Christmas at the Little Clock House on the Green: An enchanting and warm-hearted romance full of Christmas cheer
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First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2017
Copyright © Eve Devon 2017
Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2017
Cover images © Shutterstock.com
Eve Devon asserts the moral right
to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is
available from the British Library
This novel is entirely a work of fiction.
The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are
the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to
actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is
entirely coincidental.
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ISBN: 9780008211059
Ebook Edition © September 2017
Version 2017-10-02
For Dad. For teaching your children that the world is full of amazing places and that life is for living.
‘If adventures will not befall a young lady in her own village, she must seek them abroad’ – Jane Austen
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Epigraph
Chapter 1: The Grandfather of All Clock-Ups
Chapter 2: Crouching Dragon, Hidden Bartender
Chapter 3: Pity and Pitiful
Chapter 4: Think Positivi-Tea
Chapter 5: Geeks Bearing GIFs
Chapter 6: Season’s Greetings
Chapter 7: Making Cow Eyes
Chapter 8: The Art of Conversation
Chapter 9: And the Fairy-Light Dawns…
Chapter 10: Grand Designs
Chapter 11: Heart of Glass
Chapter 12: Mince Pies on the Prize
Chapter 13: The Holly (wood), and The Knightley
Chapter 14: Lights, Camera, Action: Scything!
Chapter 15: The Grinch Who Stole Christmas
Chapter 16: Sleigh-Bells Ring, Are You Listening?
Chapter 17: Snow Way, Snow How
Chapter 18: A Knightley at Pemberley
Chapter 19: Moving Im-PEDI-ments
Chapter 20: Christmas Cocktails at The Clock House
Chapter 21: Bar Hygge, Bah Humbug!
Chapter 22: The Bauble’s in Your Court
Chapter 23: Nightly Haul
Chapter 24: Tour of the Roses
Chapter 25: Deck The Halls, Not Your Family
Chapter 26: Village of Stars
Chapter 27: Dashing Through The Snow…
Chapter 28: Mistletoe and Whine
Chapter 29: Pitch Perfect
Chapter 30: Miss Emma’s Feeling for Snow
Chapter 31: Readers, I Drunk-Texted Him
Chapter 32: Driving Home for Christmas
Chapter 33: Keep Calm & Jingle on
Chapter 34: ’Twas the Night Before Opening and All Through The Clock House
Chapter 35: Opening Night Fever
Chapter 36: Badly Done, Jake!
Chapter 37: Trying Hard Not to Show It
Chapter 38: Christmas Eve
Chapter 39: A Winter’s Tale
Chapter 40: On Christmas Day in the Morning
Chapter 41: The Ghost of Christmas Future
Chapter 42: A Blue, Blue, Blue Christmas
Chapter 43: The Show Must Go on
Chapter 44: The Big Finale!
Author Letter
Acknowledgements
Also by Eve Devon
About the Author
About HarperImpulse
About the Publisher
Chapter 1
The Grandfather of all Clock-Ups
Kate
Kate Somersby upended the contents of her handbag over her desk and watched the hundred or so fluorescent pink post-its flutter to the surface like confetti.
Any moment now she was going to get to grips with the bullet journaling system her cousin, Juliet, raved about.
Yep … any moment now, she thought, staring down at all the vitally-important, equal-priority To Do notes that had come to her in the early hours of the morning.
In the meantime, she reasoned, her portable, flexible filing system was practically the same thing only without all the pretty panda stickers.
Shoving the roll of stickers and the actual bullet journal Juliet had gifted her into the top desk drawer, Kate pulled out her chair and plonked herself down.
It completely boggled her mind to think that a few months ago she’d been working abroad, pretending she was okay with living out of a suitcase, and now she was back in her home village of Whispers Wood, the proud owner of The Clock House and on schedule to get it open for business before Christmas. Of course, it immediately un-boggled when she thought about the insane number of hours everyone was putting in to keep them on course and ensure it was going to happen.
Hopefully by the end of the week, Juliet would have her hair-dressing stations in place for Hair @ The Clock House.
Daniel, Kate’s boyfriend, had nearly finished setting up Hive @ The Clock House, the co-working space he was going to manage, and all the treatment beds, pedi-chairs and nail station tables were arriving today for Beauty @ The Clock House, the day spa that had been her and her twin, Bea’s, dream for so long.
What do you think, Bea? Is this how you pictured all of this when we used to dream about opening our day spa in this building?
A swirl of excitement ran head-first into the wall of sorrow that was acknowledgement of Bea’s death and bounced backwards in confusion. She felt the conflict inside her like a cramp and tried to breathe through it.
