Hot Revenge Box Set 2

Bitter cold though it is, the outdoors are a joy. We’re high up a mountain of course, so the chances of perfect Christmas weather are good in any case, but the scene outside could have been scripted in from some Dickensian novel.

Snow lies, as they say, deep and crisp and even, well up to the knees. Over field and road and garden, it lies drifted up against walls and seats. Air catches in my throat, the chill inflating my sinuses, and my breath blows out in blue clouds, then hangs in the air, glinting.

The dogs race around, excited and enthusiastic, panting despite the cold. Poor Meg, low-slung and woolly as she is, collects snow on her underside. It balls up to dangle in blobs from her tummy and I keep having to pull them off her.

Wonder what it’s like down by the Mill?

White water rushing with white foam by even whiter snow…

Together we stroll; me, Michael and Ryan, with Charlotte’s father bringing up the rear; around the back of the house and across the courtyard towards the woods.

Lucid with cold; the day is blessed with that clear unsullied light you only get when the temperature is well below zero. The sky is a brilliant azure overhead, fading to opal at the horizon.

Michael leads us past white hummocks which I know, under the surface, are Charlotte’s vegetable garden. A few tattered greenish spikes stick up out from under the snow. “Remind me on the way back to take in some sprouts,” he says. “James was asking for them.”

The thick blanket of snow that fell overnight has frozen until the surface snaps like the iced top of a Christmas cake, and like the best such cakes, its brilliant white crust is highlighted by the dense green of a holly tree with its scarlet berries.

“I don’t remember seeing that tree there before,” I comment.

Michael huffs. “That’s because it was hidden by brambles until earlier this Summer. They’d scrambled up and all but swallowed it. I cleared the space around the tree and it’s paying dividends now.”

Klempner frowns. “So, why not pick your holly from there?”

Michael gives him a dry look. “Because I enjoy looking at it. So does Mitch. She can see it from her window and watch the birds eating the berries.”

Sure enough, when I look again, the tree dangles half-coconuts and fat-balls from its lower branches. A bird table close by homes a storm of small riotous birds.

snow, having to lift our feet between steps. “I’ll clear this later,” says Michael. “Give

help with that,” says

on.” Michael points forward and towards the treeline, sweeping out towards the meadows which stretch down the mountain. “There’re several hollies in the hedgerow at the edge of the woodland and one really spectacular

my feet sinking through. It’s like walking on a cross-trainer and my thighs are aching by the time we cross the few

green leaves reflect the bright sunshine. Glossy blobs of ice twinkle at the prickles and the branches are brilliant

very happy about us

even less happy when the dogs spot them and

I scoop up a handful of snow, cracking through the crisp surface to get to the softer stuff underneath,

into icy shrapnel as

as he swings back

His arms windmill as he tips back and

but wetting myself with

in all directions, all except for Mac, who runs under the snow with only a moving bulge on the surface and his

*****

to the house. Klempner looks

frozen.” But the big, handsome blond man is

garden again. “Sprouts?”

Then another. This one resists, its feet rooted in the frozen ground.

*****

to find Richard stapling sheets together, several copies of the

my hands, steaming and spicy. Another into Ryan’s. I suck at it and a warm glow shimmers down through my stomach to fingers and

All done. Your purchase contract for the Mill. Read it at your leisure. Take your time, both of you. To expedite

from him. “We buy it from you? But I thought

you decide to do this, Kirstie, I will take up my option to buy