Moonstone: A Contemporary Reverse Harem Romance Novella (Jewels Cafe Book 11) Page 2

  Ginny raised her eyebrows. “Wow, that’s impressive. So, how does it work? If it’s technically owned by the town, how is it decided who gets to use it and when? And does anyone get priority?”

  Charlie chuckled. “Inquisitive as ever, Moony. Several of us were worried about that kind of thing at the time, so we devised a plan. We don’t all just borrow the thing to clean our own driveways, then take it back. There’s a rota. After a snowfall—one that warrants clearing driveways, that is—the next person on the list fetches the plough, then follows a planned route from the outskirts of town, back towards the center. If the snow is bad enough that it takes longer than a day to get everyone cleared, the next person on the rota collects the plough the following day, and carries on. If the snow is forecast to be prolonged, though—in other words, so heavy it’s pointless clearing it because it’ll be back again the next day—we tend to hunker down and wait it out. It’s the perfect excuse for your mother to go crazy with the grocery shopping when that happens. You know what she’s like for buying too much.”

  With a snigger, she replied, “Yeah, Dad, I do. I imagine she’s gone particularly wild in the aisles this time, since it’s Christmas.”

  “And you’re here,” Charlie added. “By the time your mother was finished, the store looked like something out of a post-apocalyptic film.”

  “Oh, shut up, you two,” Deborah said with a wave of her hand. “You do exaggerate, Charlie.” She gave her husband’s arm a playful smack.

  Ginny caught her dad’s wink in the rear-view mirror, but said nothing. The resultant smirk was wiped off her face when they passed a stand of trees and a large body of water was revealed beyond it, stretching way off to one side of the track. “Wow, that’s beautiful. What is it, a lake, a river?”

  Her mother replied, “Better. That, sweetheart, is Silver Springs—where the town gets its name. It’s a cave system with hot springs. The story goes that if you throw a silver coin into the water on a full moon, your wish will come true.”

  “Hot springs? That’s amazing.” Now she was paying more attention, she could see steam rising from the water’s surface. “Is it on your land?”

  “No. It’s public land. One of the access points is just here, so don’t be alarmed if you see people walking up this track—they’re allowed. A little further up there’s a fence which keeps the retreat private and secure.”

  “Okay, cool. So do people come and swim in the springs and stuff? Is it safe?”

  “Oh, yes,” Charlie chipped in, “it’s got all these wonderful health benefits—you know, because of the minerals and stuff. But also, it’s just fun to have a body of warm water to swim in. Your mother and I take a dip at least a couple of times a week.”

  Ginny’s eyes went wide. “Even in this weather?”

  “Especially in this weather—it gets the blood pumping. You should try it, Moony. I reckon that spring is more than half the reason your mother and I feel so much better since moving out here. Throw in the cleaner air and more relaxed lifestyle and you’ve got yourself a recipe for a perfect life. Or almost perfect, anyway. Now you’re here, perfection has most definitely been achieved.” He winked again, and this time she winked back.

  “Thanks, Dad. You do seem to have a pretty sweet setup here, it has to be said.”

  “Oh, kiddo, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

  Chapter Three

  It wasn’t long before Ginny came to the conclusion her dad hadn’t been exaggerating. The retreat was amazing. It was a huge, sprawling building—a log cabin on steroids. A wide, covered porch surrounded the whole thing. Despite the weather, and the building’s cavernous interior, it was warm and cozy. Her parents had thoroughly made their mark on the place. As a result, it was homely, welcoming, and relaxing. If the courses, workshops, and food were even half as good as the location, Ginny reckoned the clients probably never wanted to leave. The whole place currently had a subtle scent of Christmas spices from candles and pot pourri that had been dotted about. If she hadn’t already been feeling the Christmas spirit, she certainly would be now.

  By the time Charlie led her back to the kitchen after their tour—a stunning farmhouse setup that was already tempting the cook in her—Deborah had made a pot of tea and was settled at the table. They were both still in their Santa outfits, but had shed the hats—for the time being, at least. “Well, sweetheart, what do you think?”

