I felt as if we were on a grand adventure. I don’t think there is a train system in the Midwest that comes close to the British railway system. Even though the inside of the train was modern, the experience of dashing to the station and feeling the sensation of rolling down the tracks made it seem as romantic as if we were in a movie from the Victorian era.
I thought about the fact that Peter and Ian both worked for the same architecture company in downtown London. “Do Ian and Peter take the train into work every day?”
“Ian does,” Miranda said. “I think Peter does, too. I’m not sure. I’ve never asked them. Would you like something to drink? This train has a snack bar.”
“Some tea would be nice.”
Miranda scooted into the narrow aisle. “Ellie? Julia? Would either of you like something?”
“Nothing for me,” Ellie said with a smile. “Julia, I brought along a juice box for you, if you’re thirsty.”
Julia had pulled out a coloring book and was busy giving a princess on the first page a blue-colored gown. She wasn’t interested in the juice yet.
Miranda gently touched my shoulder. “Would you like to come with me?”
“Sure.” I slid out and followed Miranda from our car through two other cars before we entered a crowded café car that had a line of people waiting to get up to the small snack bar window.
“Let’s sit here and wait for the line to get shorter.” Miranda slid onto a narrow bench and I squeezed in next to her.
“I was wondering,” Miranda said in a low voice. “Did it seem as if Peter was less talkative with you than he’d been at our wedding?”
Miranda’s gleaming eyes seemed to be searching my expression for clues as to what was going on. I didn’t know what she’d seen at the wedding reception and I had no idea what Peter may have said to her or to Ian about me.
Part of me wanted to lean in like schoolgirls at lunchtime and tell her all about my elevated dreams, Peter’s crushing explanation of our kiss, and how we had restarted yesterday as “friends.”
But I wasn’t used to talking about feelings like this with anyone, so the answer that came out was vague. “He and I had a chance to talk outside last night. It was a good talk.”
“That’s good.”
I nodded but didn’t say anything more. I liked Miranda very much and I had no reason not to believe that I could trust her. But there was a familiar voice in the back of my head that I had listened to since childhood. It was the voice of “Prudence.” Prudence had kept me nestled in my padded, safe cocoon for many years. She reminded me that once a secret is shared, it’s no longer a secret. And if it’s no longer a secret, it’s no longer yours alone.
Sitting beside Miranda on this rainy morning in the swaying club car on our way to London, I felt my timid temperament rising to the surface. It seemed best to keep all my secret Christmas wishes about Peter to myself.
When I didn’t provide any further information, Miranda honored my silence. She moved on to the facts that were common knowledge. “I’m glad that Peter volunteered to show you around London today. Is there anything you’re especially interested in seeing?”
“Big Ben. And maybe Saint Paul’s Cathedral. What are your favorite places? What do you recommend I see?”
“There’s so much. It depends on what you like. I enjoy the museums but I’m not sure how many of them will be open this evening. The V&A is one of my favorites—that is, the Victoria and Albert Museum. Both of the Tate Museums are wonderful. You have to see the front gate of Buckingham Palace, of course. And the Tower Bridge is always a favorite.”
“What do you think about the London Eye?”
Miranda thought for a moment. “Do you have any aversion to heights?”
“Not particularly.”
“I don’t either but it’s still pretty unnerving. It’s so high and the enclosures you ride in made me feel uneasy. I wanted something to hold on to. I only went on it once. Ian took me when I first moved here. It’s not my favorite thing but if Peter wants to take you, I suppose it’s sort of an initiation to welcome you to London.”
The line had shortened, so Miranda stood and motioned for me to join her.
“I have a feeling you’ll like whatever he takes you to see,” she said. “The Christmas decorations make everything in the city look especially beautiful.”
We ordered tea and carried the corrugated paper cups back to our seats. I was grateful that the lid was nice and tight because otherwise I most likely would have had a spill. We slid in across from Julia and Ellie and admired the progress Julia had made in her coloring book.
