Christmas in Cornwall Read online

  “Who lied? Benjamin is a great guy with a lot of promise. I’ll be working with him in the future and helping him out was the nice thing to do. So what it if happened to benefit my standing at the company if I save him a little pocket money? That was just a bonus, really. Besides, it'll look great on your resume, Julianne. Planning the wedding of a future CEO.”

  He was trying so hard to sound sincere, and all the while his selfishness was leaking through. I remembered all the little incidents in the past where Dwight had made a decision solely for himself, and tried to twist it into something for me, or for one of his friends. That was then, however — and I didn't have to listen to it anymore.

  So I slapped him. Hard.

  “That's for reminding me of all the reasons we broke up," I hissed. "Mostly because you were a self-serving, arrogant, know-it-all. I can't believe I trusted that you wanted to be friends again."

  He glared at me, an angry red spot appearing where my slap had landed. “This from somebody who stranded herself in this dinky little village where card games pass for the local entertainment — and whose only crush is the gardener.”

  I didn't bother to lower myself to reply to him. I simply walked out of the room.

  In the hall outside the crystal closet I found Gemma standing with a vase in either arm, her eyes wide. "Julianne — did you just smack that bloke?"

  I let out a sigh, pushing my hair back with a frustrated motion. “Gemma, I think I could use that coffee now,” I answered.

  ***

  It would take more than coffee, or even a cuppa, to get me through the next twenty-four hours. That was my fear as the day of the ball dawned, a cold and blustery wind appearing now and then to rattle the panes in the windows. If it ended up storming, I would find it an ominous sign for the ball, and not just because the weather would be imperfect.

  Now that everybody knew Matt was going back to the States, I had to hear mention of it every single second. There was surprise for him leaving, but not really; most everyone had imagined that Matt wouldn't stay in Cornwall forever. Everyone except me, it seemed — well, and the two kitchen staffers Pippa and Gemma.

  “What’s he leaving for?” Pippa whined, slicing strawberries for the final batch of Dinah’s variation on Japanese Christmas Cake. “It’s not as if he was happier in the States. Some girl broke his heart there. He should stay here — there's not a model to be seen in Ceffylgwyn, that's for certain.”

  “It won't be the same without him," said Gemma. She sighed. "What will we do when there's only Jackson trimming the hedges? He looks awful in that ratty old coat — sixty if he's a day."

  “Mind your work, both of you,” Dinah scolded them, taking a batch of sponge cake from the oven and working quickly to cool it. "We've got our hands full today without moaning about your opinions on people's looks." I knew without turning around as I whipped the cream in a chilled bowl that both of the maids were rolling their eyes.

  I hadn’t cried in front of anyone yet, but my eyes were puffy in the morning from a quick cry in the utility closet when I couldn't stand the strain any longer. When Matt and I exchanged glances and smiles for one of the last times in the presence of the staff at the morning meeting, I had been afraid that tears would begin to well up without warning, and I would humiliate myself in front of everyone.

  Even though no one had asked me how I felt about Matt leaving, it must have been fairly obvious that things between us hadn't worked out. After all, if he was in love, he might not have chosen to leave, right? Everyone knows that long-distance relationships are risky — not something you choose lightly, as opposed to amicable goodbyes.

  He was packing up his cottage this week. Lord William had sent over some empty crates and boxes to help. The thought of Rosemoor devoid of Matt’s belongings—or worse, populated by someone else’s—was something I didn’t want to think about. The tree stripped of its lights, planted in the garden; the ornaments back in their box, from Michelle's angel to the faded fuzzy reindeer.

  Who would take care of the garden? It was such a part of him, I couldn’t fathom how it would survive under another’s care. And in the weeks that were left, what would we do together? Would we talk about a future when he came back? Would we be friends and promise to write and call each other? I had no idea at this point.