  Ginny shook her head, at a loss for words. She huffed out a breath, then ran her hands through her hair before letting them drop to her sides. “I honestly don’t know what to say. I’m just blown away. I knew the photos and videos wouldn’t do it justice, but…” She shrugged and smiled. “I love it. It’s rustic, beautiful, warm—in both senses of the word—and just has this wonderful atmosphere. It’s no wonder you’re so enamored with the place.”

  Color infused Deborah’s cheeks, and she shot her husband a smile before checking the tea in the pot was sufficiently brewed and pouring three cups. “Come on, you two, sit down. Relax. Get some caffeine in you.”

  As Ginny and her father pulled out chairs—Ginny opposite her mother, Charlie next to his wife—Deborah continued, “I’m thrilled you like it, sweetheart. We get some wonderful reviews from clients, and quite a bit of repeat business, but it’s not the same as receiving positive feedback from family. Your opinion means a lot to us, and we’re so glad you’re finally here.” She slid Ginny’s cup of tea over to her with another smile, then jerked her head towards the metal tin in the center of the table. “Help yourself to biscuits. But don’t spoil your dinner!”

  Ginny giggled then, a bubble of laughter that came right from her belly. She couldn’t remember the last time her mother had warned her not to indulge in too many snacks before a meal. She curled her fingers over the top of the tin and dragged it close, then prized off the lid. “I won’t.” Peering inside, she was surprised to see homemade biscuits, rather than the shop-bought ones she’d expected. Frowning, she glanced up at her mother. “Been baking?”

  Deborah was an amazing cook, but baking cakes, biscuits and puddings had always been Ginny’s area—hence her career choice as a patisserie chef.

  Her mother nodded, then gave a casual shrug. “The biscuit choice here isn’t what you’re used to at home, not unless you go to a store big enough to stock products from back home, so I thought I’d make some. Your father says they’re very nice.”

  “You didn’t have to go to all that trouble, Mum. I’m sure you’ve got enough on your plate just now.”

  Deborah gave her head a little shake, making her long plaits wobble against her back. “Nonsense. If I can’t spoil my only daughter, at Christmastime no less, then what am I good for?”

  “All right, all right!” Ginny held her hands up, then grabbed a couple of the biscuits and propped them on her saucer before pushing the tin back towards her parents. They took two each as well, then her father slotted the lid back into place. “Spoil away. I’m certainly not going to protest.” She paused as a scent tweaked at her nose. “What is for dinner, anyway? Something smells delicious.”

  She spotted an expression of glee cross her father’s face before her mother replied, “Oh, just a beef stew I threw together. You know, the usual—meat, potatoes, veggies, onions…”

  Ginny’s mouth watered, and her stomach gave a growl of approval. She laughed and held an arm against it. “Bloody hell, homemade biscuits, stew, Christmas dinner… I’m going to be the size of a house by the time I go home. I might have to book an extra seat on the plane!”

  “Pffft,” her father put in, dunking one of the biscuits in his tea. “That’s highly unlikely, Moony. If anything, you’re looking a little skinny. You should let your mother feed us—er, I mean you, up.” He bit the soggy end of the biscuit and closed his eyes briefly in pleasure.

  Suppressing a smirk at her father’s slip-up, she nodded. “I spend so much time feeding other people that I don’t have time to cook for myself. So I’m going to thoroughly enjoy every
thing that’s put in front of me. And whip a few things up in the kitchen myself, of course.” She followed her father’s example and dunked one of the biscuits in the tea, then took a bite. After chewing and swallowing, she said, “Mmm, Mum, these are gorgeous. A bit of spice, isn’t there? You’ll have to give me the recipe.”

  Deborah beamed. “Of course, sweetheart. Whatever you want.”

  “Great, thanks. So, what’s the plan for the foreseeable, then? Aside from eating that delicious-smelling stew, that is.”

  “Weeelll, that’s down to your father.” The two of them exchanged a look, then Charlie turned a huge grin onto his daughter.

  “Feeling strong, Moony?”

  She wrinkled her nose. She was feeling far from strong, but the excitement on her father’s face was bordering on manic—and apparently, it was contagious. She grinned back. “Possibly… what do you have in mind? What’s going on?”

