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CHAPTER ONE
‘SO IT’S going to be your usual quiet Christmas,’ Dawn stated from the depths of the armchair which was cosily close to the state-of-the-art kitchen range ‘Poor old you! You really should learn to have fun, Matts—you never know, you et to like it!’ Her soft, pretty led her curvy body with barely suppressed excite across at her oldest and best friend, wondered if her mother would have loved her if she’d beenand bubbly, instead of—
She pushed the thought roughly away All that was over Her o, for heaven’s sake, when Mattie had been just sixteen and there was no point at all in dwelling on the past—nothing would bring it back, or alter it
‘Whereas your place will be bursting at the sea her friend’s excite the reason for it She reached for her reading glasses and peered at the recipe book At Christmas time especially, The Old Rectory on the other side of the picture-book Sussex village would act like a e and happily unco, slightly shabby house would be filled with children and grandchildren, love and laughter
In stark contrast to the rather austere grandeur of this place, the home she shared with her ed father
‘The whole shooting ht as she raised her left hand and gazed at the eer ‘Plus Frank and his parents,’ she added breathily ‘They’ll be arriving tomorrow, Christ your father—with Mrs Flax being away it will save you having to cook And I won’t take no for an answer I can’t wait to introduce my brand-new fiancé to my very best friend’
‘Sorry’ Mattie fed flour onto the kitchen scales ‘But Ja and invited himself’ Her heart squeezed painfully beneath her breast as she spoke his na dreadful His plans for Christlamorous, much more romantic than a quiet few days out in the sticks ‘I know you’re going to say bring hi—not under the circumstances’
More than half expecting her friend to persist, she tipped the flour into the esture of finality that airy clouds of it rose palely to the ceiling
But far fro that her invitation be accepted, Dawn said, ‘Woriggling round in the chair, resting her elbows on the fatly padded ar ti up?’
‘I don’t think James Carter kno to cry,’ Mattie stated, her tone matter-of-fact In all the years she had known him, as the son of her father’s business partner, and later, at the relatively young age of twenty-five, stepping into his father’s shoes at his death around eleven years ago, she had never seen hi emotion He was always self-assured, coly re could touch him
But right now heso publicly jilted by the woman he’d intended tohim as well as she did, she was sure he wouldn’t show it
‘Well, he wouldn’t parade his feelings in public,’ Dawn conceded ‘But with his parents both dead now, you and your dad are the closest thing to a fauess his ego has taken a heck of a pounding if nothing else I s in the gossip colu of the year—“Society Beauty, the Hon Fiona Ca it would be a e made in heaven and how besotted with each other they were, and then, only last week her ladyship announces that she’s called the whole thing off because, and again I quote, “Jih expectations”—well, I utted’
‘Probably,’ Mattie responded tightly, wishing her friend would drop the subject She hated to think of Ja hurt and she wanted to take the wretched Fiona’s elegant neck in her oo hands and do her a serious daine any wo a ly male as James Carter
‘Look,’ she suggested, ‘why don’t youShe peered again at the recipe book and began rubbing butter into the flour ‘I’ to make pastry for mince pies here I just wish Mrs Flax hadn’t decided to take her annual leave right now!’
When their housekeeper had announced she wanted a winter break in the sun with her sister she had had their blessing Mattie’s dad had never liked the festive season—not after his wife, Mattie’s o—so they tended to treat Christmas as just another ordinary day But with Jas Even if it killed her!
‘Consider it done’ Daound herself and wandered over to the table, casting her eyes over the recipe Mattie was so laboriously following ‘It says add water, but you’ll get ainstead,’ she advised ‘Wantpractically since I was born and you’re nothing but an acade practical’
‘Then it’s ti the i bowl jealously to her under-endowed chest She couldn’t do h common sense to be fully aware of that—but she could and she would, and with her own hands, make a proper Christmas for him
‘On your own head be it—or should I say on your guest’s stomach lie it!’