Scarlet Wilson - A New Year Bride

He got the feeling she was taking the conversation away from her family circumstances and back onto Christmas.

‘Is that where your love of Christmas came from?’

She smiled again and got a little sparkle in her eyes. ‘Gran and I used to watch lots of black and white films, and we especially loved the Christmas-themed ones. We had a whole load of handmade ornaments. Spray-painted pine cones were our favourites. We did a lot of Christmas baking. We couldn’t afford a real tree every year but we always had a holly wreath and I loved the smell.’ There was something in her voice. Something in the tone. These were all happy memories—loving memories. But he could hear the wistfulness as she spoke.

He’d told her the biggest event in his life. It didn’t matter that he’d blurted it out in anger with a whole host of other things. Grace knew probably the most important thing about him.

Him? He knew very little about her. It was like peeling back a layer at a time. And the further he peeled back the layers, the more he liked her.

She looked out of the window. ‘I love Christmas—especially when it snows. It makes it just a little more magical. I love when night falls and you can look out across the dark city and see snow-covered roofs. I always automatically want to watch the sky to see if I can spot Santa’s sleigh.’

‘Aren’t you a little old for Santa?’ Her eyes were sparkling. She really did love the magic of Christmas. The thing that for the last five years he’d well and truly lost.

It made him realise how sad he’d been. How much he’d isolated himself. Sure, plenty of people didn’t like Christmas. Lots of people around the world didn’t celebrate it.

But, when it had been a part of your life for so long, and then something had destroyed it, the reminder of what it could be circulated around his mind.

She set down her knife and fork. ‘Finlay Armstrong, are you telling me there’s no Santa?’ She said it in such a warm, friendly voice that it pulled him back from his thoughts without any regrets.

He pushed his plate away. ‘Grace Ellis, I would never say something like that.’

She wagged her finger at him as her phone beeped. ‘Just as well. In that case I won’t need to tell you off.’ She glanced at her phone. ‘Oh, great, the light bulbs have arrived.’ She reached around for her pink coat and woolly hat. Her eyes were shining again. ‘Come on, Finlay. Let’s light up The Armstrong!’

How on earth could he say no?

‘I HAVE THE perfect dress for you.’ Mrs Archer clapped her hands together. ‘You’ll love it!’

‘What?’ Grace was stunned out of her reverie. She’d spent the last few days in a fog. A fog named Finlay Armstrong.

He’d managed to commandeer staff from every department and they’d spent two hours—Finlay included—replacing the light bulbs on the external display. Five specially phoned-in maintenance men had hung the purple and white strips down either side of the exterior of The Armstrong.

As they’d stood together on the opposite side of the street to get a better look, Finlay had given her a nudge. ‘It does look good, Grace. You were right.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Thank you.’

The closed-off man who apparently had a reputation as a recluse was coming out of his shell. Except Finlay hadn’t been in a shell. Grace got the impression he’d been in a dark cave where the only thing he’d let penetrate was work.

He was smiling more. His shoulders didn’t seem quite so tense. Since their first meeting he’d never shouted, never been impolite. Only for the briefest second did she see something cloud his eyes before it was pushed away again. Even Frank had commented on the changes in the last few days.

She nudged Finlay back. ‘Just wait until next year. I’ll pick a whole new colour scheme and bankrupt you in light bulbs!’ She’d been so happy, so excited that things had worked out she’d actually winked at him.

Winked. All she could do right now was cringe.

But the wink hadn’t scared him off. Every time she’d turned around in the last two days, Finlay had been there—asking her about something, talking to her about other pieces of interior design work she might be interested in. Getting her to sit down and chat.

They’d had another lunch together. Around four coffees. And a makeshift dinner—a Chinese take-away in the office one night.

She’d even found herself telling him about the Elizabethan-style chairs she’d found in a junk shop and spent weeks re-covering and re-staining on her own.

Last night she hadn’t slept a wink. Her brain had been trying to work out what on earth was going on between them. Was she reading this all wrong? Had it really been that long since she’d dated that she couldn’t work out the signals any more?

‘Ta-da!’

Mrs Archer brought her back to the present day by swinging open a cupboard door and revealing what lay behind it.

Wow.

It glimmered in the early-morning winter light. A full-length silver evening gown in heavy-duty satin with a bodice and wide straps glittering with sequins. Around the top of the coat hanger was a fur wrap. She was almost scared to touch it.

‘Don’t worry,’ said Alice Archer. ‘It’s not real fur. But it probably cost ten times as much as it should.’

Grace’s heart was pounding in her chest. She’d forgotten Alice had offered to find her something for the party. When Finlay had given her that exorbitant cheque the other day she’d almost squealed. Bills had been difficult since her grandmother had died.

Her grandmother and late grandfather had had small pensions that had contributed to the upkeep of the flat. Keeping up with bills was tough on her own. There was no room for any extras—any party dresses. She’d actually planned on going to some of the charity shops around Chelsea later to see if she could find anything to wear tonight.

‘It’s just beautiful,’ she finally said. Her hand touched the satin. She’d never felt anything like it in her life.

‘The colour will suit you marvellously.’ Alice smiled. ‘I had it in my head as soon as you told me about the party.’

‘When did you wear this, Alice? It’s just stunning.’

Alice whispered in her ear. ‘Don’t tell Finlay Armstrong, but I wore it at a New Year ball in The Ritz the year my Robin proposed to me.’

Grace pulled back her hand. ‘Oh, Alice, I can’t wear your beautiful dress. It has such special memories for you—and it’s immaculate. I would be terrified about something happening to it.’

Alice shook her head. ‘Nonsense, I insist.’ She ran her fingers down the fabric of the dress with a far-off expression in her eyes. ‘I always think that clothes are for wearing. I think of this as my lucky dress.’ She gave Grace a special smile. ‘And I’m hoping it will bring you some luck too.’

Grace stared in the mirror. Someone else was staring back at her. Whoever it was—it wasn’t Grace Ellis. Ashleigh had come around and set her hair in curls. Sophie had helped her apply film-star make-up. She’d never worn liquid eyeliner before and wasn’t quite sure how Sophie had managed to do the little upward flicks.

Around her neck she was wearing the silver locket her grandmother had bought her for her twenty-first birthday and Emma had loaned her a pair of glittery earrings.

They were probably diamonds. But Emma hadn’t told her that. She’d just squealed with excitement when she’d seen Grace all dressed up and said she had the perfect thing to finish it off.

And she’d been right. Right now, Grace Ellis felt like a princess. It didn’t matter that the only items she was wearing that actually belonged to her were her locket, her underwear and her shoes.