  The orchestra arrived and begin to set up in the ballroom by four. Mr. Tanaka, the head of the Tokyo based company had gotten there earlier in the day and was meeting with Lady Amanda and Lord William in one of the private suites upstairs. Soon, the caterers would be here, bearing the chilled champagne and platters of hors d'oeuvres that would serve in addition to Dinah’s creations. I would have to swap my apron for the gown and wrap in emerald green I had specially purchased in London. I would circulate in the ballroom, making small talk with various guests, checking the number of champagne bottles being chilled, the supplies for the sake cocktails, and whether enough finger foods were circulating.

  Of course, originally I had planned in between to dance with Matt. How had that gone wrong? And if I found the courage to tell him how I felt — if I told him that all I wanted —

  “Where are you going at this hour? Hadn’t you better get changed?” Dinah cast a worried eye at me, standing frozen in the hallway and seemingly staring at the big Christmas tree waiting to greet our guests.

  "I have something to do," I said. I had come back to myself now. And with those words, I collected my scarf and coat and put them on. My determined expression must have puzzled Dinah even more, judging from the way she was staring at me.

  “I’m just going out to stretch my legs. And clear my head,” I explained, winding the scarf around my neck. “I’ll be ten, fifteen minutes tops.”

  “Well, mind you stay clear of the cliffside," she answered. "That winds picking up something fierce.” As she cast an eye towards the gloomy Cornish sky outside the glass pane.

  I fully intended to follow her advice, carefully picking my way through the pathway that led to the greenhouses. But I paused as I caught a glimpse of the rocks overlooking the Channel, and something happened inside me. A deep longing connected to memories of this place filled me, ones connected with Matt, and our first, heated exchange when I accidentally trampled his heath plant.

  Other times we had walked there since, making this place more special than any words could explain. A smile, half-sad, half-hopeful tugged my lips as I stood before it, on the verge of following the path to the overlook. Closing my eyes, I titled my face towards the breeze for just a moment, absorbing its smells, hearing the distant roar of the water rolling against the rocks. The sound of the weather changing, of a storm rolling towards us on the back of the wind.

  Somehow, I couldn’t imagine its summer self at this moment, the breeze’s balmier in their restlessness, the sunlight beating down on my hair.

  “Julianne.”

  I turned around at the sound of his voice. With timing as perfect as in the movies, Matt was standing behind me on the path. Maybe there was a psychic connection between us after all — a joking thought that I didn't find funny at this moment, with my head and heart so full of serious reflections.

  “There’s something I need to say to you," he said.

  He walked towards me, the distance narrowed between us with each of our strides. “I can't leave without telling you," he began. He took a breath, but I was the one who spoke next.

  “I’m in love with you," I said. "I love you, Matt. I have almost since the start, but I've known it for certain for weeks now. Maybe longer."

  The words came out on their own, without any hesitation or wobbling tones. They had been waiting for me to say them, and no matter what, I couldn't wait any longer.

  Surprise flooded his dark eyes. "Truly?" he asked.

  "Matt, how could you think I would feel otherwise, after all these months of spending time with you? There's no one but you. I only wish I had told you sooner, instead of waiting until you were leaving."

  I stopped sp
eaking, waiting for him to reply. Waiting for anything.

  The look in his dark eyes was serious, almost somber. "My mistake," he answered, "was not telling you first that I've loved you since that day on the cliffs. That determined girl who was so willing to scold a stranger and hold her ground."

  He moved closer, his hands cradling my face. I wrapped my arms around him and held him tightly for our kiss. When he released me, he rested his forehead against mine, the two of standing there as if we were frozen by the chill of the wind.

  “What will we do now?” I asked. Gazing up to see the same question reflected in Matt’s eyes. “If you’re in Massachusetts and I’m here." Not sure how to finish that sentence, I let it stand with just those words. Even knowing how we felt about each other didn't change the fact that Matt was leaving, I realized.

  “It will be difficult,” Matt said. "But not impossible. Not for us."

  “Not for us,” I repeated.

  His fingers stroked my hair, their touch warming my face. I could tell he was thinking, searching for the assurance that neither of us had. Not yet, anyway.