“It’s not as neat as I’d like it to be,” Julia said with a sigh. “It’s difficult to be neat when this train keeps being so jiggly.”
I took in the views of the countryside through the rain-streaked windows, sipped my tea, and enjoyed Julia’s happy chatter about every princess in her coloring book. She knew them all by name and each of them had a story.
When we arrived at Paddington Station, Julia held my hand as we tried to keep up with woman-on-a-mission Ellie. She got us into the queue outside at the taxi stand and I noticed the rain had stopped. I was grateful for that. It was still bone-chillingly cold and damp. I could feel the sharp breeze bringing icicle-like tears to my eyes.
“I never guessed England could be so cold.”
Elli was wrapped up to her nose in a blue-and-white snowflake scarf. “That’s saying something, coming from you. I have always imagined that there’s nothing but ice and snow in places like Minnesota. I think that’s because those are the only pictures they run on the news here. Whenever you break a new record for the windchill factor, our local weather reporter is eager to make it a top story.”
We were next in line for the taxi. A classic, big black British taxi rolled up and we got inside. Julia bounded in first. Her rosy-cheeked face showed that she was as excited about taking a London taxicab ride as I was. We turned to look right and left as we passed rows of lovely, tall white buildings and went through a roundabout with a towering statue.
“There it is!” Julia announced. “We’re almost there!”
We’d turned a corner and were pulling up to the front of Harrods. The impressive building was a city block long and trimmed with white lights, making the huge square building look like a giant gift box. I could only imagine how stunning it would look when it was lit up at night.
“It’s best if we stick together,” Ellie warned right before we exited the taxi. “I’ve gotten myself lost in this place before. Are we ready?”
We clumped together like a cluster of grapes in the midst of a well-kept vineyard. The throngs of determined shoppers seemed to give off a low hum of polite frenzy. It was as if everyone within a hundred miles of London woke up that morning and realized that Christmas was only four days away.
Once again Julia held my hand and Ellie led the charge. The elegance and beauty of every display took my breath away. The ceilings were ornately decorated and vastly different in style and design in every department. I’d never seen a store like this. The opulence of the Victorian era still reigned at Harrods.
The iconic department store was enormous but well organized. It wasn’t difficult to find our way to all the various departments on Ellie’s list.
My favorite department was the stationery section. Miranda purchased an expensive pen for Ian. Julia used her own money to buy a small wax and seal set for her brother with the initial M.
I lingered over a set of watercolors in a beautiful leather case. It seemed like the perfect souvenir but I couldn’t convince myself that I needed to buy it. I had long been an avid fan of Beatrix Potter and loved all her endearing, watercolored storybook characters. Jemima Puddle-duck and Peter Rabbit were my childhood favorites.
Running my fingers over the smooth leather case, I remembered the first time I tried to copy Beatrix’s beloved Peter Rabbit, for the Lake Minnetonka Junior Artists contest. I was nine and won first place. I still had the ribbon.
To her credit, my practical mother enrolled me in art classes and took me to the Minneapolis Institute of Art for lectures on Monet’s haystack paintings while I was still in grade school. She sought out opportunities for me to excel and I kept improving. My favorite project up until now was a book about a village of hedgehogs that lived in pastel-colored cottages and wore tweed suits and hats made out of buttons.
Through my drawings over the years, my romantic imagination had blossomed. I put my whole heart into every sketch I did. I loved the process of filling in the carefully curved lines with watercolors.
I smiled. No one knew about the secret gift I’d brought with me for Christmas. It was a children’s book for Peter’s young sister titled Molly the Little Lamb. I almost didn’t bring it with me but now I was glad I did.
My only regret was that I didn’t have a second book I could slide under the Whitcombe Christmas tree titled Julia the Lovely Princess.
