Edna sighed. ‘Freya, you’re always so … sensible. Sorry, Sally, hold that slice order.’ She turned to him, her blue gaze sharp. ‘Now, Drew, about coming for dinner …’
Sally brought over his coffee and two hot chocolates which granted him a brief reprieve from Edna’s matchmaking. Sally’s sympathetic glance suggested she’d made their order as fast as she could.
Before Edna’s focus could zero back in on him, Freya smiled gently. ‘Edna, I’m so glad I’ve seen you as I’ve something I’d like your expert opinion on.’
Drew hid a grin as he took a swallow of coffee. He could add diplomacy to Freya’s considerable list of skills.
Edna’s hand fluttered over her chest with false modesty. ‘Of course. Ask away. I’ll be happy to help.’
‘This Christmas will be tough for Hattie, as well as the Reedy Creek and Woodlea communities, and I’ve been trying to think of a way to lift everyone’s spirits.’
Edna nodded.
‘I wonder if something like a mailbox decorating competition might be fun? There’s only two weeks before Christmas but it will be enough. We could have different categories like best light display, most creative, most rural, best decorated, so that way there’s a few prizes given out to reward people’s efforts.’
Edna’s smile contained real warmth. She patted Freya’s hand. ‘That’s such a good idea. I already know some businesses who’d be happy to donate a prize. And it goes without saying, I’d be the best person to judge the contestants.’
Drew spoke while he could get a word in. ‘I’d be happy to also contribute a prize.’
Freya’s smile thanked him more than her words could have.
Edna got to her feet, her takeaway cup in her hand. When there was a crisis or event to be organised, there wasn’t any better person than Edna.
‘Right. Leave this to me. I’ve got donations to collect. Freya, I’ll call you tonight to finalise details but I’d like to make a formal announcement in the Woodlea News tomorrow. The sooner people get decorating the better.’
Freya stood to hug Edna. ‘Thank you.’
The surprise widening Edna’s eyes confirmed she wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of such a gesture. ‘You’re welcome.’
Drew came to his feet.
As Freya stepped away, Edna looked between the two of them, her eyes narrowing.
‘Freya, you’ll be happy to know I spoke to the builder working on your house and he said you’ll be able to move back in by the end of the week.’ The high-wattage smile she beamed towards Drew made his teeth clench. ‘I said to Mrs Knox when I saw you at the ball last spring that the time would come when you’d realise you can’t work all the time. Freya will soon be gone and you’ll be all alone in that huge house of yours, so I’ll make sure my Bethany calls around. How does Monday sound?’
Chapter Three
‘I missed you too,’ Freya said between laughter as Bailey did a happy dance around her.
She shifted the box balanced on her hip to a more secure position. The way the young kelpie bounced as though he’d scoffed too many red jelly beans meant she was likely to trip over him. She carefully made her way along the paved garden path. Afternoon shadows dappled the lawn and the heat had lessened but it wouldn’t truly be cool until the moon had risen.
After giving the liver-coloured kelpie a last pat, she used the spare key to unlock the kitchen door. She returned the key to the left boot of the pair that sat on the rack at the back door. From the age and style of the boots, she guessed they’d been Drew’s father’s.
She checked the messages that had accumulated on her mobile while she’d taught her first Christmas craft class. It had been a fun afternoon filled with laughter and friendship. Hattie had sat next to eight-year-old Zoe and they’d swapped pony stories while making their felt Christmas tree decorations. Zoe was a leukaemia survivor and displayed a wisdom and empathy beyond her years.
Freya’s first message was from her builder. Despite his reassurances to Edna, his words confirmed there was no way Freya could move back in until the new year. The supplies he needed wouldn’t be available until after the Christmas break.
She listened to three more messages and when she was done dialled Fliss’s number.
‘Hi, Freya, how did your craft class go?’
‘Really good. We had a table full of people, young and old, and when we weren’t making a mess, we were eating. Taylor brought a gingerbread brownie that I’m sure I ate half my body weight in.’