  Charlie tsked and wagged a finger. “You’ll just have to wait and see. Finish your tea and biscuits, and I’ll show you.”

  Ginny narrowed her eyes. “Okay. You have me on tenterhooks.”

  He chuckled. “That’s the plan, kiddo. It is Christmas, after all. Anticipation is part of the fun.”

  Figuring it would be better to hurry up and go and do whatever her father had planned before she got too relaxed and sleepy, she dunked and nibbled and sipped until the tea and biscuits were gone. She stood and made to gather up their cups, but Deborah placed a gentle hand on her wrist. “Sweetheart, I’ll do that. You go with your father—I think he might spontaneously combust if he has to wait much longer. He’s like a kid at… well, Christmas.”

  “Okay. Thanks, Mum.” She smiled at her, then turned to Charlie, who’d jammed his Santa hat back on his head. “Come on then, trouble. Let’s see what you’ve got in store for me that involves heavy lifting.” Oh God, it’s not chopping up bloody firewood or something, is it? She considered it. No, it can’t be. He wouldn’t be so excited about getting me to help him with that, surely?

  Her father sprang up from his chair like some kind of red and white-clad Tigger, causing the furry pom-pom dangling from his hat to swing madly. “Follow me. We need boots, coats, hats, and gloves.”

  Ginny cast a doubtful glance at the window. There wasn’t much going on out there by the looks of it, but the blue skies of earlier had turned cloudy and gray, and not just because the sun was going down. “It’s starting to get dark, Dad. Don’t we need torches, too?”

  “Oh no,” he shook his head, setting the pom-pom off again, “we won’t be long, and we’re not going far.”

  She shrugged. “All right. Let’s go.”

  They went to the hallway and retrieved their outerwear from the hooks beside the front door, then pulled it all on. To Ginny’s amusement, her father didn’t bother to change his Santa hat for a regular one, but he had said they weren’t going far.

  He paused by the front door to flick a couple of switches. At his daughter’s questioning glance, he said, “Porch lights. One for the front half, one for the back. They’re actually motion activated when it gets fully dark, but I don’t want them pinging on and off while we’re out there. We need to see what we’re doing.”

  With that, he headed out, Ginny following close behind. She pulled the door closed behind them, then trod carefully down the steps and on to the driveway. Her father made a left turn and plunged into the winter wonderland that was presumably their front lawn for most of the year. He paused and glanced over his shoulder. “Watch your step, Moony. The land is pretty flat here, but as you can see this snow is pretty deep and I don’t want you twisting an ankle or anything. Your mother will kill me.”

  “Will do. Thanks, Dad.” She peered at the surrounding landscape, captivated by the disappearing sun and the colors it was emblazoning across the sky and onto the snowy canvas below. The yellows, pinks and oranges—even as washed out as they were—looked stunning as they interspersed with the growing clouds. It was all very dramatic.

  He flashed her a smile, then carried on through the pristine snow, funny crunching noises following each of his steps. Ginny trod in his tracks as much as she could, though his longer stride meant it wasn’t always possible.

  They soon reached a large, sturdy-looking outhouse. Charlie stopped at the door, then retrieved a bunch of keys from his coat pocket. He squinted a little in the fading light as he searched for the right one. A moment later, he inserted a key into the padlock hanging from the door’s hasp, twisted it, and removed the lock. He shoved it into his pocket along with the keys, then swung open the door and reached a hand inside. A second later, the building’s interior illuminated.

  Her father stepped back and indicated she should go in ahead of him. “After you.” His grin was Cheshire Cat-like.

  Her mind still whirring with possibilities, Ginny stepped past him, giving his pom-pom a playful flick as she did so. Two paces in to the building, she stopped dead. For, standing directly beneath the bare bulb hanging from the center of the ceiling, was a Christmas tree. A real one. In a pot. With soil. It was about six feet tall and beautifully green and full.

  She wheeled around to face her father, eyes wide. “Bloody hell, Dad, this is brilliant! I’ve always wanted a real tree. The past few years, I’ve just had a little fiber optic thing. I love it.”

