The Mills & Boon Ultimate Christmas Collection. Kate HardyЧитать онлайн книгу.
seem to be burdened by it.
In Aunt Bessie’s driveway, I shut off the engine. A gasp escaped when I caught sight of her house. “Golly,” I said. “It’s got to be the most decorated on the block!” Aunt Bessie never did do anything by halves! It was the most fabulously festive cottage – which said a lot as competition in Evergreen was fierce. There was a sleigh complete with reindeer on her roof, and even Santa’s legs visible – as if he was heading down the chimney head first to deliver presents. The look was completed with thousands of twinkling fairy lights, and I’d bet money that the enormous wreath on her door was a musical one. I peeked at Kai, who wore an expression of surprise – maybe they didn’t decorate quite as fantastically where he came from?
“Aunt Bessie really likes Christmas…” I said as I climbed out the car.
He winked at me across the back seat as he started to gather presents. “Ah, I had been wondering where you got your love of excess from.”
“So, I like buying gifts?” I said with a flick of my hair, and laughed as he pretended to teeter under the weight of his pile.
I loved Christmas, and gift buying even more so … I couldn’t help but put things away all year round when I found perfect presents for those I loved. Which would have been fine, except I kept forgetting what I’d bought, and ended up with more than I had intended – though it was fun to exclaim over them, and remember what store I’d found them in, and what I’d been doing at the time.
When we reached the porch I leaned over to press the doorbell and tamped down giggles as ‘Jingle Bells’ rang out.
“Come in, come in,” Aunt Bessie trilled from inside the house, before throwing the door open. She wore a bright green Christmas sweater, her hair curled and makeup immaculately applied… if not a touch heavily, as was her way.
“Don’t you look fabulously festive?” I said, hugging her with one arm as I grasped the wine.
She waved me away. “This old thing? Shucks.”
I grinned and moved aside so she could hug Kai, managing to maneuver her arms around the presents he clutched. She held on for a moment or two longer than strictly necessary and then stage-whispered over his shoulder: “At your age, I wouldn’t waste any more time getting to know the man, if you know what I mean.” She then gave me a salacious wink and I almost died right there.
Scandalized, I hissed, “Aunt Bessie!” as any other words failed me. What was she playing at? Kai did his best not to laugh as he squeezed past her into the house. Had Amory sent out a memo or something: Let’s not rest until Clio admits she has feelings for Kai!
What did she mean at my age!
Was I left-on-the-shelf age already?
“What?” she said, wide-eyed, playing the innocent. “Just saying it like it is.”
“Well, you may as well have told him I’m old and desperate! At my age, jeez, Aunt Bessie!” I hissed at her.
Aunt Bessie just smirked at me and turned to follow Kai in. “Oh, let me help you, Kai.”
I shook my head and laughed. Seriously, she was the limit.
Aunt Bessie’s cottage was just as I remembered it from Christmases as a child. There was a fire crackling in the grate, and Christmas carols playing chirpily. The living room was decorated from the ceiling, where shiny silver lanterns hung, right down to the floorboards, where a Nativity scene played out, including hay in the manger for baby Jesus.
“Now come through, I’ve made some candy-cane milkshakes, but you can’t have a milkshake without a donut and you can’t have a donut without candyfloss, so I hope it won’t spoil your lunch.”
I groaned. “We’ve only just had breakfast, Aunt Bessie.”
She tutted. “It’s only a drink, Clio!”
There was no denying her. We’d be marshmallow-shaped when we left.
“See what’s for dessert?” Kai said in awe as he unloaded presents under the tree, a tree that seemed to be more lights than branches.
On the kitchen bench sat Aunt Bessie’s donut tower, and I gasped. I’d been expecting something extravagant, but not this. It was truly a marvel, iced donuts in festive red and green stacked atop each other in the shape of a Christmas tree. Edible diamonds twinkled on each layer. A golden star gleamed from the top. “What on earth…” In the window of Puft she’d had something similar but on a much simpler scale. This was another level!
“Your mom helped,” she said, her eyes shining with pride. “She sure has a steady hand for it. It took us just over four hours to assemble, and that doesn’t include making the donuts.”
“Mom helped?”
Aunt Bessie grinned. “She sure did. She’s becoming quite the baker, you know. Her visits to Puft are more frequent. Sure, to start with she just helped out the kitchen hand, cleaning and sorting the fridges, but now she’s learning to bake too. And decorate. She’s got the patience for the finicky work.”
My eyebrows shot up. I knew Mom went to Puft and ‘helped’ but I’d thought it was just a reason to catch up with Aunt Bessie, and have some time outside the house with someone she felt safe and comfortable around. I’d never for one second thought she would be learning to bake. Also, I’d inherited my terrible cooking skills from my mother… or so I’d thought! I stared at the tower again, fresh pride coursing through me.
She gazed in the direction I looked. “Oh, the star? It’s made from tempered dark chocolate and covered in golf leaf. It cost a pretty penny, but it’s worth it, don’t you think?”
“Aunt Bessie, it’s totally amazing. It’s so grand!” The stack of donuts had been truly transformed. It was a piece of art. “You’ve got such an incredible talent, sometimes I think you’re wasted here in Evergreen,” I said.
“Well, funny you should say. About that…” Aunt Bessie said, dipping her head as if shy, which was out of character for her. “I’m not technically minded, I’m more a ‘get your hands dirty in the kitchen’ type, as you can clearly see, but I’ve had a lot of the emails recently…”
“The emails? Go on.” I bit down on a smile.
“Yeah, so the emails are all basically asking the same thing. Where can they see pictures of what I make, what’s my handle on Instagram.” Her face went blank. “I replied I don’t have a handle on it, I don’t have a handle on technology at all.”
Laughter sputtered out of me. “Oh, Aunt Bessie! They mean what’s your name on Instagram, so they can follow you! Not whether you have a handle on using it! Handle means name – for example, it could be something like: @PuftArtisanDonuts.”
“OK, OK, I understand, but what exactly is Instagram?” Her eyebrows pulled together as she poured out enormous candy-cane milkshakes, decorating both with white and red sprinkled donuts and a spiral of whipped cream.
I laughed in spite of her bewildered expression and took my milkshake before I pulled out my phone to teach her the intricacies of Instagram. “So, social media looks scary, but really it could take Puft to the next level. Introducing it to more customers, from, well, pretty much anywhere in the world.”
“So…” Her nose wrinkled. “You’re telling me I’ll post pictures of my artisan donuts and strangers are going to like them? With a click of the button? And this will sell more donuts?” Her expression remained bewildered.
I nodded and took a gulp of my milkshake, relishing the minty freshness. Puft definitely deserved more fans, even if demand in Evergreen was already pretty high. I just knew New Yorkers would love to ‘discover’ those artisan creations.
Still confused she asked, “But how will they find me?”
“Hashtags.” I tried to hold