* * *
No wonder he’d had a bad feeling. There was a flight delay. Weather conditions were working against him. He was seething with impatience and there was nothing he could do about it. The one thing he couldn’t control was the weather.
One day turned into two, with no sign of the unusually bad storm abating. He had too much time on his hands, and started asking himself why he hadn’t been more open with Lizzie. Why couldn’t he have talked to her when she was standing in front of him? Why did he have to wait until now to feel this fierce urge to set things straight between them? Why wouldn’t she pick up his calls?
Passions ran too high when they were together, he concluded, deciding he must kill the anger, keep the sex, and develop the bond between them.
Chico Fernandez counselling himself? What was his life coming to?
Lizzie.
Lizzie was all he could think about. He was worried about her. She’d lost her grandmother and her well-being concerned him. She would be in that big house all alone. That couldn’t be right. He tried telling himself that he would be equally concerned about any student on his course in Lizzie’s position, but that couldn’t explain his seething frustration, when Lizzie refusing to take his calls seemed like a throwback to the past when she hadn’t answered his letters. Now he knew she hadn’t received them, so were her parents back and giving her a hard time in Scotland? He had to find out. She would be in shock following the death of her grandmother, and at her most vulnerable.
* * *
This was so much worse than she had imagined, Lizzie thought when she switched on the light, though she supposed she should be relieved that the electricity hadn’t been turned off. Walking across the tiled hallway, she stood in the centre of the familiar worn rug beneath the familiar dusty chandelier, weighing up her childhood home. When her grandmother had moved back in, the house had resonated with bustle and laughter, but now it was dead and empty. Lizzie had felt safe here, but now it was silent and shrouded in shadow, as if the old house was waiting for someone to appreciate it again. She turned full circle, wondering why she hadn’t noticed how shabby it had become. The alchemy of her grandmother’s personality had worked its magic, she supposed, and now that was gone. When her grandmother had lived here, it hadn’t mattered that the rug was worn and the curtains were threadbare, because Lizzie’s grandmother had been a strong woman, larger than life, and she had filled the house with activity and laughter, but now it was just Lizzie and the spiders.
So, she’d do something about it. Putting her bags down, she was on her way to the kitchen when there was a knock on the door that made her jump. Her heart leapt with excitement, and she had to tell herself firmly that even Chico couldn’t have flown here as quickly as that. And for goodness’ sake, why would he?
It was Annie. Lizzie had never been so pleased to see her grandmother’s housekeeper. ‘I’m going to remove all the covers and make the house like new again,’ she explained as she ushered Annie into the hall. ‘I’m going to brave the spiders in the attic, find the decorations, and get ready for Christmas.’ They’d have a party, Lizzie decided even as she was saying this. The house hadn’t gone yet. They weren’t going down like a damp squib. They would go out in a blaze of glory as a tribute to her grandmother.
‘A party?’ Annie pursed her lips, and at first Lizzie thought the housekeeper might disapprove. Why wouldn’t she? It was such a crazy idea when Lizzie had no money to fund a party.
‘I think that’s an amazing idea,’ Annie said at last. ‘Your grandmother would definitely approve. Come on, let’s get started.’ Annie led the way to the utility area to select their weapons of choice.