Chapter Four

Lexie sat on her mum's sofa, blanket pulled up around her knees, sipping the mulled wine that her mum had made them. "Made" being a fancy way of saying "heated up"—it was out of one of those premade mulled wine bottles from Tesco. But it was still good, and they'd stuck some orange slices and a cinnamon stick in there for good measure. The Christmas tree was up in the corner, decorated in red and gold, and a fire crackled in the center of the room.

Everything felt comfortingly familiar. This was the house where Lexie had grown up. She'd thought, once, that they might have to leave after her dad left. She'd thought her mum might have wanted a fresh start, when she'd heard her sobbing in her bedroom, or seen her break down over a stray men's sock that she'd found. But Lexie had hated that idea and had made that clear—crying all night one time at the suggestion. Because this was her home, and she hadn't wanted to leave it. And secretly, she'd been worried that her dad would never come back if they moved. She wasn't sure of the ins and outs of it, but at some point it had been decided that they'd stay. But even though her mum had moved on, had redecorated her bedroom and gotten Lexie to help with the painting, and even though Lexie had been the one who'd wanted to stay, over time she'd come to resent the house a little. Because it became the house her dad had left, the one he hadn't come back to.

She had so many good memories here. Sleepovers with friends, film nights spent in with her mum. But isn't it funny sometimes how the bad memories can consume the good?

Her mum was in the adjoining kitchen, stirring a homemade pasta sauce. She did pasta very well—any type of pasta you could imagine. But anything else in the kitchen had the tendency to go a bit wrong.

"It doesn't make sense," Lexie huffed as she sipped her mulled wine. "Did you know? Did he tell you?"

She didn't know how much her mum and dad had talked. When Lexie was little, they'd undoubtedly liaised on timings for when Lexie was supposed to see him, and as she'd gotten older, she knew her dad had sometimes tried to go through her mum to get to her, when she wouldn't answer, but presumably the conversations were limited.

There was the briefest hesitation. "No."

"Mum!"

"He didn't, Lex. He just…We spoke a few times in the past year. I didn't know it, but he was ill and he wanted to connect with you and I didn't know for sure but I thought there might have been something he wanted to…"

"Forget it. I don't want to know."

Hearing this made her feel all bitter and twisted inside. Partly because her mum seemed to be insinuating that she should have answered her dad's calls, should have magically forgiven him after he'd let her down again and again. And her mum had been there the day she'd turned twenty-one—she knew exactly why Lexie had decided that enough was enough. So, what, was she supposed to feel guilty now? Because in the last year of his life he'd finally decided he wanted to be a dad to her again? Well, it didn't work like that.

"I didn't know, Lexie," her mum said again. "We didn't speak all that much. And he didn't tell me about the cancer, I think because he didn't want you to hear about it from me, but…"

"But what?" She snapped the words, then took a breath. She sounded like a teenager—something about being in this house, perhaps. She shouldn't have been taking this out on her mum. "Sorry. I just…I don't know how to process this. I don't want to run his stupid business. I don't even live in the UK right now. Am I supposed to just change my entire life for this?" Though it looked like she didn't have much of a choice. Fran, much to Lexie's dismay, hadn't immediately seen a "get-out clause" in that fancy solicitor brain of hers.

"You could move back, if you wanted to."

"I have a job in Austria, Mum. They let me fly home for the funeral, but they want me back on Boxing Day."

Her mum didn't respond to that—Lexie knew her mother didn't take any of Lexie's jobs seriously, probably because they never lasted all that long. But Lexie would be letting the family down if she quit, and even if it was only a seasonal job, that didn't mean she didn't care about it.

"Think of the money at the end of this. If you sell the company for a profit you might have enough to put down a deposit on a house."

" If it makes a profit. If it doesn't, I could be stuck for five more years. And besides, Theo is annoyingly right. I know nothing about running a business or how to make a profit."

"Theo is the man you have to work with?"

"Yes, the man who hates me. The complete stranger Richard deemed important enough to give half his company to."

Lexie looked over to the kitchen stove to see her mum raise her eyebrows at "Richard" rather than "Dad," but she didn't comment. Instead she said, "I'm sure he doesn't hate you."

Lexie said nothing—it seemed petulant to argue.

"And I'm sure your dad had a reason for this, Lexie."

"Right, because all his actions in the past have been so reasonable."

Her mum glanced over at her—and she could feel the assessment in that glance. "I think it's worth remembering that things are always a little more complicated than they seem."