  "Can you come with me?" he asked, softly. "Come to the cottage? There's some things I want to talk to you about — and we're short of time —"

  "I wish I could," I answered, honestly. "But there's so much for me to do. Tonight's the ball, you know, and we're swamped with preparations at the last minute."

  "Of course. You're working," he said. "You know, for a moment I forgot everything but you." A wistful smile crossed his lips as he stroked my hair.

  I put my hand on his arm. "Come with me tonight," I said. "As my guest. I was planning to bring you, I've been planning it for weeks." I thought of the tuxedo receipt on my dresser and was glad now that I hadn't tossed it in the garbage. "We'll dance and we'll sip champagne, and have one last moment together in Cornwall."

  The wind was picking up, sending chills from head to toe. Matt started to say something else, when he noticed I was shivering. “We best get you back inside,” he told me. "Come on."

  He kept his arm around me as we made our way back up the path. Nestled this close, I could breathe in the familiar scent of his jacket: the smell of fresh earth and dried flower blossoms; the vague aroma of Matt’s aftershave; all comfortingly familiar. My head rested against his shoulder as we crested the top of the hill.

  In the courtyard to the house, a vehicle was parked that I recognized instantly as the caterers. It brought with it a sense of reality, the fact that the ball would be in full swing mere hours from now. And even Matt's arm around me couldn't change that.

  "You're coming, right?" I said. "I already rented you a tuxedo, so don't worry. I'll have Geoff bring the ticket by. All you have to do is find me in the ballroom." I squeezed his hand before releasing it and taking a step towards the house. I glanced back and saw a look on Matt's face that seemed odd.

  "I can't," he said, softly. "I wish I could, but I can't. My flight for Christmas night was rescheduled — it's been moved up because of the coming storm. And I had already told the university I would arrive as early as I could to discuss the syllabus."

  I felt crushed. Matt was leaving tonight? I had no idea. No wonder he had come to find me — no wonder he wouldn't be holding me tonight on the ballroom floor as the midnight bells rang. I wouldn't even be able to go with him to Heathrow.

  Tears stung my eyes, and not just from the cold. "I see," said. "I guess you can't help that, can you? No control over the weather." I tried not to sound too hurt by this news.

  "I wish I could," said Matt, with an ache in his voice. "I wish you all the best tonight, Julianne. As always. And knowing you, tonight will be perfect."

  Before I could say anything, he stepped forward and pressed another kiss to my mouth. Shorter, but no less tender, before he turned and walked away. Despite the cold wind, I waited and watched until he was out of sight before I hurried inside.

  ***

  The ball did go perfectly, or nearly so. With the orchestra playing a medley of Christmas favorites, the guests mingled in black tie dress, exchanging conversation, dancing, and enjoying the sumptuous hors d'oeuvres made by Dinah and the caterers. The sponge cake appetizers were a hit with everyone, including the Japanese business men and women whose holiday dessert was the model for her creation.

  I made a few new acquaintances and had a few requests for my business card. I sampled a few appetizers, and dealt with a few small crises, but the evening ran smoothly. And as I stood watching others dance, without a partner for myself, I missed Matt more than ever. The dreams of the two of us sharing tonight had dissolved with Matt's plane ticket's altered date.

  But I had told Matt I loved him. There was no going back from it, and I had never felt freer. It was as if I was a different person from the one who left the house for a walk that afternoon. Right now, that was all that mattered.

  Geoff joined me for a moment, a champagne glass in hand. "I have something for you," he said to me. "An early Christmas present, it would seem."

  "For me?" I said. I felt surprised, and a little guilty, since I had intended to give the staff their gifts tomorrow at the staff Christmas party. Geoff placed a small package in my hand.

  "It's not from me," he said. And with a knowing smile, he moved on, leaving me to open it.

  I untied the ribbon and opened the lid. Inside, atop a folded note, was a tiny, perfect rose blossom, with petals of a shade somewhere between pink sunset and rosy dawn.

