Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 121898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
“And miss out on spending some time in your delightful presence? Never.”
She put her phone in her handbag and gave me a look so withering that not even an ancient oak tree could withstand it. “Gramps would like one hundred kilos of coal, please.”
“Are you taking it, or does he want it delivered?”
“He didn’t say. What does he usually do?”
My lips quirked to one side. “He usually calls and asks us to deliver it.”
Her jaw ticked. “Imagine that,” she said dryly. “Then deliver it, please. Tonight, if you can.”
I nodded. “I can bring it by when I close the farm. About six-thirty?”
“Sure. Can I pay for it now?”
“Yeah, come into the barn, and Mrs. O’Shea will sort you out.”
“She’s still alive?” Sylvie muttered.
I couldn’t help but laugh. It did feel a bit like Mrs. O’Shea was immortal. She’d been around just about as long as anyone in Castleton could remember, and I was pretty sure she was the oldest person in the village.
Not that she’d ever tell you her age.
She said we’d find out when she turned one hundred and got her telegram from Buckingham Palace.
I thought that was fair.
“She’s still alive,” I replied through a quiet chuckle. “And kicking. Believe me. She kicked me just last week.”
“Why? What did you do? Speak without thinking?”
“Not as much as you do,” I retorted. “How’s the wedding planning going?”
“Relatively smoothly. I have a meeting with the florist in…” She checked her watch. “Twenty minutes, so if we can get this done, I’d appreciate it.”
“Ah. Tell my sister-in-law I said hi.”
“Beth is your sister-in-law?” Sylvie raised her eyebrows. “Wait, where is your sister? Didn’t she always used to run the tree farm?”
“In London.” My tone was sharper than it needed to be. “Working.”
“Sorry I asked,” she muttered.
I waved my hand. “Don’t be. Mrs. O’Shea, could you see to Sylvie and book in a coal delivery for six-thirty please?”
Mrs. O’Shea turned around and peered up at us. “Well, I never, Sylvie! Wasn’t expecting to see you this soon!”
Sylvie smiled politely. “It’s good to see you, Mrs. O’Shea. How are you?”
The older woman used her walking stick to help her get up from her chair, and Danny glanced up at us briefly before he turned back to the snowflake decorations he was unboxing and carefully hung another one on the peg.
I ruffled his hair. “You’re doing a great job, buddy.”
He grinned up at me. “Thanks, Uncle Tommy.”
I turned back to the counter where Sylvie was just tapping her card against the card machine.
Mrs. O’Shea looked at me. “There’s no room on the truck for tonight,” she said. “Shall I put it down for tomorrow?”
“I’ll take it over on my way back,” I told her. “It’s just so I don’t forget.”
She raised her pencilled-on eyebrows with a look I couldn’t discern and wrote it down in her wiggly, old-lady handwriting that was always comforting to read. “All right, then.” She pulled the receipt from the machine and handed it to Sylvie with a grandmotherly smile. “There you go, my dear. Does your grandmother still have that pig of hers?”
Her what?
Sylvie dropped her chin to her chest, bobbing her head. Her shoulders rose and fell with a heavy sigh before she looked up. “Yes. She, uh, bathed her in the kitchen sink yesterday morning. I’m going to need to buy a new gravy boat. And some bleach.”
I snorted. “That’s… different.”
She shot me a dark look and tucked her purse inside her handbag, switching it for her keys. “Yes, well, I don’t remember asking your opinion.”
I stared at her.
“Some things don’t change.” Mrs. O’Shea grinned. “The last time you two were in the same room you were bickering like babies, too.”
“Please don’t remind me,” Sylvie said, zipping her handbag and hiking the strap up over her shoulder. “I’m only here under duress. Apparently, Gramps thinks he’s funny.”
“He was. Once. Watched him go arse over tit over his bicycle handlebars when he was about seven.” Mrs. O’Shea chuckled. “I wish we had those fancy phones in those days. It would have been a great video.”
Sylvie’s lips curved into a gentle smile. “Yet, somehow, I can imagine it perfectly.”
There was a little tug on my coat, and I looked down to see Danny standing just behind me, peering up at me with wide eyes.
“What’s up, buddy?” I asked, resting my hand on his shoulder.
“I finished,” he replied, pointing at the decorations. “They’re there.”
I made a show of looking at them. “Great job. They look so good.”
Danny held out his hand. “Five pounds.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Five pounds? What for?”
He swung his arm around to point at Mrs. O’Shea. “Mrs. O’Shea said you have to pay me now.”
I caught a glimpse of Sylvie fighting back a laugh as I looked at the older woman. “Did she now,” I deadpanned.
Mrs. O’Shea sniffed, nodding righteously. “He works. You pay. Just like your daddy did for you.”