Lexie snorted, then groaned. "Sorry. Sorry I'm being cranky. It's just…It's been a long day." She didn't know whether to bring up the fact that Rachel had been left a house—or whether that would highlight the divide between Richard's two families. Her mum had always been so great, tried to encourage a relationship with her sister, no matter how much it hurt her. It was part of the reason Lexie had shied away from having a relationship with Rachel, really—she'd seen how much it hurt her mum, the fact that her dad had started over with someone new, and she'd seen her mum try to put that aside, for her. At that thought, she got up, set her mulled wine down on the coffee table, and went into the kitchen.

She wrapped her arms around her mum, breathing in the floral scent from the same perfume she'd worn since Lexie was a kid. "I'm sorry for moaning."

Her mum squeezed her arm. "It's a lot to take in. But one thing at a time, my darling. Go into the office tomorrow, see what's what. Try to understand what's expected of you. Then go from there."

One step at a time. Surely she could do that?

—

After an hour with Theo in the office, she was very much thinking she could not do that, and repeating one step at a time inside her head was doing nothing to help. He'd shown her around, but grudgingly—and only because Ange had watched them from the corner of the room before disappearing off somewhere. Despite the brevity of Theo's tour, Lexie was pleasantly surprised to find out that the art decorating the walls was all from different countries—all places R&L Travel arranged trips to.

Lexie had, at least, learned more about what the company actually did. She'd done her research last night to be prepared but had let Theo explain it to her—in a ridiculously condescending manner—just in case she'd misunderstood something. The whole idea was based around cultural traditions and allowing people to experience key holidays around the world and get to know a country through the way they celebrate. See the world through celebration. There were trips for the more universal holidays like Christmas, but there were also trips specific to certain areas, like the Tomato Festival in Spain or St. Patrick's Day in Ireland. It was a travel company, yes, but based entirely around celebrating different cultures and experiencing new things.

Though she'd prepared herself last night, Lexie had to try very hard not to feel bitter as Theo explained this. Because the more she thought about it, the more it seemed like her dad had taken something she'd thought of as their family tradition when she was growing up—experiencing Christmas in a different place each year—and turned it into a moneymaking scheme. The whole thing left a sour aftertaste, one she was having trouble swallowing away.

There were two desks out front, and Theo and Lexie were currently hovering around one of them, while Harry—with the blond hair and tortoiseshell glasses—alternated between sitting at the other desk, watching Theo and Lexie, and jumping to his feet to attempt to deal with customers. Lexie wasn't entirely sure why Harry had been let loose with said customers, because he didn't seem to know anything, declaring every holiday in the brochure an "awesome" one, and answering any query with "You know what, that's a great question."

After Harry failed to deal with the latest inquiry, Theo shoved the brochure that he was running through into Lexie's hand, marched over to where Harry was smiling and nodding as a couple explained they weren't sure where in Germany they'd like to go, and grabbed his forearm, pulling him to one side. Lexie smiled weakly at the couple as they looked over, the brunette woman arching her eyebrows as she flexed her fingers on the brochure, engagement ring very clearly on show.

"Harry," Theo said in an undertone, "you know you do need to actually learn the answers to some questions?"

"I know," Harry said, nodding serenely, playing with his tie—another Christmas one, with little Rudolphs staring out at Lexie. "It's just a lot to remember, my man."

Lexie hid a smile, then cleared her throat. Both of them looked over at her. "Harry, if it helps, the German Christmas Market trip can be done in Munich or Aachen, and it can be from three to eight nights, depending on what they want to cross off." They continued to stare at her, and she shrugged. "It was a question about forty-five minutes ago."

"See, even she knows the answer and an hour ago she had no idea what we bloody did here."

Theo let go of Harry's arm and Harry bounded off back to the couple with an undimmed toothy smile.

Lexie crossed her arms, leveling a look at Theo. " I'm going to point out that she has a name. Maybe you ought to learn it, given it appears we'll be working together in some capacity for the next year."

He said nothing, but the amber in his eyes flared.

"And I knew what you did here before you explained it to me like I'm a five-year-old."

He flicked one eyebrow up. His unimpressed, scathing look. "Is that so?"

"Yes. And the Lemon Festival in France is the one I'd pick to go on, in case you were wondering." She deliberately named one of the holidays he hadn't run through with her yet, adding a sweet smile for the hell of it.

He gave her a long look—one that made her begin to feel self-conscious enough to ask, "What?"

"Nothing. Your dad liked that one too, that's all."

There was a moment of quiet and Lexie wondered whether she should say something—acknowledge the man who had put them in this situation.

But Theo spoke again, and the moment was lost. "Come on." He gestured toward the back room. "I'll show you how we do the accounts."

"Yippee," Lexie muttered under her breath.

