and planned to be at the hotel in time for tea.
She had an hour-by-hour plan for the next seventy two hours, much to Merry’s amusement. But there was plenty of setting up still to be done, and Clara wasn’t taking a single chance with the project. Everything had to be sorted, seamless and—most important—all in place before Jacob and his family arrived on Christmas Eve. That way she could be back at the hotel with Ivy and Merry in time for mince pies and mulled wine by the fire, and she wouldn’t have to see her ex-in-laws at all. She couldn’t run the risk of any of them meeting Ivy before Clara wanted them to.
It was all going to be perfect, as long as they stuck to the plan.
The plan also had an extra secret page that Merry would never see. A page planning exactly how and where to tell Jacob about Ivy. At the moment, she was opting for January. She’d set up a meeting with him early in the New Year, ostensibly to review the Perfect Christmas Project and discuss terms for the divorce. There was no sense in doing it sooner—she was pretty sure that discovering he was a father would not give Jacob his ideal Christmas. And by January surely she’d know for sure how best to do it.
Merry taped closed the box of decorations and added it to the stack waiting for the courier. ‘Okay. What’s next?’
‘Presents.’ It might have taken five hours, but Clara was pretty sure they’d found just the right gifts for Jacob’s family. Of course, if they had any sense they’d know instantly that Jacob hadn’t chosen them by himself. But then, Clara had found in the past with clients that they believed what they wanted to believe. So the chances were that James, Sheila and Heather would all open their gifts on Christmas morning and gush at how wonderful they were to Jacob.
Quite honestly, as long as Clara wasn’t there to see it, she didn’t care if the whole family spontaneously began believing in Santa again when they opened them.
‘Right. I’ve got all the gifts from Jacob to his family here, wrapped and labelled. I’ve got the presents that he dropped round from his mum and dad to ship up there too. And I’ve got Ivy’s bike, plus her stocking, and a suspiciously shiny gold parcel with no tag on it...’ Merry looked at Clara expectantly, gold parcel in hand. She gave it a little shake and listened carefully.
Clara rolled her eyes. ‘Yes, that’s yours. And no, you can’t open it until Christmas Day.’
‘Spoilsport.’ Merry pouted.
‘What about our suitcases?’ Clara asked as Merry put the gold parcel back in the courier box.
‘All packed and ready to go too.’ Merry gave her a patient smile. ‘Honestly, Clara, I know you want everything to be just perfect, but we’re on top of it. In fact we’ve gone one better than Santa already.’
Clara frowned. ‘One better than Santa?’
‘We’ve already made our list and checked it at least three times! We’re ready. It’s time to start looking forward to Christmas instead of fretting about it.’
Clara didn’t think she was going to be looking forward to anything until at least January the first—especially with the Harrisons’ Charity Gala still to pull off when they got back from Scotland. She’d been working double time after Ivy was in bed all week to try and get everything organised, and to make sure she could still take Boxing Day off to spend with her girl.
‘I just don’t want anything to go wrong. We just need to stick to the plan...’
As she said the words, the door from the street opened and she felt her heart drop. There, standing in the doorway in his coat and bright red wool scarf, was the one person guaranteed to make her life more difficult.
‘Jacob,’ she said, trying to muster up a smile. It would all be so much easier if the very sight of him didn’t send her mind spiralling into thoughts of what might have been, all over again. ‘You’re up bright and early. What can we do for you? We’re pretty much ready to go here, so if you’ve got anything you need to add to the courier boxes, speak now.’
‘No, I think you’re right.’ He flashed her a smile but his eyes were still serious. ‘We’re all ready to go.’
‘Great!’ Merry clapped her hands together. ‘In that case, I’ll get these picked up and we can go and catch our train!�
� Clara allowed herself just a smidgen of hope. Maybe her plan could stay intact after all.
‘Actually, I came here to suggest some alternative arrangements,’ Jacob said.
No. No alternative arrangements. No deviating from the plan.
Clara swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry and uncomfortable. ‘Alternative arrangements?’
‘Yes. It seems silly for you to go by train when I’m driving up myself. We’d get up there with much more time to spare. Why don’t you come with me?’
Clara glanced across at Merry, wondering how exactly to explain without words that driving to Scotland with her ex-husband sounded like the worst idea anyone had ever had in the history of the world. From the wideness of Merry’s eyes, she suspected her friend already knew that.
And she didn’t even know about Ivy being Jacob’s daughter.
Oh, this was just a nightmare.
* * *
Jacob watched as Clara and Merry appeared to undertake some sort of lengthy conversation without actually saying anything. He wished he was adept at translating the facial expressions and eye movements they employed but, as it was, he couldn’t follow at all.
Still, he could probably guess the gist of it. Clara would be begging her friend to help her get out of driving to Scotland with him, and Merry would be asking how, exactly, she wanted her to do that.
He was still the client, after all. And the client was always satisfied when it came to Perfect London.
The idea of asking Clara to drive up with him hadn’t occurred to him until he was halfway home from his parents’ house the day before. Once it had, it had all seemed astonishingly simple.
His father wanted Clara there for Christmas. And, if he was honest, so did Jacob. This was a last-chance family Christmas and, whether she liked it or not, Clara was still family. She was still his wife.
But not for much longer. He was ready to let her go. But if keeping her by his side one last time made his dad feel like all was right with the world, then Jacob would make it happen.
The Unexpected Holiday Gift Page 6
