Engaging Father Christmas Read Online Free PDF Page B

countryside between his flights.
    I poured the first cup of tea for him in an effort to appear to have a reason for lingering at his table.
    Josh smiled up at me. And that’s when I knew I was in trouble. It was his flirty, how-you-doin’ smile, not his good-to-see-you-but-I-gotta-go smile.
    “So, I have a question for you,” he said, trying to come across casually. I could tell he was nervous though.
    “What’s your question?”
    He cleared his throat. “I realize I’m putting myself way out there, but after seeing you at Paddington station, I had to ask. Are you with anyone now?”
    “Yes, I am with someone.”
    Josh seemed to slump in his chair. “I thought that’s what you might say. By any chance, is it the guy with the Austin-Healy?”
    I nodded.
    “Well, at least I can say he has good taste in cars and women.”
    I tried to offer a friendly, consolation prize sort of smile, but one thing puzzled me.
    In my lowest of low voices, I asked, “Did I give you any signal, any indication at all, at the train station that I was available?”
    “No.” Josh shook his head. “You just look amazing and I was . . . well, a guy can hope, can’t he?”
    I knew all about hoping. For the past year I’d begun to hope about many things, including the fanciful wish that I might one day live in the Forgotten Rose Cottage, even though no indication had ever been given to me that it might be available. That small flit of a thought gave me enough compassion to excuse Josh’s impulsive decision to seek me out. He was, after all, one of the few people in my life with whom I’d had a close relationship at one time.
    “Listen.” Josh aligned himself so that my standing position more thoroughly blocked him from the ladies. I was sure by now the ones with hearing aids had their devices turned up all the way.
    “There is one more thing I wanted to say to you. Do you remember my brother?”
    I nodded.
    “He’s a lawyer now, and I thought you should know, in case you need representation for . . .”
    I gave Josh a determined look that fortunately silenced him. I knew where he was going. If I was the daughter of Sir James, certainly someone needed to assist me in fighting for my rightful portion of his inheritance. I’d been over this road already, and my choice had been to let it go. I never went in search of my birth father with the anticipation of financial gain. All I wanted was information and hopefully a relationship. I had received what I went after. I never wanted to jeopardize my fledgling family relationships by going up against Edward or Margaret with a claim to anything. End of discussion.
    “I take it you have all that covered,” he said, reading my not-so-subliminal message.
    “Yes. It’s covered. And I want to tell you again how glad I am that you regard information with complete confidentiality. As a professional, I mean.”
    “Got it.” He obviously understood my masked message that I was counting on him to keep silent about my identity.
    Leaning back and looking at the cup of tea in front of him, he said, “So, I guess I should try some of this English tea before I leave.”
    “Yes, you should.” I was referring to the “should leave” part more than the “try the tea” part. But at the same time, I knew I would never forget my first visit to the Tea Cosy and my first pot of proper British tea and plate of Katharine’s scones. I did want him to enjoy the fruit of his adventurous trek from Heathrow.
    “I need to get back to the kitchen,” I said.
    “I understand. Really, I do.”
    I could tell Josh was now the one sending the cryptic message. He never had been one to overstay his welcome.
    “You seem to fit in here,” he said almost as an afterthought. “But, you know, if things don’t work out with . . . whatever, you know how to contact me.”
    In an effort to keep our parting light and breezy and as uncomplicated as possible, I said, “Well, you know, if that counseling practice of yours