Fliss laughed. ‘I’ll have to ask her for the recipe. Speaking of all things sweet, and not so sweet, I called earlier to say thank you. Sal said you came between Edna and a piece of caramel slice.’
‘Let’s just say a gentle reminder about logical consequences can work as well with adults as it does with kids.’
‘I’ll have to remember that. Give me a stubborn, hard-headed and risk-taking cowboy any day. I can’t seem to get through to Edna.’
‘You’d be surprised how much she does listen to you. If she didn’t, she’d still have eaten the slice.’
‘Maybe. Ever since I supposedly dumped Rodger at school I haven’t exactly been her favourite person.’
‘Yes, the day I met her, she did happen to mention you broke her son’s heart when you were both twelve. She also said it was Woodlea’s lucky day when you decided to return to town.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes, really, and she meant it. But don’t worry, I’ve joined you in her so-called bad books. She hasn’t come out and directly said anything, but she doesn’t approve of me staying with Drew.’
‘No, she wouldn’t. It’s not that she’d think your reputation’s at risk. The whole district knows Drew’s a gentleman like his father. It’s just that she’s been biding her time waiting for a sign that Drew’s ready for a social life again. His invitation to have you stay could be seen as proof he’s realised there’s more to life than his precious cows.’ Fliss paused and when she spoke her tone had lowered. ‘Freya … don’t worry about Bethany. She isn’t Drew’s type.’
Heat filled Freya’s cheeks and she was glad this wasn’t a video call. There was no point misunderstanding what Fliss had said. Fliss’s intelligent hazel eyes saw too much. When she’d come to the school Christmas concert, Freya had felt Fliss’s gaze on her when she’d briefly talked to Drew. ‘Thanks. I won’t.’
‘Great. Drew’s one of the good guys.’ To Freya’s relief, Fliss changed the subject. ‘Your mailbox idea has caught on. Apparently the grocery store has sold out of tinsel.’
‘That’s wonderful.’
‘It is. Now before I go, don’t forget Christmas lunch is at Cressy’s and, if you can, bring Drew. We’d love to see him.’
‘Will do. I’ll mention it. Talk to you soon.’
Freya ended the call and stared at her phone. Why had Fliss reassured her that Bethany wasn’t Drew’s type? Was it so obvious he intrigued her?
Indecision held her still. Now that she knew her house wouldn’t be habitable again until after Christmas, should she continue to stay? Self-preservation warred with practicality. Drew already affected her far more than he should and she wasn’t the only one to have noticed. The sensible thing would be to remove the risk to her heart by leaving.
But her conscience wouldn’t allow her to go. Drew had offered her a bed when she’d needed one. He’d given Panda a home so Hattie wouldn’t have to part with her childhood pony. He didn’t deserve to be by himself at Christmas. She hadn’t missed the loss etched on his face when he’d talked about Hattie’s parents and his own. If it still suited him, she’d remain at Inglewood.
By the time Bailey and Panda were fed and the aroma of roast chicken filled the kitchen, shades of crimson and gold streaked the sky. The engine of Drew’s farm ute sounded and Freya glanced at the kitchen clock. He was home a little earlier today. He entered the kitchen, his royal blue work shirt and jeans dusty and a streak of grease on his cheek. She glanced away before the tight stretch of his shirt
made her pulse race. She didn’t need any reminder of the hard-packed contours that lay below.
He set the esky on the bench with a tired grin.
‘Inglewood’s harvest’s officially done.’
‘That’s great news.’ She crossed the kitchen to collect the bottle of wine she’d sat on the bench the night she arrived. ‘I think that calls for a celebration. You get your life back.’
The corner of his mouth kicked into a grin. ‘I do … for a day or two. We then start harvest on the other farm. But I’ll still drink to being finished here. Well … I will as soon as I’m clean.’
It wasn’t long until he returned, his dark hair shower-damp, feet bare and wearing worn jeans and a black T-shirt. The woody scent of his aftershave seduced her senses and she fought to keep her appreciation from showing as she placed two wine glasses on the bench. It hadn’t mattered how expensive Charles’s cologne had been, it had never made her toes curl.
