A Christmas Romance in the Scottish Highlands (Scottish Highlands #6)

Chapter 6

6

ALEX

‘We’re here!’ Henry said from the front seat of Alex’s car as he drew his Volvo to a stop outside of the Mistletoe Village Hall. It was snowing again, and he’d taken extra-care on the drive here, in case Ella’s huge, gangly dog decided to sit in the middle of road again.

He gazed at the building as he put on the brake. It was bigger than he’d expected, with multiple windows and a tall triangular roof. Colourful drawings, paper chains and Christmas decorations had been hung across the windows. The effect was charming and unexpectedly quaint.

Alex’s mobile began to ring, distracting him from the view, and he switched off the engine and reached for the door handle so he could get out.

‘Take the call, lad,’ Henry insisted as he opened the passenger door, letting Sprout leap from where he’d been travelling on his lap. The dog landed in the snow and immediately turned to gaze at Alex, his nose twitching in raw delight.

Alex tried to ignore him, feeling uncomfortable. He wasn’t used to being adored. It’s not like he deserved it. He’d barely looked at the animal since he’d arrived at Pinecone Manor yesterday morning and deliberately hadn’t touched it. So, why was he the object of so much affection?

The terrier had even tried to sneak into his bedroom last night, and when Alex had shut the door, it had whimpered outside. He’d almost relented, but then Henry had called Sprout away. Alex had checked his pockets this morning to ensure he wasn’t harbouring carrots or something equally tempting, but he’d found nothing to explain all the continued doggy love. He was obviously missing something.

He let out a sigh of relief when Henry got out and shut the door before walking towards the village hall with the terrier. The dog looked back towards the car a couple of times, his face a picture of confusion, but he didn’t try to return. When they both disappeared, Alex answered his mobile which was still ringing.

‘Iceman,’ the caller said, using the nickname Alex’s colleagues used at work.

Alex rested his head on the steering wheel, letting the familiar voice wash over him. ‘Stan.’ He could hear relief in his voice and wished it wasn’t so obvious or sincere.

Stanley Bailey had been his best friend since they’d met in boarding school when they were six. They’d been like pieces of the same puzzle – utterly inseparable – from that moment onwards.

They’d both played rugby for the county, attended St Andrews University together, after which they’d risen through the ranks of Alex’s father’s firm, Charming Capital Management. They’d competed for every promotion, bonus, award and client – each of them striving to outperform the other. His friend had been the closest he’d ever come to trusting someone – to letting them into his head or heart. But Stan had suffered a health scare six months ago and since then his whole personality had changed.

‘How are you doing?’ Alex asked, sitting up. ‘Which country are you in now? I hope you’re close to a decent hospital in case your heart decides to stop pumping again.’ Despite the joke, he regularly relived the awful moment his friend had grabbed his chest and slumped to the floor in the company boardroom. Every second had felt like a nightmare and Alex still hadn’t come to terms with his sense of helplessness, the utter terror he’d felt.

‘I’m in New Zealand. All of my organs are working fine and I’m feeling better than ever. Thanks for asking,’ Stanley said, sounding relaxed. ‘How are things going with you?’

‘Great.’ Alex kept his tone light. In truth, he wasn’t sure how things were. He wasn’t used to wasting his time looking inwards. Henry kept asking how he felt about what he was going to work on, and he had no answers for him.

Why did it matter? Surely the only thing that did was how the artwork looked? People didn’t buy feelings, they wanted beauty – more than that, they wanted something to covet and own. Desire and money made the world go round. Nothing else counted. Which meant he was out of his comfort zone with no idea of what he had to do to succeed – and he hated it.

‘What are you up to at the moment, are you bored? When are you coming home?’ he asked, desperate to change the subject.

‘I’m not up to much.’ Stanley sighed. ‘I met a couple of people on the beach picking up shells this morning. Have you ever wondered why people do that?’

‘Because they’ve got nothing better to do,’ Alex suggested, hoping his friend would get the hint.

‘I think it’s because of the colours,’ Stanley continued, his tone wistful. ‘I’ve never thought of looking at them before today, but they’re incredible when you get close up. A kind of mini miracle.’ He sighed.

‘You need a holiday from your holiday, you’re not making sense,’ Alex said brusquely.

