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.

steps. “I’ll clear this later,” says Michael.

help with that,”

several hollies in the hedgerow at the edge

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

bright sunshine. Glossy blobs of ice twinkle at the prickles and the branches are brilliant with berries.

chuckles, “I don’t think they’re very happy about us

them and tear across,

a handful of snow, cracking through the crisp surface to get

and it arcs through the air, bursting into icy shrapnel as it lands. The dogs charge after it, a howling, bouncing

a ball, but as he swings back to throw, the dogs leap. Emma collides squarely with

arms windmill as he tips back and vanishes under

all but wetting myself with

the snow with only a moving bulge on the surface and his waving tail to mark

*****

house. Klempner looks Michael up and down. “A change of

about it. I’m fucking frozen.” But the big, handsome blond man is

pass the vegetable garden again. “Sprouts?”

the reminder.” He scans the snow-capped stalks, chooses one and tugs it up whole, by the roots. Then another. This one resists, its feet rooted in the frozen ground. Michael tries again, but when it doesn’t come free, produces his pruning saw. He brandishes the cut

*****

to find Richard stapling sheets together, several copies of the

spicy. Another into Ryan’s. I

a document; another copy to Ryan. “Here you are. All done. Your purchase contract for the Mill. Read it at your leisure. Take your time, both of you. To expedite matters, I’ve arranged matters

tremble as I take the contract from him. “We buy it from you? But I thought your friend was

buy the property, then you will buy