She glanced at the kitchen table and only realised her brow had furrowed when Drew stopped uncorking the wine bottle to look at her.
‘I’m guessing you haven’t eaten yet. It’s okay. We don’t need to sit at the table, the bench will be fine.’
She hoped her nod didn’t communicate her relief. Sitting around a bench would be far less intimate and formal than sitting across the table from each other. ‘Sounds good to me.’
The wine was poured and chicken and vegetables heaped onto two white plates. Drew sat on the other side of the island bench, leaving a wide space between them. Before he ate, he lifted his glass to clink against Freya’s.
‘Thanks again for the wine and also for dinner. My stomach’s not going to appreciate going back to my own cooking next week.’
‘You’re welcome.’ She took a sip of wine. ‘It turns out I won’t be able to move back home in a hurry. My builder left a message with the bad news this afternoon.’
Drew’s casual expression didn’t change. ‘Stay as long as you like. Not that I’d tell Edna, but I’ve enjoyed having some company and I know Bailey and Panda have too.’
As relaxed as Drew’s words were, his tight hold on his cutlery suggested he wasn’t as comfortable as he appeared.
‘Are you sure? The only thing is I mightn’t be able to move back until the new year.’
‘It’s all good. I’ll just be working.’ Drew sliced off a piece of chicken before his eyes searched hers. ‘That’s if you want to stay until then? I understand if you’d rather go elsewhere.’
There was just something, a faint rasp in his words, a flicker of darkness in his eyes that reassured her she’d made the right decision. It wasn’t right for him to be alone over Christmas with only his grief for company.
‘No, there’s nowhere else. I’d like to stay.’ She smiled. ‘Besides, Hattie and I haven’t decorated your mailbox yet. Now everyone’s getting into the Christmas spirit, we also might have to go a little bigger than planned.’
He groaned. ‘Go bigger? As in what the Knoxes have done to their mailbox and front entrance? There’s hay bales made to look like reindeer and fairy lights strung everywhere.’
‘Exactly.’ She didn’t try to hide the enthusiasm in her voice. ‘But if Woodlea’s already out of tinsel it’s not looking good for finding what we need to go big.’
To Freya’s surprise he set his knife and fork on his plate and came to his feet. A smile lit his eyes. ‘I have something to show you that might help with your go-big vision.’
For a second she thought he’d hold out his hand to help her manoeuvre herself off the high stool. But then he slid his hands deep into his jeans pockets and turned away.
‘Where are we going?’ She wriggled off the seat to follow him along the hallway and into the west wing.
‘You’ll see,’ he said over his shoulder.
He stopped in front of a door.
‘You know how I said my mother was Canadian?’
Freya nodded.
‘Well, you both have something in common.’
He opened the door.
‘She too loved Christmas.’
* * *
If Drew had been an artist he would have captured the moment Freya’s face registered the room before her was filled floor-to-ceiling with Christmas items.
Golden reindeers sat in open boxes, ornaments filled clear storage tubs and wreaths hung from hooks along the picture rails.
‘No way,’ she breathed.
He nodded and braced himself should she hug him like she’d done to Edna. There was a joyous brightness to her eyes as she turned to smile at him. Instinct warned him that having Freya in his arms once would never be enough.
But instead of hugging him she stepped into the room and placed her hands on her cheeks. ‘There’s … so … much … stuff.’
‘That’s why this room’s known as the Christmas room.’ He touched the head of a nearby Santa Claus. ‘It was always my mother’s favourite time of year and she went all out to celebrate.’ He reached for a red box decorated in gold scrolls. ‘Much to my teenage embarrassment.’ He removed the lid and took out a photo. ‘At twelve Fliss might have been dumping Rodger, but I was still having photos taken with Santa.’
Freya laughed softly. She leaned in close to see the picture nestled in the ornate frame. Her sweet floral scent replaced the mustiness of a room whose door hadn’t been opened in years. ‘You look so … solemn.’
‘That’s a nice way of describing my expression … I think a more apt word would have been scowl. Needless to say, if Mum had the photo out and Brett was coming over to ride motorbikes, I’d hide it.’