I looked at the luscious watercolors one more time and felt the anxious hum of the other shoppers vibrating inside me now. How quickly could I draw and paint a picture of “Julia the Lovely Princess”? I clutched the set of watercolors and then stopped.
Better yet, what if I sketched the pictures in a notebook and Julia could color the drawings herself?
“Ready to move on?” Ellie asked. “I think it’s the Christmas room for us next. We need to hunt down a few specific ornaments.”
“I need to get one more thing.” I put down the leather box of watercolors and headed for the back wall to the impressive assortment of notebooks and journals. Julia followed me.
“Which one of these do you think I should get?” I asked her.
“I like this one.”
“So do I.” I picked up the very girly purple journal with blue flowers and headed for the cash register, smiling all the way.
Chapter Nine
After spending over half an hour prowling around every corner of the Christmas room, which provided an eye-popping array of decorations, we made our purchases and found our way to the ornate Georgian Restaurant for our much-anticipated afternoon tea.
All of us, including Julia, had bought ornaments in the Christmas room and were talking about them as we were seated at a round table. I said that the cute little teapot ornament I got reminded me of the sign that hung on the lamppost by the Tea Cosy and that it would always bring me a happy memory.
“It can also bring you a happy memory of our tea party right now,” Julia said enthusiastically. She scooted in her chair, getting comfortable.
“You’re right. I’m sure it will. I’ve never been in a tearoom like this before.”
“The décor used to be all pink,” Ellie said. “Ever so pink. I like this look much better.”
I glanced around at the gorgeous art deco style. Live palms and brass light fixtures added to the lush feeling of the burgundy-colored upholstery. I thought the design looked decadent in an almost-but-not-quite-over-the-top sort of way. The intricate Christmas decorations added a festive feeling.
“What type of tea should we have?” Ellie asked. “They’ve quite an assortment.”
The four of us studied the menu, reviewing the tea selections and reading the descriptions of the tea along with the details on where it had been grown. I selected the No. 16 Afternoon Special Blend for my tea. That was because Julia had whispered that we should have the same kind of tea and No. 16 Afternoon Special Blend was her “favorite” because it had the word special in the name.
Waiters in their formal attire soon delivered four individual teapots and poured the celebrated beverage for us into our china cups. The tea was loose tea, so they used silver strainers that were then placed in silver holders. We each had our own cream and sugar accoutrements. I added a splash of milk to the dark brew and took a cautious sip.
“Mmmm.”
“You sound like you’re purring,” Julia said politely. She sat up straight and added a spoonful of sugar and a generous amount of milk after the waiter poured only a half a cup of tea into hers. She took a sip, holding her cup with both hands, and imitated my purr of approval.
Ellie drew in a lingering sniff of her Jasmine Dragon Pearl Tea. “I must take some of this tea home with me. It’s so reviving.”
A three-tiered assortment of bite-sized tea treats was delivered to the table and we all listened closely as the waiter described the freshly baked pastry sweets on the top tier. Small, puffy scones occupied the middle tier and an assortment of finger sandwiches filled the lowest tier.
Julia and Ellie reached for the scones first.
“Still warm,” Ellie chirped. “Lovely. Scones are always best when they’re still warm. You must try the rose-petal jelly with the clotted cream. It’s heavenly.”
“I like mine with both the strawberry jam and the lemon curd.” Julia sounded like a little connoisseur of all things fancy as she expertly opened her biscuit-like scone and swirled the strawberry jam on the outside and decorated the center with the lemon curd.
“I think I’ve become a purist.” Miranda balanced half of a scone between her fingers and demonstrated how she had added a single dollop of the thick clotted cream to the center. It looked like a pointed ski cap. “I like to work my way to the center for the prize. But you really should try it all, Anna. That way you can decide what you like best.”
I followed the advice of my experienced hostesses and was not disappointed. The soft scone crumbled on my lips. The thick, sweet clotted cream and dab of rose-petal jelly turned the first bite into a mouthful of melting deliciousness. I took a sip of my dark tea and as the flavors combined and slowly coursed down my throat, I closed my eyes and smiled.
