Kissing Father Christmas Read Online Free Page B

an excuse to have to leave and spend the rest of my trip at a hotel in London. I didn’t want to put a strain on any of these lovely people during their Christmas celebration by being the one person in the bunch that Peter would be trying to avoid.
    Christmas in London would be wonderful. I could see Big Ben and Buckingham Palace and even visit some of the art museums Julia talked about. The trip to England wouldn’t be a waste.
    Just a disappointment.
    And that would be the most humiliating part of it. I didn’t want to go back to Minnesota and admit to my mother that I’d finally grown up and she was right. Capricious dreamers only set themselves up for heartache while solid, forthright women know that fairy tales don’t come true.

Chapter Six
    T he Tea Cosy was already humming with activity when Ellie and I arrived.
    The bells that hung over the front door chimed merrily as we entered the tavern-style café that was built over two hundred years ago. A fire crackled in the soot-stained fireplace. Flickering votive candles dotted the mantel and the welcoming scent of freshly baked bread wafted from the kitchen behind the drawn curtain.
    The cast wasn’t supposed to come until five o’clock but they had shown up in costume at teatime and had made themselves at home around the tables. The thick wood beams across the low ceiling drew their conversations in close.
    I felt as if I’d stepped into a Dickens novel and should be checking the corner for Tiny Tim’s stool.
    When my uncle Andrew’s wife, Katharine, purchased the building several years ago, she did her best to keep as much of the original design as the building inspectors would allow. Her insistence paid off handsomely. The charming Tea Cosy along with the village of Carlton Heath had received top ratings on a popular tourist website that promoted the must-sees of their area.
    Miranda appeared from the kitchen with two large, white teapots. As soon as she saw me, she delivered them to the closest tables and sashayed around the tables to get to me. Her dark hair was pulled up and her face was rosy. She wrapped her arms around me and said, “It’s so good to have you here, Anna. I can’t wait to have a chance to sit down and talk.”
    “Chatting comes afterward,” Ellie said, heading for the kitchen. “We have a dinner to serve.”
    Miranda took me by the hand and led me through the gauntlet of friendly guests. They wanted to know if I was the “visiting American” and if more tea was on its way.
    I was surprised to see how small the kitchen was. I hadn’t gone behind the curtain when I visited last May. It was impressive to see how Katharine had made clever use of all possible open space. Ian was stirring one of two large pots of soup. He put the spoon down and slid over to greet me with a kiss on the cheek. His gesture brought an immediate reminder of Peter’s explanation of hello and good-bye kisses and the unspoken rule of turning your head.
    I immediately took note of the fact that Peter wasn’t there. Perhaps he was planning to come later. Or maybe he’d bowed out so that it wouldn’t be awkward with me there.
    There was no time to chitchat. Ellie and I had brought in three shopping bags of supplies, including the fourteen mini loaves of cranberry orange bread we’d baked that morning.
    “Since they’ve come for tea, let’s serve the cranberry bread,” Ellie suggested. “Save the rolls for when we serve the soup. Have you pulled out all the teapots, Miranda?”
    I pushed up the sleeves on my sweater and pulled my hair back into a knotted ponytail. Miranda pointed me to the teapots and canister of loose tea leaves.
    “I think Ellie and I should switch tasks. I’ll cut the bread and serve it to the tables. She’s better suited to know how to make a pot of tea.”
    “There’s nothing to it,” Ellie said. “As long as you always add one more teaspoon for the pot.”
    I wasn’t sure what she meant but I had no trouble falling into