Freya stared at the picture. ‘You know … the scowl doesn’t reach your eyes. I think what this photo says is that you loved your mum and wanted to make her happy.’
‘Yes. I did.’
Freya touched his hand where he held the frame. ‘There’s nothing wrong with that.’
Then before he could examine her expression, she moved away to run her fingers over the snowy roofline of a gingerbread house. ‘Many of these things are too good to use outside. Maybe I could decorate the living room and put up the tree I can see over in the corner? We can then put our presents for Hattie under there?’
‘That’s a good idea. It’s been so long since anything was used … Feel free to decorate more than just the living room.’ He dipped his head towards a box of Christmas lights. ‘I have a camping generator that could provide power for anything we might want to use for the mailbox display.’
The smile she flashed at him was so beautiful it dazzled him more than any string of fairy lights. ‘We?’
‘Yes. If there’s one thing my mother taught me, it’s never say no to a woman wearing a poinsettia apron and whose arms are full of tinsel.’
‘I would have liked your mother.’
Drew turned to hide how much Freya’s words moved him. With her generous heart and empathy, his parents would have liked her too.
‘We’d better finish eating. I just wanted to show you what’s here so you won’t have to worry about not having enough decorations.’
As they ate, and their wine glasses were emptied, they discussed plans for the front entrance. Every so often Freya would glance down the hallway and he knew she couldn’t wait to take a closer look at the Christmas room.
When Freya rested her fork and knife together he collected their plates and carried them over to the dishwasher.
‘I’ll bring in a ladder from the shed. Give me a yell if there’s anything you still can’t reach.’
‘Will do. I take it you’ll be over there doing whatever secret men’s business Cressy says happens in sheds and usually takes hours.’
He didn’t know if it was the wine or the way Freya’s teasing eyes held his, but his man-cave was the last place he wanted to be. ‘Yes, I’ll make a start on the jobs I need to do over the next two days so I have some time to help you and Hattie decorate the mailbox.’
Freya smoothed wisps of loose hair behind her ear. ‘Anything
I can help you with?’
He smothered the urge to reach over and slide his hands through her heavy hair. The need to set it free so it tumbled over her shoulders kept him awake at night. ‘No, thanks. Many of the jobs are just maintenance to make sure we’re harvest-ready, like blowing down the header with the air compressor to reduce the fire risk.’
‘Okay.’ She rubbed her palms together, smile wide. ‘I’ll leave you to have fun in the shed and I’ll get busy seeing what treasures are hiding in your mother’s special room.’
* * *
It was only when an owl disturbed the silence that Drew realised how late it was. He should have known he’d lost track of time when Bailey headed off to his kennel beneath the old plane tree. Drew turned off the shed light and stepped outside. Stars glittered overhead, their pinpricks of light reminding him of the star-shaped fairy lights that would soon illuminate his front gate.
The temperature had dropped and a stiff breeze delved beneath his shirt collar. He slowed his stride to enjoy the respite from the summer heat. A frog croaked from over near the rainwater tank. He wasn’t the only one making the most of the cool darkness before the sun rose.
Restlessness coursed through him, along with an unfamiliar reluctance to spend the new day working like he normally did. He’d only ever wanted to follow in his father’s and grandfather’s footsteps. He was happiest out in the paddocks, mustering his cattle or fixing machinery in his shed. Inglewood had sustained him these past years but now something felt … missing. Maybe Edna was right, maybe he did need a social life?
The kitchen lights were off when he entered, but even in the gloom he could see the shimmer of red tinsel and the glitter of gold. His steps slowed. He hadn’t realised how much he’d missed seeing the house reflect his mother’s love for all things Christmas. While driving the header, and even fixing the windmill, his father’s quiet presence was embedded in the memories of when they’d worked side by side. But his connection to his mother hadn’t felt as strong. Until tonight.
A scrape echoed down the hallway and drew him towards the living room. The wash of light beyond the doorway said Freya was still awake. He walked through the doorway and stopped. It wasn’t the explosion of Christmas items that held him still, but the woman with her back to him.
Under Christmas Stars Page 3