Now this is a tea party.
The few tea parties I’d experienced in my life were at occasional baby showers or church benefits. They had never tasted anything like this. I was now a lifetime fan of having tea with friends. Especially when it was done properly.
I thought about the cute little teapot I’d just bought and realized why the ornament felt like a treasure. It was the first ornament I’d ever purchased for myself. All the other Christmas ornaments I had helped hang on the tree over the years had been my mother’s ornaments. A few were my grandmother’s. Each one carried a special memory. But this teapot was my very first ornament and it was infused with memories that were mine alone. I was creating my own Christmas traditions and shaping my own memories of Christmas present as well as Christmas yet to come.
The surprising thing about our sumptuous treats was how full we all became from such small portions. Everything was delicious and so of course I wanted to try everything that was offered. The sweetness lingered in my mouth and I felt immensely content.
Miranda leaned back, looking equally content. “What shall we talk about now?”
We’d already discussed our favorite Christmases, our favorite Christmas presents, and our favorite Christmas carols. Julia had a new idea for us.
“Let’s talk about what we would do if we were a princess for a day.”
“All right,” Miranda said. “You go first, Julia.”
She wiggled in her posh chair as if she’d already given this much thought and was so glad someone had finally asked her.
“I would come to London and ride around in a taxi all day long. Whenever I wanted to stop and look at something, I would say, ‘Stop here, driver.’” She put up her hand and used such a cute Downton Abbey, upper-class voice, we all started laughing.
“He would stop and I would roll down the window and take pictures of all my favorite places before saying, ‘Drive on.’”
“That sounds like a very fun day,” Ellie said. “What would you wear?”
“I would wear a blue princess gown with long strings of pearls and a tiara, of course.”
“Of course,” I said.
“The tiara is the most important part,” Miranda said.
“Oh! And I would drink No. 16 Special Afternoon Tea all day long with milk and sugar and I would eat
as many pink macaroons as my tummy would hold.” Julia patted her middle and giggled.
We giggled with her. My imagination was popping with ideas for sketches to put in Julia’s customized purple princess coloring journal. I couldn’t wait to draw Princess Julia wearing her tiara and nibbling her pink macaroons in the long backseat of a big, black London taxi.
“Look!” Julia said, pointing behind me. “It’s Peter. What is Peter doing here?”
Instead of turning around to watch him approach our table, I leaned closer to Julia and said, “He’s taking me around London so I can see some of the sights.”
“In a taxi?” Julia’s expression was a burst of elation.
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“May we come, too?” Julia asked, looking up at Peter, who was now standing by my chair.
“Not this time,” Ellie answered quickly so that I didn’t have to. “We need to get home with all these gifts. You’re the best gift wrapper I know, Julia. You wouldn’t desert me in my time of gift-wrapping need, would you?”
I turned my head and smiled up at Peter. He smiled back, looking nice in his navy blue peacoat with a Christmassy red wool scarf around his neck.
“Maybe next time, Princess Julia,” I whispered before getting up.
Peter pulled out my chair for me and I tried to go through the motions as gracefully as possible. I reached down to get my purse and Julia whispered, “I wish you had a tiara you could wear.”
I kissed the tip of my finger and touched the kiss to the top of her nose. I didn’t need a tiara. Or pearls. Or a flowing blue gown or any pink macaroons. I had everything I’d dreamed of during the months I’d thought about this return trip to England.
Of course, my dreams of how it would be when I got to spend time with Peter had been conjured up with a much more vividly romantic imagination. Just like Julia, the little girl princess in me had imagined a storybook full of fanciful scenarios. But at that moment it didn’t matter that Peter was escorting me as a “just friends” sort of tour guide. This real-life scenario was almost as thrilling as anything I’d dreamed up.
Kissing Father Christmas Page 4