And then on a shaky breath she imagined Bea snorting with laughter, and offering a ‘Hey – I’m still trying to get over the fact that you think you’ll get to grips with bullet-journaling,’ and the cramp eased.
Bea would have loved everything that was happening at The Clock House and she, Kate, was nearly used to not searching for confirmation she was doing the right thing every time she walked through the front doors.
Feeling steadier, her hands went to open the first of the letters that Sandeep, the postman, had handed her on her way in and her heart started beating faster as she stared at the official-looking envelope. Opening it, she pulled out the crisp formal headed letter paper and halfway through the first paragraph she let out a ‘Whoop’ and twirled in her chair.
They’d only been given their licence to open Cocktails & Chai in the main reception room opposite Juliet’s salon. The room with its gorgeous, gigantic chandelier was the perfect setting for a tearoom/bar.
‘Could this morning get any better?’ she laughed and immediately opened the second envelope.
‘No-el, No-el.’
‘Wowsers, Kate,’ Juliet shouted up the main staircase of The Clock House. ‘It’s a bit early to be singing Christmas carols, isn’t it?’
‘That’s singing?’ asked Oscar, Kate’s brother-in-law who, after being known as The Young Widower of Whispers Wood for years was happily getting used to now being known as Juliet’s boyfriend.
‘Someone’s really murdering that carol,’ Daniel commented as he walked into the foyer. Spying the boxes of balance ball chairs that had been delivered, he gave an excited ‘Yes’, and walked over to inspect them.
‘That someone is your girlfriend. And if she doesn’t stop I’m not sure I can be held accountable.’ Oscar pointed to the drill he was holding because he was also known as Whispers Wood’s resident builder.
‘That’s definitely not singing,’ Daniel said with a frown. ‘I’ve heard her sing. Or have I? That’s really her singing? And what’s with the carols in October? I guess I’m going to need you both to promise me you’ll never fill out an application for The Voice on her behalf.’
‘Why would we?’ Oscar asked. ‘Because that’s not singing. In fact, I’m pretty sure Will.I.Am would correctly call it Kitty-Kat Kate Caterwauling.’
‘If only she was from Wales,’ Juliet lamented, ‘she might still be in with a shot.’
‘We could move the whole of Whispers Wood to Wales and she’d still hurt ears,’ Oscar said. ‘It’s worse than when Melody went through the Frozen sing-a-long sleepover phase and I had to cope with ten five-year-olds thinking that singing mostly involved squealing high enough for dolphins to hear.’ Oscar’s daughter, Melody, had recently had her ninth birthday. She’d been only four when her mother, Bea, had died and Oscar had had to learn fast how to help his daughter through the grieving process while going through it himself.
‘Come on, guys,’ Daniel cajoled, ‘let’s cut Kate some slack. She’s under a lot of pressure to get this place ready for the grand opening.’
‘No-el, No-el.’
The three of them stared up the stairs.
‘Okay,’ Daniel said, rolling up his sleeves, ‘I might just see if I can get her to sing a different carol.’
‘Thank you,’ Juliet sighed. ‘Oscar and I appreciate you taking one for the team.’
Abandoning the yoga ball chairs, Daniel headed for the stairs. ‘Right, then. Off I go.’ He looked at Juliet and Oscar from the third step. ‘Upstairs. To gently explain …’
‘We’re right behind you,’ Juliet said, grinning as she made a shooing motion up the stairs.
Kate looked up as the man who had been rocking her world for months now stepped into her office.
He’d popped out to get himself a key cut to her place, Myrtle Cottage.
No big deal – if he’d taken her casual suggestion, and for casual, read, extremely well-rehearsed monologue, at face value.
Darn.
It would probably be better, if on his return, he didn’t then immediately see her crying.
With a big sniff she realised Oscar and Juliet were hovering in the doorway behind him. Two more excellent reasons to pull herself together. Ever since she’d come back to Whispers Wood she’d tried to show Oscar he could trust her to stick around and get involved in her niece, Melody’s, life, and Oscar had tried to show her he didn’t blame her anymore for staying away for so long after Bea had died. But maybe the person who had worked hardest to get them to see each other as family, not enemy, was sweet, kind, heart-as-big-as-a-mountain, Juliet, and the fact that Melody and Oscar looked so happy these days was testament to how much they’d fallen in love with Juliet this summer.
Looking at the three people who were helping to make The Clock House a reality, Kate felt the pressure to get everything perfect rise up and shaking her head in dismay, whimpered, ‘No-el.’
‘The angels, are in fact, genuinely crying, Katey-Did,’ Daniel said softly and then hesitated and swallowed. ‘Hang on – are you crying? What’s happened? Why are you sitting here crying Christmas carols?’