Since his friend had left for his trip, his existence had become aimless and unfocused, and Alex was worried about him. If Stanley told him he was going to take up yoga or meditation, he knew he’d have to fly to New Zealand to stage an intervention.

‘Are you planning on returning to work soon? Your office is gathering dust, and I’ve heard tales of people eyeing it up for their own,’ he lied. No one would be allowed to so much as look at Stan’s desk so long as Alex was around.

‘I’ve no plans to return to the office.’ Stan chuckled, but Alex didn’t see what was funny about that. ‘Remember, there’s an open invitation if you ever fancy joining me. You haven’t taken a proper break since we left university. You might be surprised at how much you enjoy being aimless if you do.’

‘I’ll pass.’ Alex choked imagining what his father would say. Michael Charming’s second rule of success was, ‘holidays are for those who lack ambition’.

Alex understood why Stanley had wanted to take a step away from his life for a few weeks, but his continued desire to separate himself from the bright future he’d been heading towards was baffling. And Alex missed him. Stan was the only person he’d ever met who he really understood – or who got him, in return. But he barely recognised his friend now.

‘Why are you calling?’

‘I just wanted to catch up. How are things in Mistletoe Village with the artist?’ Stan asked.

Alex took another look at the red brick building that was Mistletoe Village Hall. It was a large structure for such a small village – perhaps because there was so little else in the area to do? He wondered if the woman he’d met yesterday – Ella – and her bloodhound were already inside, although it seemed unlikely. She hadn’t turned up to her lesson this afternoon. According to Aggie she’d been detained at work, although Alex wasn’t sure he believed the excuse. But her absence had irritated him more than it should have, considering they’d only just met.

Then again, people with talent like Ella’s should want to develop it. The fact that she couldn’t be bothered to take advantage of her opportunity with Henry Lockhart was a pitiable waste. Although Alex guessed if he worked hard, it would be easy for him to outshine her, so she was doing him a favour really. ‘Things are odd. He’s making me help him with pantomime scenery,’ he answered, fairly sure his friend would laugh.

‘Really. Which panto?’ Stanley asked eagerly.

‘ Cinderella .’ Alex’s tone was dark.

‘I’d love to see that.’ Stan chuckled. ‘What does your dad think about it?’

‘He doesn’t know,’ Alex admitted. He wouldn’t be telling him either. Michael Charming would be horrified at the idea. He’d expect his only son to focus on creating the perfect canvas, not painting cardboard boxes in village halls. ‘I’m not sure why Henry wants me here,’ he mused. ‘I’m supposed to be learning from him, but so far all he’s done is make me take walks around the grounds of his house. I’m supposed to feel something apparently.’

‘You sound frustrated,’ Stan observed.

‘I think he’s just trying to see how far he can push me before I lose my cool,’ Alex admitted. ‘He’s trying to get inside my head; asking questions, wanting me to talk about my feelings…’ He stopped suddenly. ‘I’m sorry.’ He straightened his spine, embarrassed. ‘I’m complaining, aren’t I?’ Which was one of the deadly sins as far as his father was concerned.

‘You’re venting and you need to stop feeling guilty for expressing your feelings. It’s a wonder you allow yourself to have them at all.’ His friend sighed. ‘Take a deep breath and give it time,’ he said. ‘I’m sure your artist knows what he’s doing. You need to chill out.’

Alex had a sudden memory of Stanley standing in his office wound up like a coil and ranting because one of their clients had asked if he could have a croissant with his morning cup of coffee before their meeting began. It had taken the client only four minutes to eat it, but Stanley had charged him an additional two hours for wasting his time.

Even Alex had thought that was excessive. But he missed that side of his friend, he realised. At least that was a person he could make sense of. For years, it had been the two of them against the world, even as they were competing side by side. Now he felt alone.

‘I need to go,’ he muttered as he watched three people wrapped in enormous coats tramp across the car park and enter the building. ‘I think I’m going to be needed inside soon. Call me when you’ve finished collecting those shells…’ The words sounded more sour than he’d intended, but his friend just laughed.

‘Maybe. Let me know when you’re ready to join me. I’ll guarantee it’s a lot more fun than you think. I’ll call again in a couple of days.’ With that, Stan hung up, ensuring he got the final word.

Alex flashed the mobile a wide smile – at least that hadn’t changed.