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. “Give Mitch

help with that,” says

down the mountain. “There’re several hollies in the hedgerow at the edge of the woodland and one really spectacular tree. It’s covered in berries…

walking on a cross-trainer and my thighs are

reflect the bright sunshine. Glossy blobs of ice twinkle at the prickles and the branches are brilliant with berries. As we draw closer the sound of squabbling birds rattles over the snow and flapping, squawking shapes

they’re very happy about us stealing their

dogs spot them and tear across, barking loudly

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

bursting into icy shrapnel as it lands. The dogs charge after it, a howling, bouncing

to a ball, but as he

His arms windmill as he tips back and vanishes under

all but wetting

the snow with only a moving bulge on the surface and

*****

the house. Klempner looks Michael

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

the vegetable garden again. “Sprouts?” I

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

*****

to find Richard stapling sheets together, several copies

Another into Ryan’s. I suck at it and a

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 so that you would be buying the property from me. Be sure it’s what you want to do. Read it

as I take the contract from him. “We buy it from you? But

to buy the property,