Christmas at Holiday House - RaeAnne Thayne Page 0,33
a self-conscious smile.
He then headed back down the stairs.
* * *
“So your Thanksgiving was nice?” Lucy gazed at her laptop, open on the tiny kitchen table of her apartment in the Old City of Chiang Mai. Winnie’s face beamed out at her, lined and weathered and wonderful, her hair a cotton-candy-pink cloud around her face.
“Oh, it was wonderful,” her grandmother answered softly. “Abby is such a treasure. She was a champion, pitching right in to throw together dinner at the last minute.”
“I’m so glad. I knew she would be the perfect one to help you until I can get home to Silver Bells.”
“Weren’t we both lucky that she was available?”
“Definitely,” Lucy replied. Beside Winnie, she could see Christopher snuggled on the sofa, a blanket pulled over him, his dark curly hair sticking out.
“We missed you, of course. How was your day?”
“It’s not Thanksgiving here, so it was simply another school day, though I did try to explain the holiday to them. I’m not sure they quite grasped the concept of the Pilgrims and turkey and all.”
“This has been a good job for you, hasn’t it? You seem to love your students.”
She did and she very much enjoyed Chiang Mai. While Bangkok was the capital of Thailand, Chiang Mai was the historic capital, filled with temples and flea markets, ancient architecture and warm, generous people.
She didn’t want to tell Winnie yet that while she loved her students, she was beginning to feel a restless itch between her shoulder blades, as if something was missing.
“Where is Abby?” she said instead. “I see Christopher sleeping there but not his mother.”
Winnie waved her unbroken hand in a vague gesture. “I asked Ethan to give her a tour of the house, since I am not able to get around well with this stupid ankle.”
She hated seeing Winnie like this, unable to do all the things she would like.
Right now, her grandmother looked old and tired, without her natural exuberance. Lucy didn’t want to admit it, even to herself.
Winnie frowned a little. “Come to think of it, they have been gone awhile. Maybe they found something more interesting to do than look at my nutcrackers.”
That innocent expression of her grandmother’s didn’t fool Lucy for a moment. She narrowed her gaze. “Winifred Elizabeth Lancaster. What are you up to?”
“Who, me?”
“Don’t get any ideas about Abby and Ethan,” she warned.
“Would I do that?” Winnie’s eyes twinkled.
“In a heartbeat.”
Winnie looked around, as if to make sure the two people in question weren’t close enough to overhear. “You have to admit, they would make a lovely couple. Your brother needs a little softness in his life. Someone like Abby would be perfect for him. Much better than that Brooke Fielding ever would have been.”
Lucy could not disagree with that. She hadn’t loved her brother’s ex-fiancée. They had shared a friendly enough relationship and Brooke had been nice to Lucy. If Ethan had married her, Lucy would have tried hard to love Brooke like a sister. But Lucy had never been certain the other woman was right for Ethan. She had always had the vague impression that Brooke looked down on her for her eclectic fashion sense and for her career and life choices.
She had also noticed that whenever they were out in public, Brooke always looked around the restaurant or venue to see who might be looking and would become much more noticeably affectionate to Ethan if anyone paid them any attention.
That was probably petty of her, she admitted. She couldn’t help it. Despite Ethan saying the breakup had been a mutual decision, Lucy strongly suspected otherwise.
None of that mattered now. Brooke was happily married and had a huge social media following with her athlete husband.
“Abby might not be available,” Lucy warned. “Her heart was shattered when she lost Kevin. I don’t know if she’s ready to jump into something else. It’s only been two years. Plus, geography is an issue. She’s moving to Texas next month. Don’t meddle, Grandma.”
“I didn’t meddle,” Winnie protested. “I only asked them both to help me with something. Together. That’s not meddling.”
Her grandmother quickly changed the topic before Lucy could point out that was exactly what meddling meant.
“By the way, we had a particular friend of yours over for Thanksgiving. Sofia and Rodrigo were here, of course. I already told you they were coming. But then José joined us unexpectedly. It was so nice to see him. He looks good.”
It was a very good thing Lucy wasn’t prone to blushing, unlike Abigail, or she