‘Not singing carols,’ she hiccupped miserably.
‘See?’ Oscar whispered to Juliet, ‘I told you that wasn’t singing.’
Kate stared at them all as she picked back up the invitation she’d opened and flapped it about manically. ‘No “L”,’ she tried again and when three faces stared back at her uncomprehending she banged her head on the desk and wailed, ‘No “L”, No “L”.’
‘Is it possible the stress of opening this place has made her regress to some sort of primitive communication?’ Oscar muttered.
Daniel took the invitation from her and began reading aloud: ‘This Christmas, you are cordially invited to the grand opening of the—’ his eyes got round. ‘Holy—’
Juliet and Oscar came to stand over his shoulder.
Kate’s head came up from the desk, pleased to have finally made herself understood.
Juliet gasped as she finished reading. ‘Oh my God, the letter “L” is missing the whole way through?’
A throaty laugh rumbled out of Oscar.
‘It’s not funny,’ Kate insisted.
‘It’s a little funny,’ Oscar said, grabbing the invitation to check for himself. ‘Cock,’ he exclaimed. ‘I love it,’ and at Juliet, Daniel and Kate’s raised eyebrows added, ‘Wait – that didn’t come out right.’
Kate snatched the invitation back from him. ‘This is going where it belongs, in the round file,’ and with dramatic flair she slam-dunked it into the bin, then, with a pout, moaned, ‘It never misses in films,’ and fishing it up from the floor, she stuck it in the bin. ‘I don’t know why you’re laughing,’ she said to Daniel. ‘Or have you always wanted to run your business out of a cock house?’
‘See when you put it like that …’ Daniel moved behind her to pluck the invitation out of the general waste and move it into the recycling bin.
‘You do realise we’re going to have to kill Crispin for this,’ she muttered. ‘I’ll need a plan on my desk by the end of the day.’
‘How about we don’t but say we did,’ Juliet offered soothingly.
Crispin Harlow, head of the Whispers Wood Residents’ Association believed whole-heartedly that it took a village to raise a village. He put the “e” in pedantic, the nosy in parker and could also be completely sweet and terribly caring, but for the purposes of allowing herself to get justifiably riled up, Kate was going to ignore that. ‘As if I have the time to sort out this kind of error. I should never have let him badger me into giving his friend the order.’
‘He didn’t badger you,’ Daniel reminded her. ‘He didn’t even needle you.’
‘Didn’t need to, did he, when he can do the whole,’ she waved her hand about wildly over her head, ‘wig-mesmerising thing.’
Another laugh rumbled out of Daniel. ‘What, you think Crispin sort of “hair-brained” you into placing the order via the magical mesmerising properties of his wig?’
‘I really do,’ she sulked, a little shocked to find herself still so close to tears. Maybe it was that she’d spent so much time thinking about the moment when all the invites went out. That excited-nervous, no-going-back, what-did-we-do-all-this-for-if-it-wasn’t-to-actually-open-our-doors-to-paying-guests moment that had seen her through all the other completely scary times this last couple of months.
‘We’ll just have to trust this guy to make the correction,’ Juliet suggested.
‘But what if he does it wrong again?’ Kate worried. ‘I don’t think Crispin and my relationship would survive it. Honestly, I think I’d rather start from scratch.’
‘I suppose we’re only losing our deposit,’ Daniel said.
‘And on the bright side,’ she ventured, feeling a little of her earlier joy creeping back in, ‘We just got our food and alcohol license … so we could add that to the invites. Even if we get the spelling corrected, Cocktails & Chai wording won’t fit on the existing invitations and what’s the betting if we correct the spelling, something else will go wrong with them. We’re cutting it close to get the invites out in time as it is.’
‘But that’s brilliant we got the licence,’ Juliet said. ‘We’re really going to add one more business to the mix, then?’
‘I think we’d be passing up a great opportunity if we didn’t,’ Daniel replied. ‘To try opening up Cocktails & Chai once we’re already open would be really disruptive. What about it, Oscar? Do you think you could finish up the building work in time?’
‘Sure,’ Oscar said. ‘It’s quiet at this time of year and I can give some of my other projects to my team for the chance to build that custom-made bar.’
‘I was hoping you’d say that,’ Kate said. ‘So now we just need someone to do the new invites, choose new card-stock, get them to the printers and then—’
‘You could always send an e-vite,’ Daniel said.
‘Actually that’s not a bad idea,’ Kate said as possibility roared to life.
‘I do have them occasionally,’ he murmured with a wry smile. ‘We could ask Jake Knightley’s sister, Sarah to design it for us.’