  Lifting it carefully, I caught a whiff of the sweet perfume. A scent like honeysuckle, only subtler, with a hint of spice. A perfume that had been lost for thirty years, until Matthew brought it to life again. With the same hand, I unfolded the sheet of stationary with Matt’s handwriting on it.

  Julianne,

  This first blossom from the restored rose is my Christmas present to you. I truly wish I could give it to you in person. To have seen the look on your face when you opened it, and to see your smile … I wanted to be there for it.

  I came to the cliffs today to tell you I was leaving early. But all I could think to say was that I loved you, and that leaving you hurt me deeply. I didn’t plan for you to say it back. The fact that you did has been the best Christmas gift of all. And it made me regret that something is taking me away, even though I was looking forward to this opportunity.

  There were reasons I had to go. You knew what most of those reasons were before I did. You understand me in a way no one else ever has, or ever will. And though this choice takes me far from my home in Cornwall, I hope the same is not true for your heart. For you have never been very far from mine since the time we met, Julianne Morgen.

  It wouldn’t be impossible, we said. Difficult, but not impossible. I believe that’s true, or else I could never board the plane tonight. Always remember that.

  All my love,

  Matthew

  Tears spilled over my cheeks as I finished reading his note. Not because I was sad, exactly, although I was. It was just that seeing Matt's love in words made it all the more real to me. As if I was holding a piece of it in my hands.

  And there was the rose. The beautiful, perfect rose that Matthew had known would be the just right Christmas present. I held it close, smelling the sweet aroma once more. Its memory was something I could treasure long after the petals would start to fade and curl, turning slowly to rose-colored dust.

  ***

  “The storm is what woke me up,” Gemma insisted, pulling back the curtain to look out at the scene in the courtyard again. “Started right before dawn, it did. I heard it pelting the windows something fierce. First the rain and then the sleet—”

  “And then the snow,” I finished. Gazing past her at the light dusting of glittery white that covered the cobblestones and ground. And everything in between, its presence a rare and welcome sight in Ceffylgwyn, or Cornwall, for that matter.

  “Never have I seen such a sight on Christmas before,” Dinah exclaimed, bustling into the parlor, her tray laden down with
another round of truffles for the hungry manor staff. We tucked into breakfast, to be followed by gift opening and party games.

  Pippa held out a Christmas Cracker, instructing me, “Give it a twist and a tug on the count of three, Julianne. There’s a bit of holiday cheer inside for the winner — small prizes, but loads of fun.”

  "The best part's the hat," said Geoff, chuckling. "That was my opinion when I was a lad."

  We gave it a firm tug, the shiny wrapper splitting apart to reveal its treasures. Paper party hats, hard candies, and some very bad jokes—but we all laughed at them anyway.

  It was destined to be a glorious afternoon of board games and loads of chocolates, and, of course, the dinner. Dinah's splendid Cornish feast, making the dinner table groan beneath its buffet.

  “Dinah, you’ve outdone yourself,” Lord William declared, cutting into another slice of goose. “The Queen herself couldn’t ask for a better Christmas dinner.”

  “A toast to the chef," said Lady Amanda. "My own mum couldn't have done it better, and she was forever slaving over a hot stove for the holidays."

  "To mothers everywhere," said Geoff. "And excellent cooks, as well."

  Any moment now, the pudding would be served — promised to be more sumptuous than I could imagine, everyone said — but I slipped away from the table for a moment to gaze at the snowy world outside. Cornwall in the snow was a rare treat, I realized. Even a dusting on the green of the holly hedges and the privets, and a little blanket in the flower beds, made this Christmas a little more special than usual.

  Amid the laughter and cheerful conversation, I was having a little moment of sadness, truthfully. Not just for home, but for missing Matt, who was supposed to be here for today. He would spend Christmas adjusting to his life in Massachusetts, unpacking his things and planning his syllabus. I pictured him organizing his office, then meeting with students and fellow faculty members. Finding a place to live that wasn’t at all like Rosemoor, with its red chimney and faded white wash exterior, but someplace where Matt's books and gardening tools could still feel at home.