Theo led her to the back room, where she'd stashed her suitcase earlier that morning. There was a mini fridge, an old armchair—and one desk. Clearly, at some point the room had been made to look nice—with bright green walls and a fancy coffee machine—but it had become inundated with clutter. Theo and Lexie both stepped around Lexie's abandoned suitcase, and then Theo sat down and woke up the monitor—though Lexie was pretty sure this must be Ange's desk. There were homemade Christmas cards sitting there, clearly made by young hands—one a weirdly shaped Christmas tree, the other a star with many points. Next to the cards was a photo of Ange with two toddlers—grandkids, maybe?

"The password is Mothball23—Ange's suggestion."

Lexie placed her hand to her heart in mock sincerity. "Wow, you're telling me the password? Have I proved myself worthy?"

Theo didn't bother to answer her, and he moved his chair an extra inch away when she came to stand behind him so she could see what he was doing.

She cleared her throat. "So are you planning on—?"

She was cut off by the sound of the office door opening as Ange came in, holding two steaming mugs. "Here, I brought you some—Argh!" She stumbled, nearly tripping over Lexie's suitcase.

Lexie lurched toward Ange and managed to rescue the mugs before the liquid spilled everywhere.

"Sorry!" Lexie said. "I didn't know where to leave it."

Ange frowned down at the suitcase.

"I'm staying at my friend's tonight," Lexie explained. Fran had invited her round for a proper girls' night in—facials, wine, popcorn, the whole lot.

"Right. And, ah, how long are you planning on staying there?"

"Just one night." Then they were doing something together for Christmas Eve tomorrow. "But I hadn't really unpacked at my mum's so it seemed easier to bring the whole thing…"

Which clearly sounded stupid, from the look on Ange's face. But it was something she'd gotten used to doing—packing everything up, taking it all with her. She decided not to mention there was a green canvas bag too, which was sitting in the corner by the coats, out of harm's way, due to the fact that her breakable wish jar was stowed in it, along with some overnight essentials.

"I see. Well. I brought you both tea. I put an extra sugar in yours, Lexie—thought you could probably use it."

Theo leaned back in the swivel chair and crossed his arms but said nothing in response to the dig. And fine: even through the shirt he was wearing you could tell they were impressive arms. Just because you hated someone didn't mean you couldn't appreciate a nice set of arms.

"And what is it you're lecturing her about now, Theo? Or are you just going to keep reciting the brochures, which she can look at herself?"

"He's showing me the accounts," Lexie said, injecting a healthy measure of sugary sweetness into her voice.

"Accounts? For God's sake, Theo."

"We have to make a profit—she needs to know the accounts," Theo said, deadpan.

"The way you ‘know the accounts,' you mean?" Ange held up her fingers to demonstrate the air quotes. She huffed out an impatient breath. "We have an accountant, Lexie. And then the rest is down to me. None of the rest of them would have any idea if we were turning a profit or not if I didn't explain it to them in the quarterlies."

"And, er, who are the rest of them?" She was thinking of Harry—she doubted very much that he got an invite to the P&L meetings.

Ange put her hands on her hips and gave Theo a look that made him shift uncomfortably in the chair. "You are boring her with accounts rather than telling her who she's going to be working with? I swear to God, T-Rex…"

Lexie let out a short laugh. "T-Rex?"

Theo said nothing to that, but Lexie saw a muscle in his jaw spasm.

"He only gets called that when he's behaving like a bigheaded dinosaur. Like now. And get out of my damn chair while you're at it, Theo."

Theo did as he was told, while Lexie wondered if he had been deliberately trying to bore her—maybe he thought she'd quit if it was too dull? But what use would that do anyone? He could whine about it all he liked, but they were stuck in this together. Or maybe he just wanted to punish her. Which boded well for the next twelve months.

Ange sat down, while Lexie took a sip of her tea—sweet, like Ange had promised. "Your dad was the founder and director, of course—and he had the largest stake in the business, which is why he could hand it over to you. Then there's Mike. I was hoping he'd be here to meet you, but he's spending Christmas abroad. Anyway, Mike's a director, so he gets bonuses and the like if the company does well, but he doesn't actually own any of it—that's now you and Theo."

Theo perched on the corner of Ange's desk, slurped his own tea. "Which Mike loves, I'm sure."

Ange said nothing, but a look passed between them—so perhaps there was another reason Mike hadn't come along to say hi.

"Then there's me, obviously," Ange went on, pushing her gray hair back. "But I just do a bit behind the scenes, I'm not the one doing the important bits."

"I'd beg to differ there," Theo said quietly, in a tone that surprised Lexie a little.

Ange offered him a small smile before carrying on. "We have a couple of girls who work part-time, and then Harry. Say what you want about the boy, but at least he shows up when you need him." She clapped her hands together. "Now, how about we all show some holiday cheer, hmm? We're supposed to be the ones people come to when they want an epic holiday somewhere they've never been before—and one look at the two of you on the shop floor earlier would suggest that we are, instead, the place to come when you want a holiday filled with disappointing overpriced food and a mediocre hotel room."