  If it was even possible, Charlie’s grin grew wider still. “I know you’ve always wanted a real one. I confess, your mother and I have got a regular plastic tree, but this year we decided to go all out, in honor of your visit. I did some research online and found this place where you can rent a tree. They basically bring the tree to you whenever you want it before Christmas, then come and collect it in the new year. They then put it back in the ground and let it carry on growing. I’d have gone for a bigger one—heaven knows, we’ve got the room—but I wanted it to be a surprise for you, and the only way I could do that was to stash it in here until you arrived. So I had to get one we could feasibly carry.” He dropped his gaze to the floor, then looked back up at his daughter, a flicker of doubt crossing his face. “You like it, then? I did good?”

  “You did amazing, Dad.” She stepped over to him, flung her arms around his neck and planted a hearty kiss on his cheek. “This is already shaping up to be the best Christmas ever.”

  Chapter Four

  “You happy with that, Moony?”

  Having decided that asking him not to call her Moony was pointless, she took a few steps back to check out their handiwork from a distance. They’d positioned the tree in a corner of the large room, far enough from the fire that the heat wouldn’t dry the tree out, but close enough that its light dappled the pine needles. She tilted her head for a moment, took in the scene, then straightened her head and nodded. “Yes, I am. It looks fantastic. Now we just need to decorate it. Shall I go and fetch Mum?”

  “Yes, you do that, and I’ll go and get the decorations. Feel free to bring tea.” He gave a cheeky wink and scurried off.

  Chuckling to herself, she waited until her father was out of sight, then went off to do some fetching of her own.

  Having retrieved a box from her bedroom, Ginny went to find her mother in the kitchen. The scent of the stew now filled the air, and Deborah was busy setting the table for dinner and singing along to the Christmas songs she had blasting out from her Bluetooth speaker on the worktop. “Hello, Mum.”

  Not having heard her daughter come in, Deborah snapped her head up in surprise, then smiled. “Hello, sweetheart.” She dropped her gaze to the box, and a tiny line appeared between her eyebrows. “What you got there?”

  Smiling, Ginny replied, “You’ll just have to wait and see. Dad and I have got the tree in position. It’s ready for decorating. Shall we do it now, or is dinner ready?”

  Her mother shook her head. “Dinner’s in the slow cooker, so it’s ready whenever we want to eat it. Let’s do the tree now. I take it your father wants tea?”

  “He does. He’s just gone off to get the decoration
s.”

  “God, do I know him well, or what?” She rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “Go on through, then. I’ll make a pot and bring it in.”

  “Thanks, Mum. Oh, and why don’t you bring the music, too?”

  When Ginny re-entered the living room, her father was nowhere to be seen. There were, however, multiple cardboard boxes strewn about. After placing her own on the coffee table, she made her way to the nearest one and opened it to see what was inside. A mass of bright colors and general sparkly-ness met her gaze. Further investigation revealed decorations galore—ornaments, hanging signs, strings of lights, snow globes, garlands, cute stuffed animals… “God, how much stuff have they got?”

  “Oh, this is all of it now, sweetheart,” her father said, having stepped into the room carrying another box just as she’d asked what had been intended as a rhetorical question. “We’ve, er, gathered a few bits and pieces in the few years we’ve been here.”

  Ginny chuckled. “You got rid of so much stuff when you left London—and now look!”

  He placed the last box down beside the sofa, then flashed her a sheepish grin. “I know—it’s silly really, isn’t it? We’ve simplified and cleansed our lives in so many other ways, but when it comes to Christmas, we’re still total suckers for some deccies.”

  “Hey, at least you’ve got plenty of room to store them, here.”

  “True. Did you find your mother?”

  “Yes. She’s on the case with the tea.”

  He rubbed his hands together. “Excellent. Let’s see what we’ve got here, then. Ooh, what’s that?” he asked, pointing at Ginny’s box.

  “A surprise. You’ll have to wait for Mum.”

  “Oh.” He pouted, then shook himself. “All right.” He turned to the nearest box and flipped it open, then carefully emptied the contents onto the floor. Then he repeated his actions on the next box, and the next.