Kate considered. ‘So you think she’s still doing graphic design, then?’
‘She had a baby, not a lobotomy,’ Juliet laughed.
Kate’s gaze shot to Juliet. The way she’d said baby. All dreamy and … Kate’s insides did a sort of double-tuck, full lay-out, gymnastic thing. Were Juliet and Oscar thinking babies? Already? Juliet had only moved in with Oscar and Melody five minutes ago. How would she manage a new business with a baby? And Kate didn’t know anything about maternity employment law! Nervously she reached for her pile of sticky notes and then paused. Maybe she should actually check with Juliet before she immortalised or even italicised the words ‘Juliet’ and ‘Preggers???’ on neon pink.
‘So,’ Daniel said, grabbing her attention again. ‘We give Crispin’s friend of a friend the swerve and ask Sarah to design the e-vite, and we announce the opening of Cocktails & Chai along with the other businesses?’
God, he was good for her, she thought. He was never frightened of the dramatic streak that ran through her and was perfectly trusting that she knew when to let logic overrule emotion in business decisions. He totally had her back. And she’d never felt more able to be herself…
‘I love you,’ Kate said.
The words came out super-naturally considering it was the first time she’d said them, but as Daniel inhaled sharply, tears made glistening pools of her eyes, which was why she didn’t see Oscar swiftly pulling a goggle-eyed Juliet out of the room to give her and Daniel some privacy.
‘Sorry,’ Kate started babbling. ‘Totally the wrong time to drop the L-bomb. At work of all places. I couldn’t pick somewhere romantic? All the times you’ve said the words to me and I haven’t said them back. Oh—,’ she broke off as Daniel closed the distance in one easy stride, swept her up into his arms and kissed her.
As his mouth sealed across hers, a familiar buzz lit across nerve-endings and ignited to spread through her veins. As his lips rubbed, coaxed, revered, she felt more of the slippy-slidey, twisty-tangled conflict inside of her settle.
‘Wow,’ she said.
‘Wow,’ he echoed with a grin. ‘And then there’s also this,’ he held up the key he’d had cut to Myrtle Cottage.
He’d given her the key to his place, Mistletoe Cottage, weeks ago. Presented it as a point of practicality and with his matter-of-fact tone that she found so sexy, how could she refuse? Even as she’d worried exchanging keys was moving fast, she’d still taken that key and let herself in with it that night and stolen into his bed to surprise him.
Yesterday she’d found herself buying his favourite brand of bread. The one with the sixty-three different types of seeds that dropped down the grill of the toaster and worked their way into the strangest of places. The one he liked to wolf down when he returned from his morning run before he got into the shower. Before then getting back into bed with her, claiming he was the perfect wake-up call.
He was, but that was beside the point.
The point was they were leaving more and more bits of themselves at each other’s places … and, well, what did that all mean?
Only this morning she’d realised that the coat she’d been vaguely thinking of wearing today, was probably still at his place.
Had he hung it up?
Did he care that it was there?
Did he want to move in with her?
Wait! What?
This past summer had been a crazy spectacular rollercoaster of competing with Daniel for The Clock House while falling for him, hook, line and sinker. There was still so much they were finding out about each other and now – already – to be thinking about moving in together?
Kate swallowed and stepped out of his arms. It was enough they had keys to each other’s cottages.
Moving in together would be, well, three words: Way, way too soon.
Okay, that was four words, but you get what she’s thinking, right?
To cover her pounding heart, she reached for her pen and her ever-present pad of post-it notes.
She’d be totally cray-cray adding more pressure to their relationship. They hadn’t even opened The Clock House yet.
Leaning down she forced herself to concentrate on what she should really be thinking about, and proud that her handwriting didn’t show any sign of “moving-in-together” shakiness, she wrote: Find someone to manage Cocktails & Chai, and underlined it four times.
Chapter 2
Crouching Dragon, Hidden Bartender
Emma
Emma Danes blew a strand of rapidly frizzing blonde hair out of her eyes and looked on in horrid fascination at the human pretzel facing the class.
‘… And as you bend your body down to the earth,’ the yoga instructor drawled, ‘bring your palms to the floor, squeeze your triceps against your inner thighs, and tip your body forward until your feet leave the ground and your body-weight is resting on your hands.’
Um … yeah … no way was she attempting that balancing pose Emma decided as the butterflies fluttered wildly inside her. She attempted that, pee was probably going to come out!
Honestly, of all the yoga-joints in all the world, you’d think she’d have noticed that the one half a block from her apartment had a super-advanced class at eleven thirty on a Monday morning. Then again, normally at this time on a Monday she was taking an acting class.