Lexie couldn't help the smile that tugged at her lips.

"Why don't you show her the Iceland trip you and Richard were working on, Theo?"

A shot of unpleasant electricity ran down Lexie's spine. "Iceland?"

"It's a trip your dad was thinking about for years, but we've never been able to get it off the ground. Theo, have you got the folder?"

She gave him a little push and he put his tea down, heading to the back of the room, where a filing cabinet was half hidden among the clutter.

"We have folders for each new idea," Ange explained to Lexie, "and the idea is to be creative, stick on things that might work, lots of just throwing everything in before the team sits down and works out what the holiday will actually be." She smiled encouragingly. "It's the fun part. And there's loads to love about Christmas in Iceland—they have thirteen Father Christmases, which we figured would draw in the family crowd. And the geothermal pools, for the honeymooners. Theo! Where is the folder?"

"I'm trying to find it, give me a chance."

But Lexie had put her mug down on Ange's desk and taken a step back. She felt suddenly light-headed and took a breath to steady herself. "No, that's OK. I don't need to see it." She put a hand on the handle of her suitcase. "Actually, do you know what? I think I'm done. I'm so sorry. But it's Christmas and I've got loads to do and I just can't…We can make a plan another time, OK?"

Theo frowned at her from the corner of the room, one hand still inside the filing cabinet. "You can't just—"

But Ange cut him off with a look, before turning to give Lexie a searching look. After a moment, she nodded. "OK. Don't worry, we close early ahead of Christmas Eve anyway—I for one want to spend some time with my family over the next few days, and I have an appointment at the panto with my granddaughters this evening. You're right. I'm sure this has all been overwhelming. We'll sit down and make an action plan after Christmas, OK?"

"Yes, thank you," Lexie mumbled, feeling a rush of gratitude toward Ange. Then, without looking back, she grabbed her suitcase and lugged it from the room, taking the escape route she'd been offered.

The door had only just closed when Lexie heard Theo's voice. "What did I tell you? I knew she wouldn't even last a day. Harry owes me ten quid."

Despite herself, Lexie hovered, listening.

"For Christ's sake, Theo! And as if you're placing bets on her. You're behaving like a complete dolt, and you know it."

There was a pause, then, "You're right. I'm sorry. I just…Ange, I don't want the company to flop, after years of…you know. Building it up. Especially after the last couple of years. He wouldn't have wanted that either and I don't want everything he did here to be lost." He. Richard?

Ange's voice was a little gentler when she spoke again. "Well, the one way to ensure it does flop is to act like you are."

"She doesn't want it to work. She clearly didn't care about her dad, so why would she care about the company?"

"Why don't you give her a chance instead of deciding for her what she does or doesn't care about? Her dad's just died, she's been thrown into this, and all she can do is her best—but you're making that impossible. You ought to know better than that." The last statement was loaded—like there was a reason he ought to know better.

But Lexie didn't want to know. She started walking again, dragging her suitcase through the shop, past the desks and Harry, who quickly shoved his phone out of sight and pretended to look busy, and onto the street outside. It was just getting dark, and the Christmas lights had lit up around the city, giving the whole place a golden hue.

She blew out a breath. She didn't care, she told herself. She didn't care about Theo betting against her, wanting her to fail, and she didn't care about his stake in the company. She didn't give a fucking damn about the company one way or the other. Maybe she should walk away now. If she walked away they both got nothing, right? And maybe that was what she wanted.

Iceland. She knew all about Iceland at Christmas. She knew about the thirteen Yule Lads, and about the geothermal pools. She knew, because that was supposed to have been her holiday. It was the holiday they'd been planning—the three of them—for Lexie's eighth Christmas. They'd been talking about it for months, like they did every year, planning what to do. Lexie had been researching Iceland, telling her friends about it. That September, she'd stuck up a chart on which she could cross off the days until Christmas. She'd made her dad tell her all about the types of food they ate there, and she'd begged her mum to buy her a new swimsuit, because of the pools.

Then, at the beginning of October, her dad had left. And Lexie had spent the remaining weeks before Christmas hoping—sure that he couldn't just leave, because the three of them needed to be together, and because they had their holiday to go on, something they did every year. The week before Christmas, she'd placed a wish in her wish jar. Wishing for her dad to come back. Wishing for Iceland. But by that point she hadn't really cared about the holiday—and she'd written a postscript under the wish, explaining that it didn't matter, as long as he came home. But he hadn't—and Iceland had never happened. Instead, years later, he'd remembered that trip, the one they'd never been on, the one it still hurt to think about, and had been planning to monetize it. So do you know what? Screw him and his company. And screw Theo. They